High-Gloss Voluntary Simplicity

There's something contradictory and cool about Tinymine, a blog I discovered a week or so ago. It's voluntary simplicity, from a glossy perspective. And I'm surprised to find I love it.

I've always come at Voluntary Simplicity with a very minimalist, make-do-and-mend approach: less is more, focus on 'enough,' possessions weigh you down and curtail your freedom in every way - physically and pragmatically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

I've usually lived in flat-shares where my space has been my room and no more - that puts a nice limit on how much stuff you can accumulate. I've avoided shopping, and trawls through furniture showrooms are my idea of purgatory. In contrast, I've enjoyed scavenging for cast-offs, and at one point lived in a flat almost fully equipped with furniture lifted off the streets of Glasgow on council pick-up days before the vans came round. I've also moved frequently, and valued the regular opportunity to ditch surplus and walk away. And I absolutely loved backpacking for extended periods of time, which by necessity reduced my essential possessions down to the volume and weight capacity of one rucksack.

But there's been an irritating conflict in my mind lately, as my life has led me to put down some roots. Making a home requires possessions, tools, equipment and storage. Which means more stuff, and more bloody shopping: for a bed, for a fridge, for a garden spade! No, please don't make me do it.

Tinymine gets voluntary simplicity, gets the concept of 'enough,' and the maximising of what you've got, not what more you could endlessly 'need.' And yet also accepts that we do need things, embraces and enjoys the fun of it, and revels in the aesthetics of it.

Whether you're a hard-line minimalist nomad suddenly faced with having to set up home, or a previous big spender suddenly faced with having to go small and simple, Tinymine might be worth a look.

Why This High?

Wow, I'm on a high this morning. Up before dawn as usual for my morning run, and, with no shame about being cheesy as hell, I 'ran like the wind.' Beat that if you can before 6am on a Monday.

Got the laundry done, got some housework done, pulled together a 'to do' list, browsed all the blogs I follow (which made me feel even more inspired than I did when I first rolled out of bed), and now nearly all set up to head out for the day.

Why this high? Because it's all happening. I spent a good chunk of the weekend ditching loads of the crap that I've accumulated over the years, all the stuff that builds up, cluttering the house and weighing me down mentally, physically, financially, spiritually... Moving will be easier with half the possessions I owned two days ago, and so will ongoing life, hopefully. (Just have to persuade my other half to do likewise). Plus, some ideas slotted into place yesterday. Some notions in the direction of a micro-business, an independent way to earn a living, make a difference, and maintain my freedom... It's all very well ranting about the failings and frustrations of my wage-slave job and the wage-slave system, but without any notion of an alternative... it's all about as much use as farting against the breeze really. It's too early days to splurge my ideas out into this blog, but I'm high because I've a vision of where I want to go, both personally and professionally, and I can see the first steps I need to take to make it happen. Starting today. Like, right now. See ya's later.

Image by mysza831

Living The Dream: Costs

Freycinet Peninsula, Tasmania. A nice place to hang out for a few days marathon training. I put in a couple of magnificent 12 milers here, round the Hazards-Wineglass Bay loop, at the crack of dawn while most of the tourists and hikers were still fast asleep.

What a dream. But how much did it cost?

Cost:

Youth hostel accomodation/night = AU$24.

Food for a day = around AU$10, depending on what you can find on the hostel's free food shelf.

Entertainments = running (free), sun-bathing (free), reading (free book off the hostel's exchange shelf), writing/drawing (cost of a biro and a notepad - a cent or two per day), conversation with interesting people (included in price of hostel), likewise any TV viewing.

Thats AU$34 for one's day's simple but blissful living, or £14.50 in UK money! How many hours work is that? 2.5 hours on the minimum wage. Less if you're lucky enough to be able to command more cash for your labour.

Now, ok, maybe it's not as simple as that. An airflight from the UK to Australia is a hefty price (besides being desperately bad for the environment, something I'll deal with on this blog some other day). But if you work out the cost of a round the world/return ticket of approximately £1000, across 365 days... Comes out as £2.74/day! That's less than a daily commute costs just about anywhere in the UK, unless you walk to and from work.

And yeah sure, if you want to be super pernickety, there are other costs: The clothes on your back. Running trainers and shorts. Deodorant, soap, shampoo, toothbrush... etc etc. The list goes on, but not indefinitely. With a minimal kit bag of essential gear (a lot of which can be picked up for free on the road from hostels' free-shelves or other travellers moving on), the cost spreads out very cheaply over several months of travel. Probably a lot cheaper than your lifestyle at home.

It certainly cost me a fraction of my lifestyle at home, and I'm not a particularly extravagant person. For somewhere in the region of £20/day, I was able to live my dream.

How Our Economy Is Killing The Earth

For a brilliantly informed and thought provoking series of articles on the relationships between the economy and the environment, follow the link to New Scientist, edition dated 16th October 2008, issue number 2678.

http://www.newscientist.com/article/mg20026786.000-special-report-how-our-economy-is-killing-the-earth.html

Anti-Stuff

Been thinking about 'stuff' a lot lately. Cataclysmic economic difficulties across the globe have prompted all sorts of views and debate on the topic and its solution... To little ol' me, the message seems to boil down to... If you're lucky enough to still have money to spend, get out there and spend it! It's your duty to the economy - and by extension, your community, way of life, and the entire social order.

