Today I helped clean out some closets at my church building. With the calling shuffle, we needed to know what was actually in the various Primary closets, since our now-released fearless leader was pretty much the only one who knew where everything was.
I found it interesting that I was the one who pushed to toss/recycle stuff we didn't need. I've been progressively minimizing the amount of stuff I own, and given the amount of junk I've gone through so far, I've had a lot of practice at gauging need relatively quickly. While I don't believe in waste, I also don't believe in keeping things that you realistically aren't going to use. Given that I used to keep 10-year old balloons, boxes of dried paints, and clothes from elementary school, I am pretty proud of how far I've come. Today allowed me to celebrate that a little.
Along the minimalism lines, I've been thinking more about eReaders. I've gone from being opposed to owning one, to being theoretically okay with one, to kinda wanting one. There is a huge appeal in trimming down our overflowing bookcases (the biggest remaining front of stuff), but the cost is the stickler for me. Paper books are still so much cheaper, since I pretty much only buy used. The local library has an increasingly decent collection of ebooks, though, so renting would be an option.
One conundrum is what to do with the paper books I already have? Ideally, I'd like to only keep my favorites, selling the rest (or at the very least ensuring that they have good homes). Selling is a bit tricky, since books are so cheap to begin with; Amazon buys a handful of used books, and then there are used book dealers...but I'd need to discover the ones out here. (If we were back in Berkeley, I could get to the used book places with my eyes closed, partially because there were so many of them.)
An then there is the issue of what to get (if anything at all). A Kindle/Nook is easier on the eyes, but an iPad is more versatile. I think I lean towards the book-specific readers rather than the more general tablets, mostly because I don't need another window to the internet. Plus eink readers have much better battery life, and Kindle at least has a "free" 3G option, i.e. no monthly payment plan, hence kindle is also better for travel abroad. And then the classic, touchscreen, or keyboard? I'm leaning touchscreen w/3G and no ads, but that's double the price of the classic. Uf.
One thing that I need to do more research on is the reading of academic papers digitally. If I would be comfortable with reading papers and maybe even taking notes on an eink device, that would be a strong selling point. I've read mixed reviews on the topic so far, but many of them were from the early kindle days.
It's one of those things that I'll hem and haw about for a few weeks and then make an abrupt decision one way or the other. I really wish there was an obvious choice, but I think there's just no ideal situation yet, at least given the constraints I'm imposing.
20120415
20111213
paper and pixels
My gut reaction to new devices is "don't need it."[1] E-readers, smartphones, tablets, whatever. Don't need it. My seminar on the future of the book has changed that a little. I can now see the place for digital books, and would actually love to have a good color e-ink (not LCD) reader for pdfs and one-time reads. The system isn't set up to work the way I want to use it, though. Supposedly you can use your public library to gain access to ebooks, but even our huge library doesn't have access to the digital versions of anything on my reading list. I'm not paying anything for something I'll read once, even if it's cheaper because it's digital. And Amazon is still missing a lot of stuff. So no e-reader for me for now. The for now is the concession I've made.
One thing that came up in class was the advantages and disadvantages of each form. I got in a match with my professor, each of us claiming that we could list five things off the top of our heads why one form was better than another (he's a digital advocate, I'm dedicated to bound). We didn't actually list five each, but I wanted to make those lists for comparison, so here they are. The advantages of bound books will only decrease with time, but these my current top five.
Advantages of Digital Books
- easily searchable
- more ergonomic to use (due to a lightweight and balanced form)
- conducive to a minimalist lifestyle (fewer physical things to manage)
- easier to travel with (smaller/lighter)
- instant access to one's entire personal collection and also to purchasable content
Advantages of Bound Books
- superior random access [2]
- cheaper (due to libraries/borrowing/sharing and buying used) [3]
- easier to consume from multiple vendors
- more accessible interface (no manual, forums, or help needed)
- apocalypse-proof (or able to withstand long-term power-loss/reduction)
I have no idea what is more stainable. On the one hand, bound books mean paper, which means harvesting trees. On the other, we have rare metals (and thus probably fair-trade issues), but also electricity consumption.
