Freedom 50 Experiment

In January I set the intention to commit to three “goals” for my 40th year. They are to:

  1. Have less screen time and instead read more
  2. Walk the Talk: edit my lifestyle to reflect my environmental values
  3. Simplify my life

Since then my second son was born in March and the busy and clutter of a new tiny member of our family has settled in.

After the first few months my partner and I looked around and realized our house was a complete disaster. We could barely walk through our house without tripping.

All houses with new babies are messy (well most). But, when I looked around at the mess something struck me. If we had 75% less stuff we wouldn’t have such a hard time putting it all away! The other thing I realized was that when I am anxious or depressed I shop. With Amazon and Etsy and other online shops this becomes painfully easy. I was shopping so much while I was pregnant that my son was disappointed when we got home and there wasn’t an Amazon box waiting at the door for him to open.

Tired and overwhelmed I returned to my goals set in January and began reading about minimalism again. Inspired by the freedom of fewer things and the alignment of this non materialist lifestyle with my values I decided it was now or never. Before our youngest began to crawl I decided I wanted our house to be clear of all clutter and down to the essentials. My partner was on board because he was completely fed up with the mess and has long advocated for more frugal spending and saving.

In early July we went and stayed in a Air B&B on the island and it was so tidy. It was clean and uncluttered and peaceful. It was the time spent there that made me commit fully and completely to a purge.

When we got back home I began right away. I took photographs of the clutter and mess so I’d always remember how bad it got and never go back. Then I started selling, donating, tossing and cleaning. We are about a month in now and we’ve already donated about two full minivans of stuff, sold a number of trinkets and made $250, and tossed or recycled bags and bags of garbage.

This is what our house looked like before:

Looking around at this mess by partner and I started pointing fingers. We each fingered the other as the hoarder but in the end it was obvious we all had a bit of hoarding in our system.

During this same time it was plastic free July and I showed my son the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. He was horrified and agrees to go plastic free (at least for a while). We shopped for our camping trip and did a nearly plastic free trip minus two small items. After that my son and partner have been champs about keeping it going and although we haven’t been perfect we have pretty much stopped buying single use disposable plastic.

Another thing happened over this time. Being off on medical leave and then mat leave I have gotten to spend a lot of time with my kids. Instead of rushing to pick my son up at 5:30pm and mindlessly going through the motions of dinner and bedtime (all while thinking about one or more work problems) I got to really participate in his life. I was present for school events and field trips, I was present and focused on him after school in the mornings. He had my attention again and I could tell he was so much happier.

After getting half way through Cait Flander’s book “A Year if Less” I decided I wanted to do my own experiment. One year with the following rules with the aim that if even half of these were to stick I might be happier, healthier, and potentially in a place to retire by 50.

Freedom 50 experiment:

  • no disposable single use plastics
  • no shopping (shopping ban rules to follow in next post)
  • no industrial cheap meat and dairy
  • no mindless television
  • no mindless phone/screen time
  • Reduce belongings by 75%
  • Increase meditation to 20 mins a day

Details to follow on all these points and I plan to update weekly now to keep myself accountable and track progress. My hope is that our efforts can contribute to the growing movement toward more mindful, compassionate, and simpler living that aligns with what our children and planet desperately need.

Slow and Simple Living Redux

“Tis a lesson you should heed:

Try, try, try again.

If at first you don’t succeed,

Try, try, try again”

(Thomas H. Palmer &  Frederick Marryat)

It is early January and I just turned 40. I am seven months pregnant and have been struggling with severe perinatal anxiety since the beginning of the pregnancy. Each year I set an intention for the year, not goals because that seems to just set me up for failure, but a broad intention to guide my decisions and life. This year I turned 40 while at the same time looking forward to the arrival of our second child seven years after our first. I was faced with both the realization that time is ticking away, and if I am going to do anything I should do it now, AND that my life is about to change dramatically.

So, I set three intentions that I felt would guide me through this transition:

  1. Read more/screen less
  2. Walk the Talk (can’t lead sustainability at home or at a University without practicing what I preach)
  3. Simplify my life

This is at least the third time I have set and tried to stay on course for the last two intentions. But, instead of getting discouraged I think it is worth continuing to start again until it sticks. Plus, I imagine many others are like me/our family where mindfulness, simplicity, and slow sustainable living can slip off the priority list when things get busy and stressful.

