497

A fellow human asked: I would love to read more about your news intake (rather lack thereof!) [...] What led to the decision to abstain from news? How do you balance "staying informed" with well-being, with being present with what is before you?

I stopped watching news many years ago, and stopped reading news websites many months ago. This is not to say that fellow humans should do the same or that staying away from the news is a good practice in itself. But this is to say that, in my personal experience, reducing my intake of news significantly has had a positive effect on my spiritual growth and how I relate with the world (the self, humans and non-humans, and nature). Perhaps watching or reading the news has a positive effect on other humans. For example, it may encourage them to act. 

Like many others, I believe that staying informed is important. Yet, I do not think that reading the news is the only way to stay informed. Very often, as a social scientist, I am exposed to various articles, books, talks, and discussions about what is unfolding in the world. 

To me, news stories often feel sensationalist rather than genuinely informative. When watching the news, I also felt that they are often biased and a form of entertainment. It seems as if they are designed to make humans return to those pages. And there is something for everyone: heartbreaking news about wars and human suffering co-exist on the same pages with "dramatic" incidents in reality tv shows and information about this season's "must-haves". 

I fear that being constantly exposed to heartbreaking news may desensitise humans. At times, after avoiding news for many months, I hear something, some information about a war or poverty. I cannot sleep or think about anything else but that particular story. I feel that I'm becoming a more empathetic person when I avoid the news. My stepfather would always watch the news. He is a kind and empathetic person. He would watch a heartbreaking story and say something along the lines of "This is so bad! Poor people!" Yet, after some minutes he would continue his life as before. 

There are oftentimes stories about poverty and inequality. For this, one can look at statistics or walk through a poor neighbourhood. 

I came to the realisation that something good and something bad is always happening in the world. When I am reading the news, I'm not doing anything. I'm consuming information that some organisation chose for me and fellow others to consume, and using electricity. Instead, I would prefer to read philosophy, grow spiritually, contemplate various ways how we, individually and collectively, can make the world a better place. Imagine if all of us, instead of spending this hour watching or reading the news, would organise. Create no-buy groups, establish networks of support, volunteer. 

I've noticed that it's almost impossible to avoid staying informed about recent events. Fellow humans would always tell me and want to discuss what is unfolding in the world. At times, my partner and I would go to a local café where they have newspapers. Then I have an opportunity to see what has been unfolding. I don't usually do that though. 

I'm not saying that I will never, ever read news again. But if I ever return to the practice of reading the news every morning, I would certainly limit the time I spend on those websites. 

496

 Living transformations

Recently, I was reading these words by the French philosopher and historian of philosophy Hadot:

"I have tried to define what philosophy was for a person in antiquity. In my view, the essential characteristic of the phenomenon "philosophy" in antiquity was that at that time a philosopher was, above all, someone who lived in a philosophical way. In other words, the philosopher was someone whose life was guided by his or her reason , and who was a practitioner of the moral virtues." (Hadot, 1995, p. 281)

These words resonated deeply with me. 

Much of what we, social scientists, are doing in the field of post-growth, is philosophising. Judging what is right and wrong, contemplating how humans should live, how we should relate with the self, human and non-human others, and nature. We contemplate what a good society would look like. We describe it in terms of its structures and systems, policies, modes of production, lifestyles, and so on. Within this field, some believe strongly in the unity of theory and practice. My partner and I certainly believe in such unity. We believe that we must practise sustainability ourselves. Not only theorise it. It is so interesting to see how deeply the roots of such thinking go. Somehow, reading Philosophy as a way of life added an extra layer of understanding and comfort in how I chose to live my life. 

In my field, we also often talk about diversity of knowledges, value and importance of not only scientific but also, for example, lay and indigenous knowledge. Something that I feel is often missing, is actually engaging with diverse beings. In my work, I try to highlight that my inspirations comes from multiple sources. Not only from academic books and article, but also from persons outside academia and from non-human beings. 

I am so inspired by non-humans. Animals inspired my practice of wearing the same outfit every day. These days, I feel inspired by stones too. I have many stones from Danish beaches in my home. Every day, each one of them looks beautiful. They don't need to be changed, painted, decorated. 

It feels empowering for my everyday practice. Recently, living with 10 items of clothing felt like too much. I could still create many iterations of my uniform, as I have 2 pairs of shorts, 2 pairs of sweatpants and a few tops. Would it not be wonderful to look identical every day? To look like a stone. 

Reference

Hadot, P. (1995) Philosophy as a way of life. Blackwell: Oxford. 

495

A fellow human asked: I was [...] wondering how do you manage having an instagram account? Don’t you find it difficult to not waste your time mindlessly scrolling or constantly checking your app? Do you consume any youtube videos? Or other social media platforms? Do you think you have a healthy balance with your digital consumption?

I found these questions very thought-provoking and felt deep gratitude for them. Digital consumption is one of the topics I usually don't talk much about, perhaps because it has never been a big part of my life. Yet, digital consumption is something that I have been thinking about for a long time. I've never reflected on it systematically, so my contemplation will not be systematic, but I will try to gather many of my thoughts in the same place, right here.

I grew up without social media. When I was growing up, smartphones were not yet a thing. Fellow humans seemed more mindful when taking, storing, and sharing pictures. Communications somehow felt more intentional. At times, I even wrote physical letters to my fellow humans, such as my stepdad, my friends, and my grandmother. Social media and smartphones began to invade humans' days when I was approaching the end of my school years. I consider myself lucky and I'm grateful to the universe that I was born in the world without social media. It never feels like an integral part of my life, and I believe I could happily live without social media. 

Yet, I use some social media platforms. I use Instagram. I began to use it to share this autoethnography with more fellow humans. To show that there are other ways to live and relate with the world. In this sense, my account accompanies this autoethnography. On Instagram, I don't have many fellow humans "following" (this word feels so wrong) me. This is good, as it means there are not many comments and questions to read. If I had more fellow humans "following" me, I would struggle to answer the questions deeply, to thank fellow humans intentionally rather than in a tokenistic manner. Many of those fellow humans are also practitioners of an alternative lifestyle, or some specific practices and their constellations. Or, they are simply curious about living differently. Some of those fellow humans are my friends and colleagues. On Instagram, apart from sharing, I learn from my fellow practitioners' experiences. I follow very few fellow humans and certainly avoid scrolling (the Home tab). I also look up some local businesses. For example, there was a local pizza place that closed down. They mentioned they would re-open, and at times I take a look at their Instagram page to see if they have re-opened. I don't follow any accounts that would encourage consumption. I don't feel that I would be affected by this encouragement to consume, but I don't want to support them at all and spend my energy in such spaces. Yet, at times I feel that I should take a look, at least every now and then, as a social scientist, to avoid living in a bubble. Otherwise, there is a risk to downplay the power of marketing and social media. 

I used to have a Facebook account. Once I registered there many years ago to create a local group where we could discuss an alternative way of living. But it didn't work our for me in the long term. I felt that some voices were heard more than others. I deleted that Facebook account. Then, in some years, I registered again to be part of a research group. When I moved to Finland, that research group was no longer as relevant for me. I had only 2 friends with whom I could connect via other channels. So I deleted that account too. I think that for some communities some digital space could work well to organise for sustainability. E.g., to establish a "buy nothing" group, to share resources. Here where I live we have several byttestationer (swap shops), including one in the recycling area of our block of flats. This is wonderful, as it's not mediated by any social media platform. 

My partner invited me to watch a fellow human who is interested in philosophy on YouTube, and we've seen a few videos together. We use philosophy in our works, so it's interesting to see how a fellow human approaches philosophy. At times, we watch our colleagues' videos (when they do a talk we are interested in and it's recorded). Or other practitioners' videos. But I'm not subscribed to any channels and don't "follow" persons on YouTube. 

I'm on LinkedIn too. To me, LinkedIn often feels generally more toxic than Instagram. Perhaps this is because I use Instagram only for certain purposes (to share small parts of my autoethnography, answer fellow humans' questions, find information about small, local, independent businesses). I use LinkedIn to share some information about my talks/lectures and new publications. I feel that my use of LinkedIn is just right. On LinkedIn, I avoid the Home tab as much as possible. At times, my colleagues and I send messages to each other on LinkedIn, especially when it's something short (e.g., a link to a zoom call). 

I am also on ResearchGate. It's a platform for researchers to share their research. My feeling is that it is becoming less relevant, though it was also good to share some research with my fellow humans. Generally, my research is either publicly available, or fellow humans simply email me and ask for it. 

I have a Google Scholar profile. It's just a profile where all my publications (and metrics for those interested in them) are gathered in one place. 

I use a texting app with my close friends and family too, but I'm not in any groups. I usually do not keep messages. I delete them every now and then. Generally, I prefer to talk in person. 

Perhaps I could use Instagram and LinkedIn less, but it doesn't feel overwhelming. Somehow, it also feels important to transform such spaces rather than to leave them entirely (though this is also a good thing to do, if a person feels overwhelmed or feels encouraged to consume, or compares themselves to others). For example, Instagram is so full of accounts promoting a lifestyle of overconsumption. It feels good to know that there are persons who practise underconsumption, extreme minimalism, frugality, simple living, slow living and so on, too. As for LinkedIn, it feels good to post somewhat rarely and avoid being the person who brags about achievements, 

One part of my digital consumption that felt unhealthy and overwhelming to me was reading news online. I stopped doing it completely. This is a whole different (and difficult!) topic though. 

At times, my fellow humans say to me that I should delete Instagram if I practise extreme minimalism. At this moment, I feel that it's probably best to share my alternative lifestyle on this platform, to follow few fellow humans, and post only what feels important. I certainly spend much more time on this autoethnography. If my fellow humans were reading this autoethnography, I would probably delete Instagram. But in my autoethnography, my entries are somewhat long (they are my data rather than blog posts), and it would be time-consuming for fellow humans to read these entries. I also disabled comments. This is because I set up this page for research transparency reasons (I use this as my data for my autoethnographic study). I link this page to my academics articles. Because I don't mention names here, I would not want my fellow humans posting comments that reveal their names (they can email me instead). 

Apart from the platforms I mentioned above, I am not part of my platform, online forum, or a messaging app. 

494

 Preparing for our wedding

We finally applied to get married here in beautiful Denmark. Our marriage is international (my partner is a Danish citizen and I am a British citizen), which means we have to fill out some forms and wait for permission to get married. Before we began to fill out these forms, I had thought that I would feel frustrated with it. After all, getting married should be about love and not bureaucracy. But then I thought about my wish list. And I decided to simply give some of those things (kindness, care, gentleness, empathy, etc.) to myself and to Familieretshuset at that very moment. I decided to fill out those long forms with love, care, kindness. The Agency of Family Law asked for, e.g., photographs of our relationship. I chose the ones I love the most from my Instagram account (usually I don't keep pictures). I wanted to share some beautiful details about our love story. The rest is outside our control. After applying, two things can happen. Either we get permission to get married soon, or they will ask us for more documents, and then it might take months. 

These days, we talk about our wedding rather often. It no longer feels like an idea, but rather as something that will unfold soon. As sustainability researchers and practitioners who strongly believe in the unity of theory and practice, we could have a low-waste wedding (local food, second-hand dress, local honeymoon, and so on). But we decided to practise (extreme) minimalism even in relation to our wedding. Having a traditional wedding with many guests and a white dress has never been my dream. And after 15 or so years of practising minimalism, spiritual rather than material aspects of life have become so much more important than material aspects (apart from the very basics of life). Our celebration will thus take place mostly in our hearts, in our souls, rather than through stuff. 

We will get married in the city hall. We will have no guests. We will wear what we already have. We will not exchange rings. I will not wear any makeup or jewellery (apart from the ring that my partner gave me when we got engaged, or nothing at all). I will not style my hair. We plan to see some of our family members after the wedding (not on the same day), but we will not accept gifts apart from donations to environmental causes. Such donations have become our standard practice around holidays and events. We want to eat what we usually eat. Perhaps we will get a cake from a local bakery. We will not go anywhere after the wedding. We want to be in our home city, Copenhagen. 

A while ago, when I told a fellow human about my ideal wedding, they mentioned that I would regret not having a traditional wedding with guests, gifts, special food, and a white dress. I cannot imagine having regrets about not consuming something that is not an essential. I could regret not eating healthy food, not resting/sleeping enough, or not being helpful, empathetic or kind in some moment. But I would not regret not wearing a certain dress, not eating a certain cake, or not applying makeup. I don't even worry about the weather on our wedding day. It might be grey and rainy in Copenhagen in the autumn (or winter, depending on when we receive our permission to get married). And that's wonderful!

493

 Jacket and prefiguration

My one and only jacket is just over three years old. I invited it into my life when I moved from England to northern Sweden. In England, I had been wearing a thin woollen coat for many years. The coat even acquired some holes. I said goodbye to it just before I moved to Sweden. I could have repaired the holes, but northern Swedish climate is too cold for this kind of clothing. This jacket has lived with me in Sweden, Finland and Denmark. I wore it in -20 and in +10. When it gets very cold, I wear a large woollen scarf over my shoulders, on top of the jacket. The jacket is made from polyester, and this is something I don't love about it. In many places, the jacket shows signs of wear. And that's ok. Some fellow humans smile when I say that I've had a jacket for only 3 years. It's not a long time. But I wear it very often. In winter, I wear it every day. 

At times, I hear from my fellow humans that emphasising individual (or even collective but small scale) practices such as wearing the same thing every day or initiating small-scale alternative organisations is a-political. I gently disagree. In my view, it is political. This kind of politics is called prefigurative politics, being the change we wish to see. Not waiting for a changed system, not limiting our actions to voting or taking part in occasional protests (though these things are important too). But living as if the changed system is here already, to the best of our abilities, or creating spaces that represent this changed system. Embodying change. To me, being political among other things means, for example, wanting a kind and caring society and being kind and caring oneself. It is not serious when one says they wish to live in a kind and caring society, and they refuse to behave in a kind and caring way. Being political also means uniting with likeminded fellow humans who also want a kind and caring society and enact it in their everyday life. Wanting a society that consumes less and thus consuming less oneself. Wanting a society that respects life and nature's limits and thus living a much more environmentally sustainable lifestyle and enacting a different way of relating with the world (the self, human and non-human others, and nature). I think it's empowering. Living this way gives a sense of doing something rather than waiting. 

This morning, I received an email from a fellow human who let me know what the special issue about prefigurative politics is out in an independent journal called ephemera (link). 

