311

 Spending less and more

Lately, I've been thinking about the practical aspects of zero-waste living. In this entry I want to capture some areas of my consumption where I spend more and some areas where I spend less than before I stepped intentionally on the path of living more sustainably. This before stage didn't last long, perhaps a few years. It was the time of transitioning from my family of origin and finding my own path in life. My family's pattern of consumption is very different to mine and always has been. I haven't tried to analyse it in any depth, but I believe that at least partly it is because of the structures that we were exposed to growing up. Both my mother and stepfather came from middle class families. They grew up in a large city. Due to my stepfather's job, we lived in a remote, rural area for many years. By then, my mother's and stepfather's worldviews had settled. They loved culture. I was only a few years old at that time, so I grew up with nature. When we returned to the big city where my family came from, I loved nature and was not interested in museums, theatres, human-made objects. For some years, it was difficult for me to reconcile my worldview and how I lived. When I was old enough, I moved. Not only did I move out of my family home, but I moved to another country. Because I've never acquired a desire to consume and never fell in love with consumption, possessing things, and shopping, the journey to extreme minimalism and zero-waste was not very difficult for me. In fact, it felt liberating and as if I was walking towards my true self. It was not a journey of fighting with myself, convincing myself of anything, or otherwise struggling. For this reason, I never spent much on categories such as fashion, accessories, or jewellery. I never wanted to own a car. I learned to love my local area, so I didn't want to travel much. But I still consumed things such as makeup products and books. Perhaps it would be more useful for my fellow humans if I could tell a story of dramatic change, of a journey from overconsumption to extreme minimalism. Yet, in reality it was not so. I never loved plastic toys, furniture, home décor and many other things that are normal in our society. 

Generally, on my path

I spend less on:

Makeup. In my early twenties I realised that I wanted to practise self-love rather than support the so-called "beauty" industry. I live with an autoimmune skin condition, and avoiding makeup helped a lot.

Skin care. I used to live with many skincare products because of my autoimmune skin condition. As I became much more intentional with my consumption pattern (wearing only natural fabrics, avoiding scented products, eating minimally processed food, etc.), I noticed that I could use very few products. 

Transport. I used to travel much more. These days I spend as much time in my local area as possible. I want to nurture my connection with the place where I am. Here by place I mean the Nordics. 

Clothing. I have never liked fashion but I used to live with more clothes when I was younger. Over time, I began to wear only a small range of colours (white, beige, grey), only basics, and started wearing a uniform (sweatpants, basic top and a loose linen shirt). 

Zero-waste products. In the very beginning of my journey, I thought that I had to have certain objects to practise zero-waste. For example, I bought metal straws and many net produce bags. I then realised that I was not using those straws, so I gave them away. I also realised that I didn't need to put different vegetables in different produce bags. 

Occasion wear. Whenever possible, I avoid events. But when I attended something I couldn't avoid (such as my own PhD defence), I was always the one who would under-dress. For example, at my PhD defence, I was wearing a simple cotton dress and sandals. This is not out of disrespect, but rather because many special occasion wear items are made from synthetic materials that I avoid for ecological and health reasons, or they are something that I couldn't wear every day. Over time, I realised that it was part of my everyday activism, to contribute to normalisation of looking casual and comfortable at all times. My partner and I will most likely get married at some point, and when we discuss our wedding, both of us want to wear white t-shirts that we wear every day. 

Books. There are libraries for this. I do not feel that I need to own books. I borrow. There are also alternative organisations called byttestationer in Danish (swap shops in English) where one can find many books, free of charge. 

Services. The only category I can think of here is hair salon services. I used to get my hair cut at a salon, but these days I just let it grow naturally. 

Plants. I used to buy plants, but they would rarely survive. The most common issue was thrips. Over time, I realised that I could spend time with plants outdoors. In nature and in parks. 

Pets. I used to have pets when I was younger. In the past few years, I have lived in 4 countries, and I'm not in a position to adopt a fellow being. 

Gifts. In my family, it was the norm to use gifts as a reflection of status. It took some years for me to unlearn this. I do not ask for any gifts, and when I give gifts, they are either food or zero-waste items. 

Writing supplies. I write a lot and take many notes. I used to think that I needed a certain type of notebooks or pens. These days, I either use my laptop or my phone. I also use random pieces of paper, pens from my office. At the moment I am using my partner's notebook that he got from a conference he attended. 

There are many categories of products that I never spent on but that are normal in our society. They are furniture, home décor, seasonal décor, accessories and jewellery, tv, car, bicycle, electric appliances (my partner and I have a vacuum cleaner though).

I spend more on: 

Food. I buy more organic food now and try to support local bakeries. 

Rent. Housing in Helsinki and Copenhagen is very expensive. 

Individual items of clothing etc. When I invite something into my life, I now have a much longer list of criteria than I used to have 15 or so years ago. I try to buy objects that are certified, natural/organic, made by small firms. Oftentimes, such products are more expensive. So I spend more on individual items, but I buy fewer of them. 

310

 Food is a wonderful gift

Recently my partner and I received this beautiful, home made rye bread (rågbröd in Swedish, rugbrød in Danish) as a gift from his mother. I usually tell my fellow humans that I do not want any objects. I have enough and certainly don't need more. Even the clothing items that I received for my birthday I gave away so someone else can benefit from them. Bread is such a wonderful gift though. When I was growing up, food was not considered a gift. It is only when I began to practise minimalism, I realised that it is and is even better than objects. And it does not have to be anything different from what I usually consume. My partner and I buy similar bread in bakeries very often. We use it to make smørrebrød and also eat it with jam or honey. My partner's mother usually bakes many loaves of rye bread at once and then freezes them. 

