128

 Meaning of life

I've always been fascinated with the question of meaning of life. This question often seems heavy, scary, and dark or melancholic, but it doesn't have to be this way. To me it's a playful question, especially since I contemplate the meaning of my own life, and I see myself as just one being amongst many. Throughout my life, society in general and fellow humans have offered several options, none of which felt right. To my mother and stepfather, family was the meaning of life. They tried to create a perfect family, often at the expense of quality of the actual family life. 

Some said that children are the meaning of life. Having children is one's personal choice, and having them has never been my priority. Neither has it been a real possibility - considering the lifestyle I would like to give to the children if I had any - due to my lifestyle of academic nomadism. In the past few years I've lived in three countries and never felt completely secure in my relationships. At times I also wonder about the ethics of inviting a human being into this world: no one asked me for consent to manifest my existence. I remember learning about nuclear power plants, nuclear waste, etc. and wondering why I was brought into this world. Since then, I learned about ecological and social degradation, and my concerns only deepened. Later in life I met someone with whom I could perhaps have considered having a child, but that person didn't want to have one with me. 

The school system, in my experience, was not preoccupied with the question of meaning, rather with completion of endless tasks. This is frustrating, as humans spend many years at school, and many opportunities for creating spaces for personal growth and education are missed. I work at a university, and while we, as teachers, have many opportunities to facilitate personal growth, often our courses are not long enough, and students come to universities as adults with already shaped worldviews and philosophies, at least with some constellations of beliefs. 

When I was a student in England, the overall message I got from the British system of higher education was that apparently "success" (i.e., career and money) is the meaning of life. Some fellow humans seemed to believe this idea, while others were critical. 

When it comes to the meaning of life, I usually turn to existentialist philosophy. A long time ago I read The Myth of Sisyphus by Camus, which I liked a lot. Essentially, everyone is responsible for infusing their own life with meaning. There is no single, correct answer to the question of what the meaning of human life is. Such approach spoke to me largely because it was close to how I'd come to see the world and due to the notions of human agency, freedom, choice and responsibility being important to me as a human being and a researcher. Perhaps one source of difference between my own experiences of the universe and how, e.g., Camus sees it, is that to me the universe (or the cosmos, or nature) always felt like an inherently good, comfortable and comforting, caring, loving, safe space. This is despite all the bad experiences I've had in my own life, which I've had just like any other fellow human being.

Spiritual journey has been the meaning of my life as long as I remember. It allowed me to stay more or less on the same path, despite having different priorities at different times. While personal spiritual growth may sound like an egoistic pursuit, I don't think it is. One's spiritual growth manifests in the mode of being, how a person approaches others (humans and non-humans) and the world in general. 

More recently, when I decided to be with a fellow human after a beautiful, meaningful and healing break from relationships, I thought that love, concretely manifested as love towards another person, could be the meaning of life. I contemplated this idea and my personal experiences of living according to this idea for a while, and came to a conclusion that it's not. Treating love towards an individual fellow human as the meaning of life brought feelings of sorrow, disappointment, anxiety, deep unhappiness and losing oneself. I decided to see love towards another individual as one of life's experiences, and the relationship as one of plural unfoldings on my path and a source of learning. It allowed me to return to the self and loving the cosmos in general rather than prioritising one fellow human. To me, returning to the self means contemplating what I want to manifest in the world, what kind of human being I want to be, and focusing on this manifesting in my practice. 

127

 Stories

My mind can't generate images. This condition is called aphantasia. I can't imagine simple things in my mind like colours or shapes or simple objects, not to mention situations or fellow humans. I can't imagine my cat, my brother or my partner, and since I don't keep any photos, those beings become something abstract, like ideas. Even the photos I took for this autoethnography are there to communicate emotions or show something concrete to my fellow humans so they can relate better to what I'm writing. Some of these photos I keep for my lectures, but I don't keep pictures of humans. 

Because I've never been able to generate images in my mind, stories have been very important to me. This is how my mind processes memories, situations, and entertains itself. Not all memories are stories; most memories are akin to plain powerpoint presentations, just bullet points with some details, usually very few. It looks like this: I went there, approximately at that time, with person x, we did this, I felt so and so, overall it was so and so. 