I don't think I'll ever go all-digital, but who knows. Even art books might be addressable eventually. The biggest hurdle will be converting my preexisting collection of bound books into digital books. And sharing. I need to be able to share my books without having folks borrow my entire library (i.e. the device).
It basically comes down to cost. I'm not willing to re-buy everything I have nor am I willing to pay 10 to 20x more for a slight increase in convenience. I could deal with everything else if I could get any book for $0.50, which is the standard cost of paperbacks at library used-book sales. Heck, I'd be willing to pay the hardback $1. But as long as the alternative to borrowing a book from the library is to pay an insane amount, I'll stick with my bound books. They need to market books on the app cost scale for real viability; most books should be under a couple of dollars.
[1] Right now, anyway. I used to be a huge gadget person--I had a PDA in middle school, even though that's obviously not something a middle-schooler needs. Shall we schedule hanging out in the quad for 3:10pm?
[2] With digital books, there's no good way to hold a finger in one place and flip to another, nor is there a good mechanism for flipping through the book to find non-text.
[3] One thing that weighs on me is that a shift to digital books makes reading more privileged, at least as currently implemented. Sure, free ebooks are great, but most of the free ones are epub, which Kindle doesn't support. So do you forgo Amazon's selection and go for a Nook? How about an iPad with apps to do everything for $500? Laptops are cheaper. I'm pitching my Occupy eBooklandia tent.
One thing that came up in class was the advantages and disadvantages of each form. I got in a match with my professor, each of us claiming that we could list five things off the top of our heads why one form was better than another (he's a digital advocate, I'm dedicated to bound). We didn't actually list five each, but I wanted to make those lists for comparison, so here they are. The advantages of bound books will only decrease with time, but these my current top five.
Advantages of Digital Books
- easily searchable
- more ergonomic to use (due to a lightweight and balanced form)
- conducive to a minimalist lifestyle (fewer physical things to manage)
- easier to travel with (smaller/lighter)
- instant access to one's entire personal collection and also to purchasable content
Advantages of Bound Books
- superior random access [2]
- cheaper (due to libraries/borrowing/sharing and buying used) [3]
- easier to consume from multiple vendors
- more accessible interface (no manual, forums, or help needed)
- apocalypse-proof (or able to withstand long-term power-loss/reduction)
I have no idea what is more stainable. On the one hand, bound books mean paper, which means harvesting trees. On the other, we have rare metals (and thus probably fair-trade issues), but also electricity consumption.
I don't think I'll ever go all-digital, but who knows. Even art books might be addressable eventually. The biggest hurdle will be converting my preexisting collection of bound books into digital books. And sharing. I need to be able to share my books without having folks borrow my entire library (i.e. the device).
It basically comes down to cost. I'm not willing to re-buy everything I have nor am I willing to pay 10 to 20x more for a slight increase in convenience. I could deal with everything else if I could get any book for $0.50, which is the standard cost of paperbacks at library used-book sales. Heck, I'd be willing to pay the hardback $1. But as long as the alternative to borrowing a book from the library is to pay an insane amount, I'll stick with my bound books. They need to market books on the app cost scale for real viability; most books should be under a couple of dollars.
[1] Right now, anyway. I used to be a huge gadget person--I had a PDA in middle school, even though that's obviously not something a middle-schooler needs. Shall we schedule hanging out in the quad for 3:10pm?
[2] With digital books, there's no good way to hold a finger in one place and flip to another, nor is there a good mechanism for flipping through the book to find non-text.
[3] One thing that weighs on me is that a shift to digital books makes reading more privileged, at least as currently implemented. Sure, free ebooks are great, but most of the free ones are epub, which Kindle doesn't support. So do you forgo Amazon's selection and go for a Nook? How about an iPad with apps to do everything for $500? Laptops are cheaper. I'm pitching my Occupy eBooklandia tent.
20111030
materialism and minimalism
In my last post, I made a tangential remark about how conscious minimalism is a kind of materialism and I wanted to elaborate on that further.
