Slow but mobile?

After a year in the UK, I'm now back in Brussels for a brief stint. It feels really good to be back! 

I don't know if it's the time of year or something about Brussels, but here I am, reviving the blog and seeking some slowness again. I think you feel you can have a slow life in Brussels, while London doesn't allow for that possibility. Here, there are more parks. You can walk to work. There are farmers' markets in every square. The main thing though is the size - it no longer takes forever to get from A to B, and you can genuinely ring up some friends on Saturday evening to propose a dinner party and be sitting down together within the hour.

There are some aspects of this life I can dive straight back into. Seasonal cooking! I've been squashing (see what I did there) as many different variants of pumpkin into my recipes as I can, and discovering new types along the way. (Spaghetti pumpkin - so easy, so yummy, so versatile...)

But many other aspects are harder to embrace when you find yourself changing jobs, home and even country every 6 to 12 months, which is the situation I am currently in. I absolutely love my job, both what I am doing now and the future prospects it offers, but the scheme I am on gives me no control over where I go and no ability to plan ahead. I get rotated every six months, and I am told 6-8 weeks beforehand where I will go next.

 

This means that things involving long time-periods (like brewing fruit wine), or space for storage (like homemade jam) or equipment (like a sewing machine) or bulky ingredients (like soap-making) are pretty much out. It does not make sense logistically, financially or for my sanity to lug large quantities of oil and lye around.

The one thing I have brought with me is my knitting. Needles do not take up much space, and I no longer have a stash of wool. 

 

But all the oh so many things I really want to do - and which I could very feasibly do in terms of time if I were living here longer - just don't make sense. A fruit tree in a pot - what do I do with it when I leave? Build a small worm-compost box - ditto.

How do you manage this compromise? Any ideas for more mobile simplicity?

Living well and with style without breaking the bank: "Orchids on your budget"

After an adventurous year with a new city, new career and many new challenges, I've been reflecting on what simple living means to me now.

The importance of living well on a budget, setting money aside to save for future goals and rainy days, is as important as ever. The career move I made last year meant moving to a more expensive city at the same time as taking a significant salary cut in order to 'start again' at entry level. Budgeting has become more challenging.

At the same time, the opportunities that this move has offered me in terms of building relationships and seeking new experiences - growing and developing as a person professionally, intellectually, creatively and emotionally - are immense. I want to take full advantage of them, of this moment in my life, but I have even less resources (time and money) at my disposal.

Many of the examples, blogs and books I have looked to in the last years demonstrate the importance and value of taking time out of the 'rat race', the value in reconnecting with the slower rhythms of the natural world rather than the rapid movements of popular culture. But much as I am drawn to many of these, and can often find elements to incorporate into my approach, it's hard to get away from the idea that they don't quite fit the moment I am in life. 

I know I'm oversimplifying, but it often feels that I am looking at a model of 'leaning out' of modern life - a move from urban to rural, from ambitious careerism to putting work second, an emphasis on time-intensive crafts and home-cooking. In a word, old-fashioned (and I don't mean that at all pejoratively, but as an approach which rediscovers and celebrates what sometimes forgotten or abandoned skills and tasks can offer us today.) 

What I am increasingly looking for is a model of simple living that enables me to 'lean in' - follow my professional ambitions, enjoy the best of city life without losing touch with country pleasures, and to live not just inexpensively but also with style. I want to be able to enjoy the high cultures of the city and the sports of the countryside, to present myself well at the office and enjoy feeling chic in my down-time, and to enjoy international travel today without making it impossible tomorrow.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have found a book which exactly bridges this gap. Which reaffirms the importance of budgeting, living below your means in order to save, and of exploring inexpensive pleasures. And which also argues it is possible to do all of this, and still have 'orchids', or rather to incorporate some luxuries into your life. 

"Orchids on your budget; Live smartly on what you have" was written in 1937, advising the ladies of New York that a reduced income doesn't mean they have to give up all hopes of being well-dressed, of entertaining in style and having the occasional orchids. The author, Marjorie Hillis, was assistant editor of Vogue and seems to have been a fascinating woman.

In many ways the advice offered is not new, and will be very familiar to many of us. Focus on big expenditures like what you pay for your home, and prioritise either size or location, but not both. Down-size and declutter as much as you can. Decorate using second-hand items, homemade bits, finds from thrift stores, and make it chic using a simple colour scheme. Look after your clothes, make sure they are properly maintained, cleaned and mended. Learn to cook well using inexpensive, local or seasonal ingredients.

The difference is that she focuses on style, panache, glamour. On building a wardrobe that is easy to maintain and chic, for example. She advises reading fashion magazines as you would an exam textbook to distil the key trends and using that to add a few inexpensive touches (eg an accessory rather than a full suit) to a capsule wardrobe so you look up to date without spending much on clothes you won't get much wear out of. 

Most of all, I loved the tone of the book, the witty and acerbic voice of Marjorie Hillis advising me to make good use of what I have, rather than complaining that I can't have more. My favourite quote is on her advice that everyone should have a hobby, should seek interesting things rather than waiting for them to find you: "Be a Communist, a stamp collector, or a Ladies’ Aid worker if you must, but for heaven’s sake, be something." For another taste of her 'voice', there's a good article on her earlier book "Live alone and like it" here. 

I enjoyed the independent, forward-thinking approach to women in the workplace - Marjorie Hillis also wrote a guide to 'spare women' on how to 'Life alone and like it', and urges women to see how they can earn something to support themselves or help the household budget go further, whether by going out to work or making use of their skills and resources in the home. One chapter is entitled 'Can you afford a husband?' - her sense of humour is apparent throughout.

