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A fellow human asks: What are your thoughts on "borrowing things" and "being a mooch"?

It's such a wonderful, deep question. 

I borrow from my fellow humans. 

From my partner, I borrow t-shirts, a hat, a multi-tool, a razor. I have borrowed his coat too. 

From my ex partner, I borrowed a sleeping mat.

I borrowed kitchen items from my university department in northern Sweden. I asked the deputy vice-chancellor, whose office was a couple of doors away from mine, how he felt about it. He was incredibly supportive, as he practises sustainability himself, and he knew about my practice. When I left that university, I returned everything to the department. I also borrowed a few kitchen items from a colleague when I had guests.

I borrowed a corkscrew from a neighbour.

I borrowed a lamp from a colleague. In fact, he insisted I had the lamp in my office, as I was not yet used to extremely short days in northern Swedish winters, and he was going away for a while. 

Another colleague came to my office and offered some hats and gloves to me. He lived in northern Sweden his whole life, and accumulated many hats and gloves over the years. He said it was more sustainable if I borrowed those items rather than bought new ones. 

When I was moving to southern Finland from northern Sweden, I asked a friend if I could borrow a pot, a pan, a knife and a couple of other kitchen items from him. He and his wife brought several items to my home. They wanted to give me much more because they had more than enough and they wanted me to have a cosy life. They told me that when I no longer needed those items, I could pass them on. 

I borrowed hair ties from my stepchild on a few occasions (only when she had many). And books from libraries. 

When I was younger, I borrowed clothes from my mother, brother, and stepfather, and some items from my grandmother too. 

So many things!

When I was much younger, borrowing was seen as a sign of poverty. It felt as if fellow humans did not like borrowing and lending items. Can't you buy your own? Why should I borrow if I can just buy this item?

I'm so happy to observe that at least within sustainability minded communities attitudes are changing. In fact, attitudes towards many things that were seen (and perhaps are still seen in many spaces) as bad are shifting. Small-scale, slow, frugality, missing out, doing nothing, living with less. Borrowing is becoming more acceptable. Why own things individually when we can own so many of them collectively? It nurtures a sense of community and healthy dependency on one another. Not to mention, it is better for nature. This is at the heart of many alternative, sustainability minded organisations such as swap shops and various libraries. 

When it comes to borrowing, I have certain rules for myself. I do not borrow money. To me, it is very important to live within my means. I do not borrow objects without intending to return them, or if returning would be difficult (e.g., if I was going away). I do not borrow if it's something I need very often and borrowing this item would be an inconvenience to the person I am borrowing from. For example, I borrow my partner's t-shirt rather often, but he doesn't find it an inconvenience. I borrow the one he doesn't love as much as the other ones he owns. I would not borrow if this act would result in a disadvantage to the person, and if the person would struggle to say no. I would not borrow when there is any kind of hierarchical relationship. 

Borrowing is a beautiful, ecological, community-based practice. Yet, it is important to have conversations about it. We need to be honest and transparent about borrowing. I always try to say why I borrow (i.e., trying to live sustainably), what I need and how long for. I say what I can offer too. What can you offer if you own so few items, one might ask. I believe that offerings can be different. For example, I can donate money to charity. I can give time to the person from whom I borrow or to someone else. I can help fellow humans with something. I can volunteer. And of course I would be happy to share something that I do own. 

Humans should feel good about both, taking and giving. I fully understand that there are situations when persons cannot give. And that's ok. Problems might arise when a fellow human, who is capable of giving, is unwilling to give, but is willing to take. 

Our discussion of borrowing as a sustainable practice: video 

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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.