Here are my motivations for being more intentional about my life in this way at this time:

  1. I am exhausted with the go go go schedule that I’ve maintained since I was pregnant with my first son. Trying to balance a full-time job as a Director of a University department, pregnancy, nursing, child raising, volunteering, marriage, family relationships and friendships has become unmanageable and has severely aggravated my chronic anxiety and bouts of depression.
  2. Although I get great satisfaction from my work I get the continuous nagging feeling that I spend more time justifying, resourcing, and promoting the work we do than developing productive high impact programming.
  3. We have a new little one on the way with the potential to make our family life even more hectic than it was before.
  4. A realization that more of the same busy is not what is going to help me take responsibility for my own mental and physical health especially stress levels associated with chronic anxiety.
  5. A commitment to Buddhist principles and philosophy especially mindfulness and altruism that points clearly to the need for simplicity and living lightly on the earth.
  6. Never ending clutter and debt with no retirement plan in sight. As our wages have increased so have our possessions despite the best intentions.
  7. I want to teach my boys a better way of living so that they too can learn to live a simple, fulfilling, and peaceful life. My first son is already getting far too used to a high level of consumerism and electronic entertainment.
  8. Turning 40 really had an impact on my procrastination default and unconscious faith that tomorrow would always be the best day to live with less, to be mindful, to meditate more, to spend more time with my child/children, to calm my nervous system and address mental health issues.

Starting Small: Brooke McAlary from Slow your Home  has an excellent podcast series. She has a great podcast on the trap of rushing into a slower life that made me laugh and also gave me permission to take a deep breath and see this as a longer term challenge. It is something worth coming back to over and over again.

So without any big plans, and with small or low expectations, I embark on a life edit of sorts in a year of slow simple living.

If you want to follow along I’ll be sharing the experiments (Also an idea from Brooke. Thanks Brooke!) I/we try along with successes, failures, and a lot of the resources I find along the way.

To start off with I highly recommend checking our Slow your Home (see above) and also this excellent online magazine called “Simplify Magazine” which you can have lifetime access to for only $20. That’s essentially four Starbucks luxury coffees and your done!



Food for practice

I watched what felt like my 100th documentary about people living in poverty the other week. This time about garment workers in Bangladesh. I can’t get the young mother out of my head who, having no other choice, had to leave her young daughter in the country with family so she could work in the city factory. Although she knew she might only see her daughter once or twice a year; this was the only choice if she wanted her child (about the age of my own child) to attend school, grow up outside a factory, and have a chance at a better life. Her name is Shima Akhter.

I have learned about and wept for the soul destroying suffering of my fellow mothers around the world and each time I learn more I commit instantly to helping in some way. I always seem though to return, mostly, to life as normal within a heartbeat. Life gets busy, I get sick, my son gets sick, my job gets stressful, and I get consumed by my own micro sufferings. I forget about the women drowning in desperate circumstances while still being far more brave and resilient than I would ever be in those circumstances. Shima would then usually join the “forgotten” in my mind.

But this time it feels different. I can’t get that Shima out of my head. Or, the mother at the end of the same film whose baby lies coughing on the floor of the toxic factory while his mother works beside him. A switch has gone on and I can’t turn it off. I can’t seem to forget or deny that blindly and selfishly living my comfortable middle-class life while other mothers are separated from their children, forced to watch them die of hunger or wilt away due to toxic environments, and ferry them across unforgiving seas in the dead of the night to escape a wave of death, is an acceptable way to live for me.

You would think by now that I have learned enough through school, work, these brilliantly descriptive documentaries, and my own experience, and would have gotten on the compassion path long before now. But, like the imperfect human I am, I quickly forget the suffering of others after a short while and get pulled by comforts, habits, and unspoken or articulated social norms in my life (not to mention a lack of self discipline in thought and action). This is because the theory and intent of “being a better person” is easier than the daily practice.


This last month we have been saving and cutting costs so we can make some more dramatic changes to our lifestyle. I began to return to the food question. I always somehow do. Food and agriculture are my passions. It is the groove I feel most at home in. My husband has also long counted the dollars spent on the food that has just been thrown out and on the cupboards filled with luxury ingredients that sit unused until they expire. He’s long harassed me, sometimes fairly and sometimes not, about the complexity of the meals we were making, the hard to find ingredients, and my disinterest in eating leftovers.

So, in our overall effort to save money and practice a more frugal compassionate lifestyle, we spent the month trying to cut the food bill while still eating healthy and sustainable food. We started by trying to eat mostly from our fridge, cupboard and freezer and to shop only for what we deemed were the fresh essentials or filler items to complete recipes. It was effective: I calculated a savings of about $390 (CAN) for the month (not counting the savings from food not thrown out). The number would be a good $50 higher in savings if I hadn’t fallen back into the habit of buying expensive items to make a dinner for some friends coming over. All in all we halved our monthly food costs.

In the month of frugal food planning my eyes opened to the amount of waste we used to produce due to bad planning and busyness.  It also reminded me of the difficulty of shopping on a strict budget. The challenge reminded me of the food poverty of my childhood where my mother, using every penny intentionally to feed four children, very carefully planned all our meals with most of them coming from the bulk food section. It made me think about whether it was possible to design a menu that fulfilled the criteria of my food values that would be accessible to everyone. Could I design a menu for a family of three living in one of the most expensive cities in North America that was low cost, healthy, sustainable, and produced zero waste? Could this be replicated by a single mother in a low income job?