She argues a lot is in attitude - the importance of enthusiasm, of creating fun for yourself and others rather than dwelling on what you wish you had, comes back again and again throughout the book. It's a fantastic complement to what has been written about slowing down, budgeting and 'making do and mending', but with added glitz. For anyone worried that living on a budget means giving up too much, this is a great source of tips for living glamorously on a shoestring.

Getting back into simple

So it took me longer than planned to write my next blogpost!

It sounds odd, but I rather fell out of simple living for a while. I felt the urge to put expensive goo on my face instead of homemade, and to buy trashy magazines.

I think on reflection I was trying to do too much too fast. I was determined to make my own clothes intead of buying them, but it's quite a leap from the occasional pair of pajama bottoms to a full-on professional wardrobe. After making do and mending most admirably for some time, the combination of January sales and impending new job had me running to the shops.

Not all bad, of course. I'm making it sound as if I blew a year's buget in a week. I bought clothes - but still relatively sensibly. Building on my experience with Project 333, I bought items that can be worn at work, home or socially, in a limited range of colours, in simple styles that will age well and that work well with my existing clothes.

But somehow it all fell off together. The clothes, the face cream, the make-up. The house uncleaned, the yoghurt unfermented, quilt unquilted, the blog unloved.

The last week or so I have found myself turning back to simple. It should not surprise me, but it does: I felt an almost immediate relaxing of a knot of tension I had not noticed as soon as I started revisiting my old inspirations, picking up my knitting, and caring better for the home around me.

So how do you get (back) into simple living? Here are my favourites.

1. Seek simple living inspiration

Browse blogs, books, tv programmes etc that encourage you to slow down and illustrate all the cool things you can do. Try here or here or here.

2. Make the bed

So simple. Makes the room look and feel tidier, starts you towards a morning routine, and makes you feel productive before you even change out of your pjs.

3. Have a clear-out

Decluttering always makes you feel lighter and better able to breath, somehow.

What about you, what are your favourite ways to find the simple rhythm again after a break?

Why simple living is for politicians too

This morning I was sitting in conference listening to influential people talk about what the European Commission should do for the next five years, and I was struck with one overriding thought. All the questions posed were around how the Commission should be structured and how it could achieve its goal. No one questioned what that goal should be - there was absolute consensus that Europe's number one goal should be growth, competitiveness and jobs.

I think there's a piece of that conversation missing. I think we urgently need to talk about what kind of Europe we want to build, to have a more nuanced picture of where we want to get to. Yes, we want to encourage creative people to establish innovative companies that generate jobs - but to me there is more to it than that. We're not asking about the non-economic cost of that growth.

One of the things that has consistently rung true with me in my simple living journey is the basic tenet (gleaned I think from Thoreau) that the cost of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it. This should apply in politics as much as when we declutter our wardobes. If we generate jobs at the cost of, for example, the health of citizens, or at the cost of our environment, or at the cost of a quality food chain, then have we really gained? How about if we generate growth and jobs by damaging the health and wellbeing of other parts of the world? I know it's very naive but I do think we should also try to ensure that our actions - and our policies - make the world a slightly better place rather than a slightly worse.

I know that these issues are not being overlooked. I'm aware of a lot of discussion and debate about investing in the future, in health, in environment, in education. I hear people making the point that some policies (such as investing in energy efficiency) are good for the environment and for competitiveness or growth. But I think we need to ask the question, and keep asking it.

This really reminded me of why I am trying to combine simple living with the career path I'm on. Much as simple living often seems to us a philosophy and a lifestyle for the countryside, for slow days in the garden and knitting on the porch and stew simmering on the porch, rather than for someone who is permanently attached to a smartphone, but I really believe that this is a lifestyle than can - should - must be compatible with all walks of life. More than that, I'd rather live in a country governed by people with an appreciation of the simple life than by people who aspire to ten bedrooms and a sports car. That's why I come back from work to hang laundry out on the balcony, wash dishes and cut up used clothes for patchwork.

Two steps back, three forwards

Life is definitely more of a rollercoaster than an ice-skating rink. That would be challenging but predictable. Who needs predictable?

Progress in life is generally two steps back and one forwards. There are always set-backs, challenges and unforeseen circumstances, but then we find our rhythm again. I've been very busy at work recently but over the last few days I have really enjoyed rediscovering simple satisfactions - my first batch of homemade yoghurt in a month, breakfast scones with a pot of coffee to start the Sunday, and slowing down to savour the ironing, the washing up and sweeping.

In this, I am very much enjoying having Rhonda Hetzel's book Down to Earth, which my lovely lovely sister gave me for a belated birthday gift and which is just perfect for dipping into for a moment of reflection and not a little inspiration.(If you haven't discovered Rhonda's blog then you need to follow this link now.)

Even though the housework, balcony garden, this blog and myriad other aspects of my simple living journey have fallen by the wayside in the last weeks, I notice that each time I come back to simplicity with renewed focus, renewed energy and renewed efficiency. This is partly because of the accumulation of skills and basic equipment (so I can now whip up a batch of yoghurt on demand without needing to do research) and partly because each time the whirling world of work and social life draw me away from simple living, it's even more blissful to come back to it, even more satisfying to gradually find a tidy, clean home emerge from the chaos. 

It's like taking a really deep breath, the sense of a knot of tension unravelling in your stomach that you get when you walk out of a major client meeting that you've been really anxious about.

So hello, everyone. I'm back. What did I miss?

Not the to-do list, or past and future challenges

We all have a to do list. I don't know about you, but mine is epic, vague, scattered across my computer, my phone and my memory, and nothing ever gets done. This is something I do intend to address.

However, today's post is not about the to do list, but the want to try list. I don't know if this happens to other people who start to build a more deliberate, individually crafted life, but the list of things I want to try keeps getting longer and longer and longer. I really want to render lard. Why? I don't use lard in anything, but maybe I could or should. And it's another skill, a historical one linking me with generations past, and one which would come in very handy should we ever raise and butcher our own animals (in another lifetime). Plus it looks so white and fluffy in blog posts. Want.