First, I wanted to make the distinction between conscious minimalism and inherent minimalism, terminology that I'm making up as I go. Inherent minimalism is when someone doesn't really like possessions at all and they are a minimalist without even thinking about it. Folks who are inherent minimalists don't buy into consumer culture naturally, tend not to care about ownership, and focus almost exclusively on non-tangibles: their work, philosophy, religion, etc.. Their possessions are replaceable. There aren't a lot of pure inherent minimalists, but what I'm really doing is describing one end of the spectrum.
At the other end, we have conscious minimalists. They are very aware of their possessions and desires to own things, but want to curb those desires; they have probably accepted consumer culture to some degree and are trying to reject it. They want to only have what they need and plan out what that is and why. They see minimalism as a type of aesthetic or a desirable way of living and have to work hard to achieve it. They are materialists because they think about and put value on physical objects. Their possessions might be hard to replace because they have specific, planned functions or emotional ties.
In general, I'm more on the side of an conscious minimalist, but have shifted a little toward inherent minimalism at times. I think both have their value. On the one hand, it's really liberating to be totally free not only from excessive ownership, but the desire to own things at all. On the other, materialism leads to a deeper appreciation of objects and their functions, which in turn leads to appreciation of our surroundings and peers. If I don't appreciate the materialism of the meal that has been placed in front of me, it's a lot harder to appreciate the work that has gone into preparing it and the beauty of the preparation process. We need both: the physical grounding and the elevation of mind.
First, I wanted to make the distinction between conscious minimalism and inherent minimalism, terminology that I'm making up as I go. Inherent minimalism is when someone doesn't really like possessions at all and they are a minimalist without even thinking about it. Folks who are inherent minimalists don't buy into consumer culture naturally, tend not to care about ownership, and focus almost exclusively on non-tangibles: their work, philosophy, religion, etc.. Their possessions are replaceable. There aren't a lot of pure inherent minimalists, but what I'm really doing is describing one end of the spectrum.
At the other end, we have conscious minimalists. They are very aware of their possessions and desires to own things, but want to curb those desires; they have probably accepted consumer culture to some degree and are trying to reject it. They want to only have what they need and plan out what that is and why. They see minimalism as a type of aesthetic or a desirable way of living and have to work hard to achieve it. They are materialists because they think about and put value on physical objects. Their possessions might be hard to replace because they have specific, planned functions or emotional ties.
In general, I'm more on the side of an conscious minimalist, but have shifted a little toward inherent minimalism at times. I think both have their value. On the one hand, it's really liberating to be totally free not only from excessive ownership, but the desire to own things at all. On the other, materialism leads to a deeper appreciation of objects and their functions, which in turn leads to appreciation of our surroundings and peers. If I don't appreciate the materialism of the meal that has been placed in front of me, it's a lot harder to appreciate the work that has gone into preparing it and the beauty of the preparation process. We need both: the physical grounding and the elevation of mind.
20110211
The Privilege of Refusal
This is the second of three mini-essays on privilege; the first one is here.
I first began thinking of the privilege of refusal in my attempts to live a simpler, more minimalist life. I came to the realization that I know when I rid myself of an item, I am able to replace it if I really need it after all. It is safe for me to refuse or reject things because all of my needs are easily met.
Any time something is refused it is a manifestation of privilege, even if the individual refusing is in need of the offering. Consider a hungry man who refuses a meal. Why would he possibly do so? It could easily be as a sacrifice for his child, because he chooses to adhere to a particular diet backed by moral or religious reasons, because he is confident of receiving food later by other means, or simply out of pride. In each possibility, the man is blessed with a privilege that enables him to make that choice.
Many instances of selfishness are cases of opting-out of a community or a discussion: all forms of refusal. When individuals are required to depend on and interact with each other, they are forced to give so that they can receive. As an example, a lonely child will likely not refuse friendship, but that same child might easily forget the first friend when another more desirable one comes along. The first's companionship is refused because the child has the privilege of another friend.
