253

 Being in a car

I don't own a car and don't drive. Walking is my preferred mode of transportation, and at times I use public transport. Our societies rely too much on cars. I'm looking outside my window in Copenhagen. The streets where I live are wide. There are bicycle lanes, but not much space for the pedestrians at all. Rarely do you see more than one person in a car, and the sound of cars is overwhelming. When we were leaving Møn, I became very ill. We got there by train, a bus, and rented bikes. We were going to get back to Copenhagen the same way, but I was barely able to walk. My loved one called a taxi so we would reach the train station by car. It made me think a lot about sustainability. Though I very much dislike car-centric spaces, I was so grateful for the opportunity to go back to the train station by car. Perhaps it's not so that we need to get rid of cars in a post-growth society, but rather rely much less on them. I'm not sure how it could be done. I've met fellow humans who said they would only use the car when absolutely necessary, but then began to use it very often. Car ownership is expensive, but many still choose this option. Some fellow humans participate in car-sharing schemes, which is perhaps a better option. 

252

 Food in Møn 

At home, I cook my own food. At times, my loved one and I eat out, but most of the time we buy local, organic, seasonal food and prepare it at home. Both of us are vegetarian. I was vegan for some years but it didn't work out for me. I lost too much weight. Many vegan products were highly processed and overly packaged. Many of them, such as avocados and coconuts, came from far away. Often I still eat vegan food though. When we travel, we prefer to stay in locations where we can cook, but it's not always possible. In Møn, we bought food in a supermarket. We got some Danish apples, local cheese, unpackaged bread, unpackaged slices of apple pie, tomatoes, chocolate, and potato salad. In the local supermarket, I was happy to find local products from this region. There was organic local beer and dairy products. In a café nearby they sold local honey, jam and pickles. 

251

 Book

In the place in Møn where I've stayed for some days, I found this wonderful book. I read many books as an academic, but this book is one amongst very few that left a lasting impression on me. It reminds me somewhat of the books I used to like as a child. I was born in 1989. In the beginning of my life I didn't rely much on technology for entertainment. I loved books, especially the ones about nature. For many years, I lived in a rural area, with nature and my non-human kin. Those experiences made me feel safe in nature and the cosmos. More recently, I was lucky to live close to nature in northern Sweden and in Finland. Oftentimes, when I'm in nature with others, I notice that fellow humans can feel uncomfortable and unsafe. It doesn't come from any particular dislike towards nature. I believe that they love it as much as I do. But it does come from a lack of knowledge and exposure to other beings. In a forest, there is so much one can forage and eat. There are so many beings who are absolutely harmless to humans. It really helps to know who these beings are, and I think that books like the one above can help. Then meeting a non-human being feels like meeting an acquaintance rather than an alien "other". 

Reference

Mandahl-Barth, G. (1967) Hvad finder jeg i skoven. Politikens Forlag: København. 

250

 2023

The year 2023 has been the most chaotic and challenging year of my life. Though I have learnt a lot and grown spiritually, I'm glad that 2023 is coming to an end. Until mid-September I lived in Finland. I moved to that country just before 2023 and began to work for a Finnish university. It was nice to be close to some friends and nature, but I felt physically unwell very often. Feeling unwell was akin to a sign from my body that I was not in the right space or the right place for me. I couldn't understand why. Everything seemed to unfold well at work, though I was not working closely with anyone. I was continuing to work on the pieces, projects, and ideas that I'd had before I moved to Finland. For the first few months in Finland, I lived in an apart-hotel, then I rented an apartment in a house that was not even built at the time I rented it. The house was finished on the day when I moved in. The house was located in the island called Lehtisaari (Lövö in Swedish). The island is one of the most beautiful places where I've lived. I would go for a walk around the island very often, and would spend much time with nature and other beings. At times I would walk to Helsinki. It took around 1.5 hours to get there. 

Until May 2023, my now-partner and I were trying to understand what was unfolding between us. For him it was challenging because he had a child from his previous relationship. For me it was difficult because being in this relationship would mean profound changes, such as a long-distance relationship, eventually moving, navigating sustainability differently, and having a fellow human's child in my life. At that time, after having lived in several countries, I was longing for being somewhere at least for some years, having stability in my life, and not welcoming any new responsibilities into my life. But in the end of May we decided to be together. We were in a long-distance relationship for some months. 

In 2023 I decided to finally write my own book. I was writing another book with my partner and our colleague too, but I felt that I wanted to write something on my own, something where all my thoughts, ideas and contemplations on my research topic would crystallise. It was therapeutic but also challenging to write that book, as so many unfoldings were taking place. The book was about Danish, Finnish and Swedish businesses. The manager at the Finnish university did not welcome the idea of me writing about Danish and Swedish businesses, despite me working independently and not being part of any project. She didn't welcome the idea of my relationship with a Danish researcher either. I experienced so much violent behaviour from her due to this situation, that after some weeks of trying to fight injustice, I resigned from the Finnish university. 

It was interesting but also horrifying to see how hierarchical that space was. Many decisions were made behind closed doors, in private conversations over the phone rather than in meetings, the policies were unclear or could be interpreted in different ways. Emails to those in positions of power remained unanswered. Fellow humans who expressed support towards me were not supported. At some point, I began to realise that either I would not reach justice in that space, or it would come at an enormous cost. I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression due to the manager's behaviour. I applied for a Danish residence permit. The Finnish university allowed me to go to Denmark only for 3 weeks after I showed them my contract with a publisher. I resigned from that university when I was in Denmark.

Before I went to Denmark for a 3 week research stay, I knew I would not be coming back. I returned the keys from my flat on the same day I boarded the ferry to Stockholm. I returned everything I borrowed from my Finnish friends to them, and gave away some objects that I knew I would not need any more. I packed all my possessions in a tote bag and backpack and departed. So in 2023 I moved to Denmark. My partner met me in Stockholm and then we stayed in a hotel in Copenhagen for some days. We then got a key from our studio apartment and moved in together. I expected it to be the most beautiful time, but it wasn't. We argued often, and his childcare arrangement was very difficult for us as a couple. On several occasions we wanted to go our separate paths, but every time we decided to work on our relationship. At times, I feel hopeful about it, but at other times it's more difficult to feel hope. 

