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Everything I invited into my life in March

This year, I decided to share how my extreme minimalist practice actually unfolds through taking notes that disclose what I invite into my life every month. It's not an experiment in buying less: I've been on this path since around 2010. I try to be mindful about the items that enter my life and my home. I will not focus on the items and services that my partner and I buy or pay for consistently, such as rent, bills, food, medicine, public transport, and replacements for personal care items such as toothbrushes and toothpaste (unless there is something unusual). 

Small, 7 l backpack

In March, I invited a small backpack into my life. The tote bag that both my partner and I used and that could be used as both a tote bag and a backpack was hanging too low on my back (the strap cannot be adjusted). In the second trimester of my pregnancy, I began to experience occasional back aches, and wearing the tote bag started to feel uncomfortable. I'm still keeping this item for the days when I need to take my laptop with me in rainy Copenhagen weather. The small backpack has been very pleasant to use. I never take many items with me when I go somewhere, so it fits everything that I need. I might even use it to carry my baby's items when he is born. I intend to continue practising extreme minimalism then.

Sandals 

After observing me struggling to tie my shoe laces, and often helping me with this task for some weeks, my partner gave sandals to me as a gift. They are the same sandals I've been wearing for many years. Now I live with three, rather than two, pairs of shoes: the new sandals, hiking boots that I've been wearing all winter, and clogs that I wear mostly at home (they were a gift from a fellow human and are a few years old). 

A bowl and glasses (free)

For a while, I've been wanting to feed birds again. I picked up a beautiful glass bowl from our local byttestation (swap shop) to be able to offer food (organic seeds and oat flakes) to the birds. The seeds and oats bowl has been very popular. Blue tits, magpies, and even seagulls have been visiting the balcony more often. From the same byttestation my partner and I took four glasses to use for water, juice, snacks, yoghurt and desserts. 

Here's more about these objects and pictures of them. 

A body suit for the baby

I decided not to buy anything for the baby before he is born (or very close to the due date). Liberating myself from this "need" feels wonderful. I will invite everything into my life that the baby needs when the real need arises. And it will be very few objects: a sling, a mattress (like us, he will sleep on the floor), cloth diapers, a few body suits. But my partner already bought a tiny short-sleeved body suit for the baby (here's more on that). It's basic, white and made from organic cotton. It might be too big for the baby when he's born, but we will invite into our life a body suit that fits him when he is born. After I was born (I was born a few weeks before my due date), at least for some weeks, I was not wearing any clothes. I was swaddled instead. I don't plan to restrict my baby's movements, but I also believe that all of us can wait a bit for a body suit of the right size. 

Stone

My partner gave me a beautiful, small piece of manganocalcite from a local store as a gift when I stepped over the 26 weeks mark. I don't believe that such stones have extraordinary healing powers, but, in my experience, they help me stay grounded, especially when I feel stressed in crowded and noisy spaces. I live with sensory processing sensitivity. A psychologist recommended the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique to me, and having a stone in my bag or pocket has been very helpful. Personally, I don't buy stones for this purpose, as I find them on Danish beaches. 

If my fellow humans wonder what I give to my partner, usually it's something that he can eat but would not (or very rarely) buy for himself. Gifts are not something that we use to express love and care, and generally both of us have everything we need, despite living with very few items. Something that I like getting for him is a pastry from a local bakery: I walk over there through some green areas with my yet unborn baby. 

I'm now 26 and a half weeks pregnant, and I've bought nothing specifically pregnancy-related. No maternity clothes, no pregnancy pillows, no bras, no stretch mark creams. I continue to wear most of my usual clothes that I wore pre-pregnancy and borrow a few items from my partner. I sleep well without any extra pillows (though the baby wakes me up very early in the morning!). I've not worn bras since around my late teens, and I'm not planning to start now at 36. I don't believe that creams can help prevent stretch marks, and I don't want to prevent them either. The skin on my belly does feel drier than before though. I use grapeseed oil from the kitchen to soften it and to spend quality time with the baby via massaging the belly. 

Because I don't follow the "one in-one out" rule, I don't monitor the items we say goodbye to. For those fellow humans who are curious about it, I can say that we said goodbye to a few mugs that my partner inherited from his grandparents, a few baby items that were given to us, and an artwork. The artwork was hanging in my partner's previous apartment where his previous partner stayed after they separated. She returned the artwork as she didn't want it any longer, and the storage room downstairs was home to the artwork for some months. No one in our social circle wanted this artwork, so we decided to take it to our local byttestation so that any fellow human who genuinely likes it (or wants to paint over it) can take it. 

Previous months:

Everything I invited into my life in February can be found here

Everything I invited into my life in January can be found here

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On everything being in place before I have a child

Recently, I wrote down some thoughts on several misconceptions that I had earlier in my life and some patterns of thought that I internalised and questioned only later in life. For example, I used to think that being busy was something to strive for. These days, in my mid-thirties, I am passionate about keeping my calendar as empty as possible, thus freeing space for (spiritual) growth and everything that is genuinely important. Interestingly, what is genuinely important (to me) doesn't need to be in my calendar: these things are my life itself, or they intertwine with it very deeply. On my academic journey, I've met many fellow humans, especially managers, who always seem to have their calendars full. We could spend a long time going through the pages of their calendars trying to find half an hour for a meeting. This mode of relating with life, time and priorities does not inspire me at all. 

After I wrote down my thoughts, I went for a long walk with my partner. We were discussing what each one of us left behind. Very often, when humans talk about (extreme) minimalism, the focus is on material things. Yet, patterns of thought that don't nurture are just as bad as material excess that burdens in various ways.

He mentioned that one pattern of thought that he left behind was assuming that everything needs to be in place before we have a child. For many years, I had the same thought residing in my mind. And then I said goodbye to it.

Before I say more, it feels important to note that to have a child is a very personal decision. 

My partner was married before, and he has a child from a previous relationship. I will not go into more details out of deep respect towards the privacy of these fellow humans. I will only say that everything seemed to be in place when they decided to have a child. They went their separate paths when the child was still very young. 

Our situation was very different. When we became a couple, my partner didn't want to have more children. I wasn't sure. My life had been rich and full without a child, and I always thought that if I have a child, it must be with a person I would want to stay with for the rest of my life. Earlier in my life, I also thought that everything had to be in place before I consider having children: a permanent, stable, well-paying job, a house, savings, a permanent residence permit, a huge support network, and so on. I wanted to give to my child everything my own family of origin gave to me and my brother. And so much more: more space to talk about emotions, to relax, to step into their authenticity. I thought that pregnancy and having a child were incredibly expensive. I thought I had to have maternity clothes, a stroller, a nursery.  

I moved countries to start a life together with my partner. This meant saying goodbye to a well-paying job, to living on a beautiful island. It meant using my savings, stepping into the unknown. I had a temporary residence permit and thus temporary access to the free healthcare system. We live in a rented apartment with no extra room for our child. We have no support network. 

And yet, when I was contemplating having a child, I felt so much calmness in both my mind and my body. There was no fear, no sense of not being enough, of deficiency. Despite not having any of the things that I thought I needed, I felt that I had everything that I really needed. I had a life's philosophy, strength to set boundaries. I knew what was important, to me, and what wasn't. After observing my own life closely, since I stepped on the path of sustainable minimalist living around 2010, I realised that I didn't need many possessions. I didn't need maternity clothes, a nursery, a stroller. I'm approaching the third trimester, and I haven't bought anything pregnancy or baby related. I was given a few items, but after carefully evaluating each one of them and reflecting on whether I genuinely wanted to have them in my space, I decided to give away some of them (via our local byttestation). 