It's not a ripple when you drop a pebble in a pond - smooth, even circles gradually spreading. The process is more akin to simulations of how pandemic diseases spread (there's an example here if you don't know what I'm talking about). One dot glows. Then several close by. These fade as glowing dots appear, covering ground but seemingly hapharzadly, faster in some directions than others. It always looks a very wild kind of spread, unlike the orderliness of the ripples. (Hope I haven't freaked anyone out with the pandemic simulation!)

That's how simple living is evolving for me. Not a steady, orderly, progressive interest, but surges of interest in certain areas, drawing me into related fields, before another surge draws my attention elsewhere but the prior interest draws me back and soon, before I know where I am, I've covered the globe. 

Yoghurt making leads to cheese making and sourdough and beer and fermented foods. Homemade beauty proucts lead to homemade cleaning products, no-poo and growing my hair out, which leads me to begin to develop confidence in my own unconventional fashion choices prompting me to try Project 333 and ultimately set out to customise and handmake my wardrobe. Setting out to grow a few herbs introduces me to permaculture and soon I've put my name on an allotment waiting list and started looking into heirloom seeds, green manures and polytunnels. Now I find myself reading about rendering lard, building a garden smoker to smoke bacon at home, and goats' milk vs cows' milk.

I'm just taking a moment to step and think 'woah!' It's great that I've read loads on keeping chickens and am already aware that, for example, chickens are not naturally vegetarian, they like taking dust baths, they need grit in their diet and fresh eggs do not need refridgerating. However, given that keeping chickens is a long way off, maybe I should focus on things I can do now? So I can add to the progress I've made which, when I get caught up chatting with a colleague, seems to be rather a lot by 'normal Western life' standards. To be entirely honest with myself, reading about chicken-keeping is another form of escapism, a distraction from the life I'm trying to build here, today, and which requires me to step away from the computer screen.

It's very easy to get so caught up in the idea of the simple life that we put less energy into actually living it. Perhaps it's better to log off and just be present here.

Little things

Thank you for your kind comments on my posts!

As my working days have continued to be long and tiring, I've had little energy for new projects at home, but have savoured all the more the elements of a simple life which are already built into my surroundings.

The flower seeds I sowed last week have germinated with a much higher success rate than the herbs earlier this month - the sunflowers in particular are racing upwards and will very soon need planting up. The herbs are just about showing their first pair of true leaves - although several oregano seedlings feel afoul of a pest I identified thanks to t'internet as fungus gnat larvae, which I suspect are due to overwatering. (When I noticed the dead seedlings and the transparent wormy-thinks, and then found out what they were, I became a bit paranoid and spent longer than is healthy stooped over my seedlings with a tissue in one hand and a wooden toothpick in the other, removing and squishing all the larvae I could see.)

Though the days are warming up, the evenings are still cool. Most of the blankets are now in the linen cupboard but this one is draped over the back of the sofa. It makes me smile everytime I see it. This is the first blanket I ever made. There is a bit of a story - when my mother was little, she started making a crochet blanket to give to her grandmother. She never finished it - she gave her grannie a bag of squares, the rest of the yarn and the pattern - so making up a whole blanket with the pattern felt like finishing something inherited. It's mostly made from scraps from never-finished projects which I carried up to uni with me, all different weights of wool and totally different colours, but I love it.

My knitting and cross-stich tablecloth embroidery sit by the sofa in their new basket, which means they are tidily collected together but easily to hand if I feel up to a bit of crafting in the evenings. Somehow, I've still been able to put aside a few bits and bobs (spare coffee mugs we never use etc) for decluttering, and every day I am grateful for Project 333, as staying on top of the laundry and ironing, as well as getting dressed every morning, is kept manageable.

Finally, the daily tasks of doing the washing up and making the bed keep me grounded, reminding me that the stress at work is (hopefully) transient while the rhythms of home and family go on. (Don't ask that me about the rest of the housework.) 

How about you? What is making you smile today?

Blogs: Simple living inspirations

I have realised that my blog does not accurately reflect my inspirations. A recent comment from a reader about how great a fan I seem to be about a particular blogger gave me a moment of pause - because in fact I don't follow that particular blogger. I thought this blog should better reflect my influences, by perhaps taking a moment to tell you why they inspire me.

We all need simple living inspiration - blog porn that we can drool over while we ignore our humdrum, cluttered, modern surroundings. It helps us to articulate where we're going and how we're going to get there. There are a huge number, many of which I am only just discovering, but I wanted to share some of my favourites. As I have quite a few, I'm breaking them down - some blogs I go to for the crafting, some for the recipes, some for home beauty treatments, some for budgeting tips, some because I really relate to their journeys. Here are three of my favourite blogs for thought- (or envy-) provoking posts and inspirational pictures, reminding me of the life I want to lead.

Down to Earth - www.down---to---earth.blogspot.com

You can't really talk about simple living blogs without mentioning Rhonda's blog Down to Earth, it's almost an institution. Her gentle musings on the meaning of simple living, the joys to be found in your own home, and the important things in life; her encouragement of people starting out on this journey; and her simple tutorials for getting started - whether baking bread, making soap, using green cleaners or brewing ginger beer - are a godsend for the wannabe simple-liver. My sister has just bought me Rhonda's first book for my birthday - but it's waiting in the UK for our next meeting so I can only bite my fingernails with anticipation.

