375

 Back to basics

My grandmother practised zero-waste living in so many ways. She never called it zero-waste, but she used cotton tote bags, baking soda and vinegar to clean everything. She used soap bars, bought unpackaged food, avoided food waste. She repaired her clothes and took care of it. And so on. There are so many things I learned from her rather than from the zero-waste movement. Recently, my partner and I bought a large paper bag of baking soda. I use it to clean my home and wash the dishes. Because the bag was so large, I used one of the jars that was home to pasta sauce to transfer some of the baking soda there so I can use it comfortably every day. While I was doing it, I was thinking about zero-waste practices. I implement many of them, but my overall zero-waste practice is not perfect. In the beginning of my zero-waste journey, sometime in 2011, I felt sorrow about available options. I lived in England, and in the city where I lived there was only one shop where one could buy all kinds of zero-waste items. Those options were very basic, such as unpackaged soap bars, household cleaning items, and unpackaged food. As more and more fellow humans began experimenting with various ecologically minded lifestyles (zero-waste, voluntary simplicity, simple living, slow living, minimalism and so on), more and more options appeared. These days one can find almost anything zero-waste. In some ways, it feels like such a positive unfolding. Many of those products (e.g., solid shampoos and conditioner bars) perform better than the ones that were available many years ago. But I'm certainly in two minds about this growth in options. I wonder if it encourages fellow humans to buy more than they really need. Some zero-waste options such as cotton bags and reusable water bottles and coffee cups have become fashion items. As I observe my own practice, I realise that it is the basics that I use every day. Every day, I use cotton tote and net bags, reusable water bottle, upcycled glasses, baking soda. I don't use individual produce bags, stainless steel straws, reusable coffee cups, and many other items associated with the zero-waste movement. I don't even use a bar of soap to wash my body and face anymore. I use it for my hands only. 

374

 Walking

Recently, I've been working on my first editorial for Environmental Values. I'm associate editor in that journal. It felt somewhat vulnerable to send the editorial to our editor-in-chief. He is a kind and empathetic human being, but I was not sure if my editorial was at all what he expected. I didn't write about the contents of the articles (though I hinted at them), but rather about my experiences of being with those articles, what I felt. I wrote about emotions. Hope, anxiety, sorrow. I wrote about the state of academia as I (and many fellow humans) experience it. I wrote about being inspired by non-academic spaces such as children's artworks, the place where I am. Finally sending the editorial to the editor-in-chief felt good, so I decided to give a gift to myself. 

The gift was a very long walk around Copenhagen. While I advocate free public transportation in my work, I personally avoid it as much as possible. I prefer walking. It allows me to engage more deeply with the place, see more, feel more, and appreciate distances. For example, when I walk to Amager to be with the sea, this is the only thing I can do in one day as it's so far away (I live in Frederiksberg). I could use the metro, but I don't. It's ok to do only one thing.

I tried to avoid as much as possible various landmarks, shops, and busy streets. I never thought that cities are places for spiritual experiences. To me, cities feel busy, overstimulating, dependent on so many other spaces (such as the countryside and far-away countries where production often takes place). Nature is where I seek spiritual, self-transcendent experiences. Some months ago a fellow human challenged this viewpoint. He said that it should not be a binary and a hierarchy (nature=spiritual, good; city=not spiritual, bad). It had me think about fellow humans who experience self-transcendence in cities. I don't, but I feel that I'm becoming more curious about the city (Copenhagen) than alienated. There are many beautiful moments. Here in Copenhagen fellow humans seem to smile a lot. I saw birds picking up discarded tissue to use in their nests. Fellow humans breastfeeding their babies in the streets. Fellow humans enjoying each other's company, holding hands. I picked some spruce tips in the local park and ate them right there. In a garden, I stopped to smell magnolia flowers. They have such a wonderful, floral, creamy and feminine fragrance. Bird cherries are blooming now too. It's intoxicating to walk past them.