In Finland I practised extreme minimalism. I lived without furniture and with very few possessions for ecological, aesthetic and spiritual reasons. Living on my own was the best time for my spiritual growth and for my sustainability practices. When my partner and I moved in together, many of my practices changed. I am fortunate that, like myself, my partner practises sustainability. But our practices looked very different. We acquired some furniture and some objects for our home. We try to buy organic and unpackaged food, natural and zero-waste personal care, organic home textiles. I still know that I could live with less than what we have. My partner's child is being brought up in a normal rather than particularly sustainability-minded way, and this is something I am finding challenging to navigate. I know that if I had a child, I would do my best to keep them away from consumerism, single-use plastic, overstimulation coming from the capitalist system. Overall, meeting my partner's child was an overwhelming experience, though it was also pleasant. 

This year I realised that I wanted to work on this autoethnography even more. Autoethnography has quickly become my favourite research method. I've used other methods before, but nothing allows one to dive as deep into a topic. 

In 2023 I feel I've learned so much that it will take a while for my mind to comprehend it all. I dream of truly slow living and feeling rooted somewhere. We decided to spend some of the final days of 2023 in a rural area in Denmark, away from busy Copenhagen. The rural area is a wonderful space to contemplate life. 

249

 Being away for some days

I don't travel often. But recently my loved one and I decided to spend a few days away from home. We went to Møn. Perhaps it's an unusual time to go there, but it's a popular tourist destination, and we wanted to be with silence and with nature. We took a train, then a bus, and then rented bikes. Before we departed, we stayed in Copenhagen in a hotel for some days as we had a fellow human stay in our studio apartment. 

We always travel light, but when I pack, I always feel like I take half of my possessions with me. Though I practise minimalism these days, rather than extreme minimalism, I still live with very few objects. For a few days, I took with me a couple of cotton vests, a pair of cotton trousers, very basic zero-waste toiletries, reusables such as a reusable net bag and a reusable coffee mug. I don't own winter clothes, but I took with me a light jacket and a large woollen scarf. The heaviest objects I took with me was my laptop and its charger. I brought the laptop with me as I wanted to write this autoethnography and some lines for my book. In Denmark, I was writing my book in Copenhagen, and it felt important to also write it in a rural area, with silence, and with nature. So many thoughts came to my mind in this rural area. 

Before I arrived there, I thought it would be something very different, something I have never experienced before. But this area reminded me a lot of the area where I used to live from when I was around 5 until I was in my mid-teens. The pace of life in the rural area feels so different to the pace of life in Copenhagen. The area is mainly agricultural, and there is no overstimulation like advertising and shop windows. The closest supermarket is a bike-ride away, and the supermarket is very small. The tiny towns nearby look sleepy. I think I could live in any of these towns, have a garden, look after it, read, and write often. It feels like a dream. 

It was the first time I decided to ride a bike after more than 10 years of bike-free living. Walking everywhere in the rural area is not an option, especially as days are very short now in Denmark. It feels to me that everyone in my social circle, and in sustainability academia more generally, has a bike. My fellow humans are always surprised when I tell them that I don't have one. I don't own a car either. Usually I walk everywhere, or use public transport if it's absolutely necessary. Living this way allows me to deeply connect with my surroundings. 

248

 Sketching new year's resolutions

These days, I've been sketching my new year's resolutions. I like this practice a lot. These resolutions are serious but also playful and gentle. They are directions for thinking and acting, a guide for my personal growth. I often use these resolutions to incorporate various sustainability practices, or become better at the ones I'm already doing. 

My first resolution is to use even less plastic. I believe that I live with less plastic than what is the norm in this society, but due to various physical and mental health issues, I felt that more plastic became part of my life again. In the past few months, I've focused on healing, and my health is improving. 

My second resolution is to drink more tea than coffee. There are many kinds of local herbs that can be used to make herbal tea. I love chamomile tea. I did not want any presents for Christmas, but my loved one got a reusable cup for me. I use it at home too. It holds just under half a litre of water, so my hot drinks last a long time. I don't own a tea cup, and I used to use a jar to make tea. The jar worked really well, apart from the fact it got very hot and I had to wait a while to be able to hold it. 

My third, and main, resolution is to focus on myself. I don't think it's a manifestation of selfishness. It is an act of service to nature and fellow humans. I notice that when I focus on my personal growth, I am a better researcher, teacher and a fellow being to human and non-human others. 2023 was the worst year in my life, but it was also full of learnings that arose from bad experiences. I resigned from my position at a Finnish university as an act of activism against violence in academia. I moved to Denmark for several reasons. I was writing a book about Danish businesses, Denmark was close to Finland, and I had an invitation from a Danish university to join them as a guest researcher. I understand some Danish, and in general I feel comfortable and at home in the Nordics. But also my co-author and partner lives in Denmark. When I moved, we moved in together. I/we thought it would be an overwhelmingly positive experience and a source of meaning. I don't regret this relationship but it was not what I imagined it would be. Something that I learned was that love is not enough, and that serious differences in values and approaches to everyday life are strong forces that can cause feelings of sadness, sorrow, and even disappointment and resentment. I decided to stop expecting a fairytale and instead accept that not every relationship must work out. This relationship might work out or it might not. I am curious to see how it unfolds. But above all, I plan to invest my energy into my personal growth rather than in pursuing an ideal relationship. 

My fourth resolution is to finish my book. I've been writing this book as all the negative experiences were unfolding. It was a process with very conflicting feelings. It felt authentic and therapeutic at times. At other times, it felt like a burden. But to me it is an important project where all my thoughts and reflections on my area of research will constellate. Since I published my first paper in 2020, fellow humans have been reaching out with countless questions. I will attempt to answer all of them in this book.

My fifth resolution is to converge my research and personal practice even more. Since 2016, I've been researching the role of business in degrowth transformations. I've been writing mainly about that. Much longer than that I have been practising voluntary simplicity, zero-waste, and minimalism. It is only more recently that I decided to write an autoethnographic article about this and made all my autoethnographic data public. It is incredibly time-consuming to write about degrowth business and about my own practices. In the coming year I hope to focus a bit more on my autoethnography. 