Food for me is where two forces collide: The art and pleasure of slow food and the politics of hunger. I am a lover of food in a romantic, passionate, and joyful way. I have always been deeply interested and invested in the health qualities, taste, growing and politics of food. I am passionate about farmers markets, organic produce, fair trade products and low impact eating. I have experimented with many different diets to find the sweet spot of healthy and sustainable (sometimes successfully and sometimes not). However, for the most part these sustainable options seem accessible only to the middle and upper classes and overall to white folk. All you need to do is look at the alternative grocer Pomme in my city of Coquitlam and you don’t see a lot of single mothers with welfare food budgets shopping there. In fact when I asked a low income immigrant single mother of two where she preferred to shop she said Superstore, the bargain grocer which also happened to be closer to her and to transit.

As we have been cutting costs and being mindful of our food choices the worlds that the poor and the comparatively rich live in have become embarrassingly clear. In 2017, with all our knowledge and technology, healthy, culturally appropriate and sustainable food should be abundant and affordable. In the middle class, we pat ourselves on the back for knowing better and caring more as we buy our high-end produce and organic meats. I know I have. But this seems to have nurtured a two-tier system where we encourage vendors and drive policies that produce healthy sustainable food only at a high cost inaccessible to the marginally less rich than us. Like private school or private health care we can pay for our better product instead of doing the harder work of fighting for equality within the system at the political level so that everyone can access these necessities.

Here is where the rubber hits the road. I only complain about transit when I take it and realize that getting to work takes an hour with three transfers rather than 20 minutes in my car. I only want to improve and fight for a better public education system when my child is in a public school and this school is getting funding cuts. I only care about the quality of public health care when I cannot afford to pay for better care and there are long waits. Food is no different. Only when I realize that it is near impossible for me to feed my family a healthy and sustainable diet on a limited budget do I begin to see the system inequities that I was blind to only moments before. The truth is I am not a very good person by nature. I have to work pretty hard to get out of my head and sweep out the ingrained selfishness that pervades most of my everyday thoughts and actions.

This is where eating then becomes a way to practice compassion and mindfulness. I was recently reading a chapter of Pema Chodren’s book “When things fall apart: heart advice for difficult times” and she spoke to something so true for me. She told a story about how once on a bus in San Francisco she read an article about applying compassion to a suffering world and she was so overcome by emotion that she wept right there on the bus. At that moment she dedicated herself to wholehearted compassionate living and service to others only to arrive home to a phone call which tested her resolve immediately. A friend needed a favour and she was too tired. She turned them down. Her lesson here is how the daily practice of the Buddhist philosophy of compassion in the real life of schedules, busyness, and exhaustion was a real challenge.

For me this is the truth of food in my life. Nothing breaks my heart more violently than the hunger of children around the world. When I hear reports of children picking through garbage dumps for scraps of food or dying of starvation I cannot bare it. Even in my own country 60% of children in the North are food insecure and malnourished. But, when I am shopping for my own family I think nothing of spending $5 on a single loaf of bread or purchasing $10 organic yogurt. I feel pretty self righteous about how much better I am than the next regular yogurt purchaser when I do it too. I know that the single mother I talked to who lives in social housing with her two young kids cannot afford organic yogurt. There may be days when she cannot afford yogurt (or whatever she sees as essential) at all.

So, there is great value in practicing the art of walking in the shoes of those less fortunate for extended periods of time. It is too easy to forget other people’s suffering in daily life when this suffering is not our own. Practicing living closer to this suffering and intentionally choosing not to strive to increase our own comforts can then be a powerful practice of compassion and a more honest way of living in the world.

It might be that the only thing I can do to help that Shima in Bangladesh is to never buy into fast fashion again. It is a small but meaningful effort not to feed a global system that causes so much destruction. It’s perhaps an easy thing to do for someone like myself who is not really that interested in fashion (to the general horror of my more stylish friends). This might be a harder shift for someone who loves to shop and buy new clothes frequently or a low income family shopping for clothing for their kids. In other words it’s easy to do the easy things. For me buying my clothes at consignment stores is the easy thing.

But, right here in Canada, in my own quiet suburb, there are people suffering from very solvable problems that I ignore quite on the regular because they are not so easy for me. There is really no reason I can think of for anyone in my region to go hungry. Actually, there is no reason why anyone shouldn’t be able to access delicious, culturally appropriate, sustainable, and healthy food that contributes to their’s and their children’s ability to not just survive but thrive. We have abundant agricultural land, a temperate climate, free irrigation in the form of endless rain, and access to a coastline. The only reason that this equality of food wealth does not exist is because those of us who already have these things have forgotten what it might be like to not have them (or have never experienced need). We forget the problem exists. I forget the problem exists.

In this case I need to regularly peer out of my “castle walls” like the prince Siddhartha Gautama (who later became better known as “Buddha”) so famously did and then be genuinely curious about the nature of suffering outside my personal boundaries of privilege and relative comfort. This for me is not the easy thing to do. I grew up not having enough money to buy the luxury foods I take for granted now and I like forgetting about that kind of life.

