478

 Stepping into autumn

It's the last day of meteorological summer. It's such a magical time when seasons change. It's a good time for reflection, planning and celebrating. I wanted to celebrate this day by cleaning my home, decorating it, sharing, and walking. I went to a cooperative supermarket to pick up a wooden brush with natural bristles that I usually use for cleaning dishes. I also picked up some Danish pears from Fejø and collected acorns in the local park. I love using fruits and vegetables as decorations because they can also be eaten. 

For some time I've been collecting at home in a cotton bag the items I wanted to share with fellow humans. Today I finally took them to my local byttestation (swap shop). There was nothing that I needed from there, but I saw many wine glasses. If I was a student, I would certainly check local byttestationer to get some cutlery, plates, and glasses. 

As I was walking in my neighbourhood, I noticed that there were so many business spaces to rent. At times, when I see such spaces, I think that it would have been wonderful to have a small, local zero-waste shop here in Valby. 

I've made some changes to my lifestyles recently. I try to drink tap water almost exclusively. I used to drink more tea, but when I ran out of tea, I didn't repurchase it. It feels like the most sustainable option. Here in Denmark tap water is safe to drink. When I visit a café with a fellow human (which happens rarely), I have tea there. These days, I try to spend some hours on reading philosophy. It used to be a normal part of my everyday life when I lived in Finland and Sweden, but when I moved in with my partner, my life changed dramatically. Much of my mental energy went towards navigating the new situation. After almost a year, I learned to spend less energy on my relationship and more energy on growth. 

477

 Folk-politics and cutting my hair

I was reading an article that made me once again think about various critiques directed at folk-politics (see Srnicek and Williams, 2016). Folk-politics (what an interesting choice of name/word! Folk! Why not Human Beings?) refers to everything that is everyday, human-scale, local, simple, horizontal. To various social movements. It's seen as something opposite of planning and the party and, by some, as something that doesn't lead to transformations in society. I disagree with dismissive approaches towards everyday politics of Human Beings. I strongly believe in human goodness, human agency and our everyday practices. I believe that humans are inherently capable of love, creativity, empathy, solidarity, right action, (un)learning, self-transcendence. I see very few actions coming from the state to bring about genuine sustainability, but multiple actions coming from the civil society, from fellow humans, from various movements (voluntary simplicity, slow living, zero-waste and so on). Oftentimes fellow humans within academia say that the Everyday Politics of Human Beings doesn't have a concrete strategy. But neither do political parties and groups of experts/academics seem to have strategies to deeply transform our society. Somehow, it also feels narcissistic to claim to strategise. It feels wonderful to empower human beings to act in their everyday life, to learn about their existing everyday actions and desires, what constrains and empowers them, to be inspired by others and their stories. This is not to say that actions of the state (e.g., regulations and policies) don't matter. They matter, and so do actions from businesses and other organisations. 

Like others, I am a political being. I do not think that my engagement with politics should be reduced to understanding the political landscape of the country where I live, of my region, and voting well. I see everything that I do as a political act, an act of everyday activism. Practising extreme minimalism (slow living, simple living, zero-waste) and non-hierarchy within academia is a political choice. I believe that if more fellow humans saw their life (including their work) as inherently political, they would make better choices and decisions. Everyday activism doesn't have to be exhausting. In my experience, it is joyful and empowering, as it gives me a feeling that I am doing something (obviously small-scale, but still something). 

In my view, even the act of cutting hair (or growing it out) is an act of activism. Perhaps those fellow humans who advocate the party would find it laughable, but I don't. 

I've been growing out a buzzcut for almost two years. I shaved my hair when I was going through a challenging situation in my life. It felt freeing to cut it. It also felt empowering, as I said goodbye, for a while, to something that is seen as such an important symbol of femininity in our society. The hair has grown out over these two years. I noticed that it was taking a long time to wash and to dry. I was using more water than I was comfortable with. The hair was more challenging to brush, while I wanted my hair to be in line with my simple and slow living. I didn't want to invite more products into my life to make my curly hair more manageable. So I decided to cut it. I've cut my hair myself many times in my life, but this time I was not ready to do it. I had no suitable scissors, and the hair was an awkward length after growing out. I asked my partner to cut it, but for similar reasons he refused. I went to see a fellow human who cut my hair. The new length works so well with my principles of sustainable living. My hair dries faster. I don't need to use any extra products to brush it. I don't dye, style, blow dry, or condition my hair. Most of the time, I wash it with water, and at times with shampoo. The best water for my hair is rain water. It was wonderful to use rainwater on holidays in Bornholm. I didn't collect it. I just washed my hair in the rain. 

Reference

Srnicek, N. and Williams, A. (2016) Inventing the future: Postcapitalism and a world without work. Verso: London. 

476

A day at uni

My partner and I took a train to our uni, Roskilde university, to work from the office and to attend a talk offered by a fellow human, an author whose work I handled a while ago as an associate editor of Environmental Values. I try to work from home as much as possible because home is the space where I feel creative and inspired. But it's also humbling to be with fellow humans and in different spaces. 

I put on my everyday uniform, old sandals, tied my hair with a muslin cloth (it was still wet), packed my bag, and we went to the station. 