In the picture above are a couple of woollen baby blankets. My stepmother-in-law gave them to me. They've been in the family for many years. So far, I've been using them to elevate my pillow, and they've been working well for this purpose. 

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Fellow human's questions

I received several wonderful questions from a fellow human as a response to a video my partner and I shared recently. I wanted to spend quality time with these questions, to reflect deeply on them.

I will be interested to hear how you keep your milk from leaking without a bra or pads.

Producing milk and breastfeeding my child are some of the things I look forward to the most. Both my grandmother and my mother breastfed their children. I plan to breastfeed for at least a year. I plan to do it in public too, including the university and conferences. Undoubtedly some fellow humans believe that academic conferences are not spaces for babies and breastfeeding, but I disagree. I am not only an academic, but also a mother. And a biological body. An animal. In Denmark, it's not unusual to breastfeed in public, and when I see fellow humans breastfeeding their babies, I feel empowered to do the same, too.

I also look forward to experiencing and navigating all the challenges that come with breastfeeding. Many fellow humans suggest that a bra is a necessity when one breastfeeds. I don't question their experiences, and I believe that individuals should do what feels right to them. Yet, I have tried to wear a bra (or rather, bras, as I've tried different ones) when I was much younger, but it was not something for me. I felt much more comfortable without a bra on both physical and psychological levels. So I decided not to wear it, ever. I decided not wear bras in pregnancy either, or when I breastfeed. The basic tops that I wear have a close fit, and if the leaking problem becomes severe, I will see if I can insert a cloth (such as a basic flat cloth diaper) inside the top. All my basic tops are write, which shows wet marks very quickly. Perhaps I will switch to black ones. I have observed fellow humans embracing milk stains too, and I found it incredibly inspiring.

Having said that, I can only hope and make plans at this stage (I've just stepped over the 26 weeks mark). I will write about my experiences in this autoethnography, including the situations where something didn't go as planned. While I hope that everything will unfold as I envision it, it certainly might not be the case. For example, I was hoping to stay away from medication as much as possible during my pregnancy. But I had hyperemesis gravidarum, and medication was something that helped me survive in the first trimester-beginning of the second trimester.

I have a sincere question about how you plan to handle the situation as your child grows older and wants other items that he sees his friends having?

I receive this question very often. I intend to get to know my child first. My mother and stepfather experienced the opposite situation with both me and my brother, which they found very difficult to navigate. They expressed love and care via gifts, via buying things for us. They would always try to find out what my brother and I wanted, to give us ideas of what is out there in terms of toys and technology, to tell or show us what other families had, to bring new things into our lives. Both my brother and I found it overstimulating. We wanted to spend quality time with our parents, to talk, to go for walks. We loved nature and our pets, but we didn't love stuff. We preferred to play with household objects. With shoe boxes and sea urchins and corals that our grandparents had. I would stare at books with pictures for hours before I learned how to read, and when I learned how to read, I wanted to read books. I wanted to do craft and collect flowers and leaves to press them in between the pages of the books. Maybe my child will be like me and my brother, or maybe not. I certainly intend to show to my child, from the very beginning, how wonderful nature is, what he can find in nature, what is edible. But if he prefers human-made toys, then I will have to navigate his preferences in a way that honours his authenticity.

Also at what age do you think you will allow your child to make his own decision about whether he wants to follow extreme minimalism as you do?

I don't plan to impose extreme minimalism upon my child. As a child, I was not an extreme minimalist. I certainly didn't want furniture, toys and a lot of clothes, but I always brought back home many objects from nature. My room was always full of twigs, flowers, stones, even bugs. I would make toys for my pets from whatever we had at home (e.g., shoe laces and paper for cats). I had many books and many plants. I had art supplies. I would not prevent my child from doing similar things. After all, he is not me and certainly does not have to follow my exact path. Having said that, I plan to have dedicated spaces in our home where I can practise extreme minimalism, and also spaces in our home where he can allow his preferences to unfold and thrive. This is not to say that I am ignorant of my own influence on my child. But I hope that I can influence him positively and offer an example that I didn't have (but would very much like to have) growing up.

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Some things I left behind

Calendar, busy-ness, waking up early

In my late teens-early twenties, I still thought that it was important to fill up my calendar with various things to do and various events and places to be. This attitude to my time was something I inherited from my family of origin. For both my mother and stepfather, it was difficult to imagine doing nothing, to have a day free from any activities. They loved always doing something and going somewhere. In my late teens, my day would typically look like this: I would get up very early in the morning when it was still dark outside. I would then go into town to meet my classmates to discuss projects, then we would attend lectures. Afterwards, I would go to a gym or a theatre or to some extracurricular activities. In the evening, I would be studying again or hosting guests. I would usually go to bed after midnight. I would rarely sleep more than 6 hours.

My mother died when I was 17, and I moved to another country soon-ish after. I still remember the beautiful, overwhelming, newfound sense of freedom to decide for myself what to do with my time. For a while, I still felt guilty for failing to fill up my days with activities. I was wondering if I was indeed living a fulfilling life. Was I lazy? Was I on a path of healing and authenticity? 

These days, in my mid-thirties, I finally healed from the internalised need to constantly do stuff. I try to keep my calendar as empty as possible. There are still important meetings, deadlines and appointments, but so many fewer of them compared to 10-15 years ago. I am protective about my time and my time with my yet unborn baby. If I have an important meeting on a certain day, I will never have another one on the same day. I will not visit my friends and relatives on that day either. This allows me to fully recharge and include into each day the things that I love, such as reading and writing. 

I don't any longer try to wake up as early as possible to do more. For many years, starting from the first day at school, I woke up with my alarm. These days, I live without alarms as much as possible. I live with the rhythms of nature and my body. If I schedule meetings and lectures, I schedule them for late mornings or early afternoons. In my industry (academia), we very rarely perform tasks that are genuinely urgent, and scheduling a meeting a few hours later than planned makes a big difference to my mental and physical health. 

Imposed aspirations

I was brought up to believe that university was the only legitimate path in life. Afterwards, I was expected to have a good career (read: a well-paying job and fast progression), live in a large apartment filled with many things. I was expected to play a musical instrument and have children in my 20s. Now, after being in academia myself for many years, I do not believe that this is the only path in life. I will never frame university education as the only way to succeed in life to my own child. I had intentional breaks in my career, and I loved them. They were the times of intense and deep spiritual growth and healing. Perhaps I didn't earn as much as I would have done otherwise, if I didn't take these breaks, but an extremely minimalist lifestyle is much less expensive than, for example, the lifestyle that my family of origin envisioned for me. One day, I realised that I simply didn't need all the stuff that money could buy. That I could pursue a truly nurturing, fulfilling, authentic, simple life rather than a life filled with shopping for a new kitchen every now and then, face creams that would be getting more expensive as I aged, bags, cars, and foreign holidays. I could live in a small apartment and enjoy every square metre of it. I could enjoy free glasses that I got from our local byttestation (swap shop), whole, home-made foods, stones and shells from a local beach as decorations, books borrowed from a local library, wearing the same simple outfit every day.

Early in my life, I realised that I didn't like music. My mother played piano, and my stepfather played guitar. Many of my family members did the same. I was expected to do it, too. Personally, I found all sounds, apart from nature's own music, overstimulating. Later in life I was told by a psychologist that I had sensory processing sensitivity. I loved to paint, read and write. I went to an art school, but left it after some time because I realised that I much preferred doing art for myself, as a therapeutic activity. I didn't need formal art education for that.

