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 Slow living in practice

In academia, we often say that we need to consume less, produce less, live slowly and so on. There are good arguments as to why we need to relate with the world differently. But it's not clear what it looks like in practice. The aesthetics of a post-growth society is such an under-explored space. For 15 years or so, I've tried to live differently. I want to reflect on what slow living means and looks like for me, while acknowledging that every human's circumstances are different, and slow living will look different for everyone. I also acknowledge that there are social structures that constrain and empower me, but I will not focus on them in this entry. 

I focus on fewer things in life, on the things that feel important to me. They include nature, manifesting care and gentleness towards the self and human and non-human others. In practice, I combine my hobbies (reading, writing, being with nature) and my work, weave together my practice and theory. I never wanted my work and my hobbies to be different. I spend much time with myself and not so much time with fellow humans. But when I spend time with them, I try to be fully present. I live with very few things, only the things that serve me. 

I take my time and feel good about doing one thing a day or even doing nothing. It's much more convenient to go to a nearby supermarket, which I do at times. But often my partner and I walk to a food market to pick up some unpackaged vegetables. It takes much time. Yet, when we are walking through Copenhagen, observing the world unfold around us, nothing else matters. The only thing I feel that I must do in life is to strive and be a good human being. By good I mean kind, empathetic, caring. I feel that I'm on this path. 

My partner and I oftentimes joke about conventional success. Material wealth, working for large corporations, having more, working at a highly ranked university, having many citations and publications (both of us are in academia). In the grand scheme of things, none of it matters. I could be writing a paper to submit to a highly ranked journal, but I choose to do autoethnography and to watch rain drops on flower petals in a local garden. In practice, extreme minimalism helped me save a little bit for periods of unemployment. 

I say no to things I don't want to do and things that don't feel right. When I was still at the Finnish university, I realised that it was not good for my mental health. It was not good for my partner's mental health either, as he was worried about me. I resigned. It was an act of activism against violence, and it was the right thing to do. 

On my path, I realised that I will never tailor my funding applications so they come across more mainstream. I will not teach mainstream economics and business. I feel good about gaps in my cv. 

In practice, slow living means walking, cooking from scratch, repairing clothes, cleaning and finding joy in all these things. It means letting go of fomo (fear of missing out). I can live only my own life, and it is a unique constellation of activities, values, decisions, relationships, things, and so on. I certainly don't want to live anything else, and neither can I. At times, I'm inspired by fellow humans (and also non-humans). In such situations, I contemplate it in depth, trying to understand why I feel this way and what it means for my own journey. For example, I was inspired by a cat who every day looked so confident and unapologetic in the same coat. I began to wear the same outfit every day. 

Slow living for me entails reflecting on my journey and the mistakes I made (with self-compassion). For example, on my journey I invited into my life many items that were natural, especially personal care items. I then realised that natural products also use resources and energy, they also take up space, and I decided to live with even less. I avoid inviting stuff into my life, be it "natural" or human-made. I consume more mindfully than I did years ago. 

I listen to my intuition. I am a social scientist, but I believe that intuition is an important source of insight. At times, something looks like a good opportunity, but it doesn't feel like one. 

I don't prioritise fellow humans higher up in the hierarchy. Academia is very hierarchical, even in the Nordic countries. Something that I observe at times is fellow humans who treat those higher up in the hierarchy with respect while disregarding (or worse, exploiting) those lower in the hierarchy. I never want to be this person, or associate myself with humans who behave this way. 

I celebrate small things such as a sunny day, writing an article that feels authentic.