There were not too many people in the room where the talk took place, so the organiser asked everyone to introduce themselves. After many years in academia, as a student, a PhD student, a lecturer, a postdoc and a researcher, I've done dozens of such introductions. My name is xyz, my research focuses on this and that. Currently I'm doing such-and-such. Somehow it always feel like reducing myself to what I am doing professionally. In recent years I started highlighting it more that I am also a practitioner of extreme minimalism and an autoethnographer (hoping to normalise this method in economics and within business schools). It's wonderful and inspiring to hear when fellow humans in academia present themselves as more-than-academics. As mothers, artists, activists. When they emphasise the fact that they are humans. I jokingly presented myself as a housewife. It's of course a loaded term (there are so many nuances regarding women's positions in society that I will not dive into in my entry), but even when I was living completely by myself, I saw myself, in a playful way, partly as that. I was doing normal, human, everyday activities (cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, looking after my home), that indeed disproportionately fall on the shoulders of women in our society. They were my moments of self-care, grounding, humbling, focusing on doing, simply living rather than thinking. I did it for myself and to express gratitude to the few objects I lived with. Somehow it felt liberating to say that I was a housewife within an academic space where everyone else is a PhD student, a professor, or somewhere in between within the academic hierarchy. I was just a fellow human. For some moments, I abstracted myself from my role as a researcher, as associate editor, an author of books and articles. I was anonymous. Not a target for inauthentic networking. I was wondering how fellow humans feel within academic spaces. How someone coming from a very different life path would feel. Why is academic language so ugly and pretentious?

The speaker knew me and came over to talk for a bit. I asked them how they feel within academia in the country where they are based. They said something that has been on my mind for many hours: that academia is the same everywhere. Temporary positions, pressure to publish, networking, exploitation. We talked about slow academia, but we didn't know how to bring it about. We agree that it should be a collective action, but it's challenging to make it a collective action when many fellow humans reproduce existing toxic structures rather than actively transform them.

There was something in their talk that caught my attention in particular: how we internalise productivism. Oftentimes we say that capitalism wants it, but capitalism is not a person. It doesn't actively want anything. I often say to my fellow humans that there is no capitalism police, it's not illegal to consume less or to be kind, be in the world with care and manifest cooperative spirit. But we often feel useless when we are not doing something, where doing refers to productive, professional, paid activities. I feel that many humans do not know how to rest and do nothing. Earlier in my life I felt guilty for sleeping an extra hour, sitting in the sun, even reading something just for pleasure. How strange it is that it felt easier to do research than to just sit and breathe. 

475

 Self-love

One of the most beautiful things that I've ever read is this quote from Roy Bhaskar (From East to West Odyssey of a Soul, p. ix): "the most appropriate (correct, best possible) ethical and political stance is one of unconditional love for our essential selves, and that of each and every other being and the environment we inhabit." I use Bhaskar's philosophy a lot in my academic work. Usually I emphasise love (or gentleness) towards other beings and nature/the universe. I don't feel that I talk sufficiently about self-love in my works, including my autoethnography. Yet, self-love is such an important component of relating with the world differently. Both Bhaskar's philosophy and deep ecology (see various writings of Arne Næss) invite us to expand our narrow selves to the larger Self, i.e., embrace the universe. This invitation comes from the assumption (that I believe is true) that we are all one, everything is interconnected. When we realise this, we feel empathy towards others (humans and non-humans) and act upon it. We don't want to take more from the world than we need. We care about others as we care about ourselves. Apart from this all-encompassing love I'm also thinking about self-love towards our narrow selves, as unique and singular (though also connected) beings. Not egoism, ego-centrism, or selfishness. But self-compassion. Quality time with oneself. Seeing oneself as enough. Being passionate about one's career. By career I don't mean selling one's labour for ever increasing amount of money, but being the best human beings we can be. One's job can of course assist on this journey. Being passionate about one's growth. Curious about one's journey. 

Perhaps it sounds very abstract, but genuine self-love (not indulgence, hedonism, selfishness) helps in everyday sustainability practice. When I prioritise my spiritual growth and have a sense of myself being enough, I feel more secure in the world, less attached, more joyful and ready to serve the world via whatever it is that I'm doing (e.g., my academic work, autoethnography, practising minimalism). I consume much less than what is the norm in our society. I do not think that I need to buy stuff to be fulfilled, joyful. I think that when we genuinely love ourselves, we begin to ignore advertising and even some ugly norms in our society such as competition and inauthentic networking. We want to empower others, cooperate. 

474

 Folding 

There is something so calming and self-transcendent about folding simple objects made from organic materials. This is one of usual domestic activities that I find immensely meditative, grounding, beautiful. 

My partner wears a uniform, like I do. We don't have to wear a uniform, but we choose to do it nevertheless, mainly for environmental reasons. Other reasons, at least for me, are spiritual and aesthetic. He wears white t-shirts, trousers or shorts in summer, and a shirt. 

He asked me, jokingly, if I ever get tired of seeing him in the same clothes every day. I certainly don't. I don't get tired of his eyes, cheeks, hands, or hair, for example. Why should I get tired of his uniform? I don't have an expectation that he needs to follow fashion trends. That he is kind, compassionate, empathetic, honest, trustworthy - these things I care about deeply. 