I postponed having a child until my mid-thirties. I wanted to wait until I was genuinely ready, that I was on a path of spiritual growth, that my life's philosophy was in place, and have a child with a person I could envision staying with for the rest of my life. Having said that, I also had many fears and misconceptions in relation to becoming and being pregnant and having a child. I will say more about this in the coming months. 

The need to justify myself

Early on my path of sustainable minimalist living, I felt that I had to justify myself. While I am happy to explain, with gentleness and care, why I practise certain things, I no longer feel the need to underpin every practice with justification. For example, in my early twenties, several fellow humans were often saying to me that I needed a car. These days, in such situations, I prefer to set boundaries after referring to my ecological (or spiritual, aesthetic, health related or financial) commitments. 

Reproducing hierarchies

Growing up in a hierarchical society, even as someone whose political stance is anarchist, has certainly had an effect on me. Towards the end of my PhD, my supervisor plagiarised my work. While I had no doubt that reporting him would be the right thing to do, I also had challenges with the action itself. Will it prolong my PhD journey? Will the university take his side? Will my funding be withdrawn as a punishment for confronting someone "above" me in the academic hierarchy? I empathise with my younger self, but these days I would not hesitate to report an incident such as this immediately. And this is what I always advise students to do, too. Dismantling internalised hierarchies feels incredibly important, and it goes both ways: I do not treat professors as humans "above" me and I don't treat students as someone "below" me. 

Feeling shame about being frugal

When I was growing up, many fellow humans in my social circle considered frugality a negative word. They associated it with not being able to afford something, which they perceived to be an indication of a lack of success in life. I am critical of this approach. I try to live a frugal life. With my partner, we invite into our life the items that will last us a long time. When something that we usually buy in our local cooperative supermarket is on sale, we buy multiples of this item. We generally try to avoid buying what we need at full price. We do what we can to avoid food waste. We forage when we can, repair items, borrow items, and don't mind small imperfections manifesting on the objects that we use. 

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Free objects

Recently, more birds have been visiting our balcony. When we lived in our previous apartment, we would often leave some oat flakes for birds on our balcony. I've been wanting to feed birds again for a while. We live on the top floor again, so rats don't visit this space to enjoy bird food. 

My partner and I have been donating to our local byttestationer (swap shops) for many months now, since I moved to Copenhagen in 2023. Yet, we very rarely took something from them. Today, we visited our local byttestation again, as I was hoping to find something suitable to feed the birds. And I found this beautiful glass bowl in the picture above. 

On this occasion, the byttestation was full of various objects made of glass. We also took four glasses that we are now using for drinks and yoghurt (in the picture below). I'm grateful to have these useful and free objects. It feels strange that I don't know the story behind them. Who lived with these objects? Where do they come from? Yet, for me, their story started in our local byttestation, and that's beautiful in itself. 

595

Stepping over the 26 weeks mark

As I'm approaching the third and final trimester of my pregnancy, I'm reflecting more deeply on the second one. The second trimester, from week 16 onwards, has been a beautiful time for me. After living with severe hyperemesis in weeks 6-16, I could finally enjoy this magical chapter of my life. I started to feel my baby move. I could cook and eat again. Walk again. Write again. I felt inspired, grounded and harmonious. Somehow I had so much more clarity in my mind, too, about my priorities in life. I felt protective of my time. It's been easier to prioritise projects, to say no to the things that didn't feel right. 

Having said that, towards the end of the second trimester, I started to experience back and leg pain. I started to take more naps. My skin has become incredibly sensitive. I live with an autoimmune skin condition, so I'm used to skin sensitivities. Yet, it feels like my skin has been reacting more strongly to things such as light and water. I've had random skin rashes. To take care of my skin, I've been using mostly plain, unscented soap bar and water, and occasionally aloe vera gel and grapeseed oil (applied over aloe vera gel or over wet skin). My grandmother has always used aloe vera for her skin. She lives with many old aloe plants and would use the gel from their leaves directly. Personally, I went for a store-bought, purified version of organic aloe gel with some preservatives added, so that it can last longer. The grapeseed oil that I use was sold as food in our local cooperative supermarket. It cost under DKK 50 for a 500 ml bottle. It came in a glass bottle. Unfortunately, it's not organic. I use this oil to massage my tummy too. It's become a daily ritual of care for both me and the baby. 

It's become more difficult to walk uphill and upstairs. Our apartment is located at the top floor, and we don't have a lift. It's also been challenging to tie my own shoe laces. After observing my struggles for some weeks, my partner gave me sandals as a gift. They are the same ones I've worn for the past 20 years or so. Now I live with 3 pairs of shoes: hiking shoes, clogs that I wear as slippers at home (they are a few years old and were a gift, too), and the new sandals. The hiking shoes have become too warm to wear in spring and summer. I've felt immense gratitude for the sandals. 

My partner and I talk to the baby every day, and my partner sings Danish songs for him every night. I try to spend a lot of quality time with the baby. My stepmother-in-law gave me a physical book from her collection (Thomas More's Utopia) so that I can read something with the baby before he is born. 

Spring has arrived in Copenhagen, and we've been spending as much time with the sun and in gardens as possible. Every day, I try to go for an hour long walk. And on our weekends (my partner is with my stepchild every other weekend) we go for 10 or so km walks, usually to the sea. I feel that 10 km walks are becoming too long for me, so I plan to go for slightly shorter ones or take public transport to the sea, at least some of the way.

We have received an offer for a nurse visit in connection to my pregnancy. We discussed it but decided not to accept it. While I certainly believe that medical professionals are a source of knowledge and wisdom, I've been wanting to go through my pregnancy as naturally, organically and intuitively as possible. I was dependent on medicine the whole first trimester and in the beginning of the second one, and we never miss our routine appointments with doctors and midwives both at the hospital and our GP clinic. However, if I can avoid extra appointments and classes, I intend to do that. 

I've been trying to minimise socialising in the second trimester, too. To me, it's been incredibly important to dwell in my authenticity, in a serene environment and direct my energy where I felt I needed it the most (my baby, my embodied self and my writing projects). Even though I try to explain, with gentleness and care, my own approach to inviting pregnancy and baby related items into my life to my fellow humans, it is difficult to avoid unsolicited advice completely. My approach is to invite no specific pregnancy products into my life, because I don't feel that I need them, and to invite baby related items only much closer to his due date, or even afterwards. At times, I contemplate what essentials my baby will need, and then I take a mental note. I don't feel the need or a desire to buy anything at the moment, to plan. Oftentimes fellow humans ask me what the baby will wear. My approach to his outfits will be the same as to my own: no special occasion clothes, natural fabrics, no overstimulating prints, comfortable and easy to wear items. 

I've come to the realisation that the word essentials is used in very different ways by fellow humans. To some fellow humans, a white noise machine or a baby bouncer are essentials. To me, they don't feel like essentials at all. This is not to say that my approach is the correct one, though. But I've found it challenging to find information about true baby essentials. My grandmother is, for me, perhaps the best source of such information: when she was young, the modern baby "essentials" did not exist. And as far as I know, she, as well as my mother, enjoyed motherhood immensely. I am also inspired by cats, pigs and other fellow animals in their approach to essentials. I am humbled by the mother cat's ability to provide everything her kittens need: food, warmth, comfort, entertainment, safety. She is enough. 

Some fellow humans say to me "wait and see", assuming that once the baby is here, I will suddenly change my mind, step away from my practice of minimalism, and will "not be able to live without" all the baby gyms, changing tables, strollers and bottles. So I am waiting to see if my approach works or it doesn't. 