Unfortunately, this clashes big time with all the thinking, reading and living that I've been doing over the past year or so. I've been heading in a steadily anti-stuff direction all this time.

• Buying 'stuff' buggers up the environment - and for what? A brief buzz of acquisition, and then, too much junk and clutter lying round the house, and ending up in landfill.
• Having lots of 'stuff' weighs you down, mentally and physically. There's nothing like trying to backpack your way round the world, to make you get brutal on exactly what stuff is essential. I found that I'd prefer a light backpack and the ability to run for the bus/train, rather than lots of lovely clothes/laptops/gadgets/books - but an inability to lug it comfortably around with me. Plus when you've got lots of stuff, you've got to worry about how secure it is, what happens if you lose it, insuring it...
• Needing stuff means needing an ever-renewing ever-increasing money supply to buy the stuff. Which means working lots. Once I quit work I found, after a bit of an adjustment period, that I preferred having loads of time to run/read/write/paint/soak in the sun/think/hang out with friends. There's a certain level of cash that is necessary to earn - to meet the basic needs. But after that, to me, time seemed more valuable than nice gear.

I didn't work for 8 months last year. I lived off savings that I'd expected to last a maximum of 3 months. But they just seemed to stretch and stretch, as I simplified and streamlined my lifestyle and my needs. As I passed through hostels, I gradually shed clothes, books, shoes and gadgets. And in exchange, I got to train for a marathon, running 5-6 times a week, in some of the most stunning places in the world. It was heaven.

Anti-stuff. That's the way to go in every way. Except for the economy.

Duty To

It's our duty to the economy to buy more stuff. It's our duty to the environment to buy less stuff. Hmmm.

Bliss On The Road

The heat in the Northern Territory makes me hot and bothered. Irritable, lazy, nippy. A signpost suggests a range of walks in the Kakadu National Park, all between 1km and 3km, and I drag my heels and if given the chance opt not to bother. In this heat, even 1.8km is too far...!

The mozzies infest the Cooinda campsite, so we retreat into our stinking hot van as night falls, and lie there, sweating in the nude, swiping and squashing the mosquitos that bounce along the ceiling. We are on high-alert and tense to their high-pitched whine. By sleep-time the roof, curtains and sheets are pitted with mosquito corpses and dark stains of our own blood... When we waken with the dawn, the mosquito screen over the window is seething with mozzies, all waiting to get in and gorge on us for breakfast.

The driving is easy, out here in the Northern Territory. They have long, clear, mostly straight roads, with light traffic, that is either going as slow as me or has no problem overtaking. We zip along at a comfortable 80km/hour - the excuse of fuel economy lets me drive a full 50km/hour below the speed limit with no criticism or exasperation from others. The air-con blasts, and we're comfortable - till we have to stop. As soon as the engine comes to a stand-still, thick heat fills the van.

An ice-cold beer out of the eski is my treat, when we come to a final stop at whatever campsite we decide to call home for a night or two. Cold and crisp and refreshing, and the nail in the coffin for any ideas of more driving. I love it. It goes straight to my knees, my joints generally, and I feel woozy-relaxed.

I like this hippy lifestyle. I like not having much stuff, and I could certainly still get rid of more of what I've got. I like swimming in natural swimming holes in the morning, reading my book, writing, sketching or dozing in the afternoons. I love going out for a run in the cool of the mornings before the sun burns orange through the tree canopy.

We sit about and pipedream our futures - travels through Canada, New Zealand, Chile, Ireland and on... I suddenly feel unworried. I could happily 'drop out' after all. I'd manage to find stints of work of some kind. I'm not that interested in accruing lots of the latest and bestest stuff, and that means my hard-earned cash will buy me a whole lot more travel or other simple pleasures...

I'm enjoying this lazy life, but I wouldn't want that to be all there is for the rest of my days. I'm pursuing a reduction in stress and a truer sense of freedom, but I don't want to be idle.

It's freedom to do more, not less, that I'm after.

Image by NeilsPhotography

Works Better, Not Having

I think it works better, not having. I used to buy books, and magazines, and prints of writers and artists who's work I admire. I think it's important to support the work of talented people, and its nice to have these things at home to browse. But having on the bookshelf doesn't mean 'having' in my mind - purchasing the object doesn't help me know the content of the book any better, or to internalise the beauty or technique of the artwork.

When I travel, I'm in no position to buy books of interest, or cards and images from the exhibitions I find amazing. I can't go printing off all the gems I find on the internet, and I can't pay for the time to copy things down word-for-word, or even shorthand. I'm forced to just look at the things I see that are wonderful, to read the information I want or need. Pay attention to it. Remember and absorb what I can, and then walk away. Later, I might take the time to write or sketch it out. I'm surprised at how much I remember, and it's interesting what comes out. Not exactly what I saw or read, more like something strongly-influenced but new, a creative fusion. And then ideas bubble and fizz and increase exponentially! It's magical.

When I'm in full-time employment, I rarely have the time to browse things, then let thoughts stew before writing or sketching them out. But I do have the money to buy the book. I build a great collection with little depth. For greater depth and personal creativity, it works better, not having.