349

 Day 3 of acute illness

Thanks to medication, my body temperature went down to 39-40 degrees. I try to consume fewer pills and instead keep the window open and drink water with ice cubes. I wanted to use this time of illness to read something, but my eyes are tired and hurting if I look at something too long. I've had a headache for 3 days, and that doesn't help comprehension.

I haven't been able to visit a store to buy food. One might say I could use a delivery service, but I oppose them and refuse to take part in this side of the economy. I believe that my fellow humans working as delivery drivers are treated as servants by the middle class. I do not think that this job fulfils their human potential. I have reservations about career progression, security, safety, and stability in that industry. I also believe that too often humans use the existence of such services to avoid caring responsibilities. This makes me think about services generally, including counselling and the medical profession. This is not to say that these services cannot be helpful. They are, and I have used the medical system in every country where I've lived. Yet, nothing replaces care and presence. 

I get up rarely, to visit the bathroom and to get water. Getting up makes me feel as if I am going to faint. 

It was wonderful to receive an email from a fellow human I met in a train to Umeå. We connected instantly and she became my pedagogical mentor. She encouraged me to teach my way. A way that is caring, non-hierarchical, respectful towards students' unique life experiences, views, philosophies, and neurodiversity. She didn't know about my illness but in her email she said that she was thinking about me. It was heart-warming. 

My brother who lives far away was sending text messages often. We are not close and we communicate best in different languages, but at this time I felt his kindness and presence. I'm very grateful for it. 

348

 Surviving illness

For a couple of days, my body temperature has been around 40-41 degrees C. Initially, I wanted to let my body heal itself, but then I decided to take medication to reduce the temperature to be able to write my autoethnographic notes and do very basic things such as making tea. 

This illness has been a terrifying (but also humbling) experience so far. Growing up, I learned that the body temperature around 43-44 degrees C can cause serious damage to one's internal organs and even death. Mine never rose that high, but I felt that my state of consciousness was somewhat altered. I heard voices and sounds that were not around me. On the bodily level, I had periods of heart palpitations. I was very aware of my body, my blood running through my veins, mucus gathering in my airways. It was almost painful to touch anything. I was not afraid of death. Once, when I was young, I was already rather close to it. But I was afraid of possible damage to my organs. 

I was dreaming of simple things. Of a glass of water and a towel soaked in cold water. I didn't feel well enough to get up and get those things. I thought I would faint if I tried. Eventually I felt well enough to open the window in the apartment so the apartment could become cold. Something that I usually take for granted felt like an achievement. At times, I was falling asleep. I couldn't sleep for more than half an hour at a time. It felt as if my mind was trying to keep me awake so I could help myself if things got worse.

Many thoughts were running through my mind. I was thinking about döstädning (Swedish for "death cleaning"). It's an idea that persons approaching the end of their journey in this world can downsize their possessions to avoid putting the responsibility of dealing with these possessions upon those who are left behind. I like this idea a lot. I remember when my stepfather's aunt died. It took many weeks, if not months, to deal with all the stuff. I downsized my possessions many years ago. If I die, there will be less than 50 items left. As I was in bed trying to heal, I lifted my head and looked around at the objects I live with. There is a cotton tote bag full of items (underwear, socks, a towel). There are my clothes hanging above it. There are 10 clothing items. There are a few personal care items (soap, toothbrush). I think it would be very easy for fellow humans to deal with these items. Perhaps the practice of downsizing to what is lagom should be called life cleaning rather than death cleaning. It's a life-affirming, spiritual practice, in my view. A practice of liberation from stuff. 

I was thinking about being in the world with others. These are very existentialist thoughts. I was thinking that despite the fact we are deeply interrelated with fellow humans, we are essentially alone. Whenever I go through an illness, I often realise that. 

I was thinking about my life. I did not give consent to be born. It is interesting that someone's decision imposes a huge responsibility of life and living a life upon a person. Yet, I am grateful for it. I am happy that I've seen the sun, the stars, trees, rivers, mountains, northern lights. I've felt oneness with nature. 

347

 Illness and zero-waste practices 

I'm writing these notes after taking some medication to reduce my body temperature that recently rose to 41.4 degrees C. Before taking the medication I was unable to do anything, let alone write autoethnographic notes. I could measure my temperature because my partner invited a body thermometer into our life a while ago. He has a child and wanted to be able to measure her body temperature accurately. I woke up with the body temperature of just over 39 degrees, and then it started to rise. I felt very ill, falling asleep randomly, hearing voices of persons who were not there. I felt dizzy. The soft, organic cotton sheets on my bed felt like sandpaper. I felt ache in every part of my body and a tingling sensation in my skin. I had an unbearable headache. 

A while ago, every time I was ill, I was sad about it. I felt that illness prevents me from doing something important or useful. Something productive. These days, in some way, I appreciate illness. Like any other human being, I don't want to be ill, but illness brings my attention to my own embodiment, to what is truly important (heath, for example). At the times of illness that has severe impact on one's everyday life and activities, almost nothing else matters. 

I was scared because I was on my own. It was difficult to walk a few metres to get some water, something I usually take for granted. It is interesting how one can feel alone in the city full of fellow humans. At first, I was going to let my body do its work of fighting infection via raising temperature. But when it reached 41.4, I decided to take medication.  

During times such as this, I do not prioritise zero-waste practices. For example, the medication I took comes in plastic. I used tea bags because they are convenient. 

346

 Plans for Easter

Easter (Easter Sunday, Thursday and Friday before it, and the Monday after it) is a public holiday in Denmark. It changes the flow of life. Many stores are closed, many fellow humans go on holidays. My partner, his mother, and his child went to their summer house to spend these days there. I decided not to join them and to spend this time with myself instead. I do not consider myself religious, but spiritual life is incredibly important to me. It includes connecting with nature and with myself, practising self-care and checking in with myself to see how my spiritual journey is unfolding. Though it might sound ego-centric, this practice allows me to serve fellow humans, non-humans, and nature better. 