While the reason for avoiding pregnancy related items and baby related items (at least for now) is driven by my desire to live authentically, simply and slowly, I am glad to observe the financial benefit of this approach, too. Recently, my partner and I (we are both sustainability researchers) received the news that I cannot apply for funding because of my temporary position at Roskilde university here in Denmark. This means that I need to think about relocating to a different university, which introduces more instability, including financial instability, into our life. 

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Things I don't buy and buy less of

In my autoethnography, I often say that there are many categories of products and services that I exclude from my consumption. This allows me to live my life more authentically and to direct my limited financial resources towards those things that matter to me. In sustainable living circles, it's become normal to say that a sustainable lifestyle is not necessarily more expensive. This is because to live more sustainably, one doesn't need to buy all kinds of new products marketed, for example, as zero-waste, green or natural. Moreover, on their sustainability path, one can become more attentive to, and use, libraries, swap shops and other alternative organisations, which are either free to use or using them is much less expensive than buying new things and services. And yet, I believe that a more sustainable lifestyle is more expensive in many ways. This is also how I experience it, at least here in Copenhagen, Denmark, where I live. Organic food is more expensive than conventional food. Shopping in farmers' markets is more expensive than shopping in a supermarket. "Natural" personal care items are more expensive than conventional ones. Buying clothes that satisfy many of my criteria (made from organic cotton, made in Europe, etc.) are more expensive than buying fast-fashion. Using public transport is expensive, and travelling by land and sea is more expensive than flying. I consume these products and services because I exclude many other products and services from my life, and limit the amount of products and services in some categories. If I simply practised a normal (here in Denmark) pattern of consumption, and replaced each part of it with a more sustainable option, it would undoubtedly become an expensive mode of living. In fact, it would be unaffordable. Naturally, I cannot list all the categories of products and services that I don't buy, so I will focus on more conventional ones, something that fellow humans would probably expect me to have or pay for. Importantly, me choosing to avoid these products and services is not an indication that fellow humans should do the same. 

Products and services I don't buy

1. Home décor and seasonal home décor. I've never bought home décor. I much prefer simple, empty spaces. They nourish my creativity and create a sense of tranquillity. To decorate my home, I use stones, shells, twigs, and flowers from nature. 
2. Makeup. I've not used makeup since my early 20s. 
3. Nail polish. I've not used it since my early 20s. Neither do I get my nails done by professionals. 
4. Skincare apart from soap. My skin feels its best when I use only soap and occasionally vaseline/balm. I live with an autoimmune skin condition, and the less I put on my skin the better, in my experience. My partner and I do use sunscreen. We started buying one at the pharmacy to distance ourselves even further from "skincare" and "beauty" stores, even from those ones selling natural products. It helps me to see my skin as an organ, and unless my doctor prescribes something to me, I will not use anything extra. No creams, face washes, toners, serums, lotions, butters, and other products. The same goes for my scalp and hair care. I only use shampoo.
5. Hair styling products. Throughout my life, I've heard this phrase very often: "You need a product". I have naturally wavy and frizzy hair, the texture of which I love. In soft water areas and by the sea, my hair transforms into curls. Every time I had some product in my hair, my hair looked conventionally good but I felt uncomfortable. I wanted to wash it out immediately. I could also see and feel that the natural texture of my hair was altered. It was smoother, more defined. I didn't like it. Other animals' fur would not be more beautiful if it was covered in gels, mousses, creams, and other products. I believe that the same thing applies to me. 
6. Perfumes and scents. I've not used perfumes since my early 20s. In my case, they cause headaches. Every now and then, perhaps once in a few years, I want to invite a lavender essential oil into my life. But this happens very rarely. I don't use scented products for my home.
7. Specialised cleaning products. We use soap, baking soda, vinegar, citric acid and leftover limes and lemons to clean our home. For our laundry, we use only unscented laundry sheets. 
8. Pregnancy-related products. I decided not to buy anything specifically designed for pregnancy. Before stepping on this path, I never knew how large the market targeting pregnant persons was. To me, this market felt alienating and even predatory. I'm over 25 weeks pregnant, and I'm happy with everything that I live with. I feel no desire to buy anything extra or anything special. The only pregnancy-related item I bought was medication in the first trimester. I lived with hyperemesis gravidarum until around week 16. 
9. Baby-related products until he is born. I believe there is a plurality of ways to navigate this magical chapter of a person's life, expecting a baby. Yet, so far, my experience has been such that preparation (which often entails buying many items) is the norm. Buying items before my baby is born feels uncomfortable to me personally, so I decided to shed society's expectations and buy nothing. I don't want to own items that I might not find useful or right for my baby and me. And I certainly don't want to spend my time on contemplating various ways to say goodbye to these items when the baby is born. 
10. Fashion and special occasion clothes, shoes and accessories. Every day, I wear the same outfit. I wear it for all occasions, even for special occasions. 
11. Jewellery. The only piece of jewellery that I have is my engagement ring. My partner and I don't have wedding rings. I've tried wearing jewellery in the past. My ears were pierced without my consent when I was around three years old. Over the years, I realised that jewellery was not something I personally liked to wear. Even my engagement ring (a very simple, undecorated band made from recycled gold) I wear only very occasionally: not for special occasions, just whenever I want to. 
12. Seasonal clothes. My fellow humans are often surprised when I say that I don't have different wardrobes for different seasons. Here in Denmark, it is cold in winter and warm in summer, yet I wear the same clothes all year round. In winter, I wear shorts and sandals at home, and layer my clothes when I go out. In summer, sweatpants and a large woollen scarf are still useful, as evenings can be cold. 
13. Swimwear. Here in Denmark, it is legal to swim without swimwear. When I'm with the sea, I want to connect with it without any barriers. 
14. Sports clothes. I love jogging (not during pregnancy though) and yoga. Many years ago, I used to invite sportswear into my life. Then I observed that I didn't actually need any specialised clothes for the types of activities I was performing. I could jog in simple sweatpants and barefoot shoes. 
15. Rain clothes. I've lived in some countries where it rains a lot, such as England and Denmark. I've realised that I love rain, and for me the best approach is to protect my electronics (laptop and phone) and a change of clothes (if I'm going to teach, for example), but not hide from rain myself. In summer, I would often even take off my shoes when it rains. Rainwater feels very nice on my skin and hair, too, and I enjoy immersing myself in the rain. 
16. Car. I have never owned a car and never will. It's a product that I'm not interested in at all. Fellow humans in my social circle often assume that I don't drive because I'm a sustainability researcher. But I decided not to drive prior to becoming a sustainability researcher. I walk everywhere, or use public transport. Some fellow humans associate a car with freedom. For me, living without one feels freeing. Having said that, I understand that others might live in less walkable cities. 
17. Flights. I stopped flying in 2013. Then, around 2019, I flew once again, from England to Finland (and back). I haven't taken flights since then. While I initially stopped flying because of flights' impact on nature, now I don't feel any desire to fly. I much prefer travelling by trains and ferries. 
18. Apps and subscriptions. I try to use technology as minimally as possible. I don't pay for apps and subscriptions. 
19. Classes and courses. I strongly believe that education should be free, and all classes and courses subsidised by governments. 
20. Gym. I much prefer exercising outdoors or at home. I went to a gym once, when I was still a student, in my late teens. I came to the realisation that I did it because others did it. And I cancelled by membership. 
21. Books. I borrow them from fellow humans and from libraries. 
22. Restaurants and take-away food. Since the beginning of 2025, my partner and I have avoided restaurants. We still visit local cafes occasionally though. But we much prefer to cook at home, to invite fellow humans over, and to accept their invitations. In the picture above is gammeldags æblekage, a Danish old-fashion dessert that my partner made and I arranged in my own way. 
23. Zero-waste products, or rather, products marketed as zero-waste. In the beginning of my journey I bought many more products that were marketed as sustainable and zero-waste. Many of them were unnecessary for me, such as produce bags for various types of produce, metal straws, conditioner bars (I don't use conditioner), even reusable water bottles (I'm happy with a food jar). I don't buy food containers (I use plates, food jars etc.), kitchen cloths (I use old kitchen towels) and so on. 
24. House plants. I used to buy more of them, but these days I prefer to receive a cutting from a fellow human. Recently, we got an olive tree as a gift from our family members (who regifted it to us, which is wonderful). 
25. Bras. Early in my life, I decided not to wear bras. So I don't and never plan to. 
26. Supplements. I only buy a supplement when it is recommended by my doctor or my midwife. 
27. Things I can easily borrow. Examples include a hat, a multi-tool, and a razor that I borrow occasionally from my partner. 
28. Things I already have. For example, these days it's very sunny here in Copenhagen, and I wear sunscreen every day. To remove it, I use grapeseed oil and soap. I don't need to buy grapeseed oil because I use the only I have in the kitchen. It was sold as food and was very inexpensive. 