247

Christmas

It's so interesting to see how life unfolds. Last year, I spent the 24 and 25 December in a ferry from Stockholm to Helsinki and a hotel in Helsinki. I was moving countries on my own, with all my possessions that fit in a small tote bag and a backpack. This year, I will be on my own most of the 24th. My loved one and I will be celebrating this Christmas separately. In the evening of the 24th I will visit his father and stepmother. I've only met them once but I love them a lot. They are very inspiring and wise fellow humans. They didn't want anything for Christmas, but I felt I wanted to bring something for them. I usually give either what persons ask for exactly, or food and drinks, or something zero-waste. For this couple, I got soaps from a local Danish company that I also used myself. When I bought the soaps, the fellow human at the store put them in some brown paper bags. I simply left the soaps in those bags and used some ribbon that was left from wrapping gifts for the kids. I also used a tiny branch of thyme that grows outside my home here in Copenhagen. I put thyme branches in a jar too, as they look beautiful and festive. I didn't come across a fir tree from whom I could take a small branch to decorate my home. So I used thyme instead. I also kept a few oranges. Naturally, the oranges and thyme will be eaten. 

246

 Jars

I use these jars for so many things. They came with organic pasta sauce. I use them often to regrow celery and to keep things in. I keep small pieces of soap in one of them. These pieces of soap could be thrown away. Keeping them will not save the planet, and it is not expensive to buy a bar of soap. But keeping these tiny pieces honours nature and small objects we live with. Some fellow humans re-melt remaining pieces of soap to make new soap bars. I simply use them to clean the sink. 

Yesterday I had a conversation with fellow humans about ways we relate with nature. Nature is too often seen as a resource pool and a collection of commodities. We were discussing relating with local nature and even the microorganisms that live in and on our bodies as a strategy to develop a different relationship with nature, that of appreciation, love and care. 

245

Honouring small objects and navigating a new chapter

Some of the most beautiful and useful objects I live with were free or came into my life with other objects. I love the small stones I brought with me from Sweden and Finland and the ones I found here in Denmark. I appreciate the shells from the beach in Amager (an island in Denmark). The jars I use for tea and water were home to organic pasta sauce. In the picture above are some pieces of string that came with various objects (such as my loved one's socks) into my life. Recently I used some of these pieces to decorate gifts that my loved one got for his family members. I also tie them to my apartment key. Every time I use the key, I think about living in harmony with nature and honouring small objects. The bag in which I keep these pieces of string also came with another object, and I use it for storage. 

As I was looking at these pieces of string, I was thinking about life, how it unfolds in mysterious ways, and how it presents new chapters and spaces for us to navigate. My move to Denmark did not go as smoothly as I was hoping it would be. I was dealing with much stress as I resigned from my position at a Finnish university as an act of activism against violence in academia. I had to adjust to a new country. Even though I'd lived in other Nordic countries (Sweden and Finland) before I moved to Denmark, Denmark is still different. The relationship between my partner and I became challenging. Due to his childcare arrangement, we could not spend much time together. Then we decided to work on our relationship and he introduced me to his child. It's very easy to love a young fellow human being. Experiencing love towards a child who is not mine feels natural. Something that I find difficult to navigate is step parenting in relation to ecological living. In the capitalist system, love is too often expressed via consumption, and consumerism is certainly not something I want to engage in. I contemplate how this young fellow human will approach my zero-waste practices, whether she will be interested in them or find them inconvenient. If I had my own children, ecological practices would be part of their life from the very beginning. But this situation I am navigating currently is different. I am feeling empathy towards this fellow human being as she will be navigating different households. Perhaps this is confusing for a young person. 

244

 Consumption during Christmas holidays

I avoid overconsumption during Christmas holidays. Like many of my fellow humans in the Nordics, where winters are long, dark and cold, I enjoy lights such as julstjärnor (Christmas stars) but I don't own any myself. Street decorations and decorations at universities are more than enough for me. In general, I own no Christmas décor, and neither do I make it myself. To create festive mood at home, I prefer to have fresh fruits such as oranges and persimmons at home. They look bright and beautiful. I don't have a Christmas tree, but when I have an opportunity to bring some small fir tree branches home around this time of the year, I do it. Recently I brought home new stones from the beach in Amager. These stones look magical and ethereal to me.

I don't avoid getting Christmas gifts for others, but I usually give either food or zero-waste objects. As for receiving gifts, I usually let my fellow humans know that I have everything I need. 

Thinking about other beings is important to me also around Christmas time. This morning I had traditional Danish Christmas cookies (vaniljekranse) for breakfast, and for the magpie who visits my balcony every day, I made a cake from organic mixed seeds, oats, peanut butter and coconut oil. I mixed the ingredients together intuitively, without following any recipe. Usually I offer her some oats. 

243

 Sufficiency & clothing

Talking about something so intimate as clothing so openly feels vulnerable. When I write about post-growth, I say, as many fellow post-growth scholars do, that we need to focus on needs, that our consumption must be sufficient and not excessive. This thinking has implications for our relationship with textiles and clothes in particular. Instead of contemplating what this relationship could entail generally, I reflect on my own practices. Initially, I did not step on the path of wardrobe minimalism for ecological reasons. It was not because I learned certain facts about ecological degradation or the effect of textile production on fellow humans, non-humans and nature when I was doing my PhD. Long before then, when I was still a child but could already choose what to wear, I realised that I preferred neutral colours and no patterns. I live with high sensory processing sensitivity, and various colours and patterns felt overstimulating to me. Likewise, busy environments such as shopping centres also were not my favourite spaces. I also live with an autoimmune skin condition, so I always chose natural and soft fabrics and comfortable cuts as they simply felt better. Knowledge about ecological and social aspects of textile production manifested in my life much later than preferences towards simple clothing and natural fibres. 

These days, ecological, aesthetic, spiritual and even comfort-related dimensions constellate in my choice of what to wear. I live with very few items of clothing that I consider lagom (just right in Swedish) for my lifestyle. These items are white, beige, grey or black. I try to choose organic fibres and somewhat loose shapes. 