My plans for this Easter are very simple and down-to-earth. First of all, I wanted to honour the space where I live, to clean it and experience deep gratitude towards the objects I live with. I spent time washing the backpack that I use when I travel and when I take my laptop with me. This backpack is made by a Swedish company from vinylon. The backpack cannot be washed in the washing machine, so I wash it by hand with natural soap and a sponge made from cellulose, in the shower, just like I wash my own material body. Then I let it air dry, which takes less than a day. 

There are a few objects I want to bring to a byttestation (swap shop). In the past few days I realised that I could live happily with even less. 

I want to read and write, something that I am able to do best when I am on my own.

I also want to return my most important possession to Nature. There is a stone that I mentioned countless times in this autoethnography. It's just a simple piece of granite that I found in northern Sweden. I then brought this stone with me to Finland and then to Denmark. It's a piece of Sweden, of the country I like. It was interesting to me that I was holding on to something so much when letting go is an important part of my worldview. Somehow I felt ready to let go of the stone too. Letting go of it means that I will have no sentimental items in my space. 

345

 Moments in Bornholm

In these autoethnographic notes I mentioned that I felt somewhat alienated from the summer house where I was staying. It belongs to my partner's mother. There is something about summer houses that makes me feel sad. Fellow humans use them only a few weeks a year. Oftentimes these houses are well-built and suitable for living all year round. When a house remains empty for such a long time, I believe it degrades. There is no one to let fresh air in, to repair the damage. When you open a summer house after many months of not being there, there is often dust, mould, dead insects. Even damaged pipes. The bedding and towels feel damp. The spices don't feel as fresh anymore. When I was young, I used to stay in my stepfather's summer house. It was also used only a couple of months a year. I would get allergic reactions there and would never feel attached to that place. It felt uncomfortable and not lived-in. 

Oftentimes, it feels that summer houses are built as status symbols rather than humble shelters/homes that enable one to connect with nature. It means they are often perhaps too big for the purpose. In the summer house where we were staying, the living room and the kitchen area were warm and dry because of the wood burner, but the bedroom and the bathroom felt damp and cold. On the second night, I decided to sleep in the living room area. A small cabin would have been much easier to look after. 

The area around the house is not used to grow any food, and that also made me feel sad. So much food could be grown there. Bornholm gets more sunshine than any other area in Denmark.

Something that I liked in the summer house were posters of fresh and sea water fish. I also like the location. The house is just by the sea, and I could be present with non-humans. The sea, the stones, seaweed, pine trees. I was inspired by stacked stones I saw on the beach, and I collected some stones and was stacking them in the bedroom where I was staying. 

I was going to bring some of the stones home to Copenhagen to use them as decorations, but then I decided to return them to nature. Here at home I have one stone that I brought with me from Sweden. I felt that one is enough. 

In Bornholm, we ate very simple food. Salads and pasta. In a store, I found this pasta that is made in Bornholm by a couple-owned business. They also grow the wheat that is used to make the pasta. Unfortunately it was wrapped in plastic. So it was a compromise, a local product packaged in a less than ideal packaging. I felt that it is easier to find more sustainable food in Copenhagen than in Bornholm, but perhaps if I lived there, I would find alternatives to shopping in a supermarket. 

344

 Slow travel back home

We left Bornholm yesterday. We walked from the summer house to the harbour. It took around an hour. Then we took a ferry to Ystad, and then a train to Malmö. In Malmö, we met a Swedish colleague and went for a fika with him in a local café. Then we took a train to Copenhagen and walked home from the station. The trip took some hours. Flying to and from Bornholm would take much less time but we avoid flying for ecological reasons. When I travel slowly, I feel more present and connected to places. I see more, notice and observe more on the journey. The train to Copenhagen was delayed, and these occurrences are also interesting and humbling. They always make me think about planning something. At times, things just don't go as planned, and that's ok.  

It was so wonderful to be in Sweden again, even if for just a few hours. I've lived in many countries, and Sweden is perhaps my most favourite one. I felt very much at home there. 

While in Bornholm and on the journey back, I was thinking how little I need to feel comfortable. I was travelling with just a small backpack. It was somewhat heavy because I was carrying my laptop and its charger. Apart from that, the heaviest item was my water bottle. Other things (a couple of items of clothing and personal care items) were very small and light. I was in Bornholm only a couple of days, but I wouldn't take more if I went there for weeks or even months. I would simply wash my clothes and repurchase soap and other minimal personal care items in Bornholm. With me I brought a couple of cropped tops, and I regret bringing them. I could live with one. When I came back home, I decided to give the other one away. It was one of those items that is nice and useful to have, but not necessary. It was also the last item made from bamboo viscose that I have. I don't think this fabric works well for my skin. It ages very quickly (that goes against the durability principle!) and I'm not sure about its sustainability credentials. In Bornholm, the summer house where we stayed (my partner's mother's summer house) is by the beach. In Denmark it is legal to swim naked. There were rarely any fellow humans on the beach too, so most of the time I could wear nothing and connect with nature without anything between me and her.  

343

 A day in Bornholm

In the morning, I took a quick shower. There is a boiler in this house, so there is hot water. The hot water runs out in 15 or so minutes. Then we went for a long walk. I wanted to pick some stones on the beach for our new home. We will be moving to another area in Copenhagen in a few months. I only use stones as decorations, and I wanted to bring a few home. 

On the beach, I saw some stacked stones. Perhaps it was part of someone's meditation practice or land art. When we came back, I was sitting by the fire for a long time, thinking about this place. It is interesting how a home is an extension of a person. I like the location of this house (it's by the sea), but I feel alienated from this home itself. It's very different from my space in Copenhagen. My space is what fellow humans call "empty". I will be going back to Copenhagen tomorrow. 