Purple Pear Farm - www.purplepearorganics.blogspot.com

Kate and her partner Mark live on their farm in Australia raising animals and plants and kids, not necessarily in that order. Enough land (and commitment) to take on the challenge of raising animals is a long way away for me but I really enjoy the peeps that Kate offers into the running of their farm, from organising birthday parties (oh how I wish I was ten again so I could have one of their parties!) to moving pigs from one area to another. Kate's blog makes me wish we were neighbours so I could ask her over to help me out with a difficult gardening challenge, or an epic jam-making session, or just a knitting bee.

Soule Mama - www.soulemama.com/soulemama

 
Amanda Blake Soule's blog is the ultimate visual feast, if like me you cannot get enough of pictures of quilting and knitting, home dairying and whatever happens to be on the kitchen table at the time. And they have sheep about to lamb! If planting seedlings is so exciting, what must your first lambs feel like? It's reassuring that even someone as far along their journey as Amanda still has new things to discover, but mostly I just love the colours and textures of her home and family life.

A simple living story - not mine, her's

Hello all! I have the day off today and I'm working through my chaotic paperwork, sorting and filing and decluttering as much as possible. I'm looking forward to the space on the shelves, but at the moment I'm still in the piles-of-paper-everywhere stage. Sometimes it just has to get worse before it gets better!

In my browsing, I've come across an old article in The Guardian written by a journalist who took a year off for health reasons. The unexpected year of domesticity surprised her - but I don't think it will surprise you, I think we're all discovering the hidden joys in our homes.

You can read her story here.

Washing up: A philosophical meander

Today I was going to share a bit of a rant, as the demands of my job have been rather high recently, but I decided that was too negative and I'd rather focus on a slightly more positive aspect.

Do you have a focal point, a part of your life or home where you see the progress you have made and (in your mind's eye) the changes you still want to make? This is mine:

It's the window to the balcony, next to the kitchen sink. This is the window I gaze through as I dry the washing up every day. In the mornings, I get my first glimpse of the sun welcoming me to the tasks of my day. On clear evenings, I watch the full moon loom large, asking silent questions without answers and keeping watch over the sleeping rooftops.

In the summer, the clotheshorse sits just outside this window and I can see the clothes moving in the breeze. In the winter, we use this space as extra cold storage and you can probably find the beer for the next rugby match out there.

Just in front of the window is a row of jars reminding me that that we now cook so much from scratch that we need to keep the flour, sugar and oats within easy reach, that I make my own breakfast cereal, and the shopping list reminds me that we plan our meals and weekly shops with care. The empty dishrack and shiny clean draining board make me smile.

I can mentally see the changes I have yet to make. The first potted plants of my urban veg patch will be here - herbs and salad leaves, within easy reach of the kitchen. I've been thinking about making some bunting from some of the fabric offcuts and old clothes in my ragbag. The window is rather dirty and I hope to try cleaning it with homemade cleaners soon, so the light can stream in even more. There may also one day be curtains here - perhaps lace or net to let the light in, or red check gingham because sod it, tradition is underrated.

This is a space I come back to several times a day and each time, I slow down and I think about how after every meal ever cooked, someone had to do the washing up. After they signed the Versailles treaty in 1919. At the height of the Cuban missile crisis. At the battle of Waterloo. At every moment in history, people still need to eat and someone still has to scrub the pots and pans. I wonder what they thought as they did it? Did they feel the weight of history hanging around them like a cloak, or were they grumbling about some dried-on food?

It makes me feel connected to everyone who ever washed a plate, it starts me thinking about the unobtrusive rhythms that shape the lives of everyone, from a President to the UN Secretary General to seemingly insignificant employees and people at home, little cogs in big wheels making society work. 

So today I'm consciously revisiting this space to give myself a bit of a hug and remind myself that simple living isn't so much about what you do or have or make, but how you approach the tasks and rhythms of your life - slowing down to savour them, thinking about the meaning behind them, and taking pride in a task well done - even if it is only the washing up.

Slower means faster (knitting)

I keep getting so much done! I don't know quite how it works, that I feel much more relaxed and less rushed, and yet I get so much more done on my days at home. (Note: this doesn't apply to workdays.) I meet friends and do laundry and bake bread and do ironing and still have time to sit with a cup of tea and knit.

Today I sewed together the panels of the cardigan I am knitting. I've been super excited about this, and waiting for a weekend when I can get the sewing machine out without feeling rushed. I actually finished all but one of the pieces in February but then had to wait for more yarn to arrive from the UK as I'd run out (and had to do quite a bit of research to match the yarn, as I bought this years ago and most places no longer stock it.)

It's actually beginning to look like a cardigan now! Super exciting! Now I'm picking up the stitches around the neck to knit the neckband in, and then just the button and buttonhole bands to go! This will soon be finished and and I can't wait to wear this - the first full garment (rather than scarves/gloves kind of thing) that I've knitted and I'm so surprised by how quickly it knitted up, and how much I've enjoyed the very visible, tangible progress of watching the knitting grow.

I'm really beginning to feel the impact of slowing down, consciously trying to be present in what I'm doing rather than having something on 'in the background', and giving each task my full attention. I finish sooner, do a better job, and feel motivated to move on to another task. I still have a long way to go yet before I feel fully on top of all aspects of managing my home and, well, my life, but I am really enjoying the journey.

And you? Any Saturday craftiness to share?

How much is too much?

I'm struggling with a dilemma. I am chafing at the bit to start another 'bit' of simple living. I'm torn - yoghurt? a sourdough starter? ginger beer? soap? - and I'm also keen to avoid biting off more than I can chew. 

I know that at the moment I feel on top of the 'simple strands' I'm already doing but I know how easily, how quickly it can become overwhelming. You only need to skip a few days for things to feel heavy again. I really, really want the changes I made last month to last - not just another month, but for good. 