Refusal is powerful--it can cause waste and feelings of rejection in others. It can make the privileges that enable it apparent to those who do not posses them. It is much harder to eliminate than bragging, mostly because it has good sides too. It can also reduce waste and enable generosity. Given this power, how should we wield it?
Actions are often taken myopically, without considering the full impact of the decision, for better or worse. However, if we were to consider the elaborate system of possibilities for every minute choice we make, we wouldn't accomplish anything; at some point we must act with an approximate understanding and move on. Similar to the privilege of complaint, we can use refusal to help ourselves understand our privileges. With introspection we can improve our approximate understanding of the world, hopefully allowing us to make better choices.
I first began thinking of the privilege of refusal in my attempts to live a simpler, more minimalist life. I came to the realization that I know when I rid myself of an item, I am able to replace it if I really need it after all. It is safe for me to refuse or reject things because all of my needs are easily met.
Any time something is refused it is a manifestation of privilege, even if the individual refusing is in need of the offering. Consider a hungry man who refuses a meal. Why would he possibly do so? It could easily be as a sacrifice for his child, because he chooses to adhere to a particular diet backed by moral or religious reasons, because he is confident of receiving food later by other means, or simply out of pride. In each possibility, the man is blessed with a privilege that enables him to make that choice.
Many instances of selfishness are cases of opting-out of a community or a discussion: all forms of refusal. When individuals are required to depend on and interact with each other, they are forced to give so that they can receive. As an example, a lonely child will likely not refuse friendship, but that same child might easily forget the first friend when another more desirable one comes along. The first's companionship is refused because the child has the privilege of another friend.
Refusal is powerful--it can cause waste and feelings of rejection in others. It can make the privileges that enable it apparent to those who do not posses them. It is much harder to eliminate than bragging, mostly because it has good sides too. It can also reduce waste and enable generosity. Given this power, how should we wield it?
Actions are often taken myopically, without considering the full impact of the decision, for better or worse. However, if we were to consider the elaborate system of possibilities for every minute choice we make, we wouldn't accomplish anything; at some point we must act with an approximate understanding and move on. Similar to the privilege of complaint, we can use refusal to help ourselves understand our privileges. With introspection we can improve our approximate understanding of the world, hopefully allowing us to make better choices.
20110119
on shoes, or setting a goal and whittling away
A warning: this post is going to explore possession minimization (specifically shoes) in excruciating detail, which may be quite boring and full of parenthetical side notes.
As with most pattern-altering goals, my success has been varied in my recent endeavors. A few weeks ago, I spent some free time sifting through shoes. As of the start of this year, I owned 26 pairs of shoes, which is really far too many for my needs.
Two pairs I listed on eBay in early this month and have since shipped them off--both knee-high boots, neither of which I have worn for a good while, and both of which were in excellent condition. I tossed a pair of ancient, thoroughly-worn ballroom dancing heels (from high school) and the pair of Birkenstocks (right) that were well past their time and quite abused. Lots of memories with those old sandals. *Sniffle.* When I bought my new pair of Birks this past summer, I learned how to take better care of them. I should also get rid of my art/painting sneakers, but I haven't gotten around to it yet since they're buried in my art bin. (Shows you how much I use them...I just paint barefoot now that I'm not taking any art classes.)
After taking care of those obvious four (sans the art shoes), I tried to think of all of the things I do and the various situations in which I wear shoes. I created a minimal set of shoes--that I currently own--to cover it all. Here's the list:
But as much as I want to bring down the number of pairs of shoes I own, part of me can't yet bear to get rid of several very pretty pairs of heels and some other fun shoes (left). Given that, I've discovered it doesn't make sense to revamp my wardrobe all at once--it's paralyzing and can even be expensive if I were to insist on replacing honorably discharged items with more versatile substitutes (as in the waterproof high-top hiking boots example). Instead, I'm letting the set of clothes and shoes I own evolve with guidance. The list might very well evolve itself with time, especially if I need to replace one of the "needed" pairs. I could also decide to dance more again, which means I shouldn't plan on going barefoot once my current pair of dance shoes wears out. There are lost of possibilities.
