503

 Dream of a box

In the picture above, you can see a wooden chest that my partner inherited from his grandparents. Apparently his grandfather bought it in London. The chest used to live in my partner's previous home and was used to store yarn. I wouldn't keep the chest in our home, but it has sentimental value for my partner (it reminds him of his grandparents), so we live with it. When I look at it, at times I am reminded of my dream. 

One of my dreams is to live, until I die, in such a way that all my possessions fit in a medium sized cardboard box. I've had this dream for many years, and I'm living it. I've never brought an actual cardboard box home to see, in a playful way, if the dream is truly fulfilled. 

Some months ago, I took out of a recycling bin near my home a new cardboard box that a fellow human wanted to recycle. I then put the box in our storage space for our next move. Sometimes I think of bringing it to our apartment and seeing if my possessions fit into it. 

It brings me joy to think that when I die, I will not leave behind a mountain of stuff. That as I live, I can live a beautiful, joyful, fulfilling life with almost nothing. 

I do not think that this should be everyone's dream, that everyone should live like I do. But I do think that we need to reconsider our relationships with objects. Objects are transformed, and often destroyed, nature. And we pay for these objects with our life, as to earn money, oftentimes we need to sell our priceless time. 

I also think that sustainability academics, like myself, and academics who criticise capitalism (and point out how it destroys nature) need to practise sustainability and consider their relationships with objects and services. Recently, I was reading Erik Olin Wright's Envisioning Real Utopias. He says in this book that he gave over 50 talks in 18 countries in connection with this book project. Over several paragraphs (pp. iii-iv), he lists the places where he went. In the same book, he highlights that capitalism destroys nature. I find it so difficult to be inspired by those humans for whom theory and practice have nothing to do with one another. I struggle to take their work, no matter how good and elegant in terms of theory, seriously. 

Reference

Wright, E.O. (2010) Envisioning Real Utopias. Verso: London. 

502

 Gifts

Autumn is so magical and colourful. The other day, I saw geese leaving Denmark or just passing it on their way to a warmer destination. It was a self-transcending experience. 

But it is also the season when humans are encouraged by the capitalist system to consume items that we will give to each other as gifts during Christmas time. Over my life time, I've observed the season of gift buying grow into late summer, and gifts becoming ever more expensive and plentiful. It doesn't feel like our society is tending towards greater simplicity and a more ecological mode of being in and relating with the world.

Recently, I attended a family event. It was organised by my partner's father and stepmother. It's always wonderful to visit their home. 

She mentions that when she was young, she wished for a whole cucumber as a gift. Her son, my partner's stepbrother, asked her why. She said that she was never allowed to have more than two slices of a cucumber because they were so expensive. He mentions that he wished for a bag of raisins. I was in awe of such humble desires. He asked me what I would consider a good gift. 

My partner and I have a practice of not giving expensive gifts to each other. Almost everything that he gave to me as gifts in the beginning of our relationship I gave to charity. Even though I live with very few items, I have enough. We give each other stones we find on Danish beaches. At times, we pick up something from our local bakeries for each other. But more generally, having a gift of love and care, of sharing a life and dreams, is enough. 

Some of the most memorable gifts that I have received from fellow humans are fruits, home-made and bought bread, vegetables from fellow humans' gardens. A cloth my partner's stepmother inherited from a woman in her family. A stone my partner gave me. He found it on a Danish beach. At times I give myself gifts too. They are usually tea and fruits.

I love giving locally made jams and easy to use, everyday objects that encourage more sustainable living, such as unpackaged soap bars. Apart from that, I always ask fellow humans what they want or need. For gift wrapping, I use previously used cotton pouches and encourage the receiver to reuse them. 

As we were talking about gift-giving, we felt sorrow about the change that happens in humans. As children, we don't feel ashamed of giving drawings, something we find in nature and small hand-made items as gifts. Over time, it changes, and we start to believe that gifts must be bought rather than made. That gifts need to be stuff.