309

 On colours and grading

These two things, colours and grading, perhaps seem unrelated. Yet, I was thinking about them at the same time. I was thinking about gentleness, which is something my co-author and I believe should be central to a genuinely sustainable society. Gentleness towards the self, fellow humans and non-humans, nature, and the cosmos/existence/being at large. 

In the picture above are some of my favourite colours. I live with these colours every day. Beige, off-white (e.g., ivory, ecru). If one looked closer, they would see that some of those textures are rough and imperfect. The cotton tote bag is made from undyed organic cotton. At some point, I used to live with more pure white and black. I think many fellow humans associate pure white and black with minimalism and minimalist aesthetic. Over time, to me black and white began to feel too polished and refined. They were also more difficult to care for. Black clothing would fade quickly and attract lint. White clothing would discolour and I had to be extra careful to avoid washing it with other colours. Even though I embrace imperfections, I noticed that it was so much easier to live with objects that are beige and off-white. None of it is to say that I don't find pure white and black beautiful. My partner wears pure white and black every day, and those colours suit him well. From an ecological perspective, I worry about the dyes from black (etc.) clothing, but this is not my area of expertise. As a consumer, I rely on certifications for fabrics, such as GOTS. 

Somehow, beige and off-white feel relaxing and lagom. I'm very happy with what I have and would not want to invite more colours into my life. Living in a space with these colours feels like living in a cocoon that protects me from the busy city around me. Being in this space allows me to write and think clearly. I can be myself, and there is no pressure to reinvent myself, to follow trends, to consume. 

Yesterday I was one of the two external examiners of a fellow human's thesis. It made me think about grading again. I've been in academia my whole professional life and also as a student. I've lived through 10 or so years of full-time education, including my PhD. Over the years, I have become critical of many aspects of academia. Grading is one of them. If I could abolish grading, I would. In my view, grading reduced fellow humans' unique and complex journeys of learning and unlearning to a number. Grades are used to rank students, to place them in different groups, to allow or prevent fellow humans' from engaging in further educational activities. It feels dated, old-fashioned. Students often worry about grades rather than their paths of growth, both personal and professional. 

308

 Everyday life

When I lived in Finland, I decided not to welcome a washing machine into my life. I wanted to live with as few possessions as possible, to use as small amount of energy as possible. Living without a washing machine was a wonderful experience. I'm a researcher, and most of my work manifests in my mind and in words rather than in actions (perhaps apart from my practice of extreme minimalism and zero-waste). So doing something manual, washing my textiles by hand, washing the floor by hand were grounding and humbling activities that I loved doing. When I moved in with my partner, we started living in a small studio apartment. It was part of the terms and conditions of our rent that we cannot dry anything inside the apartment. We started using shared washing machines and dryers. I also could not find the time to wash many items by hand. When we moved in together, suddenly there was a lot more, despite us practising minimalism. Bedding, our clothing, bedding from my partner's child's bed, home textiles, grocery bags. 

Today is particularly challenging. I am examining a fellow human's thesis, working on my own article, visiting a doctor and doing many household chores. When I typed "chores", I caught myself thinking that this is not how I used to see these activities. I used to love them when I lived on my own. Extreme minimalism helps me manage the amount of objects I need to care for. For example, since I wear a very limited range of colours and fabrics, I wash all my clothes together, in one go. 

For my birthday, I received some items of clothing that I gave away recently. I brought them to a byttestation (swap shop) so some fellow human can benefit from them. One of these items was white and the other one light pink. I felt that I wanted to continue wearing the same outfit every day, so I didn't need or want more or different items of clothing.

307

 The day after ending my engagement 

Yesterday I ended my engagement. I wrote about this in my previous entry. To summarise, my ex fiancé proposed to me on Valentine's day. I said yes immediately without contemplating. We've been colleagues since 2020 and in a relationship since May 2023. Since Autumn 2023 we've been living together. I believe that we loved each other. But there were unaddressed issues such as poor communication, building our relationship around his existing childcare commitments, and our stance on having children. Something that I learned from ending my engagement is that major issues need to be solved before one proposes. Serious issues do not magically disappear when humans are engaged. I felt that they even became amplified. 

I experienced a mix of emotions. Stability is something that I've been wanting to have in my life but couldn't have because academic jobs are precarious. In the past few years, I have lived in 4 countries. It's been a wonderful experience and practising extreme minimalism made it easy to move. But I was hoping to at least have stability in my relationship. Perhaps it is my fault that I was seeking it within a framework where my partner has a small child from his previous relationship. Ending my engagement made our relationship even more unstable. Or it simply brought to the surface existing issues. I felt sorrow about it. I felt gratitude to my family and friends who were there for me. I live far from them but we could still talk. I felt grief. I was grieving a dream that I had, to have a family. I also felt hope. 

I couldn't fall asleep for a while. At some moments I was thinking that I would not be able to sleep at all. But then I fell asleep and woke up with the sun. For 15 years or so I have lived without curtains. I've been doing this to connect with nature and her rhythms. Perhaps the most challenging times were when I lived in northern Sweden. There, in summer the sun rises extremely early and sets very late. At times it feels like it doesn't set at all, but there is no midnight sun in the area where I lived. Living without curtains means that I naturally wake up early in spring and summer. In winter I sleep more, but that's ok. 

As I was waking up, I was looking through the window. The sun was rising, and I was thinking that my challenges paled in comparison with the beauty of nature, of the sun. I felt intense awe. The universe was unfolding despite what was unfolding in my life. My ex fiancé was not there, so I decided to have my morning coffee together with the sun.  