I feel there is always some pressure from the capitalist system to reinvent oneself. Perhaps if I was younger I would feel this pressure more, but in my 30s I intentionally avoid various sources of pressure such as tv, following influencers, exposing myself to fashion related social media. I invest this energy and time into nurturing a healthy relationship with myself and my body instead. 

Living with high sensory processing sensitivity means that I avoid many social events. I don't own any clothing that looks fancy. When I went to such events, such as a fellow human's PhD defence, I wore what I normally wear in my everyday life. It is so that I looked more casual than fellow humans, but manifesting love and care felt much more important to me. My close friends and colleagues know about my practice of simple living, so they don't ask me to change my practice for events. Overall, I notice that to the humans in my social circle it does not matter what I wear. What matters to them is what kind of person I am. I don't want to look stunning or glamorous. I want to feel at harmony with myself, fellow others (humans and non-humans), and nature. 

Wearing the same thing every day, looking the same at home and when I teach or present my academic work is an act of everyday activism. For example, it is important to me to dismantle hierarchies in my classroom. I don't want to look any different to my students. And more generally, I do not support the view that one must dress a certain way to "succeed". In my academic journey, I have heard fellow humans say to me often that dressing smart will somehow contribute to my career or my presence in the classroom. I would never say this to anyone because it is simply not true. What contributes to one's career and presence is love, care and commitment towards what one does and towards the self and fellow others. 

Practising minimalism or even extreme minimalism is not the only or the best way to live a more sustainable life. Borrowing, sharing, taking clothing free of charge at swap shops, shopping second-hand, receiving pre-loved clothing from fellow humans are all sustainable practices. At times, I borrow clothes from my loved one. But having a minimalist wardrobe is a good approach too if it is what one prefers. Often, my fellow humans ask me why I don't shop second-hand. I personally avoid second-hand shopping because I prefer to spend my time on other activities and I don't want to wear different outfits. 

242

 Gin bottle

This used to be a gin bottle, but my fellow human and I use it to store tap water to keep it cool. I am celebrating my autoethnographic paper finally being out, see here. I wrote this paper when I lived on my own in northern Sweden. The paper's journey was long, but I am glad that my fellow humans can finally read it. It's the most personal work that I've written. These autoethnographic notes are part of my autoethnographic study. When I was writing that paper, I didn't know what was the best way to share my data such as text (various notes, thoughts, sketches about my practices) and photographs. I wanted my data to be raw, living, transparent and accessible. This is why it's public. I also wanted my data to reflect my journey and various struggles and imperfections in my practice. 

So much has changed since I submitted that paper. I moved from northern Sweden to Finland and then to Denmark. In Finland my practice was more sustainable in some ways but also less sustainable in other ways. I lived without furniture, but I also used public transport more than I did when I lived in a small northern Swedish city. In Denmark, I started living with a fellow human, so many of my practices were moderated, and some were discontinued. For example, I began to buy more organic food and sharing more objects, but I stopped living furniture-free. 

241

 Simplicity

I notice that I mention simplicity very often in my autoethnography. In my previous note I wanted to capture the fact that zero waste and other sustainability practices take time. Simplicity makes sustainability practice less challenging. Some time ago, I began to use the box in the picture above to store some skincare items. The box was packaging for mushrooms that I bought in a supermarket here in Denmark. I thought the box was beautiful, but it was also useful as I didn't have anything where I could store winter skincare. In winter, I use plain shea butter packaged in a tin, a balm that I brought from Finland when I moved, and a balm that I got here in Denmark. Both glass and metal are indefinitely recyclable, meaning their quality does not degrade as they are recycled, unlike that of plastic. But recycling is not the most sustainable option. I try to reuse metal containers. Small ones I keep for travelling. Slightly bigger ones are useful for toothpaste tabs that come in paper packaging. 

At times, due to my autoimmune skin condition, I use products packaged in plastic, but I don't make it a habit. 

240

 Taking part

The fellow human I live with brought home these candle holders. He received them as a gift from a relative a while ago, but we don't use candles at home. We will bring them to a swap shop (byttestation in Danish) so hopefully another fellow human can pick them up and enjoy them free of charge. These candle holders are simple and beautiful. 

Recently I have been thinking a lot about taking part in the zero waste movement and various circularity practices. They take time. Taking part takes time, even when various helpful infrastructures are in place. When these infrastructures are scattered, it is even more time-consuming. 

Very often I notice that fellow humans throw into the general waste bin something that is obviously recyclable, such as cardboard boxes or glass jars. The cardboard recycling bin is just a few centimetres away, so it doesn't require much extra effort to sort this kind of waste. I contemplate what could be reasons for that. And when even very simple actions are not performed, how about more difficult ones?

In my own practice, I am far from perfect. Even though I try to buy bread from bakeries and vegetables from a food market, I often shop in a supermarket nearby because it is convenient and I don't have enough time to do all my shopping in various places. Perhaps if people worked less, we would have more time for participating in alternative organisations and structures. In a supermarket, I try to make better choices, such as buying unpackaged and seasonal food, but I can't help but think that it is still not the most ideal option. 

In terms of time, I feel privileged. I don't live with pets who require much time. My work is flexible at the moment. Oftentimes I can work from home. I don't have any care responsibilities, though it might change when I meet a young child soon and when my loved one needs care in the near future.

239

 Being with Copenhagen in winter

It's cold, rainy and dark. It was also dark in northern Sweden in winter, but magical snow, stars and occasional northern lights would make it lighter. The snow would absorb the sounds. The city where I used to live was small and calm. Here in Copenhagen there are so many sounds. When I open the window, all the sounds from the street flood my space. I used to live in Helsinki, another Nordic capital, but I lived in a very peaceful, small island in westernmost Helsinki. 