Stories are more elaborate. There are more details and usually something that communicates important insights. A significant story for me was the one my brother and I (verbally) co-authored when we were very young. I don't remember our parents reading or telling us stories when we were young, so we were telling them to each other, and nature was telling us stories too. Most of our childhood, apart from the first few years of our lives in a large city where we were born, we spent in an isolated, rural area with beautiful nature. There were nature's stories everywhere, mostly related to life cycles and other rhythms of nature. 

The story my brother and I co-authored was based in the worlds we created, far away from the Earth, even though I believe those worlds were directly inspired by the diverse and magical landscapes we saw around us in the north-western and the south-western parts of the country and in between those areas. My world was a very small town surrounded by large expanses of nature. The town was populated by humans, and nature by the children of snow, forest, rivers, mountains, and so on. My brother and I would co-create stories based in those settings for many years. When we grew up and went our separate paths, we stopped and never discussed it ever again. At times I wonder what would happen to those characters and whether those stories had the same significance to my brother as they did to me. While they were mostly entertaining, some themes played out much later in my life, such as a constant struggle between needing other humans and an overwhelming desire to be separate from everyone. Other themes (e.g., power) I could understand better only when I began doing research. 

More recently I fell in love with a story of a fellow human I've never met. Unfortunately I can't tell it but it's had a great impact on me. It made me think about humans being able to make extremely difficult but infinitely beautiful decisions in pursuit of higher, universal, timeless values despite society's norms and expectations (often based on appalling, harmful ideologies) and likely despite the doubts the individual probably had. It made me question my own life and my own decisions. Perhaps different humans would interpret this story differently. To me, it's a powerful story of a strong individual. Somehow I feel it's changed me forever as a person. 

At times I think about my whole life as a (short) story. A while ago I was sketching some stories for an autoethnographic text for a book, to link the unfolding of my life with my current ecological and spiritual practice and worldview. This worldview and corresponding practices are not a result of watching some documentary or sitting down one day and deciding at once to change my life, to love nature, etc. The roots of this nature-based, deeply ecological worldview seem to stem from nature-based experiences and living in and with nature for many years, especially early in my life. 

When I think about it, my life has played out to a large extent identically to the life of one of the characters my brother and I had in our story. Ice was both the mother and the father of that creature. It lived with the ice and didn't want to leave it. Another character made it manifest its presence in the world, and since then it couldn't go back. The creature went on many adventures in different places and became a herbalist. It was an HSP (this is something I realised much later in my life) and had beautiful interactions with nature everywhere, but made bad decisions in other spheres of its life. It wore the same white dress for many years and never had any belongings. It never had its own home either. 

In the picture above is herbal tea, made from Finnish herbs here in Finland. 

126

 Being with my self and Nature

Blueberries stain your fingers when you pick them, and I find these stains beautiful. I never try to get rid of them. When I pick blueberries, I never use a bärplockare because it damages leaves. 

125

 On extreme minimalism and zero-waste

Extreme minimalism and zero-waste are controversial movements. Practising extreme minimalism means living with a lot (and obviously) less than what is the norm. I believe there is a constellation of reasons why humans practise extreme minimalism. My reasons are ecological, spiritual, and aesthetic. This lifestyle is not necessarily less expensive than some other lifestyle: to live with less, those few items need to be good quality (and thus often more expensive), otherwise one must re-purchase them very often. It is possible to acquire items second-hand and borrow too. While I borrow some items at times, I avoid second-hand shopping because it is time-consuming and I don't enjoy shopping. And there are of course other expenses beyond acquiring items, such as housing, food, bank fees, electricity and water, and public transport. In theory, it is also possible to consume more normally and donate items often. 

One can practise extreme minimalism and have a large environmental impact. I'm not sure how beneficial this lifestyle is for nature, perhaps it depends on how exactly it is practised, since there are so many ways to do it. 

I've noticed that many associate extreme minimalism with a particular colour scheme. One can practise extreme minimalism without preferring beige and grey colours. Personally I find those colours calming and beautiful. 

There is at times an assumption that practising extreme minimalism means living with a certain number of items, such as 15 or 100. This is not helpful at all, since people's circumstances differ and also change. While I've had my own "sufficiency list" for many years, I always highlight the fact that this list is not a serious tool but a playful thing to sketch and contemplate. These days I use it (by now, it's in my mind rather than on a piece of paper) when I pack things. 