I borrow his t-shirts very often. It's not because my 10 items of clothes (that is my whole wardrobe) do not suffice. Rather, it feels so easy to just put on a t-shirt. An item that is not gender or age specific, that is oversized. There is no label on it. It doesn't communicate much. It serves as a gentle, soft, cosy veil that separates me from the world around me. 

I've mentioned it many times in this autoethnography, in my book, and countless times in personal conversations that my main career in life is being the best human I can be. Kind, empathetic, compassionate, honest, just, trustworthy, caring, loving, and so on. Wearing the same outfit every day, especially a very simple one, allows me to focus on this career more fully.

473

 Apples, etc.

When I was growing up, giving a gift to oneself meant buying something for oneself like a dress, a piece of jewellery, or a handbag. I never felt attracted to such items, and over time I came to the realisation that a gift to myself could be a fruit or a vegetable. Even though I do believe that humans are entitled to food, just because we live on this Earth that gives us food, food is also something to appreciate, honour, and feel joyful about. 

Recently, I gave myself a gift of several apples from the Danish island called Fejø. It has a special microclimate and a long growing season. At this time of the year it's easy to find, for example, apples and plums from this island. Apples are a wonderful gift. I'm thinking about these apples' story. It took so many years for this apple tree to grow and bear fruit that is now right here, in my apartment in Copenhagen. In my mind, I associate apples with the end of summer and with Autumn. The scents of apples (they smell so different!) are scents of Autumn. Intoxicating. Cosy. Warm. Some of these apples still had leaves attached to them, and some had insects inside. It's wonderful. Many tiny flying insects visited my home and were so attracted to these apples, as am I. 

Recently I had a meeting with two fellow humans. We were talking about our common work and about Summer. All three of us are in academia, and it's interesting to observe the contrast between summer academics and academics in other times. In summer we are so calm, gentle, caring, slow. We were wondering how to be summer academics at all times, how to retain this warmth, playfulness and kindness, take it into busy and overworked academia. 

One of these fellow humans described a conference she attended in summer as generous. I fell in love with this word in relation to a conference. We were talking about conferences that would feel like welcoming and safe spaces. They would be generous and cosy. 

As we were talking about emotions, I thought about things in academia being thought-provoking. It's such a commonly used word within academia. Why not emotion-provoking? When I contemplate this autoethnography, my aim of making all my data public is for it to be emotion-provoking. Imagination-provoking. There is a different way to be in and relate with the world. 

472

 Underconsumption core

Recently, I learned about a new trend called underconsumption core. It's a social media trend, but there are practices that fellow humans implement in their everyday life such as using old items, repairing, buying less. In general, this trend celebrates frugal living. Frugal living is of course not new, but this trend is. I think it's being discussed a lot in sustainability communities and in the social movements that I am also part of, such as voluntary simplicity, minimalism, and zero-waste. This trend caught my attention as a sustainability researcher and a long-term practitioner of extreme minimalism (with various elements of simple, slow and zero-waste living). This entry will be just some initial thoughts about this trend. 

When I first heard about underconsumption core, the first thing that came to mind is my own academic field (degrowth). Whenever some new trend appears, such as circular economy, regenerative business, sufficiency-orientated business, strongly sustainable business and so on, there also appears critique towards this new trend. Fellow humans assume, for example, that a new trend is greenwashing, apolitical etc. Personally, while (like anyone else) I can see various issues with different trends, I am also excited about them. I believe it's possible to criticise something with empathy and even gentleness. The goal of such critique can be finding common ground, working together, listening others' perspectives, and reconciling different theories. We should not automatically assume that someone knows less or that they do not want sustainability. 

As frugal living is not new, so the practices that the underconsumption core trend shows have been around for ages. Many of these practices are something my grandmother was doing, and she would never refer to these practices as underconsumption core. And yet, I like this trend. In the end of the day, it doesn't matter so much to me what some trend is called. Underconsumption core, degrowth living, sustainable living, simple living, voluntary simplicity or something else. Personally I define my lifestyle as a constellation of various practices. There is no perfect label for my lifestyle. Even when it comes to my own field (degrowth), I am not attached to the label degrowth itself. It sounds somewhat better in Danish (modvækst, counter-growth), but generally degrowth is not a beautiful or inviting word. And it's still used mostly by academics. When a businessperson says to me that they want business to be operated more on feminine principles or that they want their business to be regenerative, I do not consider them apolitical, I listen with interest. 

I can see why underconsumption core is criticised. For example, some would say that it (over)emphasises aesthetics (core). Others might not like a lack of defining what under-consumption actually means. That is to say, what is underconsumption for some is normal for others. 

As for aesthetics, some do not like it when the question of aesthetics is brought into discussions about sustainability. They would say that sustainability is not an aesthetic, it is about urgent, actual change. I agree that genuinely sustainability requires real, individual and collective actions in all three domains of society (civil society, state, business). And that it is not about perfectly matching glass jars and beautiful cotton tote bags and metal straws. But it doesn't have to be an either/or situation. We do not have to choose between urgent actions and contemplating aesthetics of sustainable living and sustainable societies. For example, we can start seeing beauty in old and repaired items, in ageing, in overgrown gardens, in small spaces, in walks. For me, the aesthetic component of my extremely minimalist living is very important. When I live with less than 50 personal possessions, 10 items of clothing, and only a few pieces of furniture, it brings me joy that everything is beautiful (to me). 

