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 Staying at home, living slowly


For health reasons, I've been spending more time than usual at home. Since the beginning of my sustainability journey, my home has been a space for everyday activism and experimenting with a different mode of being in, and relating with, the world (the self, human and non-human others, and nature). Even though I love nature and miss being with trees and animals when I'm at home, there are many sustainable hobbies that I can continue with. Recently, my partner and I were talking about my hobbies, and how many (if not all) of them require very little financial investment. I continue to read. I've borrowed some books from my partner who borrows books from the library. These days, I'm diving into slowness and philosophies that can support it. I write when I can. Writing is such a wonderful, creative activity. For me, it's part of my work, but I encourage everyone to write, even if only for themselves. These days, my partner has been writing about his own sustainability journey. I don't know if he will be willing to share that piece of writing with fellow humans, but I hope that he will. When I asked him why he hesitates to share, he mentioned that there is nothing special or truly radical about his sustainability journey. Many fellow humans have said something similar to me. They believe that if they are not living self-sufficiently, off-the-grid, then their sustainability practices don't matter. I believe that they matter a lot. At least here in the Nordics, it is only a very small proportion of humans who can live self-sufficiently. Most humans live in cities. And we need realistic solutions and sources of inspiration. Though I am very much inspired by those activists who live in eco-communities, who grow their own food, I am equally inspired by those fellow humans who do their best to navigate a more sustainable life in cities. 
I look at all the magical things around me. The very first snow attached to our windows, creating breathtakingly beautiful patterns. I feel as if I'm attending nature's own art exhibition. The sun. These days, it's a luxury to see the sunlight, but when it happens, I feel so much joy. Recently, my partner gave me a gift. It's a pomegranate. Taking the seeds out, that look like jewels, is a meditative, self-transcending activity. 
I've been meeting students online. It is heart-warming to see that more and more humans are interested in genuine sustainability. Many of these students are activists in their everyday life, trying to implement various sustainability practices. 
A group of activists invited me to do a workshop for them about minimalist living. I decided to invite them to my home, so that they can interact with the space where my practices unfold.