306

 Ending my engagement

It's been 10 days since my partner proposed to me. I said yes immediately, without thinking. After all, we seemed to love each other. I moved in with this fellow human some months ago. I felt happy when he proposed, and the first one or two days after we engaged felt wonderful. Both of us are academics, and we work well together. Our views on living sustainably align. We talked a lot about our wedding, that it would have a tiny ecological footprint as we would not have any guests or special arrangements. We would wear what we wear every day. We would eat what we eat every day. Perhaps we would go for a walk. It would be my dream wedding. There were many good things about our relationship. But there were also many unresolved issues. 

Our relationship has always been discontinuous. My partner has childcare responsibilities, so he couldn't be there for me as someone who is childfree could have been. It felt like he lived in two worlds, our relationship and the other world. A few months into our relationship, he introduced his child to me. I liked them and even loved them in a way, I believe, everyone feels love towards other beings. We would spend some time together but it was not much. 

Perhaps the biggest issue in our relationship was our stance on having (more) children. Me possibly getting pregnant was, in my perception, the biggest fear of my partner. I was not trying to get pregnant for many reasons. One was a lack of stability in our relationship. Another one was a lack of stability in my own life: academic jobs are precarious, and I want to always be in a position where I can raise my own child as a single mother, if this it what it came to. Yet another one was my partner's childcare schedule: he would not be able to be there for me, and it feels important since I live far away from my family and friends. I had concerns about how my child would fit within his existing established family dynamics, how my child would fit within my family of origin (e.g., they speak different languages to me). And there are plenty of other concerns such as keeping my child away from consumerism, living zero-waste, raising a human being alternatively rather than indoctrinating them into mainstream culture, competition. Yet, if I did get pregnant, it would not be the end of the world. I had an abortion many years ago. It was the right thing to do at that time, and I do not regret it. In fact, I am proud of the decision I made when I was very young. When I had an internal dialogue with myself about what I would do if I got pregnant (despite trying to prevent it) at this time in my life, I told myself that I would be ok with it. This is where the difference between my partner and I manifests. My understanding of his feelings about it is that he would not want that child. Naturally, this is something humans need to discuss before proposing and getting engaged. But somehow, we failed to do it. On some occasions, we spoke about having a child together, yet I could not tell if my partner was serious about it or not, whether this is something he wanted or said to avoid a difficult conversation. 

I thought, naively of course, that getting engaged would somehow change the dynamics in our relationship. That both of us would feel more motivated to work on our relationship, that our communication would improve, that we would figure out where we stand on important topics such as children (his existing child and possibly our common child), finances, home, where to live and work. Yet, once euphoria wore off, hope diminished together with it. We once again faced a situation where our views about having children clashed. I believe that neither of us wanted to argue, as our arguments were never productive. For many hours we were in our studio apartment and we did not talk. As hours were passing, I was working on my article, reading a student's paper that I am examining. 

I was thinking about my life and what matters to me the most. I was wondering why I was not feeling motivated to break the silence. My partner is not the love of my life. The love of my life is nature. I was also thinking about self love. I've said it before in my autoethnography that self love is incredibly important. I cannot serve nature and fellow beings if I do not love myself and am not on a spiritual path. 

My partner left after many hours of silence. I sent him a message saying that I do not want to be engaged to him because there has not been any growth in how we relate to one another and there has not been any improvement in our communication. Some fellow humans would perhaps say that this should be said in person, but somehow it felt right to write it clearly instead. 

305

 Being an artist

When I was young, I had a very narrow conception of art. It was something one could find in museums and galleries. It was elitist. When I was studying economics and business, art was almost a derogatory term. Once a fellow human said that my PhD thesis about degrowth and business was activism rather than scientific work. Some other fellow humans see my autoethnography as a work of art rather than science. In my early 20s it was more difficult for me to embrace these labels, to feel good about being called an activist and an artist. I think it's especially difficult for women in business schools that are dominated by male professors and masculine values, manifested into life by humans of different genders. I was brought up to be polite and avoid confrontation, especially with those who were in positions of power. One of the humans I mentioned above was in fact my internal examiner, though they were later replaced by another one. That human being was in a position of power in relation to me, especially in England where the academic system is hierarchical. At least in my experience. 

Recently, as I was revising an article, I began to think about the self and art. In my autoethnography, I investigate my mode of being, being of deep transformations, that opposes consumerism and conventional definition of success. I lived without furniture, I wear the same outfit every day. I resigned from my position at a Finnish university as an act of resistance to violence in academia. I use the self to experiment with a different way of relating with the self, human and non-human others, with nature, and the cosmos. By different I mean loving, caring, kind, empathetic, and so on. 

Alexander (2017) spoke about it in an article that I will reference in the end of this entry. I want to share this quote: "the artist must help people see or feel more clearly, not merely the violence too often hidden in our cultural practices and economic and political institutions, but perhaps, most importantly, show that there are forms of flourishing and liberation that lie beyond consumer culture; forms of flourishing founded not upon affluence, growth, competition, and technology, but upon the visions and values of sufficiency, moderation, permaculture, community, cooperation, and self-governance. In short, an art for degrowth, first and foremost, must expand the collective imagination."

When I read this quote, it resonated strongly with me. I do not think that "the artist" is only a human being who professionally identifies themselves as an artist, or who received certain education, or attended a certain school. I attended an art school when I was young. My mother and stepdad encouraged me to attend it, though it felt utilitarian to me. It felt as if I had a talent (I could paint), then it was to result in something concrete such as paintings produced regularly or a diploma from an art school. I realised that for me painting was a means of relaxation. What I wanted to do was to use my own life as something to create (naturally within given social structures). 

Reference

Alexander, S. (2017) Degrowth as an ‘Aesthetics of Existence’. MSSI Monograph Series, Melbourne Sustainable Society Institute, The University of Melbourne.