As for defining underconsumption more concretely, I think it is a humbling question to contemplate, but it is not necessarily something that discredits the trend. Oftentimes we say that in our society (I live in Denmark), we overconsume severely. And we do as a society, but there are many modes of living even within this society, and there are many different needs. In the academic field of degrowth, we do not have an answer to what normal or perfect/ideal consumption is. I don't think we will ever have it. I consume differently in different stages of my life. At some moments, when I was ill, I was consuming more medicine. I live an extremely minimalist life, and to some it appears as if I under-consume. But what I live with is lagom for me, and even more than I need. When I lived in Finland, I lived without furniture and electric appliances. So what I consume now is more than I used to consume. 

I like the underconsumption core trend as something creating a space where people can share and celebrate their stories and their (and their grandmothers'!) sustainability practices. I hope that this trend grows and helps us start more conversations, networks and alternative organisations. One organisation that comes to mind is a byttestation (swap shop). I can envision many more of them in different spaces. They would allow people to consume less of new items and share objects with others. 

471

 Conversation

Recently, I had such an interesting conversation with a fellow human. We talked about various pressures that fellow humans feel to consume and about my practices of extreme minimalism, simple living and wearing the same outfit every day.

At times I feel like I live in a bubble, so this conversation was very humbling. It encouraged me to reflect more on fellow humans' experiences in the world. Living a somewhat isolated life is both unintentional and intentional. I live with sensory processing sensitivity and I'm introverted. So I need plenty of time in solitude and with nature. I don't have a large social circle and prefer to direct my energy towards personal growth, my family, creativity (my academic work), everyday activism, and taking responsibility for my work (e.g., meeting with students). Yet, it still took me many years to be absolutely at peace with my practices, to live with judgement rather than react to it or dwell on it.

Something that helps me is not being part of those social circles where overconsumption is normalised, where I would be judged, for example, by what I wear and what status symbols I own. I intentionally avoid such spaces. There are safe neighbourhoods here in Copenhagen where I can simply be myself. 

Many years ago, I made a decision to love myself the most when I'm wearing no clothing/makeup/jewellery etc. at all. To be like the cat I lived with who is so confident, joyful, and graceful without any jewellery, clothing, and makeup. Clothing became something that protects me from low temperatures and feels soft and cosy. I chose the colours that were not overstimulating for me. Materials that were easy to care for and that were more gentle for nature. I've never been interested in fashion, but the approach I took made me feel completely disinterested in fashion and changing trends. As I grow older, I can see more wrinkles, moles and stretchmarks on my skin. And this is the only trend I am interested in, excited about and embrace fully. I try to spend more time with my dream woman who is 80-something years old, and get inspired by her beauty and wisdom. 

I came to the realisation that genuine status items, something that should be desirable in more universal terms, are kindness, gentleness, honesty, being caring, being concerned about others' (human and non-human) wellbeing, being consistent (in my case, as I'm a researcher, it applied to the unity between theory and practice). When I think about these qualities and human capacities, jewellery, paintings, cars, expensive furniture and clothing, expensive properties pale in comparison. Suddenly it becomes so much easier to feel what lagom ("just right" in Swedish) is. I still want to live in a safe neighbourhood and live comfortably. But this comfort translates into living in a tiny apartment, with less than 50 personal possessions and 10 items of clothing. 

So much creative energy is being freed up when I don't pursue material possessions, when I don't spend much time on taking care of a large house and thousands of possessions. And part of this energy can be spent on personal growth that further nurtures my worldview and my practice. 

470

 Things I've used for the party

I've relocated the garlands I made for my stepchild's birthday party to her bedroom. To make them, I used cotton thread that I use to repair my clothes, pieces of ribbons that we use for gift wrapping (or that we've received with gifts), Danish flags from toothpicks (usually fellow humans discard them), and fresh flowers. I've also made a K (the first letter of her name) from pieces of gift wrapping paper and clear tape. I attached it to the garland with a cotton ribbon that came a long time ago with an item of clothing. Usually, I save all the ribbons that enter my life. I store them in a glass jar. Some of the ribbons I've used to decorate the upcycled glass jars that I used for flowers and lollipops. It took some time to collect enough of those jars. If I had less time to prepare, I would check our local byttestationer (swap shops) and charity shops. Normally, they have plenty of such jars. Or I would ask my friends and family if they could share some. 

469

 Waste

After the party at my partner's father's home, I stayed to help him and his wife clean up. Part of cleaning up entailed separating waste. He asked me if recycling really made a difference. I think that many fellow practitioners of zero-waste, voluntary simplicity, slow living and so on are asked this question. I get it fairly often. Usually I and my fellow practitioners say that reducing consumption and relating with objects differently (taking care of them, making things last) makes a difference. Here in Denmark, only around 13% of plastic is recycled. While my partner's father and his wife recycle, what I admire about their practice the most is how they relate with objects. They keep objects for a very long time. They don't consume fast fashion, fast furniture, fast anything. They share. He wears a uniform that he has worn since his youth. When we were cleaning up, we were talking about how things were in their youth. They remember the time when vegetables were sold without packaging. 