342

 Being in Bornholm

It's been my partner's dream for a long time, to show me Bornholm where his family have a summer house by the beach. We took a train from Copenhagen to Hyllie and then another train from Hyllie to Ystad, a town in Sweden. From there, we took a ferry to Rønne, a town in Bornholm. And then we walked to the summer house. Alternatively, one can fly, but we avoid flying for ecological reasons. Since 2013, I took only one return flight from England to Finland. 

The first thing I noticed was the air. It was so clean compared to the air in Copenhagen where I live. Nature looks and feels different here too. It reminded me of magical nature in northern Sweden.

It was wonderful to connect with the sea. The sand, stones. As soon as we began to walk along the beach, I took off my shirt and shoes. I wanted to feel oneness with nature. It was around 7 degrees, but it didn't feel cold. The sun was shining intermittently. I sat by the sea for a while, wearing almost nothing.

The summer house is large. It reminded me of my stepfather's family's summer house that he inherited and where I used to spend some time when I was young. This summer house has the same scent. I wonder why fellow humans choose to build such large summer houses. If I had one, mine would be tiny and I would use the land to grow vegetables and herbs. 

341

 Slow and near travel

My partner and I are taking some days away from work. We decided to go to Bornholm for a couple of days and stay at his mother's summer house. To get there, we will take a train from Copenhagen to Ystad (a town in Sweden) and then a ferry to Bornholm. We will then walk from the ferry to the summer house. We want to connect with nature, especially magical Östersjön (Baltic sea). I always travel light. I will wear the same outfit I wear every day. Sweatpants, basic top, and a loose linen shirt. I will also wear a snood that my partner gave me (it was his old one with a hole that I repaired). With me, I am taking a backpack with my laptop, phone, bank card, a cotton tote bag for groceries, reusable water bottle, personal care items, and clothes. As for personal care, I will bring a bar of soap, bamboo toothbrush, and toothpaste. I use soap as a body wash, face wash, hand wash and even in place of shampoo. As for clothes, I will bring only shorts and a couple of cropped tops. It's not yet warm, but living in the Nordics shifted my perception of warmth. When I lived in northern Sweden, everything above 0 degrees was warm. Here in Copenhagen, around +9 degrees feels warm and I begin to wear shorts and forego wearing a jacket. I hope that I will be swimming in the sea. 

340

Living simply

The other day, I walked past this door. It's absolutely magical. It made me think about the next chapter of my life. I will be moving in a few months. 

I live with very few possessions, so there was nothing to downsize or let go of. My partner and I revisited some of his possessions, and we gave many away. There were many items of clothing and shoes that we gave to charity. There were some items that we brought to a local byttestation (swap shop). We recycled old and worn out textiles and other items that couldn't be used by fellow humans. We found some personal care products that we will use up. I felt that our lifestyles were converging. I've lived an extremely minimalist life for many years now, and when we moved in together, we began practising minimalism. We invited furniture into our life. We live with many more items than I used to live with. Over time, it feels like I came to terms with living with more, while my partner felt more empowered to downsize. We live in an apartment block, and we have a storage room downstairs. Such storage rooms are common in the Nordics. I own less than 50 items, so I keep nothing in that storage room. But there are some items that belong to my partner and our household. Currently, there is an old small piece of furniture that has sentimental value to my partner. There are some of his suitcases. A few boxes with his possessions such as his camera, books, art supplies, his father's artworks, some inherited objects. There are a few items of clothing and shoes. There are pieces of gift wrapping paper. And several boxes that we will use when we move. 

I will be the first time when I move with many objects. When I left my family home, I moved with a tote bag and a backpack. I was moving countries. I used that opportunity to ask myself what I really needed and what I really wanted to live with. Before that, I had been living mostly with the objects that my family chose. Moving felt like a rebirth and stepping on a path of authenticity. I had no doubt that I wanted to take none of the items with me, apart from the very basics (laptop, phone, documents, clothes, personal care items). I wanted to live simply. 

339

 Taking objects to a byttestation

Oftentimes, fellow humans where I live simply leave perfectly good items on top of recycling bins. I don't know why they do it. Perhaps they don't want to separate their waste. Perhaps they hope that someone will notice these items and take them if they need them. If it was a rare occurrence, I could imagine that a fellow human was going through a difficult time in their life, and separating their waste or finding a new home for their items was the last thing on their mind. But unfortunately it happens so often. There are so many better ways to let items go. One can ask their friends and family, or neighbours, if anyone needs the unwanted item. One can let others know on social media that the item is unwanted by the owner, so someone else who needs it can take it. My partner and I prefer to use byttestationer (swap shops) because there is no monetary exchange involved, and it's an alternative, community based form of organisation. The one near us is very popular, there are always fellow humans bringing and taking things. Some items humans thrown away are so good, they could be given to a charity shop. This morning I took some items from the recycling area and brought them to a swap shop nearby. 

338

 Revisiting old autoethnographic pictures

I apply minimalism principles also to electronic items. I don't keep the files and emails that I consider unnecessary. Recently I revisited some electronic folders that contained my old academic works. There were cover letters to journals, old versions of my manuscripts, notes accompanying my articles. I also found some old autoethnographic pictures. If one goes to the very beginning of this autoethnography, they will see these pictures. It was interesting for me to see these photos because many of the objects either live with me, or with my fellow humans, or they were replaced by similar ones. All these pictures were taken with the same phone I am using now. 