304

 What is beautiful

The question of aesthetics in relation to deep transformations has been occupying my mind for a long time. There are so many reasons for it. My mind takes me back to my communications with my grandmother when I stepped on the path of simple living. To her, my mode of living represented poverty. What I considered beautiful clashed with what was beautiful to her. My mind also takes me back to the moment when a fellow human told me that I was not doing my best to be attractive to men. His idea of a beautiful woman clashed with my ideas and aspirations. I am thinking about my book cover. What did I want to communicate? What will my fellow humans think about a book cover that is muted, calming and gentle rather than bright and trying to catch one's attention in the sea of other books? 

Talking about aesthetics and taste is difficult. It's a contentious topic. There is an illusion that everyone is free to choose amongst thousands of options. But our taste is conditioned by the dominant, consumerist culture from our first days on Earth. Why do so many humans find expensive jewellery, plastic objects, artificial colours beautiful while undyed cotton is dull, celeriac root is blemished, freckly skin is imperfect? 

Since a young fellow human, my partner's child from his previous relationship, came into my life, I began to think more about the relationship between objects, consumer culture, and children. There is an assumption that children can be brought up in this consumer culture, but later in life they will be free to choose their own path. I have my doubts about children choosing simplicity later in life if they have been taking part in consumerism. When my fellow humans say to me that it is difficult and even impossible to protect children from consumerism, I understand and empathise with this. I think about my own childhood, and I believe that the reason I was not interested in conventional toys was because what was readily available to me (magical nature, non-human beings) was infinitely more beautiful and interesting. Perhaps my life would have unfolded differently if I lived in a city instead. 

I think a lot about what I consider beautiful. Undyed fabrics, naturally dyed fabrics, small holes and stains, stones I brought home from Nature. I was looking around my home and I told my partner that I love the jar that came with organic pasta sauce, the vegetables, the stains on our home textiles. I love the half-used bars of soap, the small wrinkles on my face, the texture of undyed cotton canvas bag. The capitalist system does not encourage us to see beauty in these things. 

303

 Aesthetics 

Today, I spent many minutes looking at the gills of the mushrooms that I am going to use in a pasta dish. These mushrooms are organic and come from Denmark. I was yet again thinking about aesthetics and sustainable living. I was thinking about big logos, bags, fur coats, and jewellery that communicate "success". About things that are considered beautiful. Why is it so that a dress made from polyester, gold jewellery, artificially coloured fabrics are considered beautiful, while we so rarely stop to admire the gills of a mushroom or the texture of celeriac? I do not think that it's simply a matter of personal taste. It might be a matter of culture, what we are exposed to, what we are encouraged to admire and value. Some might say that it is shallow to admire mushrooms and potatoes when there are severe ecological and social crises. I feel that I can still contemplate these crises and take part in transformations of social structures and reflect on, and talk about, aesthetics. I will say more about it in this autoethnography, but some places where I started my contemplations relate to simplicity, beauty of basics, undyed materials, imperfections. 

302

Growth

 In this autoethnography, I often emphasise reduction. Fewer possessions, less travelling, less stuff in my space. Recently I've been thinking a lot about it. Despite this emphasis on reduction, at the heart of this mode of being is growth. As I am living a voluntarily simple life, I notice these areas of growth:

Spiritual growth. I often feel oneness with nature and the cosmos. I experience self-transcending emotions such as awe, wonder, gratitude, love. I feel that it's easier to put everything into perspective, especially events that are not, in the end of the day, so important, but that might seem important. For example, resigning from work, receiving rude comments from fellow humans. 

Professional growth. Here I do not mean my career but my work as a researcher. 

Clarity. I can see clearly what matters to me and what does not, what I want to retain and what I want to shed. 

Freedom. I feel liberated from many influences such as the need to look a certain way or follow a prescribed path in life to seem successful to someone else. I am also liberated in a very simple way, liberated from stuff and thus need to care for many objects. Keeping my home clean is easy and pleasant. Keeping everything in order is meditative. 

Meaningful connections. Something that I find painful to watch is when fellow humans build or retain connections based on utilitarianism rather than, for example, genuine interests, common interest, care. Freeing myself from desires to consume and achieve conventional success means that I do not feel any pressure to build connections based on all the wrong reasons. I feel that I can work with the humans I genuinely want to work with. 

Empathy. As I am not pursuing conventional success and material possessions, I can pay attention to other things, such as nuances and challenges in my own journey and others' journeys. I strongly feel growth in my empathy towards fellow humans. 

Available time. I have more time to be with nature, with myself, fellow humans, the projects I love. 

301

 Extremely minimalist engagement and thoughts on our wedding

We met through work. He reached out to me when I published an article about degrowth business in the end of my PhD journey in 2020. We decided to write another article together. At that time, both of us were in relationships. We didn't see each other as potential partners. I lived in England and he was based in Denmark. Then I moved to northern Sweden and eventually we got an opportunity to meet. We met in Lund in 2022. Then we met in work related events several more times, and we fell in love. We became a couple in May 2023. This relationship was not easy to navigate. We lived in different countries. I was in Finland at that time, and he lived in Denmark. He has a child from his previous relationship, which means that our relationship was unfolding within a restrictive framework of shared childcare responsibilities. I moved to Denmark in September 2023, and he proposed to me on Valentine's day 2024, just a few days after my birthday. We were at home, and he said he loved me and thought that we should get married. We'd had conversations about marriage before, but he thought that as someone coming from an anarchist perspective, I would not want the state to be involved in my relationship. I thought that after his first marriage, he would not want to marry again. Both of us are academics looking into sustainability transformations. And we are also practitioners of voluntary simplicity. My ideal practice perhaps looks more radical to an observer. I prefer furniture-free living, for example. He didn't propose with a ring because everything that comes into my life and my space needs to be intentional. I decided to wear a ring that will be sustainably handmade in the Nordics from recycled materials. It will be very narrow and will not feature any decorations such as stones. Here simplicity and sustainability are my guiding principles. He will not wear a ring. I considered this too, but then decided against it. Perhaps at some point I will discuss the reason. At this moment, it feels vulnerable. 