I often think that cities such as Copenhagen are suitable mostly for those who enjoy social and cultural activities such as going to theatres, museums and restaurants. Those were all the things my family and I did when I was a child before we moved to a remote location and after we returned to a big city. I don't know if it's living in a remote location that shaped me into the human being that I am, or it is just my personality. I find it challenging to be in a big city. I miss nature. Here in Copenhagen, as it is perhaps in most cities, the approach to nature is utilitarian. Trees are used as decorations. Occasionally I see some jelly fish in the water and meet a squirrel in one of the nearby green spaces. In smaller cities there is also culture, there are cafes and shops, but somehow it feels lagom rather than overwhelming. 

Recently I met a heron by one of the lakes (Søerne). I was walking with a fellow human who needed to catch a train so I couldn't be with the heron for a long time. But I was thinking a lot about this heron. It looked very calm though it was in the city centre. I wonder how it felt. It seemed to be used to humans. 

238

 Scarf

I've been contemplating sufficiency again. I had to revisit my sufficiency list for a work I'm writing, and it is so interesting to think about the relationships with objects that I've developed. Perhaps it is because there are so few items in the sufficiency list. In our society, everything is replaceable and living with a lot of objects has been normalised. I believe it's easier to develop beautiful relationships with fewer items. The scarf in the picture above is one of the objects in my sufficiency list. I got it in Sweden, and the scarf lived with me in Sweden, Finland and Denmark. I wore it as I travelled from one country to another, in summer evenings when it was cold, when it was raining, when I needed to hide from the world to think deeply about something. The scarf has a story. Over the years, it has acquired some imperfections. In places, it's thinner than before. But to me, this scarf is not replaceable. This is not to say that I would feel sad if someone took it, or if I lost it, as I also try to practise non-attachment to things. But I also value this object and want to live with it for many years. 

237

 Zero-waste living in reality

Have you ever seen pictures of zero-waste living? 

When I think about zero-waste living, two different images come to mind. One is the perfect picture of a zero-waste lifestyle with new soap bars and new brushes, perfectly matching and labelled glass jars, clean cotton totes, everything made from natural materials. And the other one is that of my own life. I've been practising a lifestyle that is perhaps best described as a constellation of zero-waste, voluntary simplicity and minimalism for more than 10 years. Zero-waste living is not perfect. Soap bars leave residue and at times melt, brushes age, cotton bags acquire stains. Buying perfectly matching glass jars is expensive. The glass jars I have were home to organic pasta sauce. There are still many plastic objects that I live with. My prescription medicine comes in plastic packaging. I keep the pots that store-bought basil plants came in to reuse them for other plants. There are many objects in my life that have stains, holes and cracks, yet they are still functional and beautiful. 

Oftentimes, my practice is not perfect even when I know better. There are times when I choose the most convenient option, such as going to a supermarket rather than a food market. As I was writing these notes, I discontinued this activity for some hours to go out for a drink with fellow humans. Having a drink is not in any way a genuine human need. 

What helps me on this journey is acknowledging and embracing imperfection, having empathy for myself. Much waste is not even generated by us, consumers. It is associated with long and complex supply chains. While I can do my best, I cannot take responsibility for fellow humans' actions and social systems. What makes zero-waste easier for me is emphasising sufficiency and combining zero-waste with other ideas such as minimalism, voluntary simplicity, slow living but not taking anything to extremes. For a period of my life I took minimalism to an extreme and lived furniture-free. I derived much from this experience, including learning to see everything in a more nuanced way. 

236

 Stains

In the picture above are reusable organic cotton tea bags. They used to be off-white when they were new, but over time they acquired these magical colours and patterns from chamomile and green tea. These tea bags can be machine washed at 40 degrees, but I don't machine wash them for several reasons. One is that washing them with only water is sufficient, in my view. They stay very clean and dry quickly. Another reason is that the washing machines in our building are shared, and some fellow humans unfortunately still use scented detergents whose smells linger. I also wouldn't want to buy a separate wash bag for these tea bags so they don't get lost in the pile of clothing. 

On my voluntary simplicity and zero-waste journey, I learned to embrace imperfections and see beauty in them. Imperfections such as stains, small holes, small cracks on cups and plates are good. Very often, when I see pictures of zero-waste objects, they look new. But it's so important to show what zero-waste living actually looks like. 

As for using tea bags made from organic cotton, it does take longer to wash them and fill them with tea than to use a conventional tea bag. I use them as I try to avoid, as much as possible, plastics in my everyday life. I find natural materials more beautiful and pleasant. I also find living with less plastic slow and more mindful. And using less plastic aligns with the kind of society I describe and advocate for in my academic work. There are serious environmental concerns regarding the use of plastics, see for example this UN report. 

235

 Career

Like many fellow humans, I have a curriculum vitae (cv). I keep it updated but I can't take it completely seriously. And here is my reason that I've shared with many fellow humans. There is one career that I've had since birth and will have until my death, that is of always becoming a good human being. That is, be caring, loving and harmonious in the domains of the self, the with-world (Mitwelt, including non-human beings) and nature (the place where I am, nature at large, and the cosmos). It concerns relations and practices. My academic work is only one part of it. It allows me to reach fellow humans via writing, teaching, and supervision. 

Thinking this way allows me to avoid identifying myself and my worth with the number of publications and citations. It allows me to take breaks when I need them, to focus on what feels right. Right now, it feels right to crystallise my knowledge in one book. 

My actual cv does not include descriptions of my relationships with the cosmos or my practices. But before I was in my mid-teens, I lived in a magical, remote area with much nature and not many fellow humans. I developed a close connection with nature and not so many close relations with people, as I knew my family and I would be leaving that area and we lived far from others.

Between my mid-teens and my late-teens, I lived in a large city. I visited the summer house at times, but not very often. The summer house was far from where I used to live. I was in society but I felt separated from nature.

From the age of 20 until my early 30s I lived in a small city in England. There I was looking for some balance between my social life and connecting with nature. But nature was not wild and raw, it was heavily transformed by humans. There were several parks but no forests. During those years, I intentionally stepped on a path of more ecological living, including vegetarianism, minimalism, voluntary simplicity, and zero waste. My reasons were ecological, spiritual, aesthetic.

Then I moved to northern Sweden. I felt oneness with nature there almost every day. It was a wonderful time of my life. I practised extreme minimalism but it was incredibly difficult to get zero-waste food. Many fruits and vegetables were packaged in plastic. 

