I barely have time to breathe in, breathe out, and already it is the 20th of February. Life passing like a stream, around rocks, down falls, steaming and foaming, calm like a lake, fast as a gallop. Projects and ideas buzzing like bees into my head, as my energy runs dry under work obligations and February illnesses. But I am not forgetting la Nife, and here are some of the bees, some of the planned posts, hoping to make you think and wait...
It seems the journey of simplicity creates some sort of loop of life questioning. As if waking up made it impossible to shut this one down. I've met a sci fi writer called Alain Damasio and I've been thinking about my writings. Or lack thereof. I re-coded websites, dreamed some ideas, didn't write a line.
I've started editing my wardrobe in preparation for spring (maybe because February makes me long for spring?) I've also come to the conclusion that wardrobe is a loop, too. When I wake up at 6 and hurry to work meetings, I grab the same uniform I wore on my first day of junior school, the same I took refuge in after my first editing in 2011. Simple black denim, leather flats, a simple yet elegant loose tee, a cardigan, a leather jacket. And natural stone jewelry.
I've been thinking on minimalism, too. What does it really mean? Is this to material consumption what anorexia is to food? A visceral reaction of our rich society to an overload of everything? Can we talk about minimalism in moderation? Can we talk about minimalism while setting aside the material aspect of it?
I've been thinking about the cost of minimalism, or rather, of ethical choices. The reaction I get the most when I explain I no longer buy from high street stores is; "but many people can't afford to buy anything else". Can't they? I've never been rich, yet never been poor either. Can I be a judge of anything? Is it a privilege to refuse to support poor working and environmental conditions with my wallet? Is buying less the ultimate solution? Second hand? Small creators? Is it indecent to spend 100€ on an organic, ethically produced knit when a family of Romanians beg for money every night in front of my local supermarket? But what else can I do?
Also, I've been revising my idea of "adequacy" when considering my whole collection of objects. Because M. le fiancé finally found a job in Paris. Humans and possessions will be reunited, in a soon to be found maxi-palace in Paris. At least 40m². We dream big in Paris. But moving creates some early spring cleaning urges. Do I really need all these books? What about last generation games? Where will I display my minerals? Also, anticipated fights about the colour of the curtains. But that's the flow of life.
When all of this collides in my head, usually somewhere around 2AM, when I walk sleepily to the kitchen to fill the bottle of water, I keep myself grounded with the small, ordinary joys of daily life. A new bunch of flowers every week on my mini coffee table - which is really a stool but hush, don't tell my guests. The first sip of coffee in this hand-made cup I found last month in Alsace, running hot down my throat, waking every cell in my body. The sensation of a book first opened, the smell of the pages, tasting the first few words like a fine bottle of Champagne. Taking in a piece of violin music, eyes closed, letting the tune speak to my soul. The beauty of rain falling on the asphalte. The unique taste of the cheese mother brought from Auvergne. Connecting with new friends, old colleagues, discovering new artists, letting life flow. This sensation that I am exactly where I am meant to be. Have you ever trusted life that way? Maybe that's what faith is really about.
See what I meant with all these bees in my head? Hopefully, my energy will pulse back in the coming weeks, to make ideas more concrete. I hope I haven't lost you with that somewhat scattered post. See you around!