These pictures are from 2 years ago. At that time, I lived in northern Sweden. In the picture above is my 20 sq. m. studio apartment. It's perhaps my most favourite apartment where I've ever lived. Its size was perfect for me. The apartment was well designed and the windows faced south-west, so it always received wonderful light. Living in that apartment felt like living in a tiny house. All the furniture (the bed, the table and 2 chairs) and even the bedding belonged to the housing company. The only decoration I had was a reindeer antler that was given to me as a gift and that I then gave to a fellow human. In the picture above there is a backpack I used to have, a laptop cover, my laptop that I still use, a seat cushion that I gave to a friend when I moved to Finland, and sweatpants. The sweatpants wore out and I replaced them with identical ones. 

In the picture above, there is the same handkerchief I use to this day. It's somewhat worn, but it still serves me well. It's many years old. I got it when I still lived in England.

In the picture below, there are some glasses that I borrowed from my university department in northern Sweden. Before I moved, I returned these items and other kitchen items that I borrowed. Most of the kitchen items I lived with, I borrowed from the department.

There were some kitchen items that I bought, and one of them is in the picture below. It's a lunch/food storage box made from glass. When a friend visited me, he said he wanted a lunch box like this. I gave mine to him, alongside several other items such as the seat cushion, a throw and a towel.

The items below I gave away to my colleagues just before I left Sweden and moved to Finland. It might seem wasteful, but these were some of the heaviest items and I asked my friend in Finland if I could borrow the same ones from him. I knew I would not need to re-purchase them. 

The watch in the picture below was a sentimental item and also something that I used to wear. It was a gift from my previous partner. When I moved to Sweden from England, I wanted to take one sentimental item with me. And it was this watch. I also loved using it to know what time it was instead of using my phone. This is because it could be tempting to check emails and so on every time I looked at my phone. Over time I changed the settings. I took the watch to Finland with me. I gave it to a colleague who liked it.

Below is my laptop that is many years old. It lived with me in England, Sweden, Finland, and Denmark. 

In the picture below is a bar of soap packaged in cardboard. Naturally, I don't have it anymore as I used it. I use soap every day for multiple purposes. I am not loyal to any particular brand of soap, and in every country where I've lived, I found small, independent companies that sold natural, minimally packaged or unpackaged, locally produced soap.

In the picture below is a balm that a friend gave to me as a gift. She brought it from Germany. The lip balm is packaged in paper. I used it up years ago, but then I bought a very similar one from a small Swedish company and I keep it in my backpack and use it at times. My partner uses it too.

This beautiful spider plant was a gift from a friend. She brought it all the way to Sweden from northern Finland. It grew very quickly. I couldn't take it with me as I was carrying everything that I had, and the journey was very long. I was moving from northern Sweden to southern Finland in the middle of winter by train and ferry. I had to walk a lot in very low temperatures. A colleague adopted the plant. 

I still have the bag in the picture below. I use them to store underwear and socks. Initially, I bought them in England many years ago to buy and store vegetables. Over time, I realised that I didn't need them for this purpose and began to use them for clothing and other items. 

 I still live with the scarf in the picture below. This scarf is in my sufficiency list. When I moved to Finland, I even slept on it. 

The shoes in the picture below wore out completely, and I replaced them with identical ones.

The jacket in the picture below is the one and only jacket that I have. I bought it when I moved to northern Sweden. In England, I used to borrow my partner's jacket. I moved to Sweden in the end of August when it was still warm. Very quickly I realised that I needed a jacket. In winter that year I also bought a vest to wear over the jacket when it was -20. I brought the vest to Finland with me and wore it there. When I moved to Denmark, I gave away the vest because it's not as cold in this country. 

In the picture below is a grey sweatshirt. Before I welcomed loose linen shirts into my life, I used to wear the sweatshirt constantly. That sweatshirt was already a few years old when I moved to Sweden. It had many holes. I wore that sweatshirt when my current partner and I met online for the first time to discuss our academic article. I recycled the sweatshirt when it was falling apart. 

337

 Tiny actions and institutions 

I strongly believe that individual sustainability actions matter. I observe that in my own life, these actions have a positive effect on my mental health and wellbeing too. Living with a lot less allows me to direct my energy into creative pursuits such as research and writing. Avoiding driving allows me to connect deeply with Nature and the city (Copenhagen) where I live in all seasons and weathers. There is nothing in my space that causes overstimulation of senses. There is nothing on my wish list. In the picture above, there are a few hints at some everyday practices. There is a balm packaged in paper. It was produced by a small Swedish company. There is a stone that I found in Sweden. It is my only sentimental and decorative item. There is a hair band that I borrowed from my stepchild. These are small parts of my practice. I live with 10 items of clothes, less than 50 personal possessions and exclude many categories of products and services from my consumption. 

Individual sustainability actions performed by sustainability researchers matter also because it feels important that our theories and our actions match. If in my works I suggest that we need to consume less and differently, I cannot consume more and in line with what is the norm. It feels wrong to blame the system, to continue living a normal life and to take zero responsibility as an individual. 

None of it is to say that change in systems, institutions and policies is not important. Hubert, Max and I wrote a book (its e-copy is open access), and much of it is focused on change in systems, institutions, and policies. Here is another example from a fellow scholar:

"Land, monetary and financial market reforms could mitigate the growth compulsion that is inherent in the system. Regional currencies could be combined with a circulation safeguard that brings the interest levels close to zero. Changed types of enterprises could have a dampening effect on the dynamics of profits. The present confusing structure of government subsidies could be revised to reduce ecological damages and public debts. Soil sealing moratoriums and programmes to deconstruct infrastructures would be most useful - especially industrial parks, highways, parking areas and airports would have to be unsealed and re-naturalised. Plants that use renewable energies could be installed in their place, to reduce the use of space and natural areas for these technologies. Sustainable development should be oriented towards the individual life cycle assessment and carbon footprint. Each person would have the right to emit a certain amount of CO2 per year (approx. 2.7 tons) and companies would have to label the carbon emissions on their products. Precautions against planned obsolescence should be taken and an education system, that would enable urban subsistence, implemented." (Paech, 2017, p. 484)

Reference

Paech, N. (2017) Post-growth economics. In C.L. Spash (ed.) Routledge Handbook of Ecological Economics: Nature and Society. Routledge: London, pp. 477-486.