After helping, I came home to take down our own decorations. I took down and carefully folded paper decorations to use them again. I put away the flags and wooded flag carrier. Moved the garlands to the kids' bedroom, folded the ribbons. Washed the jars that I used for flowers. I saved everything that could be reused and recycled the wastes. It was interesting to observe that the kids liked lollipops (they were leftovers from another party) placed in an upcycled glass jar decorated with a ribbon the most. 

I recycle not because I believe that it's the best way to care about the Earth, that it is the most effective way to address ecological degradation. It is not. I recycle because it encourages me to spend time with the waste we produce. My partner's father noted that it is not his fault that vegetables and fruits are packaged in plastic. I agree. But oftentimes there is a choice. It might be less convenient to pick potatoes oneself (providing there is this option to begin with, of course) rather than to just take a plastic bag with potatoes. When I recycle, I ask myself how we could reduce our waste, what we could buy instead. I see what can be upcycled, what can be used as packaging, or reused. For example, I will reuse small pieces of ribbon for garlands and gift wrapping. 

It feels like waste is often seen as something dirty and unpleasant. But I treasure the time that I spend with waste. Every day, I spend a couple of minutes on recycling. It's a meditative activity and I would not have preferred to do something else instead. It's part of my life, my research, my analysis of my consumption pattern. 

468

 Decorating

We don't decorate our home with store bought items in our everyday life. We use only stones, sand (in a glass jar), shells from Danish beaches and fruits and vegetables that we eat. But recently we decided to decorate our home for a couple of days. My stepchild turned 5, and we were hosting part of her birthday party. I was inspired by gardens and flowers. I (re)used paper vifte, paper serpentines, discounted flowers from a supermarket (and a few flowers from the orchid that lives with us) that I put on many upcycled glass jars around our home. We also used similar jars for drinks. I made a garland from a cotton thread, pieces of ribbon and flowers. We used a Danish flag that was also used when my partner was a child, and a wooden figure that was inherited. I would have preferred to use flowers from nature, but there were none nearby. I made a small K (the first letter of my stepchild's name) with used gift wrapping paper and tape. I also used tiny jars for sweets.

I will not throw anything away after the party because all of these decorations can be reused. 

Part of K's birthday party will take place at my partner's father's and stepmother's home. As a thank you gift, I got three jars of jam for them. I put these jars in a cotton bag that I hope they will reuse at home or to give a gift to someone else. 

467

 Seeing my dream woman again and inheriting a cloth

I mention her so often in my autoethnography. She is my partner's stepmother. An 80-something year old Danish woman. A teacher of the French language. Mother of three boys and stepmother of two. She is an incredibly beautiful woman. She worked on humanitarian projects in her youth and taught Danish to fellow humans more recently. She is a leftist. With her, we oftentimes discuss politics, ecological and social degradation, relationships, zero-waste practices and so many other aspects of life. Books and articles nurture my mind and heart and accompany me on my academic journey. She inspires me just as much, if not more. 

As I was sitting in her wonderful living room, full of old furniture and books, we were talking about relationships between humans. She was telling me about her first husband (he is French) speaking French to their two boys who were then responding in Danish to him. She then said that she'd recently revisited her collection of cloths that were passed on to her from other Women in her family, her mother and grandmother. Those cloths were handmade. She showed me her collection. Women spent so many hours creating this delicate embroidery. The cloths looked like magical snowflakes and fine lace from fairytales. She said that she wanted to give one to me, if I wanted it. I could then pass it on to the future generations. She jokingly said that if my future child is a girl, I can give it to her, and if it's a boy, then to his partner. I practise extreme minimalism and live with less than 50 personal possessions. And yet, I wanted to accept this beautiful gift. It made me think of slow living, of oneness with one's creation. When I was much younger, I used to create jewellery with tiny glass beads (seed beads). It was a self-transcending experience. She asked me which cloth I wanted, but I wanted her to choose. She chose the one in the picture above. Before I left, she asked me if I wanted a bag to carry it in, to protect this delicate work of art from damage. Her husband asked me if I wanted to take back the cotton bag I used for their gift (I gave my book to them), and she offered a plastic bag to me. I took the plastic bag because we rarely have them at home, and when we get them from someone else, we treasure them. I washed the one I received from them and used it to freeze some bananas. 

466

 Being humble 

This summer, I didn't go to any academic conferences. I avoid flying because I believe in the unity between theory and practice. To me, advocating sustainability as a researcher means living sustainability too. Sustainability is not for someone else to enact. It is for me to enact too. Avoiding conferences is not good for one's career. But once I realised that my career is trying to be the best human being I can be. Caring, empathetic, honest, kind, loving. Being an academic is one of the means to this end (or rather a journey). I've been thinking about the need for academia to be more relatable, humble, and down-to-earth. There are already many things that separate academia from others, such as rather high wages and often privileged lifestyles (working from home or comfortable offices, long holidays). 