Once thing I noticed about my shoe-goal (below) is that the shoes are all neutral toned or black, which is rather boring. I could make sure other elements of my wardrobe are colorful, or I could just make sure to incorporate color into this set somehow--maybe swapping the black flats for their twins in red above. Color is a lot less versatile, though, so it works against minimization. Maybe all floors should be interesting so shoes wouldn't matter (*growls at the linoleum*). I guess I have two forces at work in me when it comes to these kinds of decisions: the one pulling me towards fashion and the other towards minimalism. If only my shoes could change color like the people's suits in Wall-e.
As with most pattern-altering goals, my success has been varied in my recent endeavors. A few weeks ago, I spent some free time sifting through shoes. As of the start of this year, I owned 26 pairs of shoes, which is really far too many for my needs.
Two pairs I listed on eBay in early this month and have since shipped them off--both knee-high boots, neither of which I have worn for a good while, and both of which were in excellent condition. I tossed a pair of ancient, thoroughly-worn ballroom dancing heels (from high school) and the pair of Birkenstocks (right) that were well past their time and quite abused. Lots of memories with those old sandals. *Sniffle.* When I bought my new pair of Birks this past summer, I learned how to take better care of them. I should also get rid of my art/painting sneakers, but I haven't gotten around to it yet since they're buried in my art bin. (Shows you how much I use them...I just paint barefoot now that I'm not taking any art classes.)
After taking care of those obvious four (sans the art shoes), I tried to think of all of the things I do and the various situations in which I wear shoes. I created a minimal set of shoes--that I currently own--to cover it all. Here's the list:
sandals - summer casual
ankle hiking boots - winter casual, garden work, hiking
waterproof mid-calf boots - snow, rain
nice flats - church, dressy casual
nice heels - church, formalish events
light-bottomed sneakers - sports
slippers - in-home
That's 7 pairs, still quite a lot of shoes, but they all have unique purposes. The list could certainly be condensed further--if I were to buy waterproof high-top hiking boots, for instance. Or if I decided I hated wearing heels (which sometimes I do) and never wanted to do so again. But if I were to do that, I would likely come up with a scheme to make two or three pairs work for everything and I wouldn't really know what to actually do when it came to the remaining 22 pairs in my closet. Little steps.
I'm still not going to go from 22 pairs to 7 instantaneously. Two pairs are sitting in the donate/sell box in the back room, and a few in the closet are mentally tagged as shoes that need to be re-evaluated come summer. Others (by the same mental tagging system) are doomed to some sort of destiny that doesn't involve being in my possession once they get their full wear or I replace the clothes that match them exclusively. (Yes, I'm persnickety about my shoes matching, at least some of the time).
Once thing I noticed about my shoe-goal (below) is that the shoes are all neutral toned or black, which is rather boring. I could make sure other elements of my wardrobe are colorful, or I could just make sure to incorporate color into this set somehow--maybe swapping the black flats for their twins in red above. Color is a lot less versatile, though, so it works against minimization. Maybe all floors should be interesting so shoes wouldn't matter (*growls at the linoleum*). I guess I have two forces at work in me when it comes to these kinds of decisions: the one pulling me towards fashion and the other towards minimalism. If only my shoes could change color like the people's suits in Wall-e.
Regardless of how the goal may evolve (or cause fashion angst), when I have a target in mind (7 pairs of shoes), then I can refrain from worsening the situation (e.g. buying more shoes) and slowly whittle away towards the goal (e.g. giving away or trashing individual pairs as I feel ready). Shoes is an easy example because they are much more modular in function than clothes, though the idea would still work there. Setting a goal and whittling away toward it could also easily work for food (e.g. the goal to eliminate added sugar from your meals), crafting supplies, or any set of possessions that gets fairly regular use. (Regular must always be defined in a reasonable scope: for a pair of shoes, I might want to use them at least once every month or so in their season, but I might need a different scale for, oh, say, Christmas decorations.) And if a set of possessions doesn't get regular use, why have it in the first place? (I'm lookin' at you, pile-o-artwork.)