492

 The scarf and a wish list

I always feel apprehensive about taking pictures for my autoethnography where everything that I live with is displayed at once. Some time ago, a reviewer of one of my autoethnographic articles asked me why I don't include pictures in the article itself (instead, I link this autoethnography). One picture doesn't say much about how I live, what my practice looks and feels like, and how I relate with objects in my everyday life. When I take a pictures for this autoethnography, many items look new. But they are not. Every item has a story, and most of the items have so-called imperfections. Small holes, fading of colour, small stains. Or, they are heavily used. 

The scarf in the picture above is the only scarf I live with. It's 3 or so years old. It's lived with me in Sweden, Finland and Denmark. I use it as a blanket, a scarf, and even a hood. It makes me feel warm and safe, especially when I travel. When I moved to my new apartment in Finland, I even slept on this scarf (it was placed on top of my yoga mat). The scarf is made entirely from wool. To make it last, I air it out. I have hand washed it perhaps twice. The fabric thinned out over time, but the scarf still serves me well. It lost its shape somewhat though!

Recently, I've been thinking about retailers and a wish list functions in online stores. When I was growing up, a wish list was something one would have for a holiday rather than constantly. I don't have a wish list. Having said that, I have a wish list of a different kind. I wish for:

Finding joy in the present moment

Kindness

Care

Love

Wisdom

Peace

Continued inspiration

Gentleness

Empathy

Compassion

Oneness

And so many other things!

491

 

Recently, my partner and I were walking in our neighbourhood. We were talking about the knowledge we create in our academic works, and whether it is as relevant for our fellow humans as it could be. Sustainability is facilitated by eco-social policies, civil society organisations, businesses, but it is also lived, or can be lived, in people's everyday life. The questions below reminded me of this. 

A fellow human asks (some of the questions refer to the photo here):

1. Earlier you shared that you try to avoid black because it changes color and the rest of the things are light and easier when you wash everything together, now you decided to add black?

I try to avoid black clothes generally because the colour seems to wash out easier. I live with 10 items of clothing, so I wash my clothes often. Earlier on in my journey, I experimented with wearing black clothes (e.g., I had black t-shirts and vest tops), but they looked older much faster than, say, grey or off-white ones. Black clothes also collect, or rather show, lint (years ago, I used to live with grey cats and a white dog!), and I didn't want to invite anything into my life that is designed to remove it. I notice that grey, beige, and off-white clothes are very easy to care for, the colour looks nice and fresh much longer. I have two items of clothing that are dark. One is a brown jacket and one is a pair of black sweatpants that I've had for some years. Occasionally, I would put them away when I wore my two pairs of beige sweatpants. But when one pair wore out, I decided to invite the black ones back in (rather than buy something new). When they wear out, I will probably not replace them with black ones. They are also the only item that I cannot wash with the other items that I wear. Having said that, the black sweatpants are practical. It's not possible to see it in the photo I linked above, but the beige sweatpants have many small stains from walking in the rain in the streets of Copenhagen and Helsinki, and other places. I imagine that some dirt from the roads settled into the fabric. My shoes are also black and dark brown. Lighter colours would be rather impractical in the area where it rains a lot. 

I also want to add that if a fellow human feels most comfortable wearing black (or any other colour!), if it feels empowering or safe, they should wear it. I think I'd wear it more often if black clothes were easier to care for. 

2. How often do you wash your things (this question is related to the minimum number of things that you own and this is the number I strive for, I dream of)?

I wash our things (my clothes, my partner's clothes, and towels) twice a week: once I wash our black items (my partner wears black clothes often) and once I wash our light coloured items. Whenever there is a stain, I wash the item by hand. When I lived without a washing machine, I would wash my items whenever they needed to be washed. Now when we have a washing machine (it came with our rented apartment), I make sure I use only cold water and slower spinning. I use laundry sheets to wash all our textiles. And I hang dry all our textiles. Here in the Nordics, homes are very warm, and I notice that everything dries fast. I rely on this, as I live with so few items. In England, it was always cold and damp in my home, and it took much longer for clothes to dry. 

3. Do you currently have a comb, a razor?

I don't have a comb. I used to have a plastic one that I got for free from a hotel a long time ago, but it got damaged. I used it at times to detangle my hair when it was longer. Now my hair is shorter, I simply use my fingers to gently detangle my hair when I'm in the shower. It works well for me, but I have wavy/curly hair, so this might not work for everyone. 

I used to have a safety razor. It wasn't a good one because the dye came off rather quickly. The main reason I recycled it was self-harm. For me, it was triggering to live with razor blades. My partner has a razor where one replaces the heads but not the handle. I occasionally use it too. But I don't use it all the time because I celebrate hair on my body. 

4. Do you own two pair of socks? woollen?

I live with 3 pairs of cotton socks (in the picture, they are in one of the cotton pouches). One of those pairs is almost worn out as it's 3 years old. I also live with two pairs of woollen socks. It can get cold here in Denmark in winter. When it's not raining, I often wear sandals in autumn and winter. In this case, I wear woollen socks. 

5. Do you have pajamas?

No. I wear my partner's old white shirt instead. Or nothing at all. 

6. When you are at home, what clothes do you like to wear?

Because all my clothes are casual, cosy and comfortable, I wear exactly the same clothes at home as I wear when I lecture, for my meetings, walks and so on. Very often, I wear my partner's old white t-shirts. I don't have any special clothes to wear at home, or to sleep in. 

7. What is the cute yellow jar?

Vaseline. I probably should not have included it as "my possession" because it's simply something that is in our household. I used to use natural butters instead but I notice that Vaseline lasts much longer. I use it very rarely though. 

490

A fellow human asked: You often mention that you avoid services and I wonder why. I understand that there are services such as food delivery which produce package waste and fuel pollution and therefore are unsustainable. But there are other services such as massage, yoga classes, psychotherapy, language classes (just to name a few) which seem to me to genuinely add value to life of someone who is interested in the[m]. I wonder if you think that there is something wrong in such services too (if yes, what?) and why do you avoid them?

After I read this deep question, I was thinking about it all day. My partner and co-author and I talk about services very often. We contemplate services in our academic work. For example, we believe that there should be universal basic services, provided free of charge for everyone. They would include healthcare, housing, education, transportation. Services also seem to be a good alternative to ownership. For example, libraries are better than each one of us owning books/journals/magazines individually. Rental services seem to be a good option too. For example, instead of buying special occasion items, it is better to rent them. 

My partner uses many more services than I do. Massage, hairdressing, renting a car very occasionally (once a year) are some of the services he uses. I certainly do not judge him for that. My grandmother often uses repair services to prolong the life of her clothes, accessories and shoes. I always found this to be a sustainability practice. 

I use services too. For example, I use the healthcare system, public transport when I have to, libraries, banking, various IT services, delivery (e.g., my partner and I order dried fruits and nuts in very large packages to avoid small plastic ones) and so many others. I use some forms of social media to connect with my fellow humans, share my work far outside academia, learn from my fellow humans. 

At the same time, I try to avoid some services for various reasons. My reasons for practising this lifestyle (that constellates various elements of extreme minimalism, zero-waste, simple and slow living), and thus for avoiding some services, are ecological, spiritual, and aesthetic. 

For example, I avoid certain kinds of transportation (such as flying) for environmental reasons. I avoid gyms because I can exercise at home or outdoors, in nature. I avoid food delivery services because of its environmental impact (as the fellow human who asked the question said), and because I don't want to support this industry. I avoid beauty services because I want to accept myself as I am and honour my ageing. I avoid subscriptions because I want to be mindful about every consumption act and decision that I make. 