But this semi-conscious food poverty amnesia is souring the digestion of my organic yogurt at more regular frequency. With this recent food challenge I remembered what it was like to fret in an aisle over the cost of a food item.  With this food challenge I aim to remember a bit more every day and with every meal. In the end I think it will do me as much good as I could for anyone else because the pure act of living my intentions to be the change will resolve the conflict between theory and action that invisibly eats away at me in every moment these are out of alignment.


So the challenge continues. The first phase was to eat out of the cupboards and not waste any food. My goal was to drop our monthly food budget from between $800-$900 to $400. We easily achieved this. This next phase though will up the ante and continue at the same budget without relying as much on withdrawals from our cupboard “savings.” The catch is that I still want to make sure we are eating healthy whole food that fulfills the nutritional, taste, and time needs of our family while eating food that is respectful of the farmers and land it is grown on. Otherwise, I will be more likely to “forget” again and slip into old habits.

While I want to make sure that Shima and the local mother I know are not forgotten, I also want my son to grow up learning to apply compassion as a daily practice of joy rather than seeing it as a sacrifice he can choose to make when he feels like it. If he also develops a healthy relationship with food would’t that be a gift? Wish us luck!

Nomads and Rebels

[Header photo by James Campbell from @idletheorybus]

I woke up the second morning back to work thinking through my day – my second day back after a two week break – and felt the familiar “ugh.” I talked myself out of being grumpy for simply being awake and started thinking about why a light sprinkle of depressed thoughts had returned after two weeks of relative happiness and optimism.

After reflection I realized there were two reasons for this.  The first, is that upon return to work yesterday I landed back in my office to a dozen or more projects with urgent deadlines and impossible turn around times. In my senior leadership meeting we were greeted warmly and then promptly given an encouraging speech about how we will need to pull our socks up even higher this year because “there is so much to be done.”

Day one and it already felt like the sheer face of a work mountain was my next step forward.

The second is more mundane. It is the feeling, as my husband so aptly described in his lament yesterday, of getting back to the monotonous, repetitive circular schedule that makes days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months without much to differentiate one day from another besides dinner choices and meeting times. As he pointed out we “get up, drop off our son, go to work, leave work, pick up our son, go home, make dinner, go to bed, repeat.”

In my meeting yesterday a colleague mentioned that in a blink of an eye it will be summer and then the winter holiday break again. And so on and on our lives turn and time flies while we rotate in the groundhog day like experience of repeating the same routine day in and day out. We don’t have it bad. I know this all to well having grown up poor and wanting for many things. And, I grew up white. Billions around the world have a real daily schedule of hard times. But, this reminder and the gratefulness for our relative comforts isn’t always enough to settle into the grind without questioning the sheer madness of it.

The feeling of never having enough time to get all the work done (and always feeling behind), coupled with a grinding soul sucking routine, is, I think, what is at the general source of the malaise of many who simply, sometimes abruptly, opt out.

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Rachel and James from the Idle Theory Bus are a pair that have done this and they have a theory (and hence the name) on where the balance needs to shift on this. You can find their website here


(image taken from

Theirs is a familiar story. They quit their jobs, sold their stuff, bought a van, and proceeded to live and travel in that van (still do after three years impressively) in order to have freedom, a balance between idle, work and leisure time, and to simplify and reduce their consumption impacts. If you don’t buy a lot of stuff you don’t need to work ridiculous hours to maintain your lifestyle is the founding premise of this lifestyle.

I love my work and really get great joy out of what I do – educating and advocating for planet and people friendly practices and policies – but I don’t like working because I HAVE to day in and day out to pay my very large mortgage or because my job and employer does not have an “enough” button I can press when I’ve gotten to my limit for the day, week, or year.  Years of “doing more with less”, budget cuts, and a culture of workaholicism contributes to an unhealthy work life balance organizational culture.

On the Idle Theory bus they break time into work, idle and leisure. A commenter on the their site brought up a third overlapping option that fit my situation a bit better. He mentioned that for some people their chosen work IS their passion, and therefore also their leisure, and that he would not want to whittle it down to the bare minimum for that reason. He did however mention that he worked part-time and this gave him the space to breathe and enjoy the moment and view from his country home in Scotland. His was the stationary version in a lot of ways of the idle theory at work. He was a veterinary surgeon and so I assume had invested a lot in education and training. Instead of working himself to death and consuming as much as his upper middle class income could allow he chose to love his work at a reasonable pace and live simply in the country.

Another example of people living “the idle theory” is a family with two very young children. Many minimalists and simple living folk seem to be single hermit like men or women. What is inspiring about these folks is that they are living the simple free life rarely chosen by a family of four.

Their blog is titled Our Open Road . Emily and Adam, after suffering a devastating loss of their first child, decided life was too short not to live it fully and completely. They, like Rachel and James, started in 2012 with a one year plan to travel in their Van down the coast of North America. They are still traveling with their two girls in tow and currently find themselves in Peru.

