Essentials: Food

Recently, I took you on a short tour of our kitchen. It's small and basic and fulfills an essential function in boat life. Like house-dwelling landlubbers, boat people gotta eat.

On the boat, storage is at a premium. Also, the boat isn't stable - it pitches and rolls along with the movement of the river. We address these issues in the kitchen by hanging things up if they can be hung, and by storing plates and glasses in racks.

Hanging Pans & Storage Racks

A part of communal living is sharing. Food left on the side in the kitchen is fair game, and is usually gone quickly if left out.

Available Today - Pain au Chocolat and Christmas Pudding

For those things you don't want to share, each of us has a food box. Your food box is your private territory.

My food box, stowed up high

You gain a new appreciation and understanding of food living here. We have no refrigerator. It is cold in the boat, and most things will keep at our room temperature.

We're all fond of picking up severely reduced clearance items from the supermarket - it fits the frugal lifestyle. Expiration dates are more suggestions than gospel - I'll now happily eat most expired foods.

We have no oven or toaster - they require too much electricity. To replace the oven, we have a grill outside on deck that makes a decent substitute. For toast, we have a special toasting pan that goes on the hob.

Making toast

Eating this way, something remarkable happens - in line with a minimalist approach to life, no food is wasted. If you buy too much, or cook too much, you share it. Given that the average UK family throws away the equivalent of nearly an entire meal's worth of food per day, there's something to be said for this low-to-no waste effect seen in our communal life.

Once everything is prepared, we retire to the seating across from the kitchen - various stools, chairs, and a big white sofa provide ample perching at mealtimes.

Our sofa, in a slight state of disarray

Like most parts of boat life, food is more complex than it is on dry land. The gain from this additional complexity is a new appreciation for food - storing it, preparing it, and sharing it.

The Evolution of Ownership

Ownership is a funny concept. Variously defined, I've settled on "the right to the possession of a thing".

As children, we are taught what is 'ours' and what belongs to others. We're taught the art of sharing, all the while being reminded that what is ours should remain ours, and should return with us at the end of play time.

As we grow, some of us lose our things by force, or by bad fortune, or by our own forgetfulness. We experience loss and it is painful. We then have to do without our things, or save up to replace them.

With time, we learn jealousy, seeing the things others have and wanting them for ourselves. We look at our own lives, and think, why do I not have these things?

When owning things has meaning, we learn that owning relationships does, too. We obsess over others, we chase others, we feel jealousy when we cannot have others. We plant flags in our relationships.

Finally, if relationships with others can be owned, logically we, too, can be owned. We sell our time to our employers, we declare to partners that we are 'theirs', and we contract out our futures by acquiring debts.

Oddly, it is following this move from owner to owned that we are called fully adult.

I'm not the first one to muse on ownership - plenty of philosophers, sages, and prophets have done so before I moved onto this boat to think about life. Now, though, I understand why it's a much discussed subject:

• The concept of ownership is false. Nothing is ever owned. Things can be borrowed, used, taken by force, but never really owned. Life is finite - what is ours today is lost tomorrow.
• Ownership has a great power over our minds. It drives us to make massive trade offs in our lives. It discourages us from chasing our bliss. It compels us to hoard. At the worst, it brings out our cruelty; it arouses in us greed and malice.
• Rejecting ownership is a revolutionary concept. The established social order is predicated on ownership as a central aim in life. Dropping ownership as an aim is a direct challenge to that order.

So, what can you do to break the habit of ownership? I imagine living life in a barrel or suggesting that you sell all your posessions and give the proceeds to the poor might be a bit extreme. Instead, begin with the following:

• Aim to create more than you consume.
• Be kind to yourself, and to others.
• Give time, rather than things.
• Recognise the abundance all around you. Make a conscious effort to see it everyday.

And ask yourself, if everything you own disappeared tomorrow, what would you really have left?

My Minimalist Birthday

I've been trying to write all weekend. My mind has been bursting full of ideas - generating stubs and threads and interesting points of discussion.

These will follow as proper posts before long. But to clear the block and to clear my mind, I first need to give a voice to the weekend just gone.

My birthday was yesterday. December 22nd is a funny day - everyone has Christmas on the brain. Everyone is strapped for cash and for time.

I used to take quite a materialist, scarcity-based view of this day. More stuff going on in the lives of others meant less time for me. Fewer gifts for me, I thought, meant less love. My birthday often made me feel empty and uncared for, forgotten in the hubbub of the Christmas season.

This year, I travelled to Brussels, where a small group of some of the most interesting, beautiful, and achingly cool people I know live. I went into it with the aim of enjoying this company. And, if it all went tits up, there was always the best beer in the world as a back up plan.

How did it go?

I swam. I went to an improv battle in French, and understood most of it. I went to an underground club and danced with abandon to Belgian 80s classics. I stayed up all hours discussing life and programming languages. I met a friend from my high school exchange year in Finland. I drank mulled wine in a Christmas market. I felt like the richest person alive, all for less than 50 Euros.

The time we choose to share with others is our most profound and valuable gift. A few hours snatched out of the day to tell our stories, a message sent from half way around the world, the enthusiastic sharing of our normal lives - this is what actually matters.

Celebrating others has nothing to do with things or organized get-togethers. There was no formal party. No sitting in a circle receiving gifts. No obligation or pressure on anyone to show face. Instead, those that chose to spend time with me in this place were showing that they were happy that I was born because they are happy to be with me now.

As Christmas nears, the best thing any of us can do to show our love for others is to spend time rather than money, and to do this often throughout the year.

Who can you reach out to right now that you care for?

Virtual Tour: The Kitchen

The kitchen is the heart of most homes, and on the boat it is no different.

The kitchen is where we congregate as a community. It part of the same multipurpose communal room that houses our sofa and our one TV. The chimney pipe shoots up through the middle of the room, radiating heat.

Our kitchen has a spectacular view.

The window over the sink

On the weekends, rowing teams training at the local club skate past, darting back and forth on the grey river.

The window behind the hob

In the early mornings, mist and fog rise up from the river. Water fowl laze past, whooping and calling to each other. It's like walking into a cloud while listening to a 'Sounds of the River' CD.

The kitchen is basic - we have a gas hob, no oven. We have two hard working kettles - the large one is for boiling river water for cleaning, the small one is for boiling distilled, filtered water for tea.

Our kitchen

We have no refrigerator - the ambient temperature in the boat recently has been about 4 degrees centigrade, which is about as cool as the inside as a fridge. Left overs stay well preserved out on the sideboard.

Like most things on the boat, using the kitchen requires more work, but carries with it a