336

 His side of the tøjstativ

I often feel gratitude to the universe for the humans I meet. My previous partner was certainly not an extreme minimalist, but we implemented many sustainability practices together. Every day, he wore a uniform of chino trousers, a polo shirt, and a woollen sweater. He didn't drive, avoided flying for ecological reasons, and both of us were vegetarian. He was supportive of my sustainability practice. After we went our separate ways, we stayed good friends. At times we still discuss sustainability practices. 

My current partner is, like myself, a researcher of sustainability transformations. Both of us believe that our practices must match what we advocate in the academic works we write. These days we have been thinking a lot about our common and individual practices in relation to a small project we are working on. I'm writing about our common practices for our project, hence this small entry on his relationship with objects, especially clothing, and our differences.

When we moved in together, we decided to practise minimalism. My preferred mode of relating with objects is extreme minimalism. I prefer to live only with what is necessary. It means a lower ecological footprint, but also less overstimulation, better mental health. Yet, stepping on the path of being with a fellow human comes with the need to compromise. Together, we invited furniture, a vacuum cleaner, more kitchen items into our life. We invited quite a few items to accommodate his child's needs when she is with us. 

The way we approach clothes is somewhat similar, but there are differences too. My partner lives with 4 formal shirts, 3 pairs of shorts, 3 pairs of black jeans, many white t-shirts, a few black ones, one sweatshirt, some winter clothes (2 knitted sweaters, rain clothes, coats), and sportswear. Every day, he wears a uniform of black jeans and a white t-shirt. When it's cold or he's teaching, he wears a shirt. He likes a wider range of colours than I do. He wears more formal clothing, while I wear sweatpants, a basic top, and a loose linen shirt every day. I don't own any rainwear, as I don't mind the rain at all. I also don't own any sportswear, and simply wear my everyday clothes for running and other forms of exercise. 

At times, I borrow his t-shirts. On a few occasions I've borrowed his warm clothes and even his shirts. Most of the time it was when I stayed home in winter, as we didn't want to use more electricity than necessary. Recently he gave me his old snood that I repaired and started wearing almost every day. 

A while ago, I introduced him to barefoot shoes. He wears them every day. I believe they work well for him because he cycles everywhere. I walk a lot every day instead of cycling, and my barefoot shoes didn't last long. The soles wore out very quickly, within 2-3 months. These days, I have only one pair of old trail running shoes and 2 pairs of sandals. 

335

 Naturism

This entry is probably going to be controversial. But some years ago, as I was working on my first autoethnographic article, I decided to make all my data public. 

I've always been in awe of non-human animals and their apparent lack of shame and discomfort when it comes to their bodies. When my partner, who is also a researcher of sustainability transformations, and I discuss this topic, he invites me to avoid anthropomorphising. And it perhaps is true that non-human animals are not thinking about self-image, they still are a great source of inspiration to me. On my path of downsizing my wardrobe and identifying an ideal uniform for me, I was inspired by a cat I lived with. She was so confident. She wore nothing. 

I am not against clothing. After all, I lived in northern Sweden where in winter it was often -20 degrees. Even though I dressed lightly, I still relied on clothing for protection. But when there is an opportunity to avoid wearing clothing, to connect with nature without anything between nature and I, I embrace this opportunity. Here in Denmark it is allowed to swim naked. It's not uncommon to see naked fellow humans if you walk by the waterfront here in Copenhagen. I do not own a swimsuit. I swim and sunbathe naked. On a beach it feels more appropriate to me personally, as I can connect with nature and not impose my lifestyle onto my fellow humans. It feels especially comfortable in early spring. It is still below 10 degrees, and fellow humans usually don't swim or sunbathe. Some walk by the sea but I can keep distance and give space to myself and fellow others. Apart from connecting with nature, I am also connecting to myself. In the bright sunlight, I can see all the so-called (by the beauty industry) imperfections such as scars, hair, stretch marks. I learn to love them. 

334

 10 items of clothing

I used to live with 16 items of clothing. But after my partner, who is also a researcher of sustainability transformations said (jokingly) that I could live with even less, I decided to downsize my wardrobe. One option was to keep the items I would not wear somewhere until something wears out. I decided against this option because this does not feel like a fair or effective distribution of resources in our society. Some fellow humans might need these items now. I could also choose to wear the newer ones and retire the old ones, e.g. turn them into cloths for cleaning my home, or recycle them as textile waste. Yet, somehow I felt that I was more drawn to my older items, some of which have small stains. Some of those items I've repaired and they acquired deeper meaning to me. 

I gave away t-shirts made from certified bamboo viscose fabric. Bamboo viscose is a controversial material. I'm not convinced that it is a genuinely sustainable material. In addition to that, after the first wash the fabric felt odd against my skin. It felt somewhat like microfiber. I live with an autoimmune skin condition and my skin is very sensitive. For fellow humans, such as my partner, the fabric would still feel soft and smooth. I gave away a white organic cotton tank top and an organic cotton t-shirt. Overall, I decided to live with only tank tops and camisoles, and give away the t-shirts. I also decided to give away all basic tops that were pure white colour. This colour is difficult to care for. 

What I kept:

• Shorts x2
• Sweatpants x2
• Loose linen shirt x2
• Basic top x4

Apart from these items, I still have 1 jacket that I avoid wearing when it's over +9 outside. Somehow anything above this temperature feels warm to me. I don't know if it's something that my body tolerates well, genuinely enjoys, or I simply got used to lower temperatures when I lived in northern Sweden. 

