On my practice of extreme minimalism
Recently, my fellow human and I were talking about extreme minimalism as a form of everyday activism, living in such a way that may gently inspire fellow humans to contemplate and perhaps even reconsider their own relationships with objects. I like this form of activism because one "leads by example" rather than tells fellow humans what to do. Even though, as a researcher, I believe that eco-social transformations (should) stem from all three domains of society (civil society, state, and business), my favourite source of transformation is within individuals and communities themselves, with support from the state and business. And even though above I've used to word "lead" (lead by example), I am using this word with care and even hesitation, as splitting humans into leaders and followers does not feel right to me. Even after 15 years of practising sustainable living, I would never refer to myself as an (aspiring) sustainability "leader", as I hope to share my practices and inspire fellow humans just as much as I hope to learn from them and follow their journeys.
There are so many different ways to practise extreme minimalism, too. Even my own practice looked different when I lived on my own. Now I live with my partner, we try to meet in the middle. My practice looked somewhat different when I lived in England, and still different when I lived in northern Sweden.
I do not advocate living with an x number of items. I do not define extreme minimalism as living with an x number of items or less. To me, extreme minimalism is simply about living with obviously much less than what is the norm in a given society.
At the core of my own practice is not living with as few items as possible. I could surely live or survive with fewer items. Every time I go to a conference, a workshop or on holidays, I experiment with travelling with just a few items. I could live with 1 basic top and 1 pair of socks. But I live with three basic tops and perhaps 4 pairs of socks. This way, I don't have to wash my clothes every day. This abundance feels cosy and conducive to my sustainability practice in general. At the core of my practice is living with what is enough for me to have a good life.
Over the years, I realised that I need very few of some things and a lot of other things to have a good life. I need very few material possessions (but still enough to live well). At the same time, I need a lot of empty space, even though I live in a very small apartment. I need empty space to awaken my creativity and to move. I need lots of sunlight to feel energised. I need a lot of alone time to recharge.
I weave extreme minimalism with many other practices. Once a fellow human asked me about similarities and differences between lifestyles such as minimalism, simple living, slow living, frugal living, zero-waste and others. It was such a wonderful question! I contemplate it often in relation to my own lifestyle and to my academic work.
There are overlaps between these lifestyles, and also different interpretations of what those lifestyles entail.
Minimalism is a movement in art, architecture and design. Minimalist lifestyle takes inspiration from this movement. I am inspired by its focus on essentials. It encourages me to contemplate what these essentials are, and why. Somehow, minimalist aesthetic has always been close to my heart too.
I believe that one can appreciate minimalism, yet not pursue simple living. Yet for me, simplicity is a very important value. At times, my fellow humans ask me how I manifest simplicity in my life. It depends on the area of my life. For example, I step away from complicated relationships that do not nurture. I try to write simply. I invite simple, easy to care for clothes into my life. I eat simple food. I try to avoid overcomplicating things for myself and for my fellow humans. It never feels appealing to me to say to my students that something (e.g., philosophy of science) is so complicated and thus induce fear in them.
From slow living, I take a contemplative approach to life and immense joy of missing out. I allow myself to walk when I could just use public transport and get somewhere in 5 minutes instead of an hour. This is a gift to myself. I take my time when I need to, especially when it comes to the activities that I love and that feel meaningful to me. I find the time for a fika with the sun. I could work on an academic paper, but I choose to spend this hour on being with the sun. I could buy ready-made food, but I choose to cook from scratch.
And I try to live frugally. It means keeping perhaps a few more items at home. I keep ribbons that come with material objects at times, to use them for gift wrapping. I could buy something similar when I need to, but I keep the ones that come into my life. I repair things. I use old bread to make croutons and make soup and pasta dishes with various leftover vegetables. I invite inexpensive phones and laptops into my life that meet my basic needs, and I keep them for many years. I borrow whenever I can.
I practise zero-waste whenever I can. When I mention this part of my practice, I always say that, in my case, it comes together with other practices. One can practise zero-waste and travel by air very often, drive, live in a large house, use conventional banks and so on. Zero-waste in itself is not necessarily a sustainable lifestyle. Though I do believe that fellow humans who are interested in zero-waste are also sustainability minded more generally. I became very curious about zero-waste many years ago, when the zero-waste "trash jar" was popular. Like many fellow humans, I invited into my life some objects that are associated with zero-waste living. I still use some of them. Interestingly, they are the same ones my grandmother has used her whole life. But some of those objects I don't use anymore. For example, I don't use metal straws (I never even used plastic ones), individual produce bags (I don't separate fruits and vegetables when I buy them), skincare items packaged in aluminium tubes and glass (I don't use any skincare apart from a balm). I've grown so much in my practice when I began to look more seriously outside and far beyond so-called "sustainable swaps".
I feel that many practitioners of sustainable living would agree that it's difficult to assign practices into categories. For example, making porridge for breakfast falls within so many of those lifestyles I mentioned above. These oats are organic, grown in my region, packaged in paper. They are not very expensive. They are easy to cook in one of the two pots that I live with. I eat them simply with some cinnamon and an apple.