Then I moved to southern Finland. I lived on a small island and went for walks around the island every day. I lived on the island from March until September, and it was magical to see the unfolding of different seasons. In Finland, I also practised extreme minimalism and furniture-free living. 

Then I moved to Denmark. Here I didn't know many humans and I was far away from wild nature. Instead of extreme minimalism, I began to practise minimalism. In Copenhagen it is easier to practise zero-waste. 

234

Spirituality

 As I'm working on my book, I notice that I use words such as spirituality, the universe and the cosmos so much. It's an academic work so it feels somewhat vulnerable to use these words. At the same time, I did not want to be inauthentic and focus on other, safer aspects of being and relating with the world. Earlier in my career I felt much less comfortable using words such as spirituality or the cosmos in my academic work. I was thinking, what if fellow academics would judge me? When I started writing this autoethnography and began diving into contemplations of various generative mechanisms behind living, e.g., a voluntarily simple lifestyle, zero-waste, extreme minimalism, I realised that it was absolutely necessary to be honest and transparent about the actual reasons. Perhaps a more elegant reason would be knowledge, saying that I learned more about ecological and social destruction and degradation, and these new knowledges inspired me to live differently. They surely empowered me on this journey. But the strongest mechanism in my case in not knowledge, it's a way of relating with the cosmos. Many of my decisions regarding a different pattern of consumption and being came about much earlier in my life when I knew much less about degradation than I do now as a scientist. 

233

 Self-transcendence 

Experiencing self-transcendence is something that helps me overcome various struggles in life. When I look at the sky, it puts everything into perspective. Here in Copenhagen it is a little bit more difficult to feel oneness with the cosmos, as there is not much nature around. When I lived in northern Sweden, there was a beautiful river, a lake, forests. Places created perfect spaces for experiencing oneness. But even here in Copenhagen I can watch the sunrise or go to the sea. 

There are still many things for me to navigate, such as my career, the direction of my research, my personal connections with fellow humans. When I think about such things, it feels overwhelming. I fear making a mistake. Then I look at the sky and see my life's unfolding as just another unfolding in the universe. I see my life as a journey with many surprises, serious decisions, magical experiences. 

Something that I am thinking about is (over)consumption during this season. It's the beginning of December, and fellow humans are buying a lot. Within the social movements I follow and am part of, such as minimalism, voluntary simplicity, and zero waste, there is a tendency to make gifts, give experiences and quality time as gifts, make donations on behalf of someone, or even give nothing. But it feels to me that this is still a rather small proportion of the population who adopt these practices.

232

 Helsingborg

I came to Lund University's campus in Helsingborg again. I am writing my book on Danish, Finnish and Swedish businesses, and it's wonderful to write it in both Denmark and Sweden these days. I brought with me a jar that was home to some organic pasta sauce. This is to show that zero waste practices do not always (or even at all) require consumption of special products. My colleague whose department is hosting me gave me a mandarin orange as a gift. I also attended a lecture by this fellow human. It's interesting and thought-provoking to attend my colleagues' lectures. The lecture was broadly on my area of expertise, but there were two discussions that stood out. One was about consumers not willing to pay more for products that contain recycled materials. This may be different for certain groups of consumers, e.g., those who practise ecological lifestyles. Another one was sustainable products being a niche, oftentimes attracting customers with larger disposable incomes. Such customers' carbon footprints may be very large to begin with. The fellow human who delivered the lecture was saying that it is necessary that accessible stores such as Flying Tiger Copenhagen start offering sustainable options, otherwise sustainable lifestyles remain something that only a small proportion of population does. 

231

 Nameko

Buying seasonal, unpackaged or minimally packaged food is an important part of my practice. 14 or so years ago I stepped on a path of eating a plant-based diet for ecological reasons. It was not a challenge or a sacrifice because I always genuinely preferred vegetarian and vegan foods. Over the years, I began to contemplate other aspects of my relationship with food. It was no longer enough to consume food that was labelled as, say, vegan. It became important to me to contemplate how seasonal that food was, what kind of packaging it came with, how it was grown and processed, and where that food came from. 

These days, one can buy cucumbers and tomatoes grown in Denmark. Growing these vegetable in Denmark in winter is incredibly energy intensive. It feels better to buy seasonal vegetables. At the moment, those are for example Jerusalem artichokes, celery, potatoes, pumpkins, leek, kale, apples. 

I don't plan my meals exactly. Instead, I go to a food market or a supermarket to see what is available that is seasonal and minimally packaged. Then some simple dish comes to mind. Recently I made a soup with leek, onion and potatoes. 

This is not to say that I don't buy vegetables and fruits that are not in season, but most of the vegetables and fruits that I consume are seasonal. These days there are no fresh berries in the Nordics, so I have jam and honey instead. 

All of these practices allow me to connect better with nature and honour her rhythms. 

In the picture above are some beautiful nameko mushrooms. 

230

Being with a magpie (skata)

In the past few weeks, a magpie (skata in Swedish) has been visiting my balcony. She would come there several times every day. I started offering her some organic oats which she seems to love. She came back often to check if there was another portion available. Recently I forgot to offer her a new portion, and she came to my door and walked right in front of it. The door is made from glass, so I can observe the magpie often. Both her and I live in a city, and perhaps for her there is not much healthy food available, especially in winter. I see so many birds picking up rubbish and processed food in the streets. I feel deeply connected with this magpie. These days, since I resigned from the Finnish university as an act of activism, I try to be careful with my budget. But somehow offering organic food to a fellow being feels infinitely more important than buying something for myself. 