I have a large woollen scarf that lived with me in Sweden, Finland and here in Denmark. I wrap this scarf around my shoulders when it's very cold in winter. At times, I wear it over my head. It makes me feel safe and cosy when I travel, and I even used to sleep on it in Finland. I used to sleep on a yoga mat, and before I found the sheet that I wanted (made from linen), I used the scarf. 

I have 3 pairs of shoes. 1 pair of running shoes and 2 pairs of sandals. I wear sandals throughout the year when there is no snow. In winter I wear them with thick woollen socks. 

I gave away both my hats that I shared with my partner. He prefers to wear one made from wool. Recently, he gave me one of his old snoods that has a hole in it. I repaired the hole and I realised that I could wear the snood as a hat and a scarf. Wearing it around my neck feels comforting to me, and I've been wearing it every day.

I also have underwear and socks. When I stepped on my academic path, I never knew I would ever feel comfortable writing about these things. But they are part of our everyday life, part of our consumption, and they deserve attention too. I have the amount that is lagom for me so I don't have to do laundry very often, for ecological reasons. I do not own bras. I only wore them for a few years in my later teens/early twenties, but then I realised that I wanted to live without them and take part in normalising bra-free living. This is not to say that persons should not wear bras at all. But it is to say that it should be one's personal choice. It should not feel like an obligation. 

This small collection of clothing feels lagom to me. Perhaps some would assign the basic tank tops and 2 camisole tops I kept as underwear, but I wear them outside too. I do not want businesses to tell me how I should approach my clothes.

For many years, I've been wearing a uniform that consists of a basic top, sweatpants (shorts in summer) and a loose shirt. In the coming weeks I have some meetings and talks, and I feel very comfortable with the clothes that I live with. For years, I have been teaching in my uniform. Oftentimes, when I teach, I do not wear shoes. 

While some colleagues have found my way of relating with clothing odd, I've always felt a lot of support from my students. Often, my students ask me what we can actually do, what I am personally doing. I offer an example of my extreme minimalist living. I say that we can find different ways to relate with the objects we live with, consumption, the self, human and non-human others, and nature. 

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Growing and watching fellow beings grow

In the picture above are some of the items I have given away. I took them to a byttestation (swap shop in English) near where I live. They are beautiful, certified, and high quality objects but I realised that I could live without them. I could have kept them to wear them next year. But then I thought that a fellow human might need them now, and to give them away is a better approach to distribution of resources in our society. I also thought that I could recycle the textile objects that are old and use these ones instead. Then I realised that I like my imperfect and older items. Some of them I repaired, so they have a deeper meaning to me. I have also given away some cotton bags of which I have several. I have a few of them because I use them every day for various purposes. As laundry bags, handbags, for groceries, storage and so on. I felt that I had more than what is lagom, so I decided to give away the ones that are not stained. Living with less, embracing imperfections, feeling good about wearing items that have been repaired are, in my view, manifestations of inner growth. 

Something that brings me joy these days is watching these beautiful ringblommor grow. It took only a couple of days for them to sprout. It's so interesting to observe my feelings towards them. To me, planting non-human beings rather than buying them has always been a magical experience. 

332

 Not doing as an act of (self)care

In our society, acts of (self)care often seem to require consumption. Recently I've been thinking how to me not doing something feels like genuine self care and an act of care towards the Earth. I was in the shower. It feels so strange writing about it. But this is where ideas for my works arise at times. They don't always arise when I am reading academic books and articles. When I was in the shower, I simply wanted to be there with Water. No human-made products. Not even certified organic ones. Nothing. Afterwards, my skin was not dry. My hair was soft, and the waves and curls were well shaped. It made me think about instances and habits of non-consumption. Many years ago, I realised that not consuming makeup, perfumes, and most skincare was a gift for my skin. I live with an autoimmune skin condition which improved a lot since I quit using almost all products. Not wearing artificial fabrics, clothing with patterns, most colours, uncomfortable (yet smart) clothing and shoes were gifts for my body and for my psyche. Avoiding travelling made me connect with the place where I live more deeply. Avoiding pressures to spend much time with fellow others, to network, to attend as many workshops and conferences as possible helped me connect with myself. Avoiding restaurants as much as possible makes me connect with raw ingredients. And so on. 

331

 Repairing

Recently, my partner gave me one of his snoods/multi-purpose pieces of fabric. I used to borrow this item at times, but he didn't want it anymore. I believe he has another one of these or even several. In winter I invited into my life two hats that my partner and I could share. But when he gave me this snood, I realised that I didn't need those hats anymore. They are beautiful and almost new, so I decided to give them away. I brought them to a local byttestation alongside several other objects I didn't need to keep. This byttestation seems very popular. The snood is old and had a hole in it which I have repaired. I think this small imperfection is beautiful and makes this object even more meaningful to me. 

Over time, I've noticed that I prefer to keep the items that are simple and imperfect and give away more socially desirable ones. For example, I prefer glass jars that come with food over vases, glasses, and mugs. I much prefer wild flowers over store-bought ones, stones found in nature over human-made decorative objects. 

330

 Planting

When my partner and I moved in together, we invited two plants into our space. Later, we received another plant as a gift from a family member. Unfortunately, those plants died during cold and grey Danish winter. I often wonder how fellow humans keep tropical plants alive at home. I decided to avoid buying new plants and even taking cuttings of tropical plants from my fellow humans. I still had some soil and clay pots so I planted some ringblommor/calendula. It took only a couple of days for them to sprout. Watching them grow is a self-transcendent experience. Ringblommor are some of my most favourite plants. I use them in salads and to make tea. I've been thinking about my academic work. When my first paper was published in 2020, I was glad but felt nothing that can compare to the intense feeling of joy and even euphoria when I see these magical calendula plants (my fellow beings!) coming to life. 