We talked a lot about the wedding too. There is so much information online about zero-waste weddings and how fellow humans approach them. For example, some rent or buy second-hand dresses. They opt for vegan and vegetarian, local food, local venues. They approach gifts intentionally. They avoid single-use cutlery. And so on. Yet, we want our wedding to align with as many of our principles and practices as possible, so we decided that it will be extremely minimalist. It will be just us, no guests. We will wear what we wear in our everyday life. I will wear shorts made from organic cotton in Europe, and a shirt made from organic cotton. I will not wear any makeup, jewellery apart from the ring. I will not style my hair. I will use one of my organic cotton tote bags. I will wear the sandals I wear in my everyday life. So there will be nothing that we will buy specifically for the wedding. Perhaps we will have flowers and stones from nature at home, but certainly no other decorations. The magic will come from self-transcending emotions rather than from objects. I do not need objects to make this day special. Afterwards, we will go somewhere locally, in the Nordics. We will not have gifts from the family or each other. There will be no special cake or any special food. We will eat what we love, simple, everyday food. Many family members asked about our wedding. We will probably visit some family members after the wedding but we will not have celebrations or parties. We will not spend much on our wedding at all. Instead, we will make a donation to an environmental cause that both of us support. 

We have talked about me changing my surname. Some view women taking their husbands' surname as something that is not a feminist act. I have noticed that in academia it is somewhat different. In academia, one's surname becomes something akin to a brand. Fellow humans associate academics' names with certain concepts and fields. On my path, many fellow humans have been critical about my relationship with a fellow scholar. Some are critical about us writing together. We've written several articles and a book together, and we are planning to write more. This is because we write well together, we have the same work ethic and we bring together our different interests. He is a critical political economist, and I specialise in business and transformations on the micro-level, such as change in our practices and how we relate with the world. I am planning to take his last name as an act of protest against (usually unspoken) norms within academia, many of which I went against already. 

300

 Everyday zero-waste practices

I use bags made from organic cotton for so many things. In the picture above is a bread bag. I use them to store small items too and when I travel. It takes a while to make taking a cotton bread bag with you a habit. I think it's especially so because the alternative doesn't seem bad. In bakeries where I live they usually put bread in a paper bag. Though at times they use plastic. A paper bag is not the worst option, but to me it still feels wasteful as any single use object. Whenever I get a paper bag with bread or a pastry, I use it for rubbish. But generally I try to avoid them. It also feels important to take part in changing culture. Perhaps when fellow humans see me use a cotton bag for bread, they would get inspired to implement some zero-waste practices in their life too. On my journey, many fellow humans in different places asked me why I was using cotton bags for different things. And then it starts a beautiful conversation about more sustainable modes of living. 

My fellow human asked me what I would do if I wanted to buy some pastry or a slice of cake that would leave stains on a cotton bag. Usually I don't buy such things as I prefer scones. But if I really wanted something sweeter, I would find the time to stay in a café. Alternatively, I would bring a stainless steel food box with me. 

Instead of planning my meals, I simply go to a supermarket or a food market (or farmers' market) and see what vegetables they have that are unpackaged, and preferably seasonal and local. Then I get an idea of what I would make. I eat only simple food, so usually it's pasta, soup or salad made with seasonal vegetables. We also eat oats and buy bread from a bakery. 

Apart from cotton bags, I use glass jars for storage. They don't match because they came with other products such as pasta sauce and honey. In the picture above, there are some lego figures in one of the jars. They belong to my fellow human's child. If I had children, I would avoid plastic toys. The jar to the right of it is home to elastic bands that came with spring onions and other foods. I don't need so many but I keep them because they are useful at times.

299

 The cost of zero-waste living

Something that often comes up in my conversations with fellow humans is the cost of zero-waste living. Oftentimes, more ecological options are more expensive. One of the businesspersons I spoke to mentioned that she could make her products cheaper, but she has certain criteria that she wants to meet. Her products must be made from certified organic ingredients. They must be packaged in glass. They must be made here in Denmark where production is expensive, especially when it's done by a small business. As a researcher, I want to bring others' attention to accessibility and affordability of a zero-waste lifestyle. What makes it possible for me to buy certified organic products and products made by small, independent businesses is excluding many categories of goods and services from my consumption. I don't exclude them to be able to afford organic food and locally made natural personal care. I exclude them for ecological, aesthetic, self-love and many other reasons. For example, I do not drive for ecological reasons. I don't buy home décor because I prefer "empty" spaces and simplicity. I do not consume makeup and fashion clothing because I want to nurture love towards myself as I am. 

It is so important to disclose that the main area where my fellow human and I spend is not organic food or natural personal care. It is rent. Where we live in Copenhagen rent is incredibly high. We pay around 1500 euros a month for a small, 40 or so square meters studio apartment. I would prefer to live in a different area, but my fellow human has family commitments in this area. I used to pay around 900 euros a month in Helsinki, and around 500 euros a month in northern Sweden. In both Finland and Sweden I lived in tiny studio apartments. Food is also expensive here in the Nordics. We eat out very rarely, but we buy bread from bakeries often to avoid plastic waste. Public transport is incredibly expensive too. I walk everywhere, but when I was visiting Lund university, the trip cost me SEK 249 one way from Copenhagen central station to Helsingborg. 