20101231
Looking to the New Year
'Tis the season for New Year's Resolutions. Given that I love making lists and setting goals, this has always been a fun activity for me. Recently, though, I've been reflecting on these lines enough that the new year doesn't particularly stand out to me, other than for writing a post to share this category of thought.
I've moved away from setting specific tasks to accomplish, contrary to the goal setting system, in favor of making life pattern adjustments. That is, I have finally found a rhythm that allows me to accomplish vague goals such as "keep the house cleaner" or "spend less time on the computer" or "simplify wardrobe." This new mentality is about improving one's life every moment instead of focusing on planning out every detail. A lifetime is made of moments, not of larger goal-driven sessions, and thus adjusting life patterns requires a more generic approach.
This path seems to work better for me because I have found that I will spend far too much time detailing my plans for improvement and I won't necessarily do anything. The focus of these efforts is simply stated as my recently evolved mantra: be the person you want to be, right now. Too often have I planned to do something and it goes on a list and never comes off, frequently because I get caught up grouping it with some larger task or objective. When I see crumbs on the counter, I should just wipe them off and not wait until I have a chance to do the dishes or deep-clean the kitchen.
The reason the aforementioned goal setting system works is because it focuses on the achievable; the same theory applies here. Instead of specific tasks, however, I've created some overarching themes. Rather than consulting a list or time-line to gauge improvement, I automatically do a mental check when I step out of harmony with these themes. The ideal is not to check these things off, but to always feel good about the ways I am spending my time. The themes are guidance for balancing out my life a little rather than create hard and fast rules. Generally, they are values that exist as motivation for some of my actions that I would like to extend in some way or at least understand better.
The Themes
Physical over Virtual
This isn't about favoring the physical over the mental or spiritual, it refers to spending too much time on the computer, being technology dependent, and thinking about a task rather than doing it. An example of a thought that would trigger a mental check would be the urge to find something to read; in response, I would favor books over blogs.
Creative over Consumptive
The idea here is that I feel happier when I am being productive: doing my mending is a better choice than drooling over the new Burpee or Williams-Sonoma catalogs.
Independence over Reliance
There are many directions I could take this, but I'll simplify it to two ideas: I should not impose on people when I can do something myself, and I should favor producing and maintaining my own possessions rather than outsourcing. The former is all too natural for me (see the next block for more discussion on this), and the latter is also fairly easy; when I check myself for this one, I am usually looking to enlarge the scope of my knowledge for producing/maintaining goods.
Community over Isolation
As an antidote to the extremes of independence, community involvement is probably the single most challenging thing for me. Again, I take two directions: that of being interdependent within a small community or family and that of dedicating time to a larger local sphere. I desperately want to be involved with my local church, but I find the activities to be dull and often pointless. Similarly, I want to help those in need living around me (both within and outside of church), but sometimes I feel that the manifested necessities are not sufficiently essential enough to merit my concern (which can in turn make me feel guilty for thinking that). Basically, I want to do be able to exchange and interact meaningfully and productively with a local group and also do some regular hard-core volunteering, but I can't find a good direction for these energies. For the former, I acknowledge that I am in a new area and it takes time to cultivate those kind of relationships, but for the latter I am currently at a loss.
Simplicity over Clutter
We're back to the more straightforward: in this case, culling possessions and keeping things organized and clean. Lately, I've been literally starting in a corner and working my way out. I started with my bed-side table, organizing it and getting rid of things that I don't need. Every day, I tidy up what has already been ordered and work outwards: from the table to the dresser, closet, bathroom, and on. Outside of the already organized space, I spot-clean as I notice things. This gives me the liberty to both order/sort things and clean without attempting to totally revamp and cover everything all at once.
Stimulated over Numbed
Quality entertainment is essential; if I can both relax and feel enlarged at the same time, my time has been well spent.
Appropriate Use and Reuse over Waste
This includes the obvious: recycling of materials and reusing items or parts of items. It also includes being frugal and spending time wisely.
There are many more values that I could include, but that covers the desired changes that I've been pondering of late. No matter what direction one chooses to pursue, I have learned that we need to be the people we want to be in each moment we can or else we will never be that person. Who would ever have thought that goal-setting makes some things harder to accomplish?