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(photo from their blog

Both couples make a meager living out of entrepreneurship of a different sort. Rachel and James do odd jobs on the road as they travel, have some sponsored posts on their sites, and have written a book funded through Kickstarter. Emily and Adam run a Bazaar where they purchase and then sell items from their travels. Adam just had a gallery showing of his art work and so I imagine a few of his pieces sold there. The concept is similar though. Work just enough to get by. Enjoy life the rest of the time. Their blogs, instagram accounts and books contribute to the global conversation about solutions to the global problem of over consumption that seem complicated, but as demonstrated by their lifestyle choices, can also be very straightforward.

Two constructive pieces of feedback seem to trend in the comments on their blogs and in criticism of white middle class opting out generally. First, all this may seem very much the pondering and pretentious whims of wealthy (from a global comparison) and privileged white North Americans who have the luxury of choosing a simple and materialistically sparse lifestyle. Most people around the world have already had this choice made for them and the conditions and daily experience of this is not so sublime or “instaglamorous.”

Poor racialized people (especially women) in many countries do not get to choose to simplify, or write blogs about their experiences (though perhaps they should if they ever had the time) and run Kickstarter fundraisers to reach a larger audience. One commenter, a son of immigrant migrant works, pointed out that when Rachel and James tire of this existence (some of their income comes from migrant work) they can just ride their white privilege train right past the poverty line and back into comfort. His argument pointed to a phenomenon known of poverty tourism where white privileged people entertain themselves with poverty experienced of type or another.

In this case I think this is a fair criticism. The romantization of poverty, nomadism, and migrant work could have the potential to erase or diminish the suffering of those left with little choice but to live these lives. This criticism could give Rachel and James some food for thought and perhaps they could, as the commenter suggested, give voice to those in these positions while they happen to be there (e.g., as they work alongside other migrant workers).

However, for the most part privileged white North Americans tend to choose an altogether different path than the likes of Rachel and James. We choose busy jobs, higher incomes, big homes, and lots of material possessions and comforts. In fact these choices (and the interest by others to emulate this lifestyle) is what is driving the global destruction of the planet and a blatant disregard for our fellow human beings. Distracted, busy, tired, and depressed we fill the gaps with shopping, luxury vacations, and decorated homes to the detriment of us all. We donate to poverty alleviation organizations to ease our guilt. There is a lot of criticism of this western gluttonous lifestyle and although this nuvo nomad lifestyle has some of its own white privilege issues it needs to work out it stands out as a living criticism of the status quo.

Sure Rachel and James and Emily and Adam can jump back into relative comfort with their white pass to jobs, education, and networks. But, they could have chosen never to jump out of the mainstream to begin with, and they did, and I find it interesting that they are helping craft a new story of freedom and happiness in America that leaves room for others to survive and thrive.

Can or should folks like Rachel and James go even further by using their words and power to help others along the way? Absolutely.  But, perhaps, they are doing what they can where they are already and this is more than many other 20-something couples or families with young kids out there do.

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Another criticism seems to focus on their commercialization of their experiences. Their beautifully photographed blogs and Instagram accounts, their sponsored posts, and I would add a tiny bit of female body commodification, discount their message for some. Many commenters on Rachel and James’s blog felt cheated by their use of their writing and photography for financial gain.

Again, there are always seeds of deep thought that come from these criticisms and are perhaps good considerations for others considering the commitment to such a courageous lifestyle. However, I think there are two things here that deserve consideration.

First, artists are frequently criticized for selling their art. For educated creative people and artists in general the line between creative and commercial pursuit is always a razor’s edge between authenticity and food on the table.  In the case of these families and others they are not just “selling their experiences,” but selling an idea, a different way of living in the modern world, and making attempts to compete with the machine of advertising hell bent on selling the mega home, mega car, mega possession, stationary house cat lifestyle. In some ways criticizing them for commercializing their experiences is a way of quieting and discrediting their alternative voices. We all sell ourselves in some way in the world to make a living.

Living in a VW “home” on the road with little materials possessions and an unreliable source of income may bring freedom and peace, but it is also a harder and less comfortable life. In order to make this and other simple living lifestyles an attractive alternative to the status quo bundle of finance job at a big firm, house in the burbs, designer clothes, luxury vacations package there has to be some “selling” of the concept to young folks to make it as attractive. The alternative has to look like a better option than what the other guys are selling down the street.

The commercialization of their experiences and the sexing up and glamorization of the lifestyle may in this way be of service to a younger generation raised on advertising and lifestyle packaging looking for alternatives. They make it look fun. They make it look cool. They show you can earn a living with your brain and there are ways, however flawed, to make it work outside the traditional economic systems.

It seems to me that the way that Rachel, James, Emily and Adam live may be one of the most honest ways to live as a North American these days. I can see also why it is a potential cure for the rising levels of mental ill health in western society.

Less work, less shopping, less things to maintain and hold on to, and less impact on people and planet.

