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:
