Growing Through Labor, Awakening Through Practice

A few days ago, I cut down the sago palm in front of our house all by myself. It may seem like a small thing, but it filled me with joy—because I proved to myself that I could accomplish something I used to think was impossible. In the past, I would have hired professionals and paid to get the job done. But over the years, my approach to life has shifted. This time, as I faced the task of reworking the yard, I said to myself, “I can do this.” It wasn’t just about saving money—it was a deeper change in mindset. I began to understand: practice is the path to growth.

Now my eyes are fixed on a much bigger challenge: the massive Brazilian pepper tree in our backyard. It does far more harm than good. It drains the soil of nutrients, clogs the drainage, and its roots may even threaten the foundation of our home. Every day, I have to clean up the fallen berries and leaves. It does offer some shade, but after careful thought, I made up my mind—it has to go, roots and all.

I had previously hired someone to evaluate the tree and considered letting them handle it. But something came over me this time: what if I did it myself? So I made a plan. I had an electric chainsaw, and I decided to cut one branch each week, limiting the cleanup to what our green bin could hold. I estimated it would take about 20 weeks to finish trimming all the branches and leaves, then another 20 for the trunk. I shared the plan with my husband, and he agreed it was doable—but insisted he handle the chainsaw, concerned that my wrists weren’t strong enough or that it might be unsafe. I gladly accepted—safety first.

In our neighborhood, most homes have manicured yards maintained by gardeners. But we’ve always tended our yard ourselves—modest, perhaps, but neat and functional. Lately, I’ve grown more eager to redesign and optimize the space to truly suit our lifestyle.

Here in California, water is scarce and expensive. I plan to start by improving our automatic watering system, reconfiguring the irrigation layout to make every drop count. I’m not aiming for a yard that merely “looks good”—I want a water-efficient, practical, and sustainable outdoor space—something I can manage and maintain on my own.

I’ve never really questioned whether labor is “noble.” But over the past two decades, I’ve gained so much wisdom through hands-on experience. I’ve evolved from someone who relied on others to someone who enjoys figuring things out and getting them done. It’s been a long journey, but I’m proud of how far I’ve come—this is real independence. Cutting trees, fixing pipes, clearing debris—these physically demanding tasks have repeatedly prompted me to reflect on life’s essentials: How do I relate to the world around me? Am I willing to engage sincerely—with a tree, a root system, a water pipe? Do I believe that my own hands can build the world I want to live in?

In a society where so much has become commercialized, we often lose the space to think deeply. But I choose to slow down, to explore the truth of life through action.

In the end, maybe it doesn’t matter whether the yard turns out perfect. What matters is that I did it myself—step by step, I’ve walked a path of growth through practice.