I'm holding back on several fronts to try to make sure I am progressing slowly and sustainably, but I also don't want to limit myself overmuch when I'm feeling so enthused by my simple living journey, when it seems to be 'taking off' and I'm beginning to really feel the positive feedback loops.

I'm considering several factors. Yoghurt probably involves the smallest outlay - I have everything except the milk - and the most immediate reward, but I know that once I start making my own yoghurt, I'll want to carry on. Another set of tasks to be encorporated into my routine. I don't want to end up eating croissant from the supermarket for breakfast simply because I've run out of homemade yoghurt (yes it has happened before when I ran out of homemade cereal) - that would undo so much progress.

Soap is another possibility. It's a much bigger challenge and I would need to buy most of the ingredients, but I could probably make 6-12 months' worth of soap in one batch. That's quite tempting. That's quite a result from an afternoon's work.

I've been meaning to get around to trying to make ginger beer for some time, and I have pretty much everything I need - apart from a cloth to cover the jar with. I keep meaning to crochet a doily from leftover cotton yarn but it's another one of those things that I never get round to.

Finally, I want to take on the next decluttering challenge. I've known what the next project is for a while. Last month I tackled my wardrobe head on - this month I want to tackle all the paperwork and stationery cluttering up cupboards and shelves. You wouldn't believe how much there is and how badly organised, and I'm determined to clear some space.

Ah. Indecision. What next? Or is it still too soon after my last changes, should I focus on consolidating them? Please tell me you also face the same tricky decision.

There's so much time

When I first came to the concepts of simple living, slowing down and doing it yourself, I thought it would take a lot of time. Baking your own bread takes longer than buying it from the bakery, no? And so on across the board - we are exchanging our time for better quality, more ethical or more personalised products - food, clothes, household, leisure etc. 

This weekend has been very slow and simple - and yet I can't believe how much time I have. I keep looking at the clock incredulous that it is so early, that I can still do so many other things with my day.

Yesterday we had friends over to watch the rugby, so pretty much the whole afternoon was absorbed with drinking, eating, cheering and chatting. The morning was taken up with the weekly food shop. Yet somehow I had time to do a load of laundry, the week's ironing, some crochet, and make a pot of soup from leftover veggies from last week - with enough for me to take some into work next week.

Today, even after a lie-in and clearing up after yesterday, I have found time to make a batch of breakfast cereal, bake bread and prepare a pot of fruit salad for the week, in addition to tackling some paperwork. My boyfriend and I wandered around the local market (I picked up some yellow beetroot - a new discovery!) for a while, and later played a board game with a pot of tea. I've still had time to sit and read a book, to watch the skies turn orange, and to drink several cups of tea.

And now, I have plenty of time to sit down and work on this... A mystery? Ahah! All shall be revealed.

Where did all this time come from? What did I used to do before that took up so much time, and has since been dropped? I haven't been aiming to do anything, pushing myself to do more - just taking it slowly and savouring each activity. Where did the time come from?

Reflections on January 2014

For the last year or two, I have tried as regularly as possible to join in the Slow Living Month by Month series, started by Christine over at Slow Living Essentials. It's definitely a good tool to reflect on what I've done each month and remind myself of many areas where I don't do as much as I'd like.

However, I do feel that there are two or three key challenges which are becoming major themes in my journey, in this blog, and it would be good to take a moment to reflect on those separately and more informally.

So, January. First month of the year, traditionally a time for much-touted new beginnings and overambitious resolutions which last all of three days. I can't even remember what my resolutions were, but I am definitely feeling more purposeful in general, more on-track in terms of where I want to be, and also more content with where I am now, accepting that life is a journey.

Clutter - Living well with less

One of the biggest changes this month is that I have started Project 333. For the uninitiated, this essentially means putting 80% of my clothes and shoes in the basement, and living with 33 items of shoes and clothing for three months. I was a little nervous, and thought I might end up recycling the same few outfits on endless loop, constantly running out of clothes and stressing about the laundry. 

In fact, I'm loving it. I'm wearing loads of variations that I've never worn before, and have started to receive compliments on my clothes/outfit at least once a week from friends and colleagues, which is definitely new. Caring for my clothes becomes less daunting, with fewer of them to worry about, so I no longer scrunch worn clothes into a ball at the back of the cupboard. Clothes clean enough to be re-worn are hung up or folded. Clean clothes are ironed. Shoes are polished and waterproofed. Damages are repaired. It's all just much more manageable, and much less work. I'm even doing fewer loads of laundry.

It's also making me rethink how I approach my clothes, and I'm very slowly starting to improve my wardrobe - so the clothes are better fitting, more colourful and just more of an expression of me and my life. I'm already mentally preparing to let quite of lot of the clothes in storage go when I change them around in April.

Routines - Making housework easy

This month I've been holding back on urges to be ambitious and plan lots of routines. I'm focusing on allowing new habits to evolve however and wherever is easiest. Basically, the stuff I do that has an immediate positive feedback gets repeated, until it sticks. Taking more care with my clothes, it seemed the next thing to do to set out an outfit for the next day every evening. Doing the washing up in the morning before going to work makes the evening's pile less daunting, makes a more pleasant kitchen for my boyfriend to bake in, and offers me a moment of domesticity before work. 

The latest evolution is an extension of that. I got sick of the dirty floor one evening last week and cleaned it. And it was so lovely I wanted to keep it that way, so I've started sweeping the kitchen floor each morning as well. It takes me about three minutes but it makes such a noticeable difference. But I'm trying to be careful not to add to this - I want to give myself time for each new habit to become normal.

Self-discipline - Resisting temptation

I do struggle to motivate myself to not eat the chocolate bar, to go for a run, to get off the sofa and do the hoovering, to pay the bill that came in the post. I'm trying to improve my self-discpline in general, and finding that at the moment it really comes down to food and sport.