Zero-waste discourse was very prominent some years ago within a broader environmental movement, and since then attracted much criticism. For most humans, it is impossible to live entirely zero-waste. Even if a product itself is zero-waste, likely some waste was generated in the process of production. Some zero-waste foods may be coming from far-away places. Looking for zero-waste items is time-consuming. Some items cannot be purchased without any packaging (such as prescription drugs). One can practise zero-waste while engaging in activities that are not good for nature. Some humans would say that this movement focuses on consumers rather than on change in our systems. And so on. 

I've been fascinated with the zero-waste movement and discourse for a very long time. At times, I tried to see if this mode of living was even possible. It wasn't possible for me as a long-term project. At the very least, due to my life-long health condition, I need medicines packaged in plastic and other materials. It is not difficult to see various issues of the zero-waste movement, but I still see much beauty in it. It is perhaps most useful to see zero-waste not as a destination but rather in terms of walking a path. 

Some products I invite into my life are zero-waste, others are not. Generally, thinking in terms of zero-waste makes me more mindful of the choices I make. Often these choices are not straightforward. I don't know if buying chocolate packaged in paper is more sustainable than buying local apples packages in plastic. Some zero-waste items I have used for many years and find them better and more beautiful than more conventional options. Something I've realised during the past 10 or so years of this journey is that it is much easier to practise zero-waste while also practising extreme minimalism. In general, it feels that constellating different (but still related) lifestyles and practices works best. I would struggle to put one label on my lifestyle and my mode of being. There are elements of zero-waste, of extreme minimalism, but also of simple and slow living, deep ecology and many others. Perhaps it is not even necessary to label one's mode of being. At times it could be useful to connect with likeminded humans. For me it is also useful for academic reasons, to contemplate and discuss plural practices, attitudes and their constellations. 

124

 Values and practices

It feels to me that in some sustainability discourses practice/doing is emphasised. I look into business practices in my research and pay much attention to my personal practices. But the further I walk down this path of learning and growth, the more I feel the need to reflect on values and their constellations. Many years ago I used to think more about things like using a reusable water bottle instead of single use plastic ones. These days I contemplate things like care, empathy, awe, wonder, gratitude. Nurturing these values and attitudes manifests in practice. It manifests in so many ways beyond a more ecological mode of living. 

Above: messages in my office 

Below: inkabär 

123

 Dreams

In these autoethnographic notes and in many other spaces of my life I've said it so many times that small scale actions performed by one person are not going to stop ecological degradation. In the beginning of my (conscious) ecological journey I emphasised the link between personal ecological actions and ecological degradation more. But since stepping on this path many other aspects revealed themselves, such as the aesthetic aspect of this mode of being. Living with much less than what is the norm in our society frees up much energy and time for other pursuits. Some of them are spiritual or self-transcendent, concerning the relationship between oneself and the universe. Others are very personal. In some way, living with less freed up much energy to dream. Here I don't mean one's mind's activities while one sleeps, but rather conscious activities of the mind. Perhaps hopes and plans are better words for these, but the word hope somehow underemphasises one's agency, and the word plan underemphasises emergence and unpredictable unfolding of the future.  

Recently I was talking to my fellow human at work. I told her that my dream is to live with the same tea cup for many years. In the past few years, and in my life more generally, I've moved a lot. Every time I moved with a very small number of items, taking with me only what I could carry. A tea cup is one of these items I could easily leave behind because there is always someone who would want it, and in my new location there is always someone who is willing to give one to me. A tea cup has become almost a symbol of home. 

When I talk to my fellow humans, I often notice that many dreams relate to having. My dreams, apart from "having" a home (not necessarily possessing a house), relate to feeling and being in the world in a certain way. Having objects or ticking items off a list of experiences (e.g., visiting certain places) or a list of achievements (e.g., my works published in certain journals) are not my dreams. Some of the dreams relate to growth, acceptance and even non-having. It feels to me that such dreams cannot ever be fulfilled completely, as growth is unfolding constantly, acceptance is an ongoing practice, as is non-having; but they can be lived. 