329

 Moving again

This beautiful place in Copenhagen has been our home since Autumn 2023. It is our first common home and a space where we practise sustainable living as a couple. Before we moved in together, I practised extreme minimalism. Together we decided to practise minimalism to accommodate our needs, my partner's need for comfort and my need for simplicity. This studio flat is around 40 sq. m. Initially, we had only one bed there, but then we invited another one as my partner's child stays with us at times. My partner has been looking for something a little larger than this apartment, as we thought it would be nice if his child had her own room. We finally found a suitable place. 

We will not be moving too far from where we live currently, but this move still causes anxiety. In my life I've moved a lot and lived in countless places. When I was very young, my family moved due to my stepfather's job. As an adult I moved a lot because of academia and intuition. On this journey, I have learned that one doesn't simply get used to moving. In fact, the more I moved, the more I wanted stability, to stay somewhere for a long time. Moving constantly meant that I didn't make the best choices in terms of sustainability. All the places I chose to live in were small and didn't need much energy to keep warm, but they were still far, in terms of sustainability, from living in an eco-community or less expensive areas. Renting in more expensive areas that were close to work and felt safe meant participating in capitalism. 

Whenever I moved, due to practising extreme minimalism, I could carry with me everything I lived with. When I moved from Sweden to Finland and then from Finland to Denmark, I only had a small backpack and a tote bag with me. I lived with less than 50 items and without any furniture. This will be the first time when I move with more objects. While I still live with very few personal possessions, as a household we have furniture, a vacuum cleaner, kitchen items. This time I will take with me the jars that came with food and that I use for different purposes (e.g., for storage and as vases). When I was leaving Finland, I gave some jars to a friend and some I recycled. 

Before I move, I always try to finish as many products (e.g., soap, shampoo) and food as possible and avoid buying more. 

I have also looked once again at my personal possessions. Recently my partner and I were discussing basic needs and survival needs in relation to something we are writing together. My viewpoint is that basic needs and survival needs are different things. For example, food is a basic need. If we take a basic needs approach, we care more about the category "food" rather than the bare minimum. One can survive eating non-organic, highly processed, unhealthy food. My approach, where I prioritise basic needs (not survival needs), entails eating unpackaged, least processed, seasonal, organic food. My partner said I could survive with only 1 pair of trousers and 1 t-shirt. This is true. But because I focus on basic needs, I choose to live with 16 or so items of clothing. It also allows me to do laundry less often, for ecological reasons. Yet, it made me think about clothes. Clothing is one of the categories of products that I consume. As an experiment, I decided to keep 10 items. They are 2 linen shirts, 2 pairs of sweatpants, 2 pairs of shorts and plain tops. The rest I will bring to a byttestation so fellow humans can have the items I decided to live without. They are beautiful items made from certified fabrics, so I hope they will find a new home very soon. I will also give away 2 hats as recently my partner gave me one of his scarf-like pieces of fabric. It has a hole and I prefer to keep this one and give away the hats that look beautiful. 

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 Food and decorations

There is a salad bar in Copenhagen, they use vegetables and herbs as decorations. Then they use these vegetables and herbs in their salads too. It's wonderful. I'm dreaming of the world where more humans do that. Where food is an acceptable and even desirable gift, where fruits, vegetables and herbs are considered a beautiful decoration. I do this as home. In my home, there are no home decorations such as paintings and photos. There are only stones and shells that I bring home from nature and then return to nature. In summer there are wild flowers at times. Most of the time, there are magical fruits, vegetables and herbs. At this moment, there are peppers, garlic, bananas, and parsley. 

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 Frameworks of extreme minimalism

When I stepped on the path of extreme minimalism, I did not have any frameworks. The only tool I had was a playful "sufficiency list". All the frameworks that I will write about below were a result of contemplations, navigating living with less, lived experiences, asking myself how I felt. In other words, they came after I stepped on the path of growth. It was not so that I outlined these frameworks first and then fit my life into and around them. I had no particular number of objects I wanted to live with in mind. I wanted to see how my relationship with objects unfolds naturally, and I would accept any number of objects I would end up with. In fact, for a long time I was not even counting my objects. I did it more recently because my fellow humans started asking me about the number. 

Sufficiency list

It was a list of objects that I sketched many years ago that I felt I needed in my life to live well and comfortably. They were my basic needs. They were not survival needs though, as one surely can survive without, e.g., headphones and a notebook. I shared my sufficiency list many times in this autoethnography, but here is, for example, the one from August 2022:

• Laptop
• Phone 
• Headphones
• Passport and other documents
• Notebook
• Pen
• Shoes
• Backpack
• Bank card
• Personal care items
• Towel
• Sweatshirts/t-shirts
• Trousers/shorts
• Bowl
• Fork
• Spoon
• Knife
• Stockpot
• Dish brush
• Tote bag
• Jacket
• Handkerchief
• Scissors
• Blanket
• Lunch box
• Mug
• Scarf
• Mittens

Since August 2022, the list has changed, but it did not change too much. In 2022 I lived in northern Sweden, so mittens were necessary. Since then, I moved to southern Finland, and then to Denmark. I also decided to use my laptop and phone to take notes. 

Sketching the sufficiency list and then living mostly with these possessions was one of the most liberating things I have ever done. I realised that I could live a fulfilling, meaningful life with very few objects. I was free from society's idea of success and progress. 

Living with less than 50 items

Because I was living mostly with the objects in my sufficiency list, I lived with less than 50 items. I lived without furniture. That changed when my partner and I moved in together. I don't know how many objects we live with, but we practise minimalism. We live in a small space (40 or so sq. m.), don't have storage at home. We live with minimal furniture and kitchen items that he brought from his previous apartment. My partner says we have much less than an average Danish household. Yet, if I count my personal possessions, I still have less than 50 items. 