 

Basically, when I eat fruit salad and yoghurt for breakfast, I have MILES more energy and mental clarity during the day than just about anything else. Ditto for having a soup or salad for lunch, rather than a sandwich, and ditto again for snacking on fruit, vegetables and nuts through the day rather than less healthy options. It sounds sickeningly healthy and I'm not yet sticking to it everyday but it makes a very obvious difference to how I feel and thus on every other part of my life. My big achievement this month is that I HAVE NOT EATEN A SINGLE CHOCOLATE CHIP BISCUIT ALL MONTH. (NB this does not also apply to other kinds of biscuit, but I'm still going to celebrate it as an achievement.

The same goes for sport. If I get out for a run, I feel so much better afterwards, and yet it's still a struggle to motivate myself. A job with long hours is too easy an excuse not to do sport, and the same goes for the swimming pool's opening hours, the terrible weather outside, a sore back etc. I've done a little better this month than some, but I'm still not close to where I want to be (half an hour, five days a week).

Finding the balance

Welcome to everyone dropping by from Rhonda's blog Down to Earth! I hope you enjoy my musings.

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Most days, I feel that my simple living philosophy and my challenging job are in conflict.

Today, I feel that they are in balance. Mostly because I managed to take a half-day's leave, so I very much have the best of both worlds. (Maybe part time is the answer?) I had a very full morning at work, and then came home to hoover, put on a load of laundry and settle in with a cup of tea for a little reflection and some crochet.

I've been thinking a lot over the last couple of days why I feel such a sense of satisfaction from the few parts of homemaking that I am on top of - having a clean, tidy kitchen; having fresh bedsheets on the bed or in the cupboard - compared to the frustration of never quite being good enough at work. I think it's largely because I am my own boss at home - I set the standards, and I know (at least at the moment) that I am making slow, steady, sustainable progress. This in turn allows me to take pride in what I am doing right, without letting the areas where I still have so far to go from bringing be down (much.)

Even though I have a boss - or several - who set their standards of success, why not try to take the mindset I have at home into the workplace? Focus more on standards I set myself rather than those others set for me, think more proactively about what I want to give at work, allow myself to structure my workload and my day to help improve my focus as much as possible.

I know that I work much better when I am focused - the kind of focus you get in a competitive judo match, when you have to stay loose to be able to react quickly, remain somewhat detached to be able to pick up on subtle cues and read your opponent's body language, and think clearly on your strategy, without getting distracted by passing thoughts. I don't often find this mental place at work but I think in general I am far less likely to let small but essential tasks slip through the cracks, more tuned in to the details, and also contribute to a more positive atmosphere in the team. In contrast, when tense and stressed, I make silly mistakes, beat myself up over them, and get defensive when confronted on them.

The more I think about it, the more I see ways I could use work to practice some simple living skills. More efficient practices, better focus and mindfulness, less distraction and procrastination. Being organised, knowing where things are, planning ahead, doing today whatever I can to reduce tomorrow's workload, facing up to challenging decisions or difficult conversations and tackling them head on.

Today, I'm just enjoying a cup of tea on a relaxed, sunny afternoon at home with my boyfriend - a very rare but wonderful treat.

Organic routines

I have recently been mulling over the commonalities across the individual and unique simple lives - mine and those I see in my geographic and virtual community. I think routines is probably one of them. Whether it's a routine for milking your goat, a routine for baking bread, a routine for getting yourselves out of the house in the morning, we all have routines.

I've made several attempts in recent years to develop my routines to encompass more of the activities I want to undertake. Ideally - in the fantasy life in my head - my routines cover all aspects of housework, cleaning and maintenance, as well as my own health and wellbeing. I go running, I mop the floors, and it all happens easily and almost invisibly because it's routine.

As anyone struggling with self-discipline will know, anything that is already routine is SO MUCH EASIER than pushing yourself to do something out of the ordinary. I want to bring more activities into this.

However, I've made several attempts to 'construct' routines. Last spring, I sat down, listed all the jobs that need to be done on a daily, weekly, monthly or annual basis and divided them up, breaking them into one thing a day throughout the year. It was beautiful and balanced and it lasted about three weeks before it just fizzled out. It was too much too quickly.

Last autumn, I tried again with something smaller. I tried adding one small task - wiping down the bathroom sink - to my morning routine. That also lasted about three weeks before it just fizzled out.

This month, something rather unexpected has happened. Rather than setting out intentionally to add something to my routine, something has just, well, fallen into it. I've started washing up the breakfast dishes before I leave the house. Haphazardly. I wasn't setting out to do it, I wasn't planning a New Year's routine change. It was something I just happened to do on my first day back at work this year - no particular reason, it just occurred to me to do it, as I was running a little early for once and looking for something little to do in that time - and somehow I've kept on doing it.

It's teeny tiny but is having a rather welcome impact on my life. It means I go to work feeling already ahead with the day, feeling in control, feeling good about having achieved something, even something so pathetically small. It means the washing up after dinner in the evenings is less work, which in turn means I procrastinate about it less, do it earlier and have more enjoyable evenings. I suspect it makes for a cleaner, more pleasant kitchen for my boyfriend to cook in because he's even done a bit of evening baking (normally reserved for the weekends.)

It also means I get to do something domestic in the morning. To be honest, and I can't believe I'm saying this, I am starting to find washing up rather relaxing. It's slow. It's meditative. As I wipe the bowls and put them back in the cupboard, I can look out on the balcony at the early morning sunshine and think where I am going to put the herb pot, I look around the tidy kitchen and feel good about the newly oiled chopping board all warm and golden. It gives me a moment of slow and simple living before my mental space and energies are drawn into my job.