As for other objects, I want to disclose how much they are. In my previous entry, I listed 50 items that I would choose to live with if I had to identify 50 of them. When I was writing this list, I was thinking about my current consumption. I will identify the cost in whatever currency I used to buy those things. GBP = British pound, DKK = Danish krone, EUR = euro, SEK = Swedish krona. 

1. Laptop. It's very old and cost around GBP 500.

2. Phone. It's very old too and I paid around GBP 200 for it. 

3. Cotton pouch for my bank card, id, balm, key. It was around DKK 33. The one I used previously was free, as it was packaging that came with soaps. 

4. Multi-purpose balm for my skin and body care. I use it instead of many other products. It's around DKK 116, but it's possible to buy it a little bit cheaper online. It's also possible to make one. The balm I use has these ingredients in it: shea butter, olive oil, beeswax. 

5. Soap bar. I use it for all my hygiene needs. I also often use it to wash the dishes. It's DKK 33. 

6. Yoga mat. I used to sleep on a yoga mat when I lived furniture-free. DKK 800. It's possible to buy them cheaper but this one was made from ecological materials. When I moved to Denmark, I gave it away to a friend because I would no longer sleep on it. When there are very good quality objects that I want to give away, I firstly ask my friends if they need them. 

7. Cotton tote bag. For storage, laundry, shopping, travelling. DKK 99. It's possible to buy them cheaper. I have several tote bags, some of them were EUR 2. Oftentimes, fellow humans have many spare ones, so I'd ask around. 

8. Shoes. DKK 1000. They are very expensive. I have only 3 pairs of shoes. I need my shoes to last me a very long time, and they do. One of those pairs was a gift. 

9. Water bottle. DKK 299, but it's possible to buy them cheaper or even get them second-hand. 

10. Toothpaste tabs. DKK 49. 

11. Toothbrush. DKK 39 for a bamboo one, but it's possible to buy them cheaper. 

12. Underwear. DKK 150 for two. 

13. Linen shirt. Around DKK 800. I only have two and wear them every day. It's very important to me that they last. It's also possible to buy them second-hand. 

14. Sweatpants. EUR 80. It's possible to buy good quality clothing second-hand. I chose these because they are made from organic cotton and they are made in Europe. I only have 3 pairs and wear them for a very long time, every day. 

15. Basic top. DKK 250 for two. 

16. Another basic tank top. Same as before. 

17. Woollen throw. EUR 86. It's made in Europe by a small Swedish business.

18. Large woollen scarf that I could also wear over my head when it's very cold. I think mine was around SEK 600. 

19. Stock pot. So I could make soup, salads, boil potatoes, rice, and pasta. When I lived in Finland, I borrowed one from a friend, here in Denmark I share one with a fellow human. So it's free. 

20. Spoon. Free, same as above.

21. Fork, Free, same as above.

22. Knife. Free, same as above.

23. Food box. DKK 159, but it's also possible to borrow them from friends and buy them second-hand. 

24. Scissors. I've had them for a very long time, I don't remember how much they were.

25. Jacket. Around EUR 50. On many occasions, I borrowed jackets from fellow humans. So they were free. 

26. Towel. I share them with a fellow human. It's possible to borrow them from friends and family. 

27. Dish brush. DKK 40.

28. Crystal deodorant. I got it for free from a hotel where I once stayed. 

29. Another pair of sweatpants. Same as above.

30. Shorts. They were on sale, around EUR 30. They are made in Europe from organic cotton. It's also possible to buy them second-hand. 

31. Pillow. The one I use now is not mine, the one I used in Sweden was not mine either. Before that I slept without a pillow. 

32. Duvet. The one I use now is not mine. 

33. Bed sheet. The one I use now is not mine. 

34. Pillow case. The one I use now is not mine. 

35. Plate or bowl. I would never buy them. There are so many of them in the world. I would ask friends or family to share one with me. 

36. Another linen shirt. Same as above.

37. Razor. The safety razor I had was around EUR 25. 

38. Glass jar. Currently I use one that came with organic pasta sauce. I use it as a glass and instead of a mug. So it's free. The pasta sauce is DKK 17.

39. Woollen socks. They were around DKK 140 for two pairs. 

40. Shampoo bar. DKK 85.

41. Conditioner bar. DKK 65.

42. Backpack. It's around DKK 660 but I bought mine in Finland. 

43. Another basic tank top. As above.

44. Perhaps another pair of sweatpants. As above.

45. Frying pan. I share one with a fellow human. The one I used before I borrowed from a friend. 

46. Another pair of shoes. As above.

47. A meditation cushion. Not mine. 

48. Cloth to clean the floor by hand. DKK 25 for 2. 

49. Arm warmers or mittens. They were around EUR 20. 

50. Perhaps a pair of cotton socks. SEK 129 for 4 pair I believe. They were minimally packaged and made from organic cotton. 

Some of those items are rather expensive, others are free. The cost of living also depends on a country. I live in Denmark where wages are relatively high, taxes are rather high, and cost of living is also high. It was similar in Finland and in Sweden. If I had an even stricter budget and had to rebuild my life from 0, I would first and foremost ask my friends, family and community (colleagues etc.) if they could share something with me. Whenever I can, I share what I have with my fellow humans, even if I live with very few objects myself. I would buy second-hand objects too. On my zero-waste journey, I made many mistakes. For example, I bought metal straws and glass lunch box that I barely used. I asked my fellow humans if they wanted them. What is not useful for one person can be very useful for someone else. 