Products and services I buy less of

1. Technology. I try to use only the most necessary devices, such as a phone, laptop, vacuum cleaner and washing machine (though I lived happily without both of these in Finland). And I buy these devices very rarely. I don't use a dish washer, food processor and don't ever plan to invite into my life baby-related technology such as a baby monitor and a white noise machine. 
2. Hairdressing services. I cut my hair once a year or once in 2 years. I try to find an expert that uses natural and unscented products. 
3. Clothes. I live with a small number of clothing items, between 10 and 20, and I wear the same outfit every day. I don't follow fashion trends, and only repurchase the items that I genuinely feel I need. 
4. Shoes. It works for me to live with 2 pairs of shoes (sandals and comfortable walking shoes). When I was in my teens, I thought I needed to have more shoes for various occasions. I don't think so anymore. 
5. Medicine. When I used to use more conventional skincare, I would often see my doctor who would prescribe medication to un-do the irritation I would get from conventional creams. These days, I use only soap, occasionally vaseline (or another balm) on my skin as well as sunscreen. I don't need medication because my skin feels better. I also live with low blood pressure. I was advised to simply eat more salt and drink more water instead of taking medication. I always make sure to ask doctors about simpler ways of addressing a concern before consuming medication. 

593

Minimalism and electronic files

In my previous entry, I reflected on my relationship with physical documents and letters I receive. In addition to that, I wanted to reflect on my relationship with electronic files. 

In this autoethnography, I've mentioned that I don't like (though at times I still use them!) the words clutter and decluttering when applied to material objects. After all, these objects embody nature, human and non-human labour, and time. Yet, when it comes to electronic files, I used to experience them as clutter. While I've always preferred very simple organisation of my files and an almost empty desktop, at some moments of my life there were certainly more files than at other times. For example, when I was working on my PhD (2016-2020), I saved many articles to read later. Over the years, I've developed and maintained a much more minimalist, and what feels to be healthier, relationship with electronic files. 

I organise my files into four folders: (1) my autoethnography, (2) my works, (3) books and papers, and (4) everything. I try to work on a very small number of projects each time and dive deep into them. For example, these days there is another file on my desktop, which is an article I'm co-authoring with fellow humans. Since my autoethnography is ongoing, I always keep it on my desktop. The "my works" folder includes pdfs of all the articles and books that I've authored or co-authored, funding applications, as well as submitted articles, a list of ideas for future projects, and some projects that might not materialise (which is ok). I keep the pdfs of my own works because oftentimes my fellow humans email me and ask if I can share a copy. It's easier to keep them in one place. The "books and papers" folder contains others' books and academic articles. I used to have many of them in that folder, but I usually can access all of them via the library, so I don't keep many these days. Moreover, my interests as a researcher evolve, and I might no longer be interested in some books and articles that I was curious about previously. The "everything" folder certainly sounds like a space where I would keep electronic clutter. In reality, it's a very small folder with some electronic documents, lecture slides and my notes. 

I don't have folders for, e.g., pictures, because I usually don't keep photos (apart from those that are part of my autoethnography). 

Every now and then, I go through the folders I mentioned above to see if I still need any of the electronic files that I have. Because there are not many of them, "decluttering" doesn't take very long. 

I feel that relating with my electronic files in this manner makes me feel free, light, and more creative. 

592

Minimalism and physical documents

I keep various physical documents and incoming post that I want to look at in a simple bread bag made from organic cotton. Most of those documents and letters are folded in half, so they don't take much space. 

At times, I feel that I get more letters than fellow humans in my social circle because in the past few years, I've lived in four countries, and I still receive letters from, e.g., tax authorities and pension institutions. Danish authorities and institutions communicate with citizens electronically, so I don't receive letters from them. For this reason, perhaps much of what I say in this entry doesn't apply to fellow humans living in other countries. 

Whenever I can, I try to read every incoming letter as soon as possible and decide whether I need to keep it (which is very rare - most of these letter don't need to be kept) or recycle it. When I don't have time to look at the letter, I put it in the bread bag. Because the bag is relatively small, it doesn't accommodate many letters. I try to revisit the bag every month to see what I still need to keep and what I need to recycle. It usually doesn't take longer than 15 minutes, including removing my personal details from the letters. Dedicating some time to dealing with letters feels like an act of self-care. It doesn't feel rushed. 

If there is some information that I can simply write down in my notebook, I do that and discard the letter. 

I've been approaching documents and incoming letters this way for many years, and this approach has worked well for me. It's always easy to find the documents that I need. I've met fellow humans who keep almost all incoming post just in case and separate letters and other paper files into different folders such as healthcare, pension, banking and so on. Personally, I would find living with multiple physical folders containing papers and documents of different levels of importance (e.g., one's birth certificate or one's passport vs an expired promotional letter from one's network provider) overwhelming and stressful. Other fellow humans feel uncomfortable with any number of physical documents, as such documents might be experienced as clutter. I don't mind living with a small cotton bag with documents. To me personally, micromanaging every incoming letter to avoid any clutter would feel more stressful than giving myself some space to evaluate and decide. 

At times, I don't need a physical copy of a document, but I might still need the document. In this case, I take a picture of it and only store the picture. Every now and then, I revisit these photographed documents to see if I still need them or not. 

591

Minimalism and social media, exiting some platforms

Recently, I decided to exit some social media platforms. This exit is not accompanied by negative emotions. I experience it as a new step on my growth path. I'm feeling joyful and liberated. 

On the 18th of March 2025, I exited ResearchGate, Instagram, and LinkedIn.

ResearchGate is a research sharing platform. I'd been there approximately since 2016 when I started working on my PhD. Being present on that platform never took much time, and this is why I kept a ResearchGate profile for so many years. At times, fellow humans would reach out to get access to some of my works. But generally, there were no deep and meaningful conversations. I came to the realisation that fellow humans (in and outside academia) can simply email me if they didn't have access to my works or if they wanted to ask questions about my works. Academics' email addresses are usually public. I also realised that a Google Scholar page (here is mine) performs the same function as ResearchGate performed for me: displayed a list of all my articles, books, editorials and so on. Over the years, ResearchGate felt less and less relevant, too. In 2016, many fellow academics would talk about being on ResearchGate, but these days there seems to be less excitement about this platform. 