229

 Making skincare

Recently I've made a few simple skincare items. There are several reasons for it. One is ecological. I practise ecological living, and to me it is important to minimise the use of plastic, to minimise the number of objects I consume and live with, to minimise the amount of various human-made ingredients that I wash off my skin. I try to avoid using things that I would not feel comfortable to apply on my skin before I swim in a river or a lake. Another reason is health. I've mentioned it several times in this autoethnography that many of my sustainability practices were there long before I started researching degrowth. I live with an autoimmune skin condition, which means I feel better when I wear natural fabrics, especially organic cotton. I feel better when I eat simple, local, minimally processed foods. My skin feels much better when I use very simple and natural products. I avoid many categories of consumption, such as jewellery, makeup, car, tv, fancy clothes and accessories and so on for sustainability reasons. Skincare products is a category that I would love to live without, but due to my autoimmune disease, it is not possible. Instead, I use simple, locally made soap bars, a salve made by a small, local business, and homemade products. Most recently, I mixed some sweet almond oil and a few drops of organic tea tree oil and organic lavender essential oil to make an oil that I can use on my face, body, and hair. 

228

 Being with a willow

The past few days have been very stressful. I often think about a genuinely sustainable society and how it can be brought about. When life unfolds peacefully, it is easier to dream about better futures, a more harmonious mode of being in the world, and better practices.  But when various struggles constellate, theorising and manifesting sustainability becomes a challenge. I think about the meaning of life, relationships with fellow humans, my service to others and nature through my work. Going through a stressful time makes me feel overwhelming empathy towards others and their paths. I also wonder why it is the norm to conceal struggles from fellow humans. At times, my fellow humans (e.g., fellow academics, students) share their struggles with me, and I notice how cautious they are at first. So am I when I wonder if it's ok or not to be authentic. Humans seem to experience so much anxiety and even fear over answering "no" if someone asks them if they are ok. And yet, feeling well is so important for sustainability. It is much more difficult to practise sustainability and be an activist when one is struggling.

Something that helped me recently was having genuine conversations with my fellow humans, being vulnerable with them without feeling shame, and also being with nature. I walked past the willow tree in the picture above many times. But as the pond froze, the tree's branches were embraced by the thin ice, dusted with very light snow. I sat down in front of it to just be present with the pond, the ice and the willow. For a while, I held a piece of ice in my hands. It was a self-transcending experience. 

227

 On watching tv

My fellow human on a social media platform raised a question of media entertainment, such as watching tv/streaming. I never contemplated it in much depth because I don't have a tv, don't feel the need to have a tv and I rarely watch films/series. In fact I only watch something when I am with the person I live with, and mostly we watch Danish films. I am genuinely curious about Danish films as it's part of Danish culture that I'm trying to understand as I am currently living in Denmark. I don't feel bad about occasionally watching those films, and the amount of time I spend on this activity feels lagom. I don't want to watch more, as watching tv is actually one of my least favourite activities. I don't want to watch less, as I don't have a "no tv" policy. 

When I was young, my family watched tv, I grew up in a normal household. But for many years we lived in a beautiful, remote area due to my stepfather's job. In comparison to magical nature in that area, tv was not interesting at all. So I never learned to rely on tv for entertainment. As a child, I genuinely liked to read and I used to paint a lot. In winter, I loved spending time with the snow, and also with my brother and the cats and the dog we lived with. When I was 10 or so, I asked my mother and stepfather to get some chicks so we could raise them. For many years, we lived with chickens. They required much care but they were also family members, so I would spend time with them. I would spend a lot of time with nature, with fields, trees. We had a large garden, and I would at times help to look after it.

In Sweden and in Finland, I lived in very beautiful areas and would spend much time with nature as well. In neither of those countries I had internet at home, because I knew I would not be streaming. After my fellow human asked me the question about media entertainment, I asked myself what I do with my time if I don't watch tv. I read and write a lot. I write both as my profession and also sketch some thoughts about my life in my personal notes. Much of it is public (e.g., this autoethnography) because I chose not to separate my research and my personal practices/my life. These days I am writing a book, and that takes much of my time. 

I love simple activities such as sitting and walking. They are therapeutic and conducive to wellbeing, even though they are often seen as doing "nothing". I celebrate doing nothing and I'm not ashamed of saying this. Oftentimes, I sit while being mindful of the presence of others, such as the stars, the moon or the sun. I often have fika with the sun. During those moments, I feel so much gratitude, awe, wonder, all kinds of self-transcending emotions. 

I do many things slowly, and that takes time. I don't have a car or a bike and try to avoid using public transport too. Instead of watching tv, I would rather spend my time on going for a very long walk, to a food market, to the sea. It takes time to cook from scratch. Recently I was making my own skincare, and this takes time. 

I spend time on thinking and dreaming. Often, beautiful ideas come to mind not when I am reading something, but when I simply let my thoughts unfold naturally. 

I spend time on deep conversations with fellow humans and on responding to their messages and emails, but also on internal conversations. I ask myself whether I am on the right path in my life and how I feel about it. I spend time on cleaning my home, honouring the objects I live with. In summer I take time to forage.

226

 Danish winter skincare

My skin gets very dry here in the Nordics in winter. I've been using bar soaps for many years, and this is something I continue to use for my body, hands and face. This is the only cleanser that doesn't dry out or irritate my skin. I live with an autoimmune skin condition, and I've noticed that using very simple, natural products works best for me. I buy bar soap from small, local, independent businesses. These bars come without packaging or with minimal paper packaging. At times, I used to use oil (jojoba, almond, rosehip or argan) on my face but as I moved countries rather often in the past three years, I started using a salve/balm instead. I would usually get balms from small, local, independent businesses wherever I was. These balms are made from simple ingredients, and the one I am using now is made from shea butter, olive oil and beeswax. I use it on my face, body and hands. I could make a balm like this myself, but I don't want to get raw ingredients as I wouldn't use them up. I prefer to buy fresh balms and support independent local businesses. 

There are still a few natural products packaged in plastic that I and the fellow human I live with have. We intend to finish those products too, recycle the packaging and not buy products packaged in plastic again. Some products that are packaged in plastic come from the period in my life when I experienced a lot of stress. Some of them are prescription items. 