122

 Shopping

Acquiring objects produced by someone else remains a part of my life. I don't practise a lifestyle of self-sufficiency, and even if I did, I doubt it would be possible to rely completely on oneself. Owning/possessing objects has never been the most important aspect of my life, so shopping has never been my favourite activity. Most of the items I welcome into my space align with my so-called sufficiency list (a playful list of objects I sketched many years ago). One practice I do not necessarily oppose but certainly do not welcome into my life is eco consumerism, or retaining patterns of overconsumption but doing so in an ecological way. Via shopping less, wearing the same things etc. I want to participate in normalisation of living with less, in experiencing a beautiful and meaningful life with less objects. When I was in Sweden recently I visited a store (a small eco-social business) that I used to visit at times when I lived in Sweden. I went there to repurchase some natural soaps and a salva that I usually use. 

121

Reconnecting with my office

I don't separate my life and my work, so taking time off work feels somewhat artificial. In my field, it is normal to advocate for less work, e.g., for shorter working hours or a shorter work week. While in general these ideas seem good, to me personally things like stability and significant flexibility matter more. 

This autoethnography is perhaps where my life and professional interests intertwine most obviously. During this holiday season I've been sketching some thoughts for my book and some autoethnographic notes. Going back to the office in summer is beautiful. The space is still empty and peaceful, very suitable for sitting and thinking. I could be doing these activities at home, but the sounds from the construction site nearby are distracting. 

For a while, I was looking forward to reconnecting with the tranquil office space, a fellow human who works there and with my Swedish stone that I left at the office for the summer. In the office, as at home, I try to use zero-waste and natural items as much as possible. I brought my water bottle and a cotton bag to the office. I also took the metal box of sweets with me. My partner brought them to Finland when he visited me, so this simple object has sentimental value. 

120

 Stockholm

My partner and I decided to take a ferry from Helsinki to Stockholm. Earlier this summer I took a ferry to Stockholm to reach Copenhagen where my partner is based. Travelling with a loved one is a very different experience. 

Roses:

119

Weaving

At times, I thought that I had to postpone working on my book while this challenging chapter of my life is unfolding. I contemplated this possibility but then decided against it. It seems to me that weaving together my life experiences and research results in better writing. Writing as if my book exists in, and describes, a totally different universe from where I exist is inauthentic. Perhaps it depends on what humans value, what they want their own writing to be like and manifest (as is the case with any other activity). I want my works to be clear, raw, imperfect and authentic. 

118

 Individual actions

Because I emphasise the individual so much, in response I very often hear that individual actions don't matter, that we need change in our systems and not in our lifestyles. Those who defend individual actions understand well that we need change in our systems, and I do not disagree with those who advocate such change. I'm equally curious about alternative systems, what they do and should look like, how they can be brought about. And I do not think that humans have to choose between voting and, say, adopting a vegetarian diet. This unnecessarily creates camps that supposedly oppose one another, while the goal (hopefully, a genuinely sustainable society) of those humans is very much the same. 

Individual actions are so much more than avoiding single use plastic or avoiding flying. I've practised minimalism and voluntary simplicity for many years and my constellation of practices/individual ecological actions is more or less settled. By settled I do not mean set in stone or final, but rather that more or less the same practices are there, though they are in becoming. They are imperfect and even ephemeral. I've recently yet again taken a look at my "sufficiency list", a playful list of necessary objects I sketched years ago, and it remains largely the same. I don't put much thought into this list and feel no need at all to live with more (or with less, or with any particular number of objects).  

What occupies my mind these days is not ecological practice in terms of materials, energy, and objects (recycling, living in a small apartment, avoiding flying, living with less than what is the norm in this society, etc.). Rather, it is my individual "actions" in terms of how I as a human being approach myself and fellow others. These thoughts are animated by two inter-related things. One is a stressful part of my journey that is currently unfolding. And the other one is existentialist philosophy which I love and to which I come back often, especially during difficult times. For me, existentialist philosophy replaces therapy (though there is also existentialist psychotherapy). Existentialism brings my attention to choice and responsibility, of course within the framework of society which pre-exists us. Since we are constantly in becoming, I ask myself, what sort of person do I want to become? What do I want to manifest, what do I want a "human being" to be like, what do I need to shed, what matters to me in life. Approximately a year ago I was in Copenhagen with a colleague and her child, we went to a Lego store as the child wanted to see it. There were lots of individual pieces and I found the plurality of possibilities to build stuff fascinating. Recently my mind returned to that story and its significance to me as a lesson from existence. Constructing oneself, and thus a human being, from a multitude of options, is a daily activity. Somehow during more stressful times it more prominently feels inevitable and important. 