Space that is lagom for me

In my life, I have lived in large spaces. I did not like them. I felt that I was spending time on looking after spaces I was not using, that were not serving me. It felt like a burden. It felt like many more humans could live in those spaces. I did not find them cosy either. When I moved to northern Sweden, I lived in a 20 sq. m. studio apartment that remains to this day one of the most wonderful apartments I have lived in. It was well designed and had everything I needed. That space was lagom to me. The windows faced south-west, so I lived with much light. In southern Finland I lived in a 29 sq. m. studio apartment on an island. In that expensive area, anything bigger than that would be very expensive. Living in a small space allowed me to save some money. It was important to me at that time because I always had a feeling that I would be leaving Finland soon. 29 sq. m. was too big for me, as at the same time I lived with very few possessions. In Copenhagen, my partner and I live in a 40 or so sq. m. studio apartment. It feels lagom for two people practising minimalism.

Less than 20 items of clothing

I live with 16 items of clothing. I wear the same outfit every day. I wear only basics, only off-white, beige, and grey. I wear only natural materials. The other day my partner said jokingly that I could live with less, and I believe I could. What makes me choose to live with 16 items and not, say, 5, is me not wanting to do my laundry too often for ecological reasons. And clothes age when they are washed. 

5 items of personal care

Personal care was the first category of consumption that I minimised many years ago. Some of those items my partner and I share. 

Saying no

To owning a car, flying, far-away travels, jewellery, home décor, seasonal décor, makeup, physical books, and many other objects and services. There are so many things that are normal to consume or expected to be owned in our society. My family decided to get my ears pierced when I was 3. It feels unethical as at that time I could not give any consent to this. The expectation was that I would wear jewellery in my life, which I never wanted to wear. When I was in my teenage years, my well-meaning mother and grandmother asked what makeup I wanted to have. They did not ask whether I even wanted to try it. It took many years for me to set boundaries with society (including family) and capitalism, to outline a safe space for myself and eliminate the rest of categories of consumption. Many years ago, I would say that I didn't know when I would get a driver's license. These days I openly say that I never intend to get it. I do not intend to own a car. At times, fellow humans give home décor objects to me or clothing items. I do not keep them. I give them away because I already have enough. 

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 Writing together

"We are writing this book as social scientists, practitioners of sustainable living, and a couple". My partner and I have started working on one of our dreams, to write a book together. Just the two of us. We have co-authored many articles and a book with our colleague. We have written many solo works too, and co-authored with fellow humans. But this collaboration is very special to us. Some other dreams of ours include doing a research project together and supervising a PhD student together. 

We met through work. In 2020 when my first solo authored paper was published, he emailed me to say some kind words about the paper and ask whether I was also looking into the link between degrowth and critical realism. We decided to explore this link together, and this is how our first co-authored work and our collaboration came into being. We met in person only when I moved from England to Sweden though, around a year and a half after our collaboration began. After we met, we wanted to spend more time together. And eventually we became a couple. 

Apart from having common research interests, we are practitioners of sustainable living. We practise minimalism, avoid flying and driving and implement many other practices that I have disclosed in this autoethnography.

It feels wonderful that our dream of writing a book together is coming true. But there are other feelings as well. We decided to write another work together partly as an act of protest, an act of non-compliance with fear and judgement. There is a lot of judgement, and I am not the only woman in academia who experiences this. Oftentimes, fellow women, especially young women in academia, ask me about collaborating with their partners. It looks like working together with a partner is stigmatised. Some are not as open as we are about working with their loved one. Their close friends, colleagues and HR know about their relationship but generally they avoid discussing it too much. Some avoid writing together, or impose restrictions upon themselves regarding the number of common publications. Women especially fear being seen as an attachment. They fear not being taken seriously in academia if they have some publications co-authored with their partner. It is particularly bad when there is a difference in where these humans are in their career. For example, when my partner and I began our collaboration, I just received my PhD, and he was associate professor. This led some fellow humans to think that he was either my supervisor or was somehow helping me. Yet, he was never my supervisor. By the time he got in touch with me, my PhD was finished and my first paper published. As for help, we help each other as much as we can, and this is beautiful. 

I resigned from my position in a Finnish university because they were not supportive of my relationship with my partner. My resignation was an act of protest against harassment and violence in academia. 

When I moved to Denmark, I was hoping that the struggles were over. We sketched a funding application that brought our expertise together. Our Danish university initially said we cannot do a project together because we are a couple. Then they changed their mind and asked us to simply disclose our relationship in the funding application. 

One piece of advice that I have received from fellow humans was to keep our relationship under the radar. Yet another one is to avoid publishing together. But this goes against my values and does not bring to the surface violence, harassment and judgement that couples in academia experience, especially when they work together. 

In my view, collaborating with a partner is beautiful. Fellow humans who read our articles and books usually do not see what goes into them. Endless discussions, growth through our collaborations, debates at the dinner table, talking about philosophy of science when we walk together in a park. There is so much creativity, care, support, vibrancy. 

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 Ringblommor

These are seeds of beautiful ringblommor. They are some of my most favourite flowers. I've been growing them whenever I had a chance since I was a child. I use the flowers to make tea, but they can also be used in salads. 

Here in Denmark I don't have a garden so I decided to plant them in clay pots. 

During the winter, the two house plants that I had died. Later, a fellow human gave another house plant to me, and it died too. The large window in my home faces the north, so there is no direct sunlight. None of the plants that I had are native to this area either. I decided not to invite another house plant into my life but rather try and grow ringblommor and perhaps herbs too. Something I can eat as well as nurture and live with.