I'm not stressing about this. I hope it stays but I'm not going to push myself. I'm now at just about the three week mark, so this might also fizzle out, but I hope it doesn't. I wonder if there are any more habits which might just naturally fall into place? I rather like the idea of organic routine-building, each new leaf gradually unfurling one by one, and no clear idea where the next will be.

Do you have any preferred methods for adapting and building routines?

Tooled up

I've been thinking a lot about what defines simple living recently, about what is at the centre of it and what links the very different simple lives that are chronicled in various places. Some live in cities and some on farms, some are young and single or in couples like me, others have young families or are nearer retirement age, and we're scattered around the globe. Are there a few key principles that we share?

I think there are a few basic 'tenets' that apply to simple living wherever you choose to live it. With the proviso that 'we figure they're more guidelines than actual rules', because tenet number one is that we all have to forge our own paths.

The common theme I want to address today is tools. Whatever life we lead, whatever activities we undertake in whatever environment, we all use tools of some kind. Living more deliberately leads us to think about our tools a little differently, I think - they are assistants who make a task a little easier, and we begin to reward this contribution by looking after them. I never thought before about whether I cleaned the mop and bucket after cleaning the floor, and I didn't even realise you could clean a washing machine.

Now this seems obvious, basic - if the washing machine smells of mildew, then the clothes I wash in it will do so too. If I don't regularly replace or clean the sponge and cloths I use for washing dishes and wiping surfaces, they will just become breeding grounds for bacteria and will leave my home dirtier rather than cleaner.

Cleaning tools, cooking tools, crafting tools. The shower head, the mattress, the sewing machine, the kettle, the laptop. All will benefit from some kind of maintenance and will perform better. If you were running a company, you would ensure that the essential machinery was cleaned, inspected and repaired in good order, so why should it be any different for the home?

One further addition to the list of tools. Project 333 has got me thinking about my clothes as I haven't before, and I think they should also be added. They also need to be cleaned and mended with an understanding of their construction, and they can also make our activities (from work to weeding) easier or more complicated.

Of course, it can just seem like another task, another chore in the endless round of work that is keeping a home, but as I was oiling the wooden spoons I found myself meditating on this theme. It's more than just another thing to do - it's about understanding how the tool works, what it needs, and what to use to deliver that. Knowing which oils you can use for wooden spoons, knowing how to clean a washing machine with baking soda and vinegar (digression: is there anything in this world which cannot be cleaned with baking soda and vinegar?), knowing that vinegar dissolves the limescale in a kettle or a shower head.

We're chemists, after a fashion. With a basic understanding of microbiology, woodwork, engineering and computer science thrown in for good measure. And I find that level of understanding feels rather empowering. (When I have it, at least, which I don't always. Which is very frustrating!)

A minimalist cabin

This post is part of a series on homes that inspire me, as part of mulling over what my dream house looks like. Part One | Part Two

After losing pretty much everything in the economic crash and housing bubble burst, Carmella and her husband found themselves without a home and without jobs. Cue a serious rethink about what they wanted from life and a relocation. But they needed somewhere to live, a transportable habitat (I can't bring myself to refer to this lovely cabin as a 'mobile home') to house themselves and their family.

So they designed a small wooden cabin, just 62 square meters (or 665 sq ft to those of you on Imperial). And somehow - how how how?? - they fit two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a spacious living room with  a kitchen and a dining area. The whole house is wood painted white, it looks so light and spacious, and all the little design touches are so intentional, so beautiful, so much an expression of this family and what they have chosen to bring with them. They've clearly had a difficult journey but they've also clearly built themselves a truly lovely home.

 

Even the end table has a really lovely story of its own. I've always dreamed of living in a home where every single thing has a story to tell, and they are living exactly that. It is possible!! Who knew?

I am so impressed and intrigued by how they manage to use space so effectively, to get so much valuable living area and so much clever storage and room for a family with kids in a space that is smaller than my flat. How much comes down to the design and layout of the space itself, and how much to how you use it? This cabin makes me wonder how much more I could do with the space we have.

They've also brought this in for a very small budget. That kitchen counter? It might look like soapstone but it's plain old plywood, with clever paint treatment. All over the house there are clever tricks and tips that turn normally unused space into functional design features, like the blackboard panel over the electric fuse box, or the specially designed cupboard over the fridge which holds baking trays and tools.

You can read all about their story, and enjoy the gorgeous photographs of their lovely home, on their blog. (If you can't follow the link, it's called Assortment. Google it already.) All photos are from the blog, used by kind permission, and I really urge you to go browse and take a look. The cabin has also just featured on the cover of Country Living, so there are even more lovely photos over there. If you're inspired to build your own house along the same lines, they do even share the plans...

Slow and steady

It takes time to build a slower, simpler, more deliberate life. It doesn't happen overnight. But it's easy to get impatient, to be super enthusiastic, and to try everything at once, make a total shift. It's very tempting to try making cheese, baking bread, planting a garden, making soap, sewing a tablecloth and knitting a jumper all at once.

The problem with this is that it's overwhelming. Each new skill, each step, takes time. There are new skills to learn, which may take years to fully develop, and possibly new materials to get to know. Then you will need to experiment to see how the new 'thing' fits into the rest of your life, and how you can best use it towards your goals. In all this there will be much trial and error, with a good helping of frustration. 

There may well be tantrums, and I have had plenty - over bread that just wouldn't form a nice, bready dough but insisted on remaining very wet. Over beeswax resolutely adhering to a measuring jug. Over curtains that became all twisted as they were sewn. Over struggling to stitch a buttonhole on a shirt.

Focusing your efforts on one 'thing' at a time - a new skill, a new habit, a new recipe - means that you give yourself the time and space to get to grips with that one thing more fully. Once you have achieved a degree of comfort, even if not proficiency (ie your bread isn't perfect but it is edible) you can think about adding something else in to the mix.