117

 Writing autoethnography

I write autoethnographic sketches in parallel with writing my book. It is interesting to observe how these two project intertwine. Writing the book takes shape of sketching its fragments in different chapters and places. Writing an autoethnography is akin to keeping your finger on the pulse of your own life. It helps me become more aware of various reflections that pass through my mind in terms of my own journey and my research. 

At times I go back to my first paper based on this autoethnography. One problem with turning such projects into papers is that a paper offers a snapshot. It feels dead, while autoethnography is living because one's journey is always unfolding. Everything changes. I notice how every small interaction with the sun, birds, stones, and even twigs growing along a path on the island where I live changes me as a person forever. 

116

 "Where are you from?"

My fellow humans often ask me where I am from. I don't have a simple and clear answer to that because the country where I was born, my ethnicity, my nationality and my place of residence are all different. At times I am tempted to contemplate how all of these or my "culture", whatever it may be, affect my mode of being and report this in my autoethnography. At this point it would be pure speculation since so many things intertwine. I notice that concrete experiences affected my life more than "culture". 

To reduce myself to any one of these aspects (place of birth, ethnicity, nationality or place of residence) would be inauthentic. Perhaps it is natural and normal for people to try to make sense of their fellow others, and somewhat simple answers could be helpful. At the same time, there is a possibility that people may resort to stereotypes. 

"The Sun is my Father, the Earth is my Mother, the World's my country, and all Men are my relations." (John Toland, quoted in M.P. Levine)

Reference

Levine, M.P. (1994) Pantheism, ethics and ecology. Environmental Values, 3(2), pp. 121-138. 

115

 Mördarsnigel

I have been thinking about what existentialists call Mitwelt (literally with-world), the aspect of our existence that captures our being in the world with others, interpersonally and socially. While we are in the world with others, some of these others affect us and our journey more significantly. Perhaps it is due to this small autoethnographic project, but this time I notice, and am curious about, more dimensions where the human being I'm with has an effect on the unfolding of my path. Recently he told me about an invasive species in Denmark called killer slug (here in Danish and here in Swedish) and it inspired me to sketch this slug sitting and watching a Danish crime series. 

114

 Playing with watercolours

My hobbies do not require any extra items. My favourite activities are walking, having fika with the sun, reading and writing which I can do on my laptop. Recently I had an opportunity to play with watercolours again. The watercolours are not mine, and for the water I reused a coffee jar. 

In the photo above are two sketches. One was inspired by a logo a fellow human designed for a conference. The original design of the logo was inspired by a fairy tale called The Gigantic Turnip. I haven't read this fairy tale and only saw the logo. The sketch is not meant to be serious, but perhaps in some way it connects to my ecological worldview. The other sketch is not meant to be serious either. It is inspired by comments I receive every now and then about my Russian surname which I inherited from my stepfather. 

113

 Handwashing again

I've lived without a washing machine for over 4 months now, and it feels great. Handwashing clothes and other textiles is a humbling and meditative activity. I wash smaller items in the sink, but recently I accidentally stained the white linen sheet with strawberry juice. The stain looked absolutely beautiful and it is not a reason to replace an item. But it was time to wash this sheet anyway. Because it's too big for the sink, I decided to wash it with some soap in a bucket. 

112

 Painting and drawing

I haven't painted in many years, but recently my partner brought his watercolours to Finland so I could paint again. I painted a scene from a heron saga we created when we were in Stockholm and saw a heronry. 

111

 Hygge

Painting and drawing with my partner. 

110

 Blåbär

109

 Being with others

In my works, including my autoethnography, I often use Roy Bhaskar's four planes of being (material transactions with nature, social relations, social structures, and inner being) to understand what unfolds and what needs to unfold for a genuinely sustainable society to come into being. I've always had a soft spot for the plane of inner being. Perhaps this is due to my own interest in how we, as individuals, including myself, relate with the world. I believe that much work needs to be done in terms of our individual selves, and I very much like this quote from Bhaskar (2000, p. 62): "Ultimately all change in the social world depends on self-expansion leading to self-transcendence". 