I don't want to say to my fellow humans that they need to stop flying. They need to start repairing their clothes, while I consume trendy and high-end items because I can afford them. I want to repair my (and others') clothes and then wear these items every day. Who would take me seriously if I dressed up and flew abroad to discuss sustainability?

465

 Theorising

As summer is moving towards autumn, I feel like writing again. For me, autumn and winter are always the seasons for thinking and creating academic works. My co-author (who is also my partner) and I oftentimes work from our bed office. Our bed is a mattress on the floor. In the morning, we were revisiting our theory (deep transformations theory of degrowth). We were trying to identify various gaps in it and ways to take it further. Because academia is so fast-paced and there is so much pressure to publish, it is rare when fellow humans engage deeply with others' works. We rarely get in-depth feedback (I usually get it on my autoethnography though), so we try to be self critical and revisit our own works. 

As we were splitting our theory into various elements, looking for connections between them and wondering what we have overlooked, I was contemplating everyday life. For example, we say that sustainability transformations are a result of actions from civil society, the state, and business. But what actions? We say rather general things about them in our works. Yet, these actions are very concrete. Felt. Experienced. En-acted. They are everyday decisions that we make or do not make. That's why I love autoethnography as a method. When I contemplate change in civil society, I think about academia, social movements (e.g., voluntary simplicity, minimalism, zero-waste and many others), alternative organisations (byttestationer, libraries). But also about how my day unfolds and all the ways in which I try (succeed and fail) to live in the world in a certain way. In our common academic works my partner and I don't talk much about everyday life. In one of our future works we will. Perhaps for many non-academics it is difficult to relate to what we say in our theoretical works. Our theory describes, in very general terms, what needs to happen for a genuinely sustainable society to come into being. Yet, in everyday life, I sit by the pond, sometimes for hours, being with non-humans (crayfish, waterlilies, trees, watercress). I have fika with the sun. I sit on the balcony in the evening looking at the moon in pink clouds. I repair a hole in my shirt. I take a plain cotton tote bag to a meeting thinking that many years ago I would have felt apprehensive about looking so casual. I say no to a project that would benefit my career but doesn't feel right. I take water with me because I want to avoid single use plastic. I agree to a 5 hour train journey with my stepchild though we haven't done it before, but I want to nurture our connection. I wrap my hair in a muslin cloth used for babies because I don't want to buy a new towel. And that's just me. There are so many fellow humans who navigate their everyday life too, in their own unique ways. 

464

 Small sustainability practices

It is so fascinating to observe how feelings, emotions and practices constellate into a unique pattern in a new situation. This pattern is so different to how I imagined it. These days, my partner and I talk so much about family planning. It has become an important part of our life. I notice that I've been focusing inwards, on my home, my inner world, and our academic works. 

We have been walking here in Copenhagen, connecting with the city, our city. In a garden nearby we discovered some watercress (in the picture above). We spent so many minutes by this pond, which is also home to many crayfish. 

I've been collecting glass jars (they came with food) to use them as decorations for the party that my partner and I will be organising for his child. We want to avoid conventional decorations. Instead, we will put various, mis-matching flowers in the jars and place them around our small home. I've been looking forward to this party to honour this small fellow human being. When I was growing up, we often had wild flowers in vases in our home. 

I've been giving my own copies of my book away to fellow humans. In the picture below is my book packaged in a much used cotton bag. I intend to give it to my partner's father (and his wife) whom I mention on several occasions in the book. To wrap gifts, I usually use fabric or cotton bags. At times, fellow humans return this packaging, so I can use it again. At other times, they keep it. I hope that they will use it in their own home or as packaging for gifts. The bag in the picture below was bought from a small Danish company and is made from organic cotton. 

My partner was recently joking about nesting. He wonders if I will transcend extreme minimalism when we have a child. I don't plant to relate with objects differently to how I relate with them now. I live with very few items. Less than 50 personal possessions. 10 items of clothing. Naturally, having a baby will also mean inviting more objects into our life (even if the number is small, and the objects are second-hand). I plan to invite as few objects into our life as possible. And as much love as possible. 

463

 A day in life

I went to see one of the business Women who shared their wisdom with me when I was doing research for my book. I wanted to give her a copy of the book as an expression of gratitude. It feels wonderful to share this work with businesspersons and not only with fellow academics. I walked all the way to the office through Copenhagen. It took me around an hour to get there. I could have used public transport, but I gave myself a gift of connecting with the city in the morning, before many shops open. I tried to walk along smaller, less busy streets. 

We met at her company's office (not the company I researched, but the one where she is a CEO), more precisely in the cosy kitchen area. She is such an inspiring woman who creates so effortlessly a safe space for others. We talked about the book and life. I shared my feelings of sadness and even fear that arise while planning a family and experiencing periods when you hope to conceive. 

Experiencing these feelings made me wonder once again about so many unfoldings that we don't know about, that fellow humans don't talk about because something feels too personal to share or because one fears judgement. I wonder how these feelings affect my research and my sustainability practice. 

I realised that I wanted to slow down even more, to walk through the city, to be with nature. 