I avoid and will always avoid cleaning services. My fellow humans are not my servants. I would never live in a home that is too large for me to clean myself. 

Some services I don't use because I simply don't own items that require special care or services. For example, I don't have a car, so I don't need car maintenance. I live with very simple clothes that I can wash and repair myself. 

There are also services that I don't use because I prefer to do something else instead, or due to sensory processing sensitivity. For example, I much prefer walking, meditating, reading and writing than doing to theatres and cinemas. 

There are services that I don't use because I prefer to do some things myself. For example, I don't use editing services for my academic works. I want my writing to be organic, imperfect and mine. I don't take language classes (even though they would probably be helpful) because I want to take my time and learn a language myself, naturally, even if it takes more times. This is not to say that my fellow humans should not take language classes. I believe they could be very helpful. 

My fellow human in the question above mentioned psychotherapy. This is such an interesting topic. I think psychotherapy is helpful. For a long time, I've been interested in existentialist psychotherapy which inspired some parts of my academic work. I don't use psychotherapy personally because I feel that engaging with philosophy, meditating, journaling, being with nature, doing autoethnography, being on a path of spiritual growth is helpful to me for now. 

I certainly do not think that services are inherently bad. In fact, some (such as healthcare) are absolutely essential and inherently good. There are so many different services. Humans are also different and are in their own unique circumstances. If I was an elderly person, I would love for someone to help me clean my home. If I was ill, I would love for someone to bring me food. I would probably take language classes if the language in the space where I am was very different to the languages that I know or understand. I do not judge or blame fellow humans for using services that they need. Having said that, at times fellow humans feel that using services is so benign that we don't need to be mindful of this kind of consumption. After all, services produce non-material goods. But many services are still associated with using resources. I think that it is helpful to contemplate the services we use, ask ourselves why and see which ones genuinely add value to our lives. 

489

A fellow human asked: 

How do you stay focused and not buckle to this pressure [referring to the rapid turnover of identities/personal branding/aesthetics]? Have there been times where you have succumbed to this pressure, and how does one get back on track? 

I feel that to stay focused, it helps to first (and then continuously) contemplate what is actually important, where my focus should be. Otherwise it'd certainly be challenging to stay focused and easy to be influenced by trends, fashion, corporations and so on. 

In my everyday practice, for many years (since my early 20s, now I'm in my mid-30s) I've been using a playful sufficiency list. I've mentioned it in this article. This list shows all the items that I need to live well. It's changed somewhat over the years, but not much. Visually, it looks like this. More important than this list though are other items. They are my priorities and I focus on them. They are kindness, gentleness, empowerment (e.g., of my students), empathy, compassion, solidarity, fairness, care (for myself, human and non-human others and nature), genuine concern for others' wellbeing, right action (at least, striving for that), love, personal growth, self-transcendence (e.g., gratitude, wonder, awe, oneness). Nurturing and acquiring such items is not promoted as much as acquiring, say, goods and services, because they are free and freeing. Becoming more kind, empathetic, caring and so on does not serve anyone's profit motives. They cannot be bought and sold. I often say that our most important career as human beings, no matter what we do as a job, is being the best human beings we can be. My academic work is only part of it. And when all my energy is invested in this career, I don't have energy, time or even desire to change identities and reinvent myself. Instead of consuming, I would much rather read philosophy, write something to initiate discussions with fellow humans (e.g., academic papers and books or even this autoethnography), be with nature and learn from her. Write down some thoughts and ideas for myself. Meditate. If something new comes up that feels relevant (e.g., underconsumption as a recent trend or the idea of regeneration applied to business), I am curious to dive into it and see what my fellow humans are doing. But I avoid spending time on things that feel irrelevant to my calling. 

This is how I feel in my 30s. Before I turned 20, I was not consistently on the same path. And for this reason, I love being in my mid-30s and enjoy ageing, becoming more myself and wise. In my childhood, due to my stepfather's job, I lived in a rural area, in and with nature and non-humans. I felt oneness with nature. We returned to a large city when I was in my mid-teens. Because of sensory processing sensitivity I wanted to live with less. Living with an autoimmune condition also restricted me in many ways. At that time, in early 2000s, social media was not as all-pervasive as it is now, but the influence and pressure to consume came from my family. It would probably have come from friends too, but I've never been a very social person. In my teens, I said yes to many things. Jewellery, watches, various clothing for different occasions, makeup, bras. I used to fly. I thought I had to have these things and had to travel. On some occasions, I felt so overwhelmed by stuff, I would give them away. Everything apart from one outfit. It was not enough, so I would then buy more. And I did it again and again. I'm not proud of it. But I have developed empathy towards my younger self. My mother died when I was 17 and much of the pressure to look a certain way disappeared. I moved far away from my stepfather, grandmother and brother soon after that. When I was 20, I permanently relocated to another country. With only one bag. At that time, I still was not focused. I felt like I had fragments of what was important to me, but they were not constellated into anything concrete. There were things that helped me step on my current path. I lived in England, and that climate with lots of wind and rain encouraged me to stop wearing makeup and wear comfortable clothes. At that time, in 2010 or so, it felt like more fellow humans began to contemplate ecological degradation. I became curious about voluntary simplicity as a lifestyle, zero-waste, veganism, minimalism. I was experimenting with them. I often think that doing my PhD (in ecological microeconomics) helped me constellate various bits of understanding into a philosophy of life that manifests in practice consistently. But I also think that even if I didn't do a PhD, I would have continued on the same path (of spiritual growth). 

After finishing my PhD in England, I moved to Sweden and started working as an academic. For me, it was a test because I would have more disposable income. I was wondering, would I consume more? It didn't happen. I began to live with even less. 

To my fellow humans who feel they are not on track, who think they have made a mistake, I would say that they are on track. No journey is perfect. I wish I started writing this autoethnography when I was 14 years old. I wish that my fellow humans who read my autoethnography now could see that in reality it took so many years to be where I am now. And there are some things that I gave up only recently. Some of the most difficult things to give up was the feeling of shame when doing nothing. Making mistakes is part of the journey. Compassion towards oneself is also part of the journey, so I don't think that we need to feel guilt or shame. I would encourage fellow humans to spend quality time with themselves and think about, and write down, what is genuinely important to them, what they want to focus on. And pursue these things. Write a journal. Talk to fellow humans who are on similar paths. 

488

 Everything I "own" and Q&A

I have finally taken a picture (above) of everything that I own. I dislike the word "own" because it feels hierarchical (owner-possession) rather than relational. It also feels as if the items are mine. My private property. This is not how I feel about them. I much prefer to use the expression "the items I live with". But it wouldn't be true in this case. I share this space with a fellow human. We share many items such as our two pots, the pan, cutlery, towels, furniture, shampoo. I also borrow some items at times, such as plain white t-shirts. In the picture: all my clothes and shoes (I've written more about clothes here), a cotton pouch with all my documents, a cotton pouch with medicine, my laptop, phone charger, mobile internet (shared), keys (technically not my own, as we rent), a white cloth given to me as a gift by an elderly woman, hair ties, scissors, toothbrush (the toothpaste is shared), vaseline (shared), a ring, two stones from Bornholm, a convertible bag/backpack and two cotton tote bags (shared). 

