Dwelling in a new place
When I was leaving my previous accommodation, a fellow human asked me if I was going to take a taxi. I said no. Since I had almost nothing to relocate to my new apartment I could easily walk and simply carry the objects I was going to live with.
The new apartment faces North-East, so it's rather cold and only gets some morning sunlight. However, it also faces the edge of the island which is beautiful. I can see the sea, the trees and plenty of sky from my windows. This island is part of Helsinki, but here it's hard to tell that one lives in a large city. The apartment is 29 square metres and feels very large considering my extreme minimalist lifestyle.
Stepping into this space to live here long-term felt magical. It is not often that we get an opportunity to re-evaluate what we share our space with. For many years, when I was young, I shared my space with my family and the objects they chose, then with my partner where I had to compromise, and then with the objects which came with rented accommodations. This is the very first time I can be almost fully intentional, free and authentic in my mode of being. Of course there are limits to intentionality and freedom, including for example electricity which comes from a mix of sources. In this case, my intention is to minimise my use of electricity as much as possible.
It's interesting to observe my own relationships with objects, each of which is an embodiment of nature and human labour and creativity. The first objects I welcomed into this space are towels, a tea cup (not mine) and soap. Since the apartment is rather cold, and I want to avoid using too much electricity, I realised it would be too cold to sleep on the floor without a duvet and a pillow. I had to obtain those. They are made from recycled plastic bottles and organic cotton. I didn't want to get a kettle to boil water for my tea so I got a stockpot. I had one when I lived in Sweden but then I gifted it to a friend because it would be too heavy to carry. Some other kitchen items I will borrow from a friend.
A rug would certainly make this place look more cosy. My friends who are curious to visit this space could sit on it too. Inviting fellow humans into this space feels somewhat vulnerable. Practising this kind of minimalism or extreme material simplicity is perhaps rather uncommon in wealthy countries. Fellow humans often ask me why, and I always offer my reasons: ecological, aesthetic, spiritual/philosophical. My hope is always that this mode of living will become more acceptable, while I also recognise that the choice should be subjective and this mode of living does not change much in terms of ecological degradation.