I came back home and felt so much gratitude for this empty space. There are so few items, so little to clean. I could be present with my feelings. I sat on the balcony with the sun and in a garden in Frederiksberg watching crayfish crawl from under some rocks. They are such beautiful and magical beings. 

462

 Bag instead of a shelf

I observe that in our society whenever some issue arises, a need to buy something also arises immediately to fix this issue. I of course buy things too in response to needs. For example, recently I invited a folic acid supplement into my life. 

Approaching consumption mindfully helps me avoid buying things that are not necessary, to satisfy some need or want creatively and use what I already live with. 

We have only one table in our home. It serves us as a dining table and a desk. I've noticed that several things, such as our headphones (we share them), small cables, notebook, pen and my folic acid supplement take too long to remove from the table before dinner. Perhaps I could simply take a few moments to remove those things each time and not feel uncomfortable about it, but those things are not always needed on the table anyway. In such situations, fellow humans would probably invite a shelf (whether used or new) into their life. But I didn't want any more furniture. I simply took a cotton bag that came a year or so ago with some bedding and attached it to the chair I use most often. 

It's such a small event, but it felt so good to find a simple solution, to use what I already have. Ecological degradation is not going to stop because I've avoided buying a shelf. But we make similar decisions very often. Do I buy something or do I use what I have? I think that using what we have, in a playful and at times even imperfect ways changes our relationship with objects. Perhaps it also changes our relationship with ourselves. At least this is the way I experience it. I use glass jars that came with pasta sauce as glasses and mugs, and glass jars that came with gherkins as vases. I use a muslin cloth as a scarf and a towel. I use stones and sand from a Danish beach as decorations. And I'm not feeling unsuccessful. I don't love myself less. 

461

Wardrobe

Many years ago I was analysing my data, collected via a survey, in SPSS (a statistical program). Then, as I transcended seeing myself merely as a researcher and started to see myself as a human being playing various roles in society (sister, scientist, partner, teacher, friend, neighbour etc.), I moved on to using case studies. And then I allowed myself to play with autoethnography. I fell in love with this method. It aligns so well with my beliefs in the unity of theory and practice, in human agency, in individual actions (of course together with actions from the state, civil society organisations, and business!), in the need for scientists to lead by example (this is not to say that scientists are the leaders of transformation though), to connect with the hearts of fellow humans. 

Maintaining a tiny wardrobe and wearing the same outfit every day are some of my everyday practices. I practise this mode of living for ecological, spiritual and aesthetic reasons. And also for health related and financial reasons. 

This morning, I was standing in front of this built-in closet and thinking that it's so calming to live with so few items of clothing. And I took a picture of it just as it was. This built-in wardrobe came with our apartment. I would not have it otherwise. I could easily store all of these items that are currently on the shelves in cotton tote bags (as I did in our previous apartment). The items that are hanging could be hanging on a tøjstativ as they were in the previous apartment. 

Some fellow humans have visited my apartment to see what it looks like and how we are living an extremely minimalist lifestyle in our society that overconsumes. I'm writing this entry to capture the state of my wardrobe and to invite fellow humans to see a tiny bit of an extremely minimalist mode of living themselves.

In September it will be a year of my life in Copenhagen. My wardrobe hasn't changed much. Before I moved to Copenhagen, it looked very similar. 

Top shelf: a duvet that we will be using in winter again and some books we brought home from the office. We will take them back to the office soon.

Other shelves (top to bottom): 

Underwear and socks.

Cotton tote bag, small cotton bags, basic tops, medicine. I recently gave away most of the cotton bags that I had. Over the years, I'd accumulated too many of them, and some of them were not used any more in this apartment (I used them for storage in my previous apartments). Small cotton bags I use for travelling, as small bags, as gift bags. I store my medicine in a simple undyed bread bag. 

Two pairs of sweatpants and a cotton bag with two pairs of woollen socks for winter. 

Shorts and a bag with all my documents (and probably some stones from the beach in Bornholm!).

Several copies of my own book that I will share. Two copies are for some persons I mention in the book. I will give the books as gifts to them, that's why they are in cotton bags. There is also a muslin cloth. I will have more of them when we have a baby, but these days I use such cloths as towels and as a scarf. My partner brought some (that belonged to his child) to our previous apartment for cleaning. 

Most of the clothes that are hanging are not mine. They belong to my partner. Only the jacket and two shirts are mine. 

Perhaps to some fellow humans this tiny collection of clothes may seem boring. I certainly don't think it's the way every human being should dress. Some prefer bright colours and prints. Yet, these colours, materials, and wearing the same outfit every day make me feel harmonious, comfortable, cosy, and most like myself. 

460

 Being in academia differently

When I started doing autoethnography, I focused much more on my more obviously ecological practices. Minimalism, zero-waste, upcycling, local food, wearing the same outfit every day and so on. Then I began to notice how other practices, such as spiritual practices, mattered a lot and even gave rise to ecological practices. 