Throwing yourself headlong into a multitude of crafts and activities just makes it more likely that the frustrations will win out, and you'll give up. Focus instead on conquering just one thing, and treat it as an exercise in focus, in patience, resilience, self-will. Multitasking just means doing several things poorly instead of one thing well, I have found. Focusing on one thing allows you to progress further quicker in that area. You notice your progress, you can feel proud and that motivates you to keep going.

Each activity also very naturally opens up 'extensions.' You might start experimenting with recipes to try your own thing. Baking bread might lead you to try other forms of grain, get a small mill to grind flour fresh, or make your own butter to accompany it. That might in turn lead to trying out scones and biscuits using the buttermilk, or a foray into homemade costmetics as buttermilk is so good for your skin. Perhaps buttermaking draws you into cheeses, or handling grains prompts you to try brewing beer or making barley water. Let your journey evolve naturally. Start from where you are and see where it leads you.

I have really been trying to keep this in mind recently, as I am definitely experiencing a renewed focus on the simple, deliberate life. I am continually tempted to get some cushion inserts so I can make cushions for the living room or do a workshop in woodwork, pottery or jewellery-making, or have a go at making cheese, soap, yogurt or beer. These are all things I want to get to but I am continually reminding myself to slow down, to consolidate the gains I've already made this month, and to take the time to enjoy where I am now, enjoy the journey, rather than focusing on a 'destination'. In fact I think I will probably never feel I am doing 'enough' simply because there will always be more things I want to do, to make, to explore - but I'm beginning to see that as a good thing!

Revolution or tradition?

I am fortunate enough to live in a very international city, surrounded by people from different parts of the world. For the people around me, the choices I am making as part of this simple living journey have different associations and connotations than they do for me.

For me, simple living is my revolution. It contrasts with what I suppose I could call ‘the family average.’ As a teenager I spent a fair amount of time knitting and doing cross stitch, rather than getting drunk in the park. (Don’t get me wrong, I did my bit of getting drunk as a student, but that’s a different story. And I still crocheted my first blanket in my last year at uni.) When my mother refused to teach me to darn my socks (“Just buy some more!”) I taught myself using the 1940s Make do and mend booklet.

This is just one thread of our family story, not the whole story. We also used to pick strawberries to make our own jam, and my mother taught me how to knit and to sew, so there are many useful and precious skills and values that were taught to me, but I am unusual in focusing so much on these things, and I think it is fair to say that while my family would say they share many of the values behind simple living, I am the only one to prioritise them and identify them as a philosophy in quite this way. It certainly feels like I’m making a different choice, even if the underlying principles are not really that different.

For my friends from different backgrounds, it’s another story. I first realised this when I met one of my closest friends for a cup of tea in café. We were drinking hot chocolate, and in Belgium they always put a little sachet of sugar next to the mug. (Because, y’know, it’s not sweet enough already…) She put her sachet in her bag. When I asked why, she explained that she always took these unused sachets of sugar home and kept them by the kettle for use in tea or coffee. It’s already paid for in the price of the drink, after all, so why waste it? 

This frugality was rather unexpected, my friend is not struggling to pay her bills, always dresses in high quality clothes, and often goes out for dinner, to the cinema, to the theatre and so on. I was intrigued, but of course it all made sense when she started talking about her childhood growing up in 1980s Poland. As she put it, ‘child of communism.’ They always had to be careful with what they used, not necessarily because they were poor, but simply because so many goods were hard to come by. She told me how much she used to enjoy darning socks (enjoy!), and shared a number of tips that her mother used – old clothes turned into rags for cleaning, for example. For her, these tips and tricks are things she is glad she doesn’t need any more, but she can use them when she wants to. They’re not something to be rediscovered, there’s no reskilling involved – it’s just an attitude of not wasting.

So of course, I offered her my sugar sachet, and now whenever we meet for coffee she leaves two sachets up. (Neither I nor my boyfriend drinks sugar in our tea/coffee). I also started thinking about frugality differently. My friend is not a spendthrift, but even when she’s out having fun, she’s making sure she doesn't waste anything she pays for.

It’s a similar story with my boyfriend, who comes from South America. I see this with how much money he thinks is a reasonable amount to put aside for the future. My parents encourage saving – but they encourage putting a little aside each month, to enable you to buy a new coat or go on holiday later in the year. 

For my boyfriend, who remembers economies crashing and Presidents changing so fast you could blink and miss one, who saw businesses collapse and jobs disappear, saves to be independent. He doesn't take it for granted that he will always have a job, or that the government will step in with assistance for those struggling, and he knows that the worst can and sometimes does happen. He saves so that if a crisis comes, whether that’s ill health or a family emergency or losing a job, or something bigger, we can weather it a little more easily. 

It’s dramatically changed my saving attitude too. He suggested – and I agreed – that a sensible ‘buffer’ or emergency fund should contain enough money to enable you to survive for a year without income. If we both lose our jobs tomorrow, we have twelve months – time to look for a job. Time to sell our house if we have one, and move to somewhere smaller with a lower rent. 

This attitude is contagious – I am also much more careful with money generally now, much more aware that the world is less secure than it seems from inside the Western bubble, and aware that just because life is good now doesn't mean it always will be. That doesn’t mean we hole up in a nuclear bunker and prepare for the apocalypse, but it does mean that I appreciate what I have now much more, knowing that it is not certain, not automatic, not a right recognised by the impersonal universe.

For many of my friends and my boyfriend, many of the aspects we are discovering as part of a simple living journey – living with a budget, reducing waste, mending rather than discarding, planning and saving for the future – are not new concepts but basic tenets which are known to, even if not practiced by, most people. While some people in the more developed world might consider that this simple living approach is weird and alternative, to much of the world, this is just basic life skills.