Unlike many fellow humans, I had very good experiences with Instagram. To many, Instagram is a source of self-doubt, fear of missing out, and a space that encourages persons to consume. I've had a tiny space on Instagram where I mostly shared my everyday sustainability practices. I used Instagram to learn about fellow humans' sustainability journeys and practices, too. I believe that some fellow humans carved out spaces on this platform to encourage a different mode of relating with the world. I had wonderful, deep exchanges with fellow humans there. Having said that, I felt that my Instagram page to a large extent repeated what I was doing already in this autoethnography. And Instagram imposed a word limit on each post, so I couldn't dive as deeply into some topics as I would have liked, and as I could do in my autoethnography. Moreover, this autoethnography is accessible to everyone. One doesn't need to register on Instagram to read it (and thus potentially expose themselves to advertising and other triggers). There are, intentionally, no adverts in my autoethnography. One downside of this page is that I disabled the comment section. I did it because my autoethnography, though a very personal project, is also my academic work. 

From all the platforms where I was still present, LinkedIn was my least favourite one. Perhaps one's experience with LinkedIn depends on one's industry. I felt that academic LinkedIn was not a heathy space. The same strategic networking that one can so clearly see within universities and other academic spaces (conferences, workshops) thrives on LinkedIn, too. LinkedIn posts are rarely deep. I believe that LinkedIn is a space that encourages persons to misrepresent their academic lives and lives in general. For instance, it is normal to share about receiving funding, accepting positions, and publishing articles, but not normal to share about rejections one inevitably gets on their academic path. As someone whose professional and personal lives are intertwined (e.g., this autoethnography is my academic work about my personal practices), I found LinkedIn to be an alienating space. I would very rarely post on that platform. I mainly used it as a messaging platform to communicate with my colleagues. I came to the realisation that the same conversations can be done via email. It felt wonderful to leave this platform. 

Apart from these platforms, a while ago I used to be on Facebook and what used to be called Twitter.

Overall, Facebook has been my least favourite social media platform. I've tried being there several times in my life, but every time I exited it rather quickly. In the early days, in my experience, it was common to add persons as friends when one barely knew them or even never met them. I remember receiving many unsolicited messages. Some persons seemed to use Facebook as a dating app, and this was not something I personally appreciated. When I was in my teens, persons often tried to access others' accounts, too. In general, I found Facebook's design complicated, and various settings were difficult to find. It was not clear how this platform used my data, either (which applies to all the other platforms I've mentioned in this entry). I appreciated Facebook groups (e.g., one can establish a local no-buy group on this platform). Having said that, I also had less positive experience with groups. For example, some persons would take over discussions or judge fellow humans without having a full picture of some event. 

Academic Twitter was not a nurturing space for me. I left it quickly, too. Because this platform imposed a character limit on posts, posts were often shallow, and discussions aggressive. There were too many analyses lacking depth, and too many arguments. And I felt that this platform was incredibly time-consuming. 

I've never used other popular social media platform such as TikTok. I believe this platform encourages overconsumption and short attention span, and misrepresents normality. I've noticed that many videos on YouTube that analyse unsustainable trends reference TikTok videos specifically. There are many trends that I'm happily unaware of (as a consumer) simply because I'm not on this social media platform. 

I remain present in the following spaces. A couple of months ago, my partner and I decided to film videos to share our knowledge and practice, so we are on YouTube. I'm also maintaining this autoethnography. My autoethnography is not social media, but it's still a space where I share parts of my life and my work. I'm contemplating opening the comments section in this autoethnography, too, but I haven't decided yet if this is something I want to do. 

I still use two messaging platforms. I use them strictly to communicate with my closest family members and friends. There are around 4 contacts in each of them. I'm not part of any groups on messaging platforms. 

To summarise, I am not trying to eliminate all social media from my life. But I am trying to understand what enough is for me. In this process of trying, I identified several spaces that were not nurturing, and I stepped away from them. The spaces where I am still present are nurturing. 

Some fellow humans suggest that a good approach to social media is to limit the amount of time one spends on these platforms rather than to step away from them completely. Perhaps this works for some. For me personally, being present in fewer places is most helpful. I have a similar approach to my writing projects: I prefer to have very few of them and dive deeper into each one. 

590

 Food jars

I don't think that zero-waste practices and aesthetics should be seen as opposites. I feel that such opposition is as unhelpful as equating zero-waste with consumption of beautiful objects. In my view and experience, zero-waste practices are incredibly beautiful. Glass, soil clumps on root vegetables from a farmers' market, gently used inherited items, imperfectly repaired clothes. It's natural for humans to seek beauty and to strive to surround ourselves with beautiful objects. This is not to say that every human being is the same, and that all of us find the same objects beautiful. 

I find glass, as a material, beautiful. So I use it as much as I can in my everyday life. Most of the objects that I live with and that are made from glass are food jars. They come with foods such as honey, jam, pasta sauce, baked beans, coconut oil, and so on. And they are very easy to clean. 

In our home, we use such jars for so many things. We store food in them (seeds, herbs, spices, and tea). We also store small items in them such as thread and needles, pencils. My partner has a jar full of USB sticks and rings that his child made for him. We use them for our cutlery, toothbrushes and for sentimental items such as sand. 

We fill jars with snacks when we travel or when our guests who travel through Copenhagen visit us. Usually we put dried fruits and nuts in these jars. We use jars as glasses and vases as well. When I'm in the office and attend meetings, I prefer to take a jar of water with me rather than a water bottle, as water bottles from certain brands seem to have become a status symbol and a fashion item. In my experience, food jars can leak water, so I don't turn them upside down when the lid is on. Most of the time, I'd take an empty jar and fill it with water on the location, or in a café when I'm out. 

The foraging season is closer, and I usually take a glass jar with me when I know I might come across something I can forage. In Spring, I often forage spruce tips, young birch leaves, and wild garlic. 

589

Home

Have you ever made decisions that are perceived as controversial by many fellow humans in our society, yet they feel so authentic, so right to you?

In my early twenties, just as I was finishing my second degree, I moved countries when most of the fellow humans I was studying with were looking for a job and stepping onto their career paths. More recently, in 2023, I moved countries to be with my loved one. Even more recently, I decided not to take part in the most important conference in my field, where our panel proposal was accepted. Instead of being at the conference, my partner and I decided to prioritise our family life. The baby is due around the same time the conference takes place. And I changed my surname, which is seen by many as a terrible thing to do, as a published author. I've been thinking about changing my surname in total for more than a year since my partner proposed to me, and for nearly three months after the wedding. Here in Denmark, one can change their surname free of charge after the wedding before three months expire. I wanted to have the same surname as my child. And my previous surname didn't mean as much to me. While it's on all my publications, the surname is my stepfather's. When I think about that surname, I surely have warm feelings towards it (it's also my brother's surname), but I also get a sense of alienation and artificiality. My husband's surname is hyphenated, and combining our surnames to create a new one for me, or for our child (or even for my husband), didn't feel appealing. And while I have changed my surname, I don't think that it's the right thing to do for everyone. It's such a personal decision.

Practising extreme minimalism is seen as controversial, too. 

