398

 Walking the path

I've been on the path of a more sustainable living that combines various elements of extreme minimalism, zero-waste, simple and slow living, for 15 years. At times, I felt that I achieved a perfect constellation of practices. But every time I thought so, I was wrong, and it's wonderful. As I'm walking this path, I am always discovering something new, something new comes to light and becomes more significant. And other things become less significant.

I've received the proofs of my forthcoming book called Degrowth, depth and hope in sustainable business: Reflections from Denmark, Finland and Sweden. I decided to do the index myself. The index for my book that came out recently (Deep transformations: a theory of degrowth) felt too extensive and cluttered to me. We didn't compile the index ourselves, but for my own book I decided to do the index the way that feels right. I want it to be very simple and minimalist. 

Taking my phone with me when I go outside has been a long-term habit of mine. At times, it's useful to have my phone with me, such as when I travel by train or meet my partner. But oftentimes I simply go for a long walk or to a supermarket. I began leaving my phone at home more often, and it feels so good. Perhaps the worst habit of mine was often checking work related emails on my phone. 

I've stopped reading the news. My partner still reads the news and we talk about what is unfolding in the world. When I was younger, a PhD student in 2016, I used social media more. I felt that I wanted to repost something from the news, link that event with capitalism, explain to my fellow humans why capitalism is bad. After a while I learned that many fellow humans already know that capitalism is exploitative, destructive, and violent. I was not contributing to their knowledge. I decided to focus more on my own practice and reveal the nuances of living a more ecological and harmonious life. I wanted to talk more about the structures that constrain and empower. It resulted in deeper conversations with fellow humans and I feel that I grew so much as a person and a researcher.

397

 Slow food practices

The slowest way to relate with food would be to grow my own food and to forage. Unfortunately, growing our own food is not possible for my partner and I because he has family commitments in the city. We still try to forage whenever we can. Yet, most of our food comes from supermarkets, a food market and farmers' markets. 

I believe that even if one finds themselves in similar circumstances, it is possible to practise a slower mode of relating with food. 

While growing our own food would be the slowest method, the fastest would be to get food (ingredients or even ready meals) delivered to our door. I avoid this practice completely for many reasons and have never ordered food to be delivered. One reason is avoiding giving support to the industry that normalises precarious jobs that does not fulfil human potential and does not contribute to personal growth. My fellow humans are not my servants. I would feel uncomfortable sitting in my home, reading philosophy or writing an article and waiting for someone to drive in the rain to deliver something fancy or something that I simply felt lazy (or too entitled) to cook. It goes without saying that food delivery is a good option for the elderly and for those who cannot get food via any other methods. But I am able to walk to a food market, cook my own food and structure my day to fit those activities into my schedule. Another reason for avoiding food delivery is slowness: I want to slowly choose what to buy according to zero-waste principles. 

To get our food, we walk to a supermarket through a park. It's a wonderful walk, though there are quicker ways to reach the supermarket. In the supermarket, we look for organic, unpackaged, local food. It often means avoiding planning our meals and deciding what to cook based on what we find. We try to buy seasonal produce. Being in a supermarket for a long time could feel like a waste of time, but for us it is the time we can spend together. Because I study my practices via autoethnography, I often take mental notes (or notes in my phone) about some aspects of my practice while we shop. 

At times, we walk to a food market. It's also a wonderful walk through Copenhagen. We don't take the most efficient route. We walk through small streets and pay attention to what surrounds us, how the city changes as the seasons unfold. In the food market, we look for local, organic, unpackaged, seasonal vegetables and fruits. 

We often buy bread from local bakeries. I'm always fascinated by how beautiful bread crust is. 

When we want something special, like honey, we look for small, local producers. We also rely on small businesses if we need to source, for example, dry fruits. We use them as a snack for my partner's child. 

We cook very simple food. Pasta dishes, soups, salads, potatoes. When we cook, we take our time and avoid various kitchen gadgets. When I prepare food, I do not wish to be elsewhere, to do anything else, to delegate cooking to anyone else. I genuinely enjoy it. Preparing food, though there is such a great diversity of practices, feels timeless. It's something that connects me to my fellow humans across time and space. At times, my partner cooks. When I cook, he often plays guitar. 

We eat slowly. When we eat, we don't only focus on the food, but also on being together. 

We eat out very rarely. When we do, we avoid fast food restaurants and choose local cafes most of the time. 

We travel rarely, but when we do, we try to stay in places with a kitchen so we can continue to implement our usual practices and not rely on restaurants.