A new academic year is starting soon. I've been reflecting a lot on being in academia in relation to this. Humans' experiences in academia are of course different, but it feels as if there is a mainstream way to be. This is not to say that there are fellow humans who follow this path, but perhaps some follow it more closely than others. I've received so many pieces of advice regarding how to be in academia successfully. Avoid writing with your partner, work with big names, do not take your husband's surname, do not have gaps in your cv, prioritise your career over your family life, write strategically (no books, no articles in independent journals), hide your maternity leave, avoid self disclosure (avoid autoethnography), do not write about degrowth (that was earlier on though), do not tell others that you have resigned from an academic position, avoid long supervision meetings, do not report harassment even! And so on. I decided to forego these pieces of advice. 

I dream about a transformed academia. Slow, non-hierarchical, non-exploitative, less bureaucratic, with less utilitarian networking, without grades and metrics, without pressure to publish or publish only in certain outlets. Academia where is no need to alter one's funding applications to match some mythical reviewers' preferences. Where a PhD student can always say no to professors. Where there is freedom to explore and grow, and to facilitate others' growth too. Where there is a possibility to take a year off, to combine parenthood and academic calling. Where there is freedom to choose any research method one wants without negative consequences. 

It goes without saying that to bring about a new academia, many fellow humans need to take part in transformation. 

459

 Wearing a muslin cloth as a scarf

These days, as we are planning to have a child, my partner and I talk a lot about sustainability (zero-waste parenting, slow parenting, extreme minimalism). Both of us are sustainability researchers, but this topic is also very personal. My partner has a child from his previous relationship. The child wore disposable diapers and polyester clothing and had plastic toys. This is certainly something that I will aim to avoid. Discussing sustainability in relation to being parents hopefully in the near-ish future, is not easy. I feel that my partner's inspiration comes from his previous experiences, while mine comes from my grandmother. We have disagreements about having a changing table and disposable diapers. He says that the changing table is indispensable, and disposable diapers are convenient. I don't want to invite any new furniture into our life and expose my offspring to the chemicals are I believe have no place in baby products. Not to mention, I don't want to produce much waste with my baby care habits or spend too much on disposable items. I don't believe that once some item is used or used up, it becomes someone else's problem. And I believe in human agency. I can choose a disposable option or a reusable option. I want to make a choice that is better for nature, fellow humans and non-humans, for me and my baby. 

Almost a year ago, my partner brought some muslin cloths to clean our previous home. I will use similar cloths for our baby. So far, I have found many other uses for them. For example, I use them as face cloths and as towels (for my hair, face and body). I use them as scarves too. Recently, I realised that they are softer than the cotton scarf that I had, so I gave away the scarf. Perhaps when fellow humans see me wear a muslin cloth, they realise that this is exactly what I am wearing. I am ok with it. In fact, it's intentional: we need to upcycle and normalise simplicity. The cloths protect my hair from the sun well too. When it gets colder, I intend to try and wear them instead of a hat. 

I have positive associations with muslin cloths. They make me think about my teenage years when my grandmother told me that she used to use muslin fabric stuffed with cotton wool as a period product. 

458

Urban foraging

Now, as summer is slowly unfolding towards its end, there are so many fruits and other gifts of nature available in the city. The apples in the picture above are not yet ripe though. We went for a long walk recently around Copenhagen, especially the green areas where we live (Søndermarken and Frederiksberg Have). We found some plums, blackberries, whitecurrants, rowan trees with delicious orange berries, nasturtiums (their leaves and flowers are edible), and even a mulberry tree. There are many cherry trees too, and some pear trees. Calendula flowers, mint, rosehips. I wish there were many more edible plants in the city, and a lot less traffic. 

457

 Plastic ring

I avoid plastic, especially single-use plastic, in my everyday life as much as possible. As a social scientist, I understand that government and industry actions to reduce plastic pollution are important, and without them it is very difficult (and at times even impossible) to practise zero-waste. At the same time, I believe strongly in individual actions and doing what I can (naturally, within the framework of empowering and constraining structures). I avoid (single-use) plastic not only for ecological reasons, but also for spiritual and aesthetic reasons. Living this way, in combination with minimalism and voluntary simplicity, allows me to be in the world more mindfully, to consume more slowly. Adopting this consumption pattern removes many options from my life. For example, I don't buy packaged sweets in a supermarket if I want something sweet. I buy unpackaged fruits or something unpackaged from a bakery. Minimalism helps my zero-waste practice, and vice versa. As for aesthetic reasons, I prefer other materials in my home and in what I use every day. Glass, wood, steel. They look timeless and comforting. Many of my household objects look very similar to what my grandmother used to use. I try to use recycled plastic items, as I still take part in the recycling system. For example, I use brushes made from recycled plastic coming from food waste of Danish households. 

Recently, I received a gift from my almost 5 year old stepchild. It is a plastic ring: a ring made from plastic beads and an elastic string. She gave a similar ring to my partner (her father). According to her, these are our wedding rings. It's wonderful to see how much thought and creativity went into these rings. They are different colours. His is red and yellow. She mentioned that she selected one, pearly white bead specifically for me because she thought I would like it. Every day, I wear a uniform, and perhaps this little girl associates me with white and beige colours. She and her friend also made a what they call nature ring, a plastic bead attached to a piece of dry grass. 

Usually I don't keep sentimental items, but this ring feels special to me. I decided to keep it. Perhaps it means stepping somewhat outside my usual extreme minimalist practice. And that's ok.