In my academic field, sustainability (degrowth/post-growth), we oftentimes say and hear that we need to produce and consume less. We/humanity need to strive to live well with less. It makes so much sense, considering ecological degradation. But it's so much easier to say that we need x, y and z than to comment on how exactly this living well with less can unfold. My fellow academics study, for example, alternatives lifestyles such as voluntary simplicity and propose how businesses can facilitate less consumption. I wanted to have a first-hand account of living well with less, and to share openly everything that I feel, observe, practise, and otherwise experience. I want to understand various nuances, challenges, setbacks, mistakes, what empowers me on this journey, and what motives me. Something that supports me in this undertaking is a strong belief that I hold in the unity of theory and practice. I want to practise what I advocate in my academic works. 

Much inspiration for research within academia comes from discussing ideas with fellow academics and from reading fellow humans' academic works and seeing what gaps in knowledge exist, or how something (a theory, an idea, etc.) can be developed further, enriched, questioned, supported and so on. My colleague and I were recently talking about the need to make our knowledge more relevant for fellow humans outside academia. I am a researcher, but I'm also a long-term practitioner of extreme minimalism, zero-waste and voluntary simplicity. In fact, my journey of living alternatively (to the current norm in materially wealthy countries such as Denmark where I live) is much longer than my journey as an academic. So I decided to let this autoethnography be more guided by fellow humans. I invited questions about my practices. I hope that it will gently bring my attention to what is important to others, what my fellow humans are contemplating in relation to living well with less. By living well with less I mean practising alternative lifestyles such as (eco)minimalism, extreme minimalism, zero(low)-waste, frugal living, slow living, simple living, voluntary simplicity, a sufficiency-orientated lifestyle, or something similar, or just some practices inspired by these lifestyles, or unique constellations of practices. There are so many ideas for alternative lifestyles that it becomes confusing and overwhelming. There is so much overlap between them too. 

I feel deep gratitude for the questions and will respond to all of them over time. 

My fellow human asked: 

I would love to hear more about your practices of non-hierarchy, anarchism and how they are manifested in your daily life! [...] 

In my academic work and everyday life, I come from an anarchist perspective. Like other fellow humans, I believe in guidance, sharing wisdom, sharing experiences, but to me it seems that all these things can be done in a non-hierarchical space. I think that hierarchies are incredibly detrimental. They disempower, constrain, erase, silence, normalise exploitation and so on. I do not think that a genuinely (socially and ecologically) sustainable society can be a hierarchical society. It feels like hierarchies are exactly something that makes ecological and social degradation even worse. Consider, for example, colonialism and exploitation of nature and non-human beings. Fellow humans often say that this is a systemic issue. And it is. But I think that individuals do not have to wait until the system is changed. If we are not taking part in this change, who will be changing it? We can act now, even in small way, to flatten existing hierarchies and empower others wherever possible. For me, non-hierarchy starts with (re)framing. Seeing people as fellow humans and calling them exactly this. Normalising calling everyone a fellow human. And normalising seeing other beings as fellow beings. Rivers, trees, stones, birds. In my everyday life, I refer to people as fellow humans. In a hierarchical situation (e.g., teacher-student), I try to always let others know about my political perspective (anarchism) to create space for genuine discussions, empathetic critique, sharing of experiences. I invest my time where it will create some positive outcome. I've had 3 hour supervision meetings (when 20-30 min is the norm) because it felt important. I work with early-career researchers. I've asked my students to grade themselves. I've said yes to extra lectures to dive deeper into topics. Whenever a difficult situation arises with someone in a position of power, I want them to be aware of this. At times, those are fellow humans who are empathetic and will listen with understanding, and in this case it is easier to bring up the power dynamics conversation. 

Consuming less is also a practice of non-hierarchy. Because consuming much more than what's affordable for most fellow humans feels extractive and entitled to me personally. I do not want to live with more than others. I don't want to have more money than others. I want to have lagom (just right) to feel safe and secure. Anarchism is about prefiguration, enacting change directly, right now, before we consider the system "changed". I spend as much time as possible with non-human beings. It helps me to appreciate smallness (I don't use it in a negative sense here) of my own existence. One beings among so many human and non-human others. 

I'm learning to ask for help. Some time ago, I was afraid of doing this, fearful of fellow humans judging me as incapable to do something on my own. Which of course meant that I would hold their viewpoint in high regard, would be affected deeply by their judgement. If one sees others as fellow beings, it feels easier to ask for help, and absolutely natural to offer help too. 

For me, practising anarchism every day also entails talking about it with fellow humans, learning from them, their journeys, success stories. Being in humbling situations where I am once again reminded of my own scale is nurturing too. Being with the sea, with old trees. Recently, I was walking in my neighbourhood. A group of children carrying a basket with chestnuts approached me. They asked me if I wanted a chestnut. We had a wonderful conversation, I received a chestnut, and we wished each other a nice day. Those children do not care about the number of citations that I have, about my titles. 

Something else that comes to mind is that practising non-hierarchy every day, for me, is about avoiding being unempathetic towards my younger self. There are many mistakes that I made on my path of simple living, but I don't judge/hate/blame myself/my younger self/myself-as-a-child for them. I contemplate those mistakes, learn from them, honour my experiences. 

487

 A day in Lund

I went to Lund (a city in southern Sweden) to offer a talk about degrowth transformations, degrowth business and degrowth consumption to my fellow humans and to connect with my fellow academics. Lund as a place means a lot to me. It's the city where my partner and I met for the first time after writing together for around a year and a half. It was in April 2022. Since September 2021 I had been based in a beautiful city in northern Sweden. Coming to Lund felt magical. It was warm and even green. I think that those fellow humans who have lived in the Arctic region can relate to this feeling. 

Every time I go somewhere for a day, it feels like I'm taking most of my personal possessions with me. I brought my laptop, phone, bank card, water bottle, cotton tote bag and a notebook. The bag that I took is the only one I live with. I share it with my partner. What was left at home in Copenhagen (apart from shared objects such as kitchen items, basic medicine, and furniture) are just my personal care items, a few items of clothing, and documents. 

I wore my everyday uniform. This time only shorts and a basic top with a men's top to keep me warm. I decided to forego the only linen shirt that I have to feel cosy in the train and warm in the morning and evening. Somehow, it also feels wonderful to wear very casual items when being with fellow humans. 

The department that I visited felt so welcoming and generous. After the seminar, we were talking about research and academia. The state of academia is on my mind very often. I want it to be a kind, safe, welcoming, caring, loving, down-to-earth space where fellow humans think together. Where ideas are thought-provoking and emotion-provoking. And action-provoking. 

As I was walking home from Copenhagen central station, I was reflecting on the beautiful day at Lund with my fellow humans. I was thinking about fellow humans outside academia. I want to write more guided entries in my autoethnography, that is to say, deeply and openly reflect, in writing, on the questions my fellow humans (in and outside academia) have about my practice of extreme minimalism, slow and simple living. 

486

 Luxury

Just over a year ago, a fellow human and I were sitting on the floor of my apartment in Finland. We sat on the floor because I lived without furniture. We shared simple food and had a wonderful, deep conversation. They said: what a luxury! 