298

 50 items

Oftentimes, my fellow humans ask me how many items I own. I practise extreme minimalism for ecological, spiritual, and aesthetics reasons. Before I moved to Denmark and began to share an apartment with a fellow human, I lived in Finland without furniture and with very few objects. Before that, I lived in northern Sweden in a tiny studio apartment (20 or so square metres). Because I share my current apartment, there are many items that I use that are not mine. Some of them we invited into our life because furniture-free living is not everyone's preference. There are also useful objects that my fellow human brought from his previous apartment. There are objects that belong to his child.

I have never counted my items. I do not think that there is a perfect number of objects one can live with. It depends on the climate and one's personal circumstances. The number of items I live with changes from time to time. For example, I received a couple of items as gifts for my birthday. I will give them away. There are some items I acquired when I moved to northern Sweden from England because it was much colder in northern Sweden. Some items I have multiples of at home but I only need one of them at a time. For example, when I buy soap bars, I buy several of them at once. There are items that technically belong to nature. For example, I have a stone that has sentimental value to me. There are also items that I find unhelpful to count, such as socks, underwear, and cotton tote bags (I use these bags for storage, laundry, grocery shopping, as handbags etc). There are some items that I feel I have to have rather than choose to have. They are my passport and the bank card. There are also a few documents in paper form, such as my PhD certificate. I don't know if I would count them or not.

I was opposed to counting my items for many years. More recently, I began to think that it could be an entertaining, playful exercise for me and my fellow humans to encourage us to think about what is lagom. Lagom means "just right" in Swedish, and it's subjective. What is lagom for me does not have to be the same as what is lagom for a fellow human. I will count my items in the coming days, but here is what I would have if I asked myself to keep 50 items, based on my long-term minimalist and zero-waste journey:

1. Laptop. It's for both my academic work, reading, and writing. I will not count its charger as a separate item.

2. Phone. To avoid paper tickets. I also need it to identify myself here in Denmark. I will not count its charger as a separate item.

3. Cotton pouch for my bank card, id, balm, key

4. Multi-purpose balm for my skin and body care. I use it instead of many other products.

5. Soap bar. I use it for all my hygiene needs. I also often use it to wash the dishes, that's why I don't list a dish soap here. 

6. Yoga mat. I used to sleep on a yoga mat when I lived furniture-free.

7. Cotton tote bag. For storage, laundry, shopping, travelling.

8. Shoes. At times, I don't wear shoes. I avoid them when I can in summer and when I teach. But I live in Denmark, in a city, and it feels useful to have shoes here, especially in winter. In Denmark, I would choose running shoes as the only pair. In England where I used to live, I would choose sandals, as I wore them all year round in that country. 

9. Water bottle

10. Toothpaste tabs

11. Toothbrush

12. Underwear 

13. Linen shirt

14. Sweatpants

15. Basic tank top

16. Another basic tank top 

17. Woollen throw

18. Large woollen scarf that I could also wear over my head when it's very cold. 

19. Stock pot. So I could make soup, salads, boil potatoes, rice, and pasta.

20. Spoon

21. Fork

22. Knife

23. Food box. At different times in my life, I used it as a plate, and it worked well. 

24. Scissors

25. Jacket

26. Towel

27. Dish brush

28. Crystal deodorant

29. Another pair of sweatpants

30. Shorts

31. Pillow. After number 30, I am struggling to identify objects. For many months in different times of my life, I slept without a pillow and didn't feel deprived. I suppose what I add after number 30 are wants and objects that make my life extra comfortable.

32. Duvet

33. Bed sheet

34. Pillow case

35. Plate or bowl

36. Another linen shirt

37. Razor

38. Glass jar. Currently I use one that came with organic pasta sauce. I use it as a glass and instead of a mug.

39. Woollen socks

40. Shampoo bar

41. Conditioner bar. I find it difficult to come up with items that I genuinely need after number 40. I could live easily without a conditioner bar. It's a want rather than a true need.

42. Backpack. To carry my laptop in when it rains. But it's surely not a necessity here in Denmark. Most of the time, I use a cotton tote bag for this purpose.

43. Another basic tank top. 

44. Perhaps another pair of sweatpants so I can do my laundry more rarely.

45. Frying pan

46. Another pair of shoes

47. A meditation cushion. Or perhaps a mattress if a fellow human stays at my place and doesn't want to sleep on the floor.

48. Cloth to clean the floor by hand

49. Arm warmers or mittens

50. Perhaps a pair of cotton socks or another cotton tote bag. I ran out of ideas. 

Beyond this (artificial) number 50, everything feels like a want. I could list a lamp, but in Finland I lived without light sources (apart from the kitchen light that was already there). I lived with natural light from the window, and it was magical. I do not own a bike because I prefer to walk everywhere or use public transport. I have never owned a car. If I still lived in northern Sweden, I would list sweatshirts instead of linen shirts. And I would definitely use a backpack there to protect my laptop from the snow. 

297

 Uniform

Every day, I wear a uniform. It's not something I have to do, but I choose to do it for many reasons. There is an ecological reason. I want to take part in opposing overconsumption and normalising mindful consumption instead. There is a spiritual reason. I want to focus on spiritual growth and free up energy for that. I don't want to spend time on shopping for clothing. There is an aesthetic reason. I like neutral colours and how I look in casual, simple clothing. I want to wear my favourite outfit every day. Because I live with an autoimmune skin condition, I want to feel safe with the fabrics my clothes are made from. 