225

 Making a list of practices & principles 

Over the years, starting around 2010-2011, I've been on a path of a more ecological living. It's been imperfect and at times I made mistakes. Some practices were there even before 2010, while others are more recent. My practices changed a lot too. For a while, I lived without furniture and electric appliances. I washed everything by hand. When I started living with a fellow human, some things changed, e.g., we got some items of furniture and started using shared washing machines in our building. But many practices remained more or less the same throughout the years. I wanted to put all the practices together in one place in this autoethnography. Because I compiled the list in one go, I will be adding to it. The list is here. I numbered the items in the list for some reason, but the order is not so important. I didn't categorise the items. When I looked at the whole list, I thought that it would be almost impossible for me to restructure my life in one day or one week. Living this way now is a result of many years of spiritual growth, trial and error. It is important to recognise various structures within which I dwell. Some are constraining (e.g., the food system), while others are empowering (alternatives such as swap stations). Some structures are empowering but it is expensive to use them (e.g., public transport here in the Nordics). 

I also added a small list of principles that guide these practices or help me practise ecological living. Perhaps it would be fair to say that there is just one principle, which is love towards the self, human and non-human others, and nature (or generally the cosmos/universe). But then I decided to be more specific. This kind of love my co-author and I call "gentleness", as the word love is often used is the context of love towards another human being. 

224

 Green consumerism

Many years ago, when I consciously stepped on the path of more ecological living, it was difficult to find alternatives to conventional products. It was around 2010-2011. In the city in England where I lived there were a few places where one could get ecological and unpackaged products, but those products often did not perform as well as conventional ones or were much more expensive. Since then, things have changed a lot. It is easy to find alternatives. Some fellow humans say to me that practising ecological living is just another form of green consumerism. It can certainly take this form. In theory, anyone who can afford it can simply throw away/donate/sell everything they do not want to live with anymore and buy ecological products instead. It wouldn't even take long, especially considering that there are so many online stores these days dedicated to sustainable living. 

My own journey was not perfect. The first time I visited a zero-waste store, I got many things that I genuinely needed (such as unpackaged food and soap bars), but I also got, for example, stainless steel straws. I almost never used them afterwards and would later give them away. 

Something that helped me on my path was extreme minimalism. Zero-waste practices for me were only part of a more ecological mode of being. Another part was trying to live only with essentials. At around the same time, I reconsidered my relationship with makeup. I asked myself whether it was something I truly wanted to consume and live with, and I did not. If I was trying to replace, say, every makeup item with a zero-waste option, it would be frustrating, especially in 2010-2011. 

After the mistake I made with the stainless steel straws, I became much more mindful about my consumption. I was contemplating what was adding value to my life and what was not. I was trying to use up the products I had before replacing them with better, more ecological options. After many years of practising this mode of living, my practices are rather stable and I keep using more or less the same products. 

Some practices manifested earlier, other ones later. For example, one of the first things I did was using reusable cotton bags. At that time it was still normal to use plastic bags, and all those years ago they were free in England. Later on, charges were introduced. Though I would reuse those bags for a long time, they still didn't last as long as cotton ones. I started using soap bars and got a reusable water bottle. I became plant-based. Only later on I started to consume more organic, seasonal and unpackaged food. Minimising my wardrobe to under 20 items came even later. These days I try to wear only organic cotton and linen items that look like loungewear to normalise casual, durable, comfortable and natural clothing in professional and formal settings. 

Even more recently I decided to bank with an ethical financial institution. I also got reusable tea bags made from organic cotton. I understand that actions such as using reusable tea bags are incredibly small. But overall, this mode of living simplified my life, made it much easier to move countries, helped me save money. Somehow I feel healthier both in my body and my mind. Many fellow humans ask me about this mode of being, and I had hundreds of opportunities to have deep conversations about ecological degradation and what we can do in different domains of society. I feel that with simple and ecological everyday practices and routines I have more time for other activities such as contemplating, reading, and writing.  

223

 Everyday care

Regrowing celery and keeping lettuce in water so it lasts a bit longer will not stop ecological degradation. What will do something about it is care and love manifested in every domain of society, on every level, in every system. Our systems and policies need to be based on care and love towards humans, non-humans and nature. Considering the scale of the necessary change, of course regrowing celery feels like nothing. I think care needs to be not only felt but also practised intentionally. The way it is practised partly depends on one's position in society, i.e., where one has a say or power to act. For example, as an academic, I can choose how I deliver my lectures, how I supervise my students. We can exercise care by choosing mindfully who we vote for, what systems we reproduce. But very small-scale, everyday acts of care are also important and meaningful. In my personal life, these acts include caring about the amount electricity I use, making sure I don't generate food waste and minimise other forms of waste, using ingredients that are safe for ecosystems, contemplating my practices and where improvements can be made, reflecting on how I relate with my fellow humans and non-humans, etc. 

222

 Zero waste

Yesterday at the office in Lund university I was reading a popular book about zero waste. I've been following the zero waste movement for many years and tried to practise zero waste perfectly myself at different times in my life. These days, I incorporate many zero waste practices in my everyday life, but I'm not living a zero waste lifestyle. I see my lifestyle as a constellation of multiple and imperfect sustainability practices.  

Many of my fellow humans in academia say that zero waste pushes responsibility to consumers. I largely agree with them. Businesses and the state need to take responsibility too. But at the same time, I see many benefits of engaging with zero waste practices as an individual, a consumer.

In my practice, zero waste, minimalism and voluntary simplicity go hand in hand. Living with a lot less than what is the norm in our society makes zero waste much easier to practise. In fact, many of the items I live with are the ones that allow me to manifest care towards nature. 

Perhaps the greatest value of engaging with zero waste practices is that they often take more time. To some, the fact such practices take more time may sound off-putting. But these practices make me, and many other fellow humans, slow down and contemplate and grow spiritually. Cooking from scratch, walking to the other side of town to get some unpackaged vegetables from a food market, cleaning my home with baking soda and vinegar takes time but is humbling and even therapeutic. I don't see this as a waste of time or a chore. I think about care, growth and service. 

During stressful and difficult times, I pay more attention than ever to zero waste practices. I realise that I have everything I need and can let go of everything at any time. Most of those things can be reused by fellow humans or return safely to mother Nature. I don't feel that I need more things or more money to buy even more things. 

221

 From Copenhagen to Helsingborg

On my way from Copenhagen to Helsingborg to visit Lund university's campus. The journey takes around 1.5 hours from Copenhagen central station. I use this time to contemplate and write.