More freedom, more outdoors, more travel, more compassion for the planet and people. More purpose driven lives built intentionally.

I am curious about how those of us in the white middle class interested in living simple lives can do so with our eyes wide open to our white privilege and to how this lifestyle can begin to flourish and expand as a competing narrative to the more is better Western lifestyle quickly enough to make an actual difference.

[All photos from this post are from the Idle Theory Bus and Our Open Road. Please check out their work it is quite stunning]


New beginnings for living on the small

Living small sounds straightforward. The materialization of the concept takes up residence in the brain quite easily. Who wouldn’t want to have a simpler life free of clutter and material anchors?

I read about Matthieu Ricard and his very real example of this kind of life. He has an inspiring dedication to compassion in action. It is reported he lives in a small space with little to no possessions or central heating in Nepal. He donates 100% of the profits from his prolific writing and photography to his non-profit Karuna Shechen adding up to one and half million dollars to date.

It seems so deceptively simple when I look at this Buddhist monk’s life. It seems anyone could rise on any given day and just decide to live with only the necessities of life. Living with a small footprint in the world and redirecting earnings to those far less fortunate has the ring of authentic living.

As a family our goals and aspirations in this area have been less pure and altruistic. We have discussed at length the value of buying less in order to have a smaller footprint, to teach our son the value of a less materialistic life, and to have the money to have a life with more freedom. One where we don’t think twice about taking time off work to spend time with our son and where we can take extended travel vacations to explore the world. We say it. We agree to it. We get distracted. Then, I look around and somehow our home is filled with every type and number of material items that are here today, but had not been yesterday.

I struggle, as I imagine many do, with consistently balancing the aspiration to live smaller and more compassionately with the rigors of everyday family life. With our busy jobs and family commitments, our frantic schedules, and societal expectations, we slip into mindless consumerism as quick as thoughts pop into the head during a meditation.

Christmas this year is a clear case of this. Busy with hosting Christmas we got caught up in the “magic” and bought way too much stuff for our son’s stocking. Most of it wrapped candy he will never get through. Although the only thing he asked for from Santa was candy and lip balm we felt the urge to get him, in additional to ridiculous amounts of these items, a Lego set and about ten new books.

Even my son questioned repeatedly the sanity of Santa this year when he delivered a lollypop that could block out the sun and a Lego set he never asked for. Due only to Christmas, and to being one of only two children in our whole extended family, our home now sports a drum kit (from us off Craigslist), a keyboard (aunt #1 off Craigslist), two new Lego sets (aunt #2 and Santa), a fish tank (uncle), an electric puzzle toy (Nana), a whoopee cushion (aunt #1) , a remote control car (aunt #1), a magician’s kit (Grandma), and a Pandington bear and book set (aunt #1).

Choosing Christmas as an example might be to easy of a fish to catch, however, it is indicative of the collective family resources and how we choose to direct them. Each year for my birthday (which is only five days after Christmas) I do an act of kindness instead of getting myself something or going out. This was a huge shift a few years ago that admittedly brings me a great deal more joy. However, this action is overshadowed significantly by the gross overspending that happens each year at Christmas by myself and others.

For every bag of clothing, kitchen items, furniture and toys we send to the Big Brothers charity it seems another sneaks its way in. It seems our house is always and impossibly filled with stuff. The clutter is nearly unmanageable and the organizing of storage containers and spaces seems a holiday and weekend tradition now.

The ideal set by a Monk with few belongings who donates all his earnings to others is one that can motivate action and demonstrate how small and simple one can live. Unfortunately this is not an ideal so easily attained for a family of three. For example, with two of us working in a professional setting with expectations of dress code this means that I need two sets of clothing: one set of clothing for work and one set for daily life.

In fact social norms and keeping up with the Joneses seems to drive a great deal of our purchasing behaviour even though we are not really that susceptible as a family to those kind of things. Another driver is the sheer ability to buy whatever we need. I remember growing up with very little. If a pot broke and we didn’t have the money to buy another we just got creative. Now, any kitchen gadget recommended by one of my hipster cooking books can be purchased quickly and easily via Amazon and delivered in a single day. We barely batted an eye at the recent acquisition of a Vitamix which seemed at the time to be a “necessity.”

So, I see there being three truths here. The first is that it is not possible to live a life in harmony with our planet and our fellow human beings while acquiring every material item we desire whenever we desire them. The second truth is that it is far more difficult in many ways for a family of three to live small and simple like a Buddhist monk might. But, finally, the third truth is that it is possible to live quite close to this ideal if living a life of compassion in action is a higher priority for our family than living a life that looks and feels like those of our peers.