Every day, I wear sweatpants (or shorts in spring and summer), a basic top (sleeveless, a t-shirt, or long-sleeved) and an oversized linen shirt. Some of those basic tops belong to a fellow human. At times, I don't wear the shirt. At other times, I don't wear a basic top. I don't own dresses and skirts. I wear my uniform when I teach, attend meetings, conferences, workshops. I wear it when I travel, when I go shopping, go out with my fellow human or a friend, and relax at home. Most of the items I wear are made from organic cotton. Some are made from linen and a few items are made from bamboo viscose. On my journey of extreme minimalism and wearing a uniform, I notice that bamboo viscose ages much faster than organic cotton and linen. Linen lasts a very long time. 

Apart from those items, I have a large woollen scarf, a jacket, arm warmers, 2 hats that I share with my fellow human, and many tote bags. The tote bags are made from organic cotton, and one is made from certified linen. I also have 3 pairs of shoes. 

My fellow humans such as colleagues, friends and family notice rather quickly that I wear the same outfit every day. Over time, they came to understand my reasons. I don't experience judgement from them, but I've certainly experienced judgement before. When I just started working on my PhD in 2016, there was a male PhD student who said that I was not doing enough to come across as attractive. What he said was true. The reasons behind my decision to wear a uniform are only the ones I mentioned above. 

There are many ways in which my wardrobe could be improved. I strive to avoid plastic in my personal life. I understand that it's impossible to live completely without plastic. Even the laptop that I use for my work contains plastic. But clothing is one domain where I could potentially practise avoidance of plastic or synthetic materials such as polyester. While almost all my clothing items are made from organic cotton, linen, and bamboo viscose, the jacket is made from polyester. One pair of sweatpants contains polyester too. 

My clothes are not made by small businesses. None of my clothing items are fast fashion, but none of them are hand-made either. 

As for colour, I wear clothing in off-white and different shades of beige. There is one item in grey, and one in black. I would have preferred to wear undyed clothing only as I much prefer how cotton and linen look naturally. Some of the tote bags that I live with are made from undyed cotton, and they are beautiful. 

Wearing off-white and beige feels calming to me, and I can wash all my clothes together. In fact, I can wash my whole wardrobe in one go. I use unscented laundry sheets to wash my clothes. 

At times, my fellow humans felt that I needed to try something different, wear something else. So they gave me clothes as gifts for various occasions. I always try to communicate that the way I dress is part of my ecological, spiritual and aesthetic practice, that I don't need more clothes or anything different. I gave away all the clothing that I received from my fellow humans. Though those were beautiful pieces, I felt that someone else would benefit from having them more than I would. 

When it comes to clothes, I avoid any other colour apart from off-white, beige, and grey. This is because I'm very happy with the colours I wear. I am not interested in fashion, what's in and what's not. To me, ecological considerations are always in, or at least they should be. I also avoid patterns. This is something I have never felt drawn to. I also avoid anything that feels not entirely necessary to me, such as zips and various decorations. I think fellow humans should feel free to wear clothes with such details, but I personally prefer simplicity in my everyday life. I avoid logos and writing on my clothes. I also avoid anything that requires special care such as dry cleaning. I began to avoid optic white and black colours in my clothes because I felt that they are high maintenance and don't last as long. Optic white clothes discolour, and black clothes fade. I always wonder what happens to those pigments that are washed off into the water when I wash black clothes. 

There is no particular clothing business that I recommend. I'm a researcher of sustainability in business, and unfortunately I haven't yet come across a business that is small, fully transparent, focuses on basic, durable, wearable clothes made from natural and undyed materials.

I do not shop second-hand. It's certainly a sustainability practice, and I don't oppose it. But personally I don't enjoy shopping and I look for particular characteristics. I usually repurchase clothes from the same companies, and I don't do it often. When I can, I repair imperfections. At other times, I let those imperfections be. For example, there is a coffee stain on one of my linen shirts. I find it very beautiful. 

296

Magic in everyday life

As I was re-reading my book manuscript, I was contemplating a conversation I had with a businessperson from whom I learned in the process of writing the book. We talked about clothing and the desire that some humans feel to dress differently. I don't have this desire within me. I love wearing a uniform, the same outfit every day. This is not something I have to do, but rather I chose to do it. I wear the same outfit when I teach, attend meetings, walk, travel, relax at home or elsewhere. At times, I feel that I want to try something new, but it's not in the domain of clothing. It's not even in the domain of accessories, hair styles, or home décor. When I want to try something new, I usually try a different ingredient or simple food. Recently I tried a blue smoothie made with blue spirulina. It was made with water, banana, rice milk, and salt, and it looked magical. Some month ago, my fellow human and I bought some yellow carrots and colourful tomatoes. This desire doesn't manifest often, perhaps every few months. In terms of sustainability, trying different ingredients feels safer and gentler to the Earth, as I don't invite new objects into my space. 

Apart from the smoothie, another magically beautiful object I encountered was a stone. I found it when I went for a walk on Amager beach here in Copenhagen. There are plenty of stones such as this one on that beach. I don't have any decorations at home, but at times I bring home something beautiful from nature. It could be a stone, a shell, or wild flowers. Around Christmas, it can be a small branch of a fir tree. I return these gifts to nature eventually. The only stone I haven't returned to nature yet is the one I brought with me from northern Sweden. It's the only sentimental item that I have, and I will keep it for now. At times, I bring a stone to my office. Sometimes I even take them with me to meetings. From various non-anthropocentric philosophical perspectives, a stone is a fellow being. When my fellow humans (especially those just starting) in academia, especially women, ask me what they can do to feel more confident when they face someone from whom they expect criticism or even disrespect, I tell them what helped me. I would bring a stone with me to a meeting. It reminds me that there are millions, even billions, of beings in the world, both human and non-human. The fellow human from whom someone may expect criticism and disrespect is just one of those beings. It helps me put their words into perspective and transcend something that is said in an aggressive and disrespectful way.