Yet, this practice has so many advantages. It makes it very easy to look after my home. Caring for my home is something I love doing. While my partner and I tidy up every day (it takes 5 minutes or so), on "my weekends", i.e., the weekends when my partner is away, I spend more time on expressing gratitude towards this space, my home. For me, it's an act of self-care and self-love, as this space is, in some ways, an extension of me. It's a place where I feel safe, creative, where I have many meetings with my fellow humans (online and offline). Where I regenerate and connect deeply with my yet unborn baby, in a peaceful and calm environment. I hope to pass on the joy of looking after one's home to my child. 

588

 Going through my own list of sustainability practices

Sometime in 2023, I posted my list of 60+ sustainability practices. One can find it here. For a while, I've been wanting to revisit this list, to see whether I was still doing these things and to check how I was feeling about them. I live with my partner (though I also spend time by myself due to his childcare responsibilities), our yet unborn baby, and my stepchild visits us occasionally. 

1. Walking and using public transport (no car): I still do it. 

2. Ethical banking: I still do it. 

3. Local, seasonal, unpackaged food: I still do it as much as I can, but certainly some food that we buy comes in cardboard, glass, paper and metal packaging. Even in plastic packaging! While I was ill in the first trimester of my pregnancy, I was not going to the food market very often. 

4. Local holidays (no flying): We still do it. Last summer, we visited Bornholm, a Danish island. This summer we plan to visit Bornholm again. We get there by trains and a ferry from Ystad, a town in Sweden. 

5. Natural, local home décor (shells, stones): We still do it. 

6.  Organic, natural textiles (cotton, linen, wool): We still do it. 

7. Reusable cotton bags: I still do it. Having said that, I find that plain, small thin-ish cotton tote bags work best for me. They wash well and dry quickly. I use them as hand bags, to carry my laptop when the weather is nice, for grocery shopping, storage, and so on. Cotton pouches with a string closure also work extremely well for me, too. I use them for bread, storage, as a wallet, for gift wrapping, and when I travel. Very thick canvas bags don't work as well for my lifestyle. They get dirty and dusty, and often change shape in the wash. They take a long time to dry. I don't use net bags for produce anymore. I simply put all fruits and vegetables that I buy together, in the same cotton tote. 

8. Reusable water bottle: It was one of the first zero-waste items I invited into my life. I've had several of them over the years, and most of them have been gifts from my friends and family members. Some water bottles were difficult to clean, others rusted, yet others were too heavy or made loud noise (I live with sensory processing sensitivity, so it matters to me). It's been sad to see reusable water bottles become a fashion item, too. Now, my partner and I keep only one reusable water bottle (made from glass) that we share. Most often, I simply take a food jar with a lid with me. Here in Denmark it's relatively easy to refill water containers, especially in cities. 

9. Natural cleaning solutions (biodegradable sponges, baking soda, vinegar): We still use them. However, we also use laundry sheets, that are zero-waste but not "natural". 

10. Soap bars (natural, locally made, package-free): I still use them, though my partner prefers liquid soap. We buy very large, 10 l containers of natural liquid soap and dish washing liquid and refill small dispensers. 

11. Solid shampoo: in our family, I was the only one using it. I've noticed that it doesn't last longer than bottled shampoo, and oftentimes it was not cleaning my wavy but fine hair well here in Copenhagen where we have hard water. Some solid shampoos I've tried had too much fragrance added to them, or heavy plant butters that my skin doesn't tolerate well. Since I don't wash my hair every time I take a shower, I decided to use whichever natural shampoo my partner had in the shower. He buys large bottles of Danish shampoo and they last a long time. 

12. Safety razor: I no longer use it. Firstly, it rusted. Secondly, I don't use it due to self-harm. Since I don't shave every day (I do it when I feel like it), I borrow my partner's razor and razor heads. 

13. Wood/bamboo toothbrush: I still use such toothbrushes sometimes, but I much prefer ones made from recycled plastic (sold in cardboard boxes). They last longer. Like my fellow humans, I replace my toothbrushes often, but wood/bamboo ones would degrade very quickly even if I stored them away from water. 

14. Natural toothpaste: I still use it. When we buy toothpaste, we try to find options that are locally made and suitable for my partner, me and my stepchild. 

15. Natural, locally made, basic skincare: My skincare is extremely minimal. These days, it consists of soap. I also use sunscreen. And a multi-purpose balm in winter. 

16. Second-hand or old electronics: We still use them. 

17. No food waste: We still try to avoid food waste as much as possible. We do create biowaste (e.g., potato peels, apple cores, orange peels) though. Copenhagen Municipality, where we live, provides free bags for such waste and there are dedicated recycling bins for this waste, too. 

18. Mindful, careful recycling: We still do it. 

19. Supporting small, local, independent businesses: We still do it. Though we visit our local cafes much less often these days due to our new year's resolution (to go out less). And we generally don't like shopping. Oftentimes, even small, local businesses sell many items that we find unnecessary. 

20. Certified products (e.g., GOTS, Krav): We still choose certified products. 

21. Farmers/food markets when we can: We still do it. 

22. Giving away (via a swap shop/byttestation): We still do it, though we don't have many items to give away, as we live with very few items and shop rarely. We also asked our family members to avoid giving gifts to us. Most recently, we gave away some tea cups. 

23. No makeup: I've been doing it for 15 years or so and will continue to live makeup-free. 

24. No fancy clothing/occasion wear/fast fashion: I still do it, and have been doing it for 15 years. 

25. Naturism whenever possible: I still do it. 

26. Regrowing food: We still do it, though very occasionally. We used to regrow lettuce, but in autumn and winter we usually don't eat lettuce. 

27. Zero-waste gifts: We still do it, though more recently we've been trying to give food and drinks instead. In the beginning of my zero-waste journey, I would give things such as bar soaps and cotton produce and bread bags to my fellow humans, but over time I realised that these might not be suitable for everyone. Even I, a long-term practitioner of sustainable living, don't use cotton produce bags very often, if at all (and when I do, it's usually not for their original purpose). 

28. Joy in simple activities (walking, reading, writing, contemplating): We still do it. 

29. Using inherited items: We still do it. In fact, these days we have even more of them, as my stepmother-in-law gave us some basic items for the baby. These items have been in the family for generations. 

30. Very few electric appliances: We still do it. Though some months ago, my partner invited a blender into our home. 

31. Durable, simple, minimal furniture: We still do it. We live with only a few items of furniture (a table, 4 chairs, a bench, and a bed in the small bedroom). 

32. Minimising electricity use: We still do it.

33. Sharing as many items as possible in our household: We still do it. 

34. Natural exercise (e.g., walking): We still do it. 

35. No curtains: We still do it. 

36. Reusable, organic cotton tea bags: I don't use them anymore. In my experience, a metal tea strainer works better. 

37. Avoiding plastic whenever possible: We still do it. Though we don't stress when a plastic bag comes into our life. For example, recently we received an olive tree as a gift from my stepmother-in-law and father-in-law. To carry the tree, they gave us a (used) plastic bag. We keep and reuse such bags. 

38. Doing nothing: We still do it. 

39. Cooking at home most of the time: We still do it. We cook at home even more now, as we avoid eating out. 

40. Danish wine: My partner still does it. I'm pregnant, so I don't drink alcohol. 

41. Foraging whenever possible (e.g., herbs, spruce tips, berries): We still do it. In spring, summer and autumn. 

42. Upcycling: We still do it. Mostly, it applied to food jars. 

43. Borrowing (e.g. books from a library): We still do it. 

44. Working from home whenever possible: We still do it. We also work from natural areas (parks, cemeteries, gardens) whenever we can. 

