Yes, a few weeks after my twenty-sixth birthday, I began construction of a tiny home: 196 square feet of house lovingly positioned on a flatbed trailer in the southwest of my home state, Montana.
And yes, I am building it in the dead of winter. (Snow is peaking and flurrying outside in negative temperatures as I write this on a mini-break from sawing and hammering.)
To some, this is the ultimate dream. The tiny house movement has been accelerating in the last few years, with micro-homes spread across all fifty states. The appeal is real: low cost of living, mobility, and reduced carbon footprint (among many, many other benefits).
For others, living tiny is, to put it lightly, a challenge. (Nearly 50% of all Americans would “definitely not” choose to live in a tiny home.)
So why am I doing it? I assure you, this is not the result of a ‘quarter-life crisis,’ and nor am I keen to join the slew of other tiny house builder profiles on the internet merely to gain acclaim.
I am asked this question nearly daily. To most, I simply say: Why not? But there is so much more to it than merely that.
I’ve adored “tiny” for two decades (and counting).
This is a nostalgic point, but I’ve coveted “tiny” since I could speak. More importantly, I’ve been crafting small since I can remember, be it in the form of miniature school books for my dolls or teeny lego houses for my plastic dinosaurs.
Now, I surround myself with itty-bitty succulents, miniature paintings, and ramekins (oh, the ramekins).
I don’t think this is really an obsession. I simply feel that small things have power, and they have truth. (Shakespeare says, of course: “Though she be little, but she be fierce.”) And always, always, less is more—in words and in things.
Big dreams often manifest in “tiny” ways.
I think that it is all too easy to assume that dreams must be grand, sweeping gestures, achieved by big, big, sweaty means. Such thinking pulls our attention away from the present, where delicious and beautiful change is happening all the time.
I’ve dreamed of a tiny house for years, yes, but its manifestation has actually taken a lot of time, a lot of learning, a lot of me figuring things out.
It’s a good reminder that small in itself can be a high point. Oh, and ticking all of the things off of a to-do list isn’t what it’s all about! (And, big secret: I’ve never been able to finish such a list in one day in my life.)
It’s urgent. (No, seriously.)
Our planet needs us. We’re all used to hearing this, but the earth’s situation is very, very grave. Over the past few years, I slowly opened my eyes to what has been happening around us.
I’m building a tiny house because I absolutely must: for the earth, for the rest of human life. It offers me the lightest possible means of living: my footprint will be less than 200 square feet literally, but I will also be living fully zero-waste and plastic-free.
What’s more, this tiny house will not have a black water system (meaning water that has been contaminated by waste or chemicals). Everything we put down its drains will be biodegradable and vegan, and this house will have a composting toilet!
We are also incorporating sustainable building practices and materials as much as possible during construction.
This is the philosophy behind my blog, A Lighter Earth.
I cannot exist as a moral human without making such efforts to live mindfully.
And in living mindfully, I live my best self.
Minimalism enables me to channel my best self.
Speaking of that best self… I am fiercely independent, but I’ve been a bit of a nomad for several years. There was a time when I packed all of my belongings into a Toyota Yaris hatchback and drove across the country—aimlessly, until I found my heart here in Montana.
I loved feeling like a turtle.
I loved the freedom of fewer possessions, of sacred, unfettered space.
I strongly believe that we move freer and better when we veer away from materialism.
Oh, and light. This tiny house will be filled with light, thanks to some salvaged nine-foot windows (repurpose!) and sky lights. That is also the heart of minimalism—moving more towards the sky!
Too much screen time.
As a freelancer and writer, my hands are all too used to crouching over a keyboard. (And in this society, we live in the blue light of our screens far too much.) I’ve found such relief in the physicality of the tiny house construction process, and what beauty there is in using my hands to build something I will inhabit!
Biting winter winds have made this challenging, and there have been multiple learning curves (what with terminology, power tools, and, well, math). Yet I’m acquiring vital skills, and ones that are way too often associated only with men.
Who says women can’t run saws? It’s fun—you should try it!
I enjoy answering the question: “Why would you do that?”
I’ve spent too much of my life in fear. I’ve spent too many years assuming that there were things I simply could not do, for various reasons (societal codes, belief systems, etc., etc.). I’ve spent too long saying: “That would be nice…. but.”
Now, I strive to hear this question almost daily: “Why would you do that?”
(As if living in 200 square feet of space is as surprising as consuming insects, which really isn’t all that surprising!)
Why do I want to hear this question?
Simple.
I love venturing into territory that feels forbidden. Because once you venture, it’s a wild ride, there’s no going back, and “forbidden” really means “possible.”
Thanks for listening, friends. If you’re ever in Bozeman this spring and beyond, drop on by. The Light House will always accommodate fellow tea-drinkers and earth lovers.