At the start of a new year and a time of new beginnings we will embark on an intention to move closer to this ideal. I am not one to give advice in this regard as you can see from the above examples but here are a few questions that I have learned to ask myself before making a purchase that I intend to be more intentional about in the coming year. These questions come from others living and writing about simple living that I have read over the years:

  1. If I buy this item what will I not be able to buy in the future (e.g., vacation time, donations, unexpected Strata levies)?
  2. Is this a necessary item or merely a convenience that I can do without (e.g., a kitchen gadget)?
  3. Do I already have X number of these (e.g., cardigans, necklaces, shoes)?
  4. Is this a luxury that most of the world will never get to have (large flat screen television, brand new gas range)?
  5. If I buy this item will it limit other living beings’ ability to simply live?
  6. Do I need this item more than a refugee needs to reach a safe shore, a mother in famine needs to feed her child, or a girl in a poor country needs to go to school?

I intend to do better this year. If you have similar intentions please let me know and share your approaches to living smaller and more simply in the comments section.

a journey to peace: doing the little bit of good where we are


Last night I completed my 100th meditation session. A small thing perhaps to those who have been meditating for years. But, for me it was like qualifying in the Olympic games. To understand why this feels like such an accomplishment it is important to get acquainted with the feeling of chronic anxiety if you have never spent extended time there.

For those of us with chronic anxiety it truly does feel like there are ants in our pants, and in our heads, and hearts, and every nerve of our bodies. It likely expresses itself differently in everyone so I’ll just speak from my  own experience. Anxiety for me is like a cattle prod. Every single moment of peace I have lives in the shadow of an impending electric charge that drives me to run in any direction other than the here and now.  The state of chronic anxiety is one of constant and crushing fear that sits on the chest with the weight of a herd of elephants. While depression feels like suffocating in darkness, anxiety feels like being trapped in one of those nightmares in which you are being chased by something you cannot see but you know you must not stop running.

The desire to escape when living with anxiety is ever present. This escape can present itself in many forms including busyness, physical movement, drugs and alcohol, anger as deflection, and obsessive ruminating in thoughts and pursuits.

To be anxious is to be in an ever vigilant state  of readiness to fight the next tiger that comes around the corner and it is exhausting. Therefore, to find peace in the stillness of meditation is like being on the floor of the stock exchange drenched in the cacophony of voices and then being handed a pair of industrial grade noise cancellation headphones.

After only 100 sessions I am able to recognize the ever present anxiety for what it is and am far more mindful of how it plays out in my body from moment to moment. I can still my fidgeting in a meeting, catch myself in the natal stages of an angry outburst, ground my body to actively listen to someone, and most importantly halt a negative self talk narrative mid sentence.

I now feel moments of peace, and something that can only be described as a shift from acidity to alkalinity, on a weekly basis that were once very rare. So rare that I only recognize the feeling as one I used to experience on long vacations far from my daily reality. The “feet up on a warm beach drink in hand” feeling.

In the pause that happens during these moments of peace I feel a sense of joy. And, having a chance to reach out of my self focus and worry I begin to think more of others. As I reach out and extend loving kindness and compassion to others I find more peace. It is a positive feedback loop. I experience what I believe is a central teaching of the Dalai Lama, Pema Chodren, Thich Nhat Hanh, Mathieu Ricard and others-that compassion for others is what brings greater happiness.

In these moments I have something very positive to focus my attention on.  This is the simple fact that although there are many things to worry about we don’t have to fix them all. It is OK not to be in control of all outcomes. We do however have the power to make at least one other person’s life a little bit better. Desmond Tutu says “Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.” If we all do what we can today that is within our power, and let go of the rest, it will all add up. Once that little window opens, and the pressure to do the impossible and solve all the world’s suffering dissipates, anxiety loses its power.

I can feel the difference in energy in my own body when I viewed a video online about a single Israeli elementary school teacher who was wholly dedicated to changing the lives of her students. I felt so full of happiness and a rush of endorphin ran through my system as I watched the video. I felt inspired to do my little part as well. Moments later I read a post by another friend about a climate denying politician potentially heading up the EPA and (from their perspective) how life was pretty much over for everyone. The anxiety came back. The powerlessness, hopelessness, and sadness came back. My reaction to this post instead of motivating me to do my part made me just want to go to bed.

This experience with online-triggered emotional rollercoastering made me realize how powerful perspective and the different approaches to life and problems can be. So much energy within individuals and across societies is focused on the negative. The negative feeds the anxiety, the anxiety feeds the negativity, and once the anxiety has taken hold of our collective national and global consciousness, as nations and communities, we act in the same way I do when my anxiety is manipulating my every action like a puppeteer.  We make bad choices, we “other” people, and we think only of ourselves.

My own experience with peace through daily meditation has helped me understand my anxiety. I can name it and accept it. It has also helped me see with less distortion my own role in social change. I can make the world a better place with daily small actions starting with the simple commitment to ten minutes of quiet meditation each day. It starts with this humble base and radiates outward from there.

As a family we have all taken up this practice in our own ways. I get up each morning early before the rest of the family rises and sit. Dylan has integrated his into his work day. Our five-year old is practicing taking three deep breaths in moments of frustration and taking quiet time to calm his body when he feels overwhelmed.  The impacts on family harmony, intentionality, and the rhythm of our life is palpable.