I've moved away from setting specific tasks to accomplish, contrary to the goal setting system, in favor of making life pattern adjustments. That is, I have finally found a rhythm that allows me to accomplish vague goals such as "keep the house cleaner" or "spend less time on the computer" or "simplify wardrobe." This new mentality is about improving one's life every moment instead of focusing on planning out every detail. A lifetime is made of moments, not of larger goal-driven sessions, and thus adjusting life patterns requires a more generic approach.
This path seems to work better for me because I have found that I will spend far too much time detailing my plans for improvement and I won't necessarily do anything. The focus of these efforts is simply stated as my recently evolved mantra: be the person you want to be, right now. Too often have I planned to do something and it goes on a list and never comes off, frequently because I get caught up grouping it with some larger task or objective. When I see crumbs on the counter, I should just wipe them off and not wait until I have a chance to do the dishes or deep-clean the kitchen.
The reason the aforementioned goal setting system works is because it focuses on the achievable; the same theory applies here. Instead of specific tasks, however, I've created some overarching themes. Rather than consulting a list or time-line to gauge improvement, I automatically do a mental check when I step out of harmony with these themes. The ideal is not to check these things off, but to always feel good about the ways I am spending my time. The themes are guidance for balancing out my life a little rather than create hard and fast rules. Generally, they are values that exist as motivation for some of my actions that I would like to extend in some way or at least understand better.
The Themes
Physical over Virtual
This isn't about favoring the physical over the mental or spiritual, it refers to spending too much time on the computer, being technology dependent, and thinking about a task rather than doing it. An example of a thought that would trigger a mental check would be the urge to find something to read; in response, I would favor books over blogs.
Creative over Consumptive
The idea here is that I feel happier when I am being productive: doing my mending is a better choice than drooling over the new Burpee or Williams-Sonoma catalogs.
Independence over Reliance
There are many directions I could take this, but I'll simplify it to two ideas: I should not impose on people when I can do something myself, and I should favor producing and maintaining my own possessions rather than outsourcing. The former is all too natural for me (see the next block for more discussion on this), and the latter is also fairly easy; when I check myself for this one, I am usually looking to enlarge the scope of my knowledge for producing/maintaining goods.
Community over Isolation
As an antidote to the extremes of independence, community involvement is probably the single most challenging thing for me. Again, I take two directions: that of being interdependent within a small community or family and that of dedicating time to a larger local sphere. I desperately want to be involved with my local church, but I find the activities to be dull and often pointless. Similarly, I want to help those in need living around me (both within and outside of church), but sometimes I feel that the manifested necessities are not sufficiently essential enough to merit my concern (which can in turn make me feel guilty for thinking that). Basically, I want to do be able to exchange and interact meaningfully and productively with a local group and also do some regular hard-core volunteering, but I can't find a good direction for these energies. For the former, I acknowledge that I am in a new area and it takes time to cultivate those kind of relationships, but for the latter I am currently at a loss.
Simplicity over Clutter
We're back to the more straightforward: in this case, culling possessions and keeping things organized and clean. Lately, I've been literally starting in a corner and working my way out. I started with my bed-side table, organizing it and getting rid of things that I don't need. Every day, I tidy up what has already been ordered and work outwards: from the table to the dresser, closet, bathroom, and on. Outside of the already organized space, I spot-clean as I notice things. This gives me the liberty to both order/sort things and clean without attempting to totally revamp and cover everything all at once.
Stimulated over Numbed
Quality entertainment is essential; if I can both relax and feel enlarged at the same time, my time has been well spent.
Appropriate Use and Reuse over Waste
This includes the obvious: recycling of materials and reusing items or parts of items. It also includes being frugal and spending time wisely.
* * *
There are many more values that I could include, but that covers the desired changes that I've been pondering of late. No matter what direction one chooses to pursue, I have learned that we need to be the people we want to be in each moment we can or else we will never be that person. Who would ever have thought that goal-setting makes some things harder to accomplish?
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