The plane of material transactions with nature always feels straightforward and more mechanistic. In terms of sustainability, this is where imperatives such as reduce and recycle reside. Social structures have never been the main interest of mine, though as any other human being I am acutely aware of them and witness and feel how they constrain (and at times empower) myself and others. I do not think that any one plane is ultimately more important than the other ones, it is a matter of personal interest and worldview. 

The plane of social relations is likewise not my favourite one. Here I don't mean abstract social relations (e.g., between capital and labour), but very concrete and personal relations between humans and the role they play in bringing about a beautiful society living in harmony within itself and with nature. While as any other human being, I relate in different ways with fellow humans, the way my life has unfolded has not been conducive to building relations. Since the age of 4 or so, I have moved a lot and never stayed anywhere for a very long time. When my fellow humans tell me about their friends they met at school or even kindergarten, I can understand that it is possible, but there has never been anything like that in my own story. 

In some ways, this has been good for developing a loving and kind way of relating with the world. Oftentimes, especially when I lived in sparsely populated areas, I developed close relationships with non-humans, relationships that to me are as beautiful, rich and valid as any other ones. And, not having a defined social circle also meant meeting the social world in general with love, seeing all humans as fellow beings. Rarely were some of them closer to me than others. 

In terms of living a more sustainable lifestyle, social relations have been, in my experience, generally supplementary to material transactions with nature. Discussing with others how to dwell in the world more sustainably, sharing experiences, writing about sustainability together, sharing objects, borrowing, gifting are some examples. To a large extend, I have overlooked the emotional side of connecting with fellow humans apart from the emotions associated with somewhat brief encounters (such as joy and acceptance). 

Recent times have been incredibly challenging. It is humbling to be in an emotional space where I have never been before: feeling pure sorrow is new to me. It is humbling in at least these two ways. It opened new spaces thus making me realise that there are so many things I have not yet experienced. And it invites more empathy into my life. 

Nature has always been the being I turn to in times of adversity, and since nature is everywhere (the sun, the sky, the sea, trees, and so on), I have always felt supported and cared for. My recent emotional landscape has been so different that I could not sleep. It was late at night and I initially thought about going to see the sea or feel the bark of old trees on the island. The island is generally very safe, but a lack of emotional safety that I have been experiencing was projected onto the surroundings and I decided to stay at home. I messaged a fellow human to say that I felt extreme sadness. He responded by saying "tell me why". For many hours afterwards I was thinking about being in the world with others. 

Reference

Bhaskar, R. (2000) From East to West: Odyssey of a soul. Routledge: London. 

108

 Sorrow

Many thoughts and events constellated in such a way that I began to feel deep and intense sorrow. I feel such emotions very rarely. I am more used to feeling self-transcendent emotions such as gratitude and awe. At times, sorrow manifested in my life with shifts on my path, but at those times it came together with other emotions and feelings. For example, leaving England that had been my home for more than 10 years came with a positive feeling of stepping into the magical unknown in beautiful northern Sweden. Sorrow that accompanied leaving northern Sweden which I love immensely came with a sense of adventure. This time, sorrow came unaccompanied and is pure and authentic. Many of the things that caused it cannot be resolved, and I decided to welcome this emotion as part of my journey and growth. 

This once again made me think about imperfection and ephemerality of being of deep transformations, and how different emotional landscapes affect our practices. Some fellow humans who are also on various paths of being in the world differently mention that their motivation to engage in sustainability practices diminish when they feel sorrow, sadness, grief and other similar emotions. In light of such conversations I was always curious about what would unfold on my own journey. Perhaps every human being deals with it in their own way, but I felt an overwhelming desire to be with nature, something I experience as a source of unconditional and genuine love and acceptance. The need to be with nature is something I feel every day but this time it felt like an imperative. It felt essential for healing. 

After endless hot days, it rained. I always liked rain but fell in love with it completely when I lived in England. There was such a wonderful diversity of rain, and because rain water is soft, it felt like a gift from nature compared to the hard water in the area where I lived in England. Here in Finland, I live by the sea, and I went for a long walk in the rain, to listen to the sound of raindrops meeting the surface of the sea. There was no wind, and the sound was ethereal and magical.