Sometimes the slow has to happen in the mind first. As our busy life continues to whir and buzz around us the impact of calm minds and kind hearts allows us to stand still for moments as a family while the world continues to turn. We are kinder to ourselves, to each other, and to those around us. It’s a start in the right direction.

Illustration via Elephant Journal article

Intentionality and Impact

“You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.” Jane Goodall

A couple of weekends ago I experienced the true impact of meditation and being intentional about carrying this practice into my daily life.

It started with my very first real meditation session about a year ago where I felt so squirmy and uncomfortable with the stillness that I literally had to fight the urge to crawl out of my own skin to get out of the circle of quiet and run from the room to escape the discomfort. It was an oppressive feeling of claustrophobia as if the world and that room had begun to close in around me. I could feel a scream emerging from my body that only I could hear and when I left the group session that day I vowed I would never return. This is anxiety sitting.

I never did return to a group meditation session. But I have since learned to sit with the discomfort of being alone with my own mind. To calm the fear of stillness and all that creeps out of the deeper crevices of the subconscious in that stillness.

Since I have begun taking meditation seriously and committed to a daily practice I have learned to be still in other moments as well. In moments where the situation I am in pokes me and the resulting discomfort drives me to retreat, to move, and to avoid the sharp poky end of what I am experiencing.

I have frequently taken to heart the need to practice Buddhist ethics, meditation and mindfulness in daily life and I have slowly begun to punctuate a day using deep breathing and being present in the moment. This is pretty surface level practice though I see in hindsight and only the beginnings of awareness and intentional movement through a day. I never realized the power of practice outside the meditation session until I experienced meditating with my eyes open sitting across from someone in an uncomfortable situation.

Recently, I was sitting having a conversation with someone I have a lot of history and particular difficulties with. I instantly felt the same feeling of the need for flight that I did that first day in group meditation. This is the feeling of not being able to escape physically, to counter the anxiety with movement, which results in the sensation of a brewing electrical storm spreading through the nervous system with no external outlet to direct the energy.

Then, I found myself suddenly practicing. I let go. I found my center. I parked my mind in the present and I collected the parts of the moment I was grateful for. I sent my mind’s stories about the situation packing and wrapped a comforting blanket of compassion around both of us. I practiced a form of loving-kindness meditation while sitting and having a cup of tea, at my kitchen table, with someone who I have had a hard time sitting with for some time.

The result was a slow and peaceful conversation where time felt still and I was aware of my slow heartbeat, the calm that washed over us both, and the release of a static electric anxiety that usually bounced back and forth between us.

In this moment I experienced the benefits of daily practice and of a commitment to the practice as a way of life.

A few weeks later Donald Trump was elected President-elect in the United States, and I was sent on a trip to fear and despair for two days. I got lost in the what ifs and whys. I let anger cloud my judgement and perspective. I looked for other people to blame. However, in a quite unlikely and uncharacteristically quick turnaround, I began to see the event with less distortion.

Although the election of such an angry and opportunistic man is no joke I began to absorb the more neutral and positive perspectives on the event in addition to the negative and to stop my mind from running all sorts of doomsday scenarios. The election of this man was a cry of help from those potentially most left out in the cold from the global economic system. We can listen to them now and offer them compassion and a voice.

The white middle liberal class (of which I am a part of) that used our words and good intentions to support African Americans, Latinos, Muslims, Jews, women, the LGBTQ community, and racialized people of all stripes have realized quite concretely that pontificating from our comfortable middle class living rooms and office’s isn’t nearly enough. As Rebecca Solnit recently pointed out we are too comfortable with the status quo in this group to get deep into the discomfort of social change. And, I realized that Trump is a symptom of a growing malignancy in the current economic system that we all participate in that until only now have we wanted to truly face.

I stopped. I cleared my head. I began to look for my own role in this historical event and future related ones. I began to practice compassion for the “other side.” I started to use this mindfulness and compassion to begin thinking about how I can be part of the solution.

When I practice in daily life, not just on the cushion, I find I am far more aware of my impacts on others and can choose to be intentional about those impacts. I still am prone to make mistakes, lash out in a bad mood, use harsh words out of frustration, and act out of a place of anger and hurt rather than reflection and compassion. What is different is the speed at which I catch myself in a tailspin. It used to be never or infrequently. I might not even notice my emotions taking control of the cockpit. Over time it takes less and less time to catch the story taking hold, the driving emotion of the moment, and the impact my actions are having on others. I correct course quicker. I come to a place of compassion quicker. I calm the storm of my heart and mind at the speed of a moment or few hours rather than a whole day, year or lifetime.

We each only have this one chance to live this life we are in. We never know when our time will come. It could be today. What the practice of slowing down to meditate and be deeply mindful has begun to teach me is that each moment of this life can be as sweet or as sour as we choose it to be. But I cannot make any choice at all unless I am aware there is a choice to be made and this awareness is activated only by the yeast of daily contemplation.