It's so interesting to observe how my perception of some words and events changed over time. For example, while walking my life's path, I came to the realisation that solitude doesn't really exist. There are always non-human beings around. Trees, rivers, animals, the sun, the sea. Even air. Emptiness or empty space acquired positive connotations. Empty space is full of light, air. It's calming and peaceful. Doing nothing was something I struggled with at times. Over time, I learned to do nothing. Or perhaps rather seeing simple activities such as sitting with the sun as doing something. Something incredibly important, in fact. 

Over many years, I've been thinking about luxury and abundance. Once a child asked, what is luxury? In our society, the word luxury is often used to refer to stuff, services and experiences. I even googled it out of interest, to see what comes up. Expensive cars, houses, jewellery, accessories, clothes, resorts, hotels. Something that is only affordable to a small proportion of fellow humans. Something that is not abundant. 

I was sitting on our balcony on a warm September day here in Copenhagen. With me, I had a jar (that came with food) with tap water and some slices of an apple that I received from a fellow human in my neighbourhood, for free. A warm, bright day as we are stepping into Winter, safe and delicious water, a local apple. All of these things felt like a luxury to me. I experienced a wave of beautiful emotions such as gratitude and self-transcendence. A deep sense of wellbeing. It feels so important to think about simple, everyday, accessible things as luxurious, beautiful, desirable. Having said that, I am reminded of fellow humans who live without access to safe water and food, which is heartbreaking (living an extremely minimalist life allows us to support charities whenever we can, but individual actions in this case are not enough). 

I believe that reframing luxury can help humans pursue better things in life (kindness, gentleness, honesty, being empathetic, being caring, spiritual growth, etc.). When I think about luxury, what comes to my mind are sunny days in winter in Copenhagen, spruce tips (their season is so short!) and other gifts from nature, tranquillity in a usually busy space (I'm thinking about walking across Stockholm at 6 in the morning).  

485

 Living with a fellow human 

It's been around a year since I moved in with a fellow human. I want to reflect on this in relation to my practice of ecological living. Before that, I had been living on my own in northern Sweden and southern Finland for around 2 years. 

My partner is, like me, a sustainability researcher and practitioner, though we approach sustainable living somewhat differently. I practise this kind of living not only for ecological, but also for spiritual, aesthetic and health-related reasons. The foundation of my practice is extreme minimalism, that is, living with a lot less than what is the norm in our society. I don't love the term extreme minimalism. It doesn't feel extreme to me in any way. It feels calming, peaceful, simple, harmonious, joyful, abundant. I combine extreme minimalism with practices of simple living, zero-waste, and slow living. From many conversations with my fellow humans over the course of 15 years or so, I've come to the realisation that very few persons would like to practise extreme minimalism. And that's ok. With my partner we found that we can meet in the middle and practise minimalist living together. The main difference is that we certainly have more items than I would have had if I lived on my own. We have some furniture (in Finland I lived without furniture and slept on a yoga mat). We also have some appliances (a washing machine and a vacuum cleaner). Having said that, we don't use the dishwasher that came with our apartment. We don't have lighting fixtures, curtains, home décor/artworks, a car. There are many items that belong to my partner's child from a previous relationship. I would practise extreme minimalism with my child if I had one, but everyone's approach is different. 

There are some items in our home that belong to my partner's grandparents. I would not have these or similar items, but it's a shared space, so I welcome those items. 

Together, we try to practise zero-waste as much as possible. There is no zero-waste store near us, so we welcomed into our home our own refill system (below). Those 10 litre containers are home to liquid soap and dish washing liquid. In the picture below is also a large bag of bicarb soda and vinegar. If I lived on my own, I would have continued to use bar soaps.

Together, we buy organic food, shop in a cooperative supermarket and visit farmers' markets. We avoid flying and are also mindful when it comes to train journeys. Both of us wear a uniform. I borrow some of his clothes at times. I also borrow his shampoo. 

The tendency is such that he often wonders what we could welcome into our life, and I contemplate what we can live happily without. We discuss such things in a safe and empathetic space that we try to create. 

Both of us like simple objects and neutral colours, which helps both of us feel at home in our apartment. Jokingly, we say that our home looks like a yoga studio or a meditation retreat. Though there is more colour than what I would have preferred. 

My partner shares a cottage with his previous partner, and that home looks very different from ours. There are many more objects and more decorations. He spends every other weekend there, and perhaps it balances the emptiness of our home. Here in the Nordics where apartments are often very small, it is also common to have storage spaces/rooms downstairs. We have a storage room where my partner keeps some of his items. I don't use the storage room. 

There are some items that I invited into our space and that he would probably not have otherwise. They include, for example, empty jars (that I use as glasses, vases and for storage), cotton tote bags, reusable water bottles, mobile internet, and plants. 

484

Clothes

Almost every morning I stand on my balcony and look at the roof of the building on the other side of the street. Beautiful birds, crows and pigeons, often visit that roof. Each one of them looks the same every day. They look so vibrant, so confident. I'm inspired by non-human animals and how they are in the world. Many years ago I was inspired by a cat I lived with. She empowered me to step on the path of living with very few clothing items. To look the same every day, no matter what occasion it is. For many years, I've lived with a wardrobe that consists of less than 20 items. These days it's just 10, though recently it was 9 because one of the shirts I had wore out. At times, my fellow humans ask me how it feels, if I get tired of the same items, if I ever want to re-invent myself (e.g., to heal from a traumatic event faster), if I'm sure I'm using clothes to my advantage (the most common comment refers to claiming power and being appealing to men). 

I think that humans should be able to decide for themselves what they wear. It might even seem that it is indeed the case, especially considering the amount of clothes on this planet, and the number of new styles that appear every day on the market. But there are pressures to consume. Looking different every day and for various occasions has been normalised. On my journey, I observe that the best way (for me) to follow my own path is to simply wear my favourite items and disregard norms and expectations. I want to feel cosy in the world. So I wear plain, comfortable clothes in calming colours. A fellow human might feel their best in bright colours and prints. And that's ok. I oftentimes see something very beautiful in the streets of Copenhagen. A long, flowy linen dress on an elderly woman. A handmade scarf in a window of a small, independent shop. I appreciate these things. But I don't want to own them or something similar. I've noticed that living only with what feels like me allows me to appreciate others' use of clothes as a means of self-expression so much more. To celebrate fellow humans' creativity, confidence, elegance and taste. 

Living with very few items of clothing feels incredibly liberating. I don't ever get tired of the items I live with. I feel gratitude towards the cotton fibres that protect my skin (I live with an autoimmune skin condition), the woollen scarf for keeping me warm in Nordic winters. 

Changing my wardrobe has never been a strategy for me to deal with traumatic events. One of the most traumatic events that I experienced was almost a year ago. Many of the items I wear now are the ones that were with me during that time. I didn't and I still don't feel the need to replace them. In fact, I was even glad that while a challenging chapter of my life was unfolding, I could still be myself. When something challenging unfolds, I try to be with nature (the sea, the sun, the sky, trees) to remind myself of the actual scale of these challenges. Of the scale of my own life in comparison to the vastness of the universe. I then take a long shower to be with the Water that so gently helps me re-center myself. 