45. Buying bread from local bakeries: We do it but more rarely. It's very expensive. 

46. Wearing simple, casual clothing always: We still do it, and our baby will do it too. 

47. Repairing and fixing things: We still do it. 

48. Embracing small imperfections (e.g., stains and holes in home textiles): We still do it. Though I also repair items whenever I can. 

49. Do not express love via gifts: We still do it. Though we still give material gifts to each other at times, as a sign of care. For my birthday, my partner gave me a linen shirt that is a size too big for me, to accommodate my changing body. The shirt is the same one I had a while ago (it wore out after some years). 

50. Donating money when we can: We still do it. 

51. Talking about ecological living with others: We still do it. 

52. Using cotton bags for storage: We still do it. 

53. Minimising e-waste: We still do it. 

54. No pets: We still do it. I love pets and before moving to northern Sweden in 2021, I had always lived with pets. My partner is allergic to cats and dogs though, and we cannot have pets in our home (we rent it). 

55. Embracing all kinds of weather: We still do it. 

56. Jars as glasses and storage for cutlery: We still do it. I use food jars for so many things (water, tea, coffee, to store small items, for snacks, to store food, etc.). 

57. No paper tickets/using apps: We still do it. 

58. No meat: We've been doing it for many years, and continue to live without eating meat. 

59. Natural remedies whenever possible: We still do it. While I take prescription medication whenever necessary (e.g., I was on medication in my first trimester, as I lived with hyperemesis), I also use natural remedies. For example, in the second trimester I've had rash on my skin, and using aloe vera gel helped me a lot. 

60. Renewable energy supplier: We still do it.

61. No own washing machine: We don't do it anymore. The apartment we currently rent came with a washing machine. I like it because we always use unscented laundry sheets. In our previous block of flats, washing machines were shared, and fellow humans would often use scented laundry detergents. In our previous home, we also could not dry our clothes (it was in our renting agreement). In this apartment, even though the washing machine is also a dryer, we line dry all our clothes and other textiles. 

62. Small/lagom space/flat: We still do it. Though the apartment where we live now is slightly bigger than the previous one. 

63. Using the same item for multiple purposes: We still do it. 

587

 Everything I own

In the picture above is everything that I own personally and generally don't co-use with my fellow humans such as my partner and my stepchild (though at times we use my laptop together, and my stepchild plays with my clothes and borrows my scarf). I didn't include a couple of items that are in the laundry and the two pairs of shoes. One pair of shoes is by the door, and the other one I was wearing when I took the picture. When I took the picture, I was also wearing my partner's t-shirt and shorts. 

There are more items in our home. My partner and I have a few items of furniture, a yoga mat, a meditation cushion, kitchen items, home decorations (a jar of sand and stones from Bornholm), medicine, and personal care items that we share. And I borrow some things from my partner too, mainly his white t-shirts. 

The items that I own and use are my clothes (2 pairs of sweatpants, 2 linen shirts, 3 basic tops, 1 jacket, 1 pair of shorts, 1 scarf), underwear and socks, a cotton pouch with random things (my passport, a stone, spare hair ties, shells, a usb stick), a cotton pouch with my health card and my bank card, a toothbrush, a backpack, a reusable cotton bag, a cotton pouch with documents and some cables, a laptop, two notebooks, and a phone. 

The backpack is a recent addition. It's a mini backpack but it works well for me. I used to have a similar one with a 16 l capacity, but it was too big for my needs. In my everyday life, that backpack was almost always empty, and when I travelled and put everything into the backpack (my laptop, clothing, food, water bottle), it was too heavy for my back. I gave away the 16 l backpack a while ago, as my partner didn't want it either. I much prefer carrying a smaller and lighter backpack and a cotton tote bag. The mini backpack cannot accommodate my laptop, and this is perhaps its main downside. Another downside I can think of is its material, I wish it was made from a different fabric. When I go somewhere to think and write (e.g., to a park or a cemetery), I only take my notebook with me, which fits easily inside the mini backpack. When I go to the office at the university and it's raining, I bring a tote bag. I will say more about the tote bag below. When it's not raining, I simply wrap my laptop in a cloth and put it inside a cotton bag. When my partner and I work together from somewhere (e.g., a café, though we do it extremely rarely these days - we prefer to work from home), he brings his laptop in his backpack, as he prefers large backpacks that can accommodate a laptop, groceries, his personal items, children's items and so on. 

My partner and I were joking about me using a backpack designed for children (though the producer markets it as a mini backpack, suitable for adults, too). We believe that it will be my hospital bag, considering my extremely minimalist approach to pregnancy and giving birth. Perhaps the mini backpack will also be used by the children in our family. 

The only personal care item that I included in the picture is my toothbrush, as it's the only personal care item that is truly mine. My partner and I share the soap, shampoo, toothpaste, sunscreen, and even our crystal deodorant. 

I used to have my own water bottle and a reusable coffee cup that was a gift from my partner. These days, my partner and I share one water bottle. Here in Denmark (as well as in Sweden and Finland, in our experience) it's very easy to refill water bottles in cafes. At times, I even prefer to carry a simple jar with a lid (it used to be a honey jar). Reusable water bottles seem to have become fashion items, and having a food jar feels so simple. I gave away my coffee cup soon after I received it. I usually don't buy take-out coffee, and when we get coffee from a local café, we prefer to stay in the café for a while. My partner enjoys using his coffee cup though, and when we travel together, we share his coffee. 

For some years, I lived without notebooks. I would always take notes in my phone or laptop. These days, I avoid using my phone as much as possible, so I use notebooks again. One was a gift from my partner, and the other one I bought for myself. 

I keep various documents that are not digital in a cotton bag. The bag is not designed for documents specifically, it's a bread bag. At times, I go through the papers to see if anything is not needed anymore, or if it suffices to keep a picture of a document, or take a note in my notebook. I don't stress about having paper documents in my home, as long as the amount feels lagom to me.

There are also some items (in the picture above) that I own and don't use currently. Perhaps another human being who practises extreme minimalism would say goodbye to such things, but I prefer to keep them. At least for now. 

There are two bags. One is a large cotton tote bag that I use mainly for travelling but also for groceries, or when my partner and I need to pick up a large parcel (though we often simply carry things in our hands). I've noticed that these days, smaller cotton bags work well for me. I usually carry two small cotton bags in my backpack. I'm still keeping the large bag, which fits all my personal possessions, just in case we travel somewhere for a long time, or if we need to carry more items when the baby arrives. I believe that this bag would accommodate my, the baby's and my partner's items. 

The other bag is a tote bag that can be worn as a backpack. My partner and I used to use it very often. It works well as a tote bag, though it does feel heavy by itself, perhaps due to materials used. Apart from that, after carrying the bag as a backpack for many months, one of the straps stretched out, so they no longer match. One of the straps constantly falls off my shoulder as a result. As a backpack, the bag doesn't work as well, in my view, because it hangs too low on my back, and the strap cannot be fixed well in place. In pregnancy, I live with a back ache, so I decided not to use the bag for now. My favourite way to carry it, when I do (it's the only bag in which I can carry my laptop when it rains), is simply in my hands. My partner carries it both as a tote bag and a backpack. He is much taller than me, and the length of the strap seems to work better for him. 

The small pouch in the picture is home to the underwear that I'm not wearing due to pregnancy. I can, and do, still wear most of my underwear now at 24+2 weeks, apart from a few pairs. Finally, there are two items of clothing: a pair of shorts and a basic top. The shorts have become too tight around my waist, and the top too short. I am keeping these items because I intend to wear them again after giving birth. If I find that I cannot wear them anymore, I will welcome my transformed body with joy and gratitude, and give away the items that don't fit.