“The greatest gift of life on the mountain is time. Time to think or not think, read or not read, scribble or not scribble — to sleep and cook and walk in the woods, to sit and stare at the shapes of the hills.”
― Philip Connors
There was no Internet where I was last week but a truly wonderful land to explore. A few photos above. Welcome back friends!
My resolution of not buying anything new has been influencing my thoughts and feelings since the beginning of this year in ways that I didn’t expect.
The initial impressions were those of excitement and motivation. I was filled with nice and heart-warming sensations. I felt liberated and appreciated the beauty and luxury around. The first weeks of not buying gave me almost instantaneously a sense of pride and accomplishment to the point that I was almost congratulating myself on how undisturbed my routines and mindset were to that point. I’ve been on the top of the world and then things started changing this week… I’ve started changing this week…
I’ve been examining the contents of our house and I’ve been discovering things… items that I have bought at various stages of my life… things that I have bought for myself and my son at a whim… objects that I found…
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Six months without buying anything new seems like a long period of time, but it is not. It is just six months, not six years, not sixteen and not sixty. It is just six odd months of reusing, borrowing, repairing and buying second-hand. Nothing new hasn’t defined my lifetime. But it has and will be defining the lifetime of others.
I must admit I had a moment of panic when I started the nothing new project. It wasn’t about not being able to buy things but it was about losing friends, losing opportunities to socialise and hang around together. I felt trapped. You see… one of the things that I decided to give up was coffee and you know how the world looks like these days – you meet at a coffee shop, you chat and giggle over a steamy black or frothy white drink. It’s isolating not to be able to have a cup of coffee with a friend, isn’t it?
I think this fear was triggered by the memories of my first year in the UK, when as a student I wasn’t really able to afford cups of coffee or dinners. It was serious. I was studying as well as working many hours per week as a waitress in pubs or restaurants. I wasn’t earning much, had no student loan, paid my rent and food from what I earned as a waitress so I really couldn’t afford many indulgences. If I had spent my money on those things I wouldn’t have been able to pay for my electricity bill in winter, the flight back home for Christmas or books for studying. I remember I used to do overtime just to be able to go for a coffee with a friend to discuss essays and literature. Tough time. Glad that it’s over. More than over. Now I have a choice. I have a choice to buy or not to buy and I am making the choice not to buy almost nonchalantly. Just because I can.
It doesn’t make me proud. Very often it makes me feel uncomfortable. “To buy or not to buy?” is not a question that offers two options to everyone. For many, “to buy” is just a matter of upgrading, changing or improving. For others, “to buy” means choosing between two or more necessities, two or more human rights: the right to study, the right to sleep, the right to have warm food, the right to socialise, and even the right to go to work. It feels comfortable and snug to be in the first group. It feels alienating and vulnerable to be in the second one. ‘Nothing new’ is not their choice. It’s not a lifestyle. It’s survival.
Postcards Without Stamps 