As for using clothes to achieve something, it has never been my strategy either. I don't feel that most humans judge me by my clothes. At times, they are curious. At other times, though rarely, they are critical. But in general, wearing the same thing every day doesn't feel like a hindrance. Other things, such as kindness and honesty, matter so much more than the number of dresses/t-shirts/shoes one owns. At times, fellow humans seem to believe that we need to mobilise everything to achieve some goal, including the items we wear. I think that simply being a good person (caring, kind, just, gentle, trustworthy, empathetic and so on) is enough. Some philosophical traditions, such as Bhaskar's philosophy of metareality, even suggest that we essentially are all those things already, and the only thing we need to do it to shed everything that obscures them (false beliefs, desires etc.). It's the simplest, easiest, most natural path of living. Whether it is so in reality or not, it is certainly part of my philosophy of life. 

A major downside of living with very few items is that everything wears out faster. The poor job that some businesses do becomes obvious. It's interesting to observe how different things wear and wear out. When something has a lower quality than should be the case, I contact the company and share my feedback. I think people should do that every time something does not perform well. It's an act of activism. 

Because I wear everything I live with so often, I avoid inviting into my life anything that is difficult to maintain or that sheds microfibers. There are no delicate, very thin, dry clean only items. No occasion items. No lace. Certainly no polyester (apart from the jacket and my winter shoes), nylon, acrylic. There is nothing that feels uncomfortable or is overstimulating. I also avoid inviting into my life anything that is difficult to wear for all occasions. For example, I choose sweatpants that are not baggy and shorts that are long enough to lecture in them. I choose t-shirts that are not too transparent so I can wear them to more formal meetings. I never, ever invite into my life anything that is for others. For example, I do not buy anything that is supposed to look sexy. I celebrate those women who wear such items for themselves. But oftentimes such items are sold to make women look sexy for men. Like my fellow women, I try to develop a healthy, loving and caring relationship with my body, the home of my soul. My preferred way to do it is to appreciate my body, the stretch marks, and the signs of ageing without any clothes. 

In my wardrobe, there is 1 jacket, 2 pairs of shorts, 2 pairs of sweatpants, 1 shirt, 2 basic tops and 2 t-shirts that I appropriated from my partner. Not long ago, he bought t-shirts from several sustainability orientated businesses to see which t-shirt is the best one. I took the ones he is not wearing anymore. 

It's getting colder here in Copenhagen. In winter, I will continue to wear the same items, but I will also wear a large woollen scarf very often. If it gets incredibly cold, I will borrow a woollen sweater from my partner. If I get pregnant, I will borrow men's clothes in a large size. 

When the linen shirt wears out, I do not plan to replace it. I prefer plain t-shirts without any extra details such as buttons and collars. 

483

 One year

It feels meaningful to go back to the same day last year and reflect on what has unfolded, to take stock of growth in my inner being. On the same day last year I left Finland. I boarded a ferry to Stockholm, stayed in Stockholm for a day or so, and then came to Denmark, that would become my home. This relocation was accompanied by so much anxiety but also hope. With me, I had everything I owned. Everything fit in a tote bag and a backpack. I think that practising extreme minimalism made this relocation easier. Nothing heavy. No furniture, no car, no artworks were holding me in one place. I felt like a fellow animal who is not held back by stuff. It felt intoxicating, as if I discovered something so important and was forever free from possessions. 

Now I'm thinking about this relocation in my home in Valby, which is a district in Copenhagen. At various points in my life I observed fellow humans celebrate achievements such as buying a better car, a bigger house, new furniture. Over the course of this year, I haven't accumulated anything. In fact, I said goodbye to some things. When my partner and I moved in together, we invited a bed frame and a tøjstativ into our life. When we moved to another apartment, which had built-in storage space and low ceilings in the bedroom, we realised we could live without those pieces of furniture.

I downsized my wardrobe from around 20 items to 10. More recently, one of the two shirts that I had wore out completely, so in reality my wardrobe consists of 9 items. It feels liberating. I observe my feelings that accompany living with so few items of clothing in a society overflowing with clothing items and that normalises changing outfits often. I feel joy when I wear the same outfit every day. I feel like I am simply me at all times. Not a professional-powerful woman one day, a romantic-sexy woman another day. Every day, I wear shorts, a basic top and a shirt. Some fellow humans would say otherwise, but I don't think that clothes matter. As long as a human being feel warm, cosy, comfortable. I've been reading Pierre Hadot recently, and his book Philosophy as a way of life reminds me that what matters is not what one has, but rather who one is. I want to be kind, caring, joyful, gentle, trustworthy, honest. A good person. Changing outfits often doesn't help me with these things at all. In fact, it takes time away from pursuing this mode of being. I could have more clothes. For example, during this year, I received some items as gifts for various holidays. But I gave them to charity or shared them via my local byttestationer (swap shops). And while spirituality is one reason for living with less clothing items, nature is no less important. I do research on sustainability transformations, and the textile industry is detrimental for nature and non-human beings. There are options to make the textile industry better, and to use existing clothing better (consider second-hand and repair for example). But personally I choose to simply have less. Much less. And normalise having less. At times, I borrow my partner's white t-shirts though. I sleep in them, and as it's getting colder, I wear one on top of my basic tops. Those basic tops are sold as underwear pieces, but I wear them as tops. They wash well and last long. Probably this is because they were meant to be washed often. 

In our home, we have two lamps and kitchen and bathroom lights. So we are continuing my practice of having minimal artificial lighting at home. We live with the rhythms of nature. It's fascinating to observe that the sun sets so much earlier these days and rises so much later than in June. It makes a difference when I experience it rather than simply know it. 

I decided to try and drink mostly water and almost no coffee and minimal tea. Here in Denmark tap water is safe to drink. I think it's delicious and beautiful. 

In Denmark, I fell in love with using jars that come with food as glasses. It's such a tiny everyday practice, but it felt so freeing when I tried doing this for the first time. I thought, I never have to buy glasses and mugs, ever! 

In Denmark it feels easier to buy organic produce. We buy most of our food in a cooperative supermarket. It often, if not always, has seasonal, Danish produce. In late summer-early autumn, I've been buying many Danish apples, pears, plums and potatoes. 

I've met many wonderful fellow humans while living in Denmark. One of them was a visiting scholar from France. She did an interview with me for a French association called Alter Kapitae. The interview is now out in French and in English. It can be found here. I thought it was a nice initiative, to interview scholars about their research on degrowth, in a simple and informal way. Much of what researchers like myself do is philosophical work. Someone else does research and concludes that we are crossing the limits of the planet, that ecological degradation is a fact. Persons like me contemplate and study social systems. We wonder what motivates humans to relate with the world differently, what spaces and modes of being and practices exist already that are nurturing and good and that can replace everything that is destructive and detrimental. We wonder whether we should practise our own theory, lead by example, be the change we want to see. I strongly believe that we should. 

Below is a picture of my previous apartment in Copenhagen. The view from that window I described in my editorial for the journal Environmental Values:

482

 September

Living with much less than what is the norm in our society makes so much space, time and energy available for other pursuits. Wearing the same outfit every day means that I spend only a second deciding what to wear. Having only one bag means that I don't need to worry about where my essentials are and if I have forgotten something. I spend very little time on cleaning, laundry, organising my home. I use free time for reading, writing, walking, cooking, being with nature and my loved ones, immersing myself in activities that feel meaningful. 

These days, I've been thinking about our own theory of degrowth transformations. It has six elements:

1. Less and more: degrowth is not only about reduction, but it is a dialect of reduction and growth. We need growth in, for example, alternative organisations and lifestyles, empathy, solidarity, care. 
2. Four planes of being: material transactions with nature, social relations, social structures, inner being. Even when we think about one plane (say, material transactions with nature and wishing that some industries did not exist), we need to think about how it affects all the other planes (say, fellow humans loosing a sense of meaning and belonging if some industry disappears). 
3. Scales: from human psyche to the transnational level. 
4. Sites: civil society, state, and business.
5. What transformations are guided by: gentleness and care. Our capacities for love, self-transcendence, empathy, compassion, solidarity, right actions and so on. We were very much inspired by humanism. 
6. What transformations should tend towards: harmonious co-existence with the self, fellow others (humans and non-humans), and nature. 

These elements originally come from my work with my partner and our own definition of degrowth. We define degrowth as "deep transformations occurring on all four interrelates planes of social being, on different scales and in all sites, guided by gentleness and care, towards a society co-existing harmoniously within itself and with nature". 

I've been wondering if we missed something and which parts of this theory I want to dive deeper into. It is interesting to observe how my everyday life intertwines with my academic work. It is humbling to see how my everyday actions and sustainability practices (e.g., living with less than 50 personal possessions, 10 items of clothing - though now it is 9, excluding many categories of products and services from my consumption) are just a small part of sustainability transformations. 

And while it is humbling to contemplate the scale of transformation, it is also fascinating to see how transformations unfold in the smallest of actions. 

The other day, I was walking in my neighbourhood. We received a gift of several incredibly warm days in Copenhagen. As I was walking down one of the streets, I saw that some fellow humans put out buckets with fallen apples that they wanted to share with their fellow humans. It's a tradition that exists in both Sweden and Denmark. I love it. I picked up an apple with thin light green skin. This apple had a scent of early autumn. Absolutely magical and intoxicating. 

In the morning, I walked past our local byttestation. It's located in the recycling area of our building. Fellow humans often share furniture, books, glasses, vases and so many other things. Sharing, borrowing, using things together are excellent sustainability practices. 

481

Saying goodbye to a shirt

For many months, I've been living with 10 items of clothing. And before that with less than 30 for many years. I do this for ecological, spiritual, and aesthetic reasons. I want to be myself every day, not invent different personas for various situations. When I teach, rest, walk, travel, meet fellow humans in academia and outside academia, I wear the same outfit. A cat I lived with inspired me many years ago to look the same no matter what I do. I was in awe of her confidence and elegance. These days, I am inspired by so many fellow beings. Magpies, bees, squirrels. It feels wonderful to direct the energy that I would have otherwise spent on shopping (even second-hand) and putting outfits together on other activities that are important to me. Even sitting for some minutes on my balcony with the sun, or with a book, is more important. Contemplating is more important. Advertising and fashion trends do not affect me. 

It also feels wonderful to live with the same items of clothing for a while. To think about various plants (cotton plants, flax plants - they are so magical!) embodied in the clothing I wear. To care for each item. To repair it.

Living with so few items means that my clothes wear out. Once I met a fellow human who was wearing an item of clothing that was 40 years old (older than me). While it was humbling to hear that, it's not realistic for me, considering my practice. I repair my clothes relatively often. Most of the time it's a small hole. Recently I was looking at one of my two linen shirts. I noticed that in many places (especially on the back, the arms and shoulders where the shirt would often be in contact with my backpack or the table/desk) the shirt's fabric thinned out so much that it disintegrated in many places. Gently pulling the fabric caused tears immediately. Some time ago, I repaired this shirt. But this time, considering that there were so many places where the fabric thinned out, I decided to say goodbye to it. Here in Copenhagen it is possible to recycle textiles. In my previous apartment block in Frederiksberg there was a textile bin. Where I live currently there is none, but there is one not far from me in one of the streets. I could have made cloths from this shirt but I felt that I have enough of them, and thinned out fabric would not be the best for cleaning. I also notice that linen from which the shirt is made generates a lot of lint. Cotton (especially jersey) works much better for simple cloths. 

Saying goodbye to this shirt made me think that it's so rare these days, in our society, to see worn out clothes. Everything is so new. This shirt has been looking worn for many months now, and I rarely see fellow humans wear anything that looks this worn out. We are encouraged to get rid of an item as soon as it develops a small imperfection, not to mention a hole or a stain. 

Buying something new immediately to replace an old item is normalised. I was observing my feelings and emotions as I was putting the shirt in a bag to carry it to the textile recycling bin. I didn't feel any desire to buy a new one (or a second-hand one). 

I now live with only one linen shirt. These days are incredibly warm here in Copenhagen. Perhaps when the weather changes I will think about my wardrobe again. It feels good to be guided by deeply felt needs and nature's rhythms rather than societal norms and corporations' desire for profit. I might borrow a shirt from my partner later. 

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 Guest

This beautiful Bee came to our home recently. They were sitting on the floor and probably were very tired. I often observe how fellow humans throw guests such as bees and spiders out immediately as they notice them in their home. One of the practices (that I've noticed exists in many countries) that I learned in my early childhood is trapping an insect in a glass jar and sliding a piece of paper underneath, then releasing the insect outside. This of course is better than taking an insect's life. At times, I catch wasps to help them reach the balcony. But this bee seemed so exhausted that we decided to welcome them. We made some sugar water for the bee and let it stay. It consumed some of it and flew off in a while. 

My partner and I often talk about the universe and beings who live with us on the planet. We oftentimes disagree. To him, the universe is not agentic. There is no driving force, no inherent goodness. The universe is cold and indifferent. Beings such as animals and trees are not agentic. To me, the universe is a meaningful and cosy space that is inherently good, valuable, meaningful, welcoming, loving, caring. Fellow beings are agentic and kin. I don't feel alone in the universe. When I go for a walk on my own, I am with trees, insects, stars, the air. When I'm in solitude, I am with so many fellow beings still. Perhaps this thinking evolved as a psychological defence mechanism (or it is simply a worldview that I hold). Due to my stepfather's job, we moved a lot, oftentimes very long distances. From wet and cold northern climate to a very dry climate with four clearly defined seasons. From fir trees, blueberries, lakes, and lichen to fields of corn, hemp, potatoes and birch forests. It would have been difficult to move far from home in the world that is indifferent and empty. It was so easy to move in the world that is caring and welcoming, full of curious and beautiful beings. Wherever we went, there were trees that supported me when I climbed them. There was food such as berries and mushrooms that nature gave as generous gifts. There were squirrels that would look at me with curiosity, hedgehogs that relax in your arms after a few minutes and allow you to stroke their nose and belly. I feel that seeing fellow beings as agentic, as kin rather than as features of nature (materials/resources/ingredients/commodities etc.) is important for developing a gentle and loving worldview as well. I believe that we, individually and collectively, would want to take from nature only what we genuinely need rather than ever more, if we had this fellow-feeling towards more-than-human others (and towards fellow humans too, of course). 

My time at Roskilde university is coming to an end and I've been looking at new opportunities, contemplating my next steps. It's interesting to observe that the social sciences still emphasise so much the old paradigms of being in and relating with the world. I've met many fellow humans who use quantitative methods in their research, and it's always interesting and humbling to read and contemplate their findings. Yet, I feel that diving deeper into more philosophical and everyday aspects of being and relating (with the self, human and non-human others, and the cosmos) needs to be done on a much larger scale. At times, it feels as if the word science is reserved for calculating, measuring, models, and frameworks. When I think about my general interest (how to be in the world differently, individually and collectively), it's more of a philosophical question. A question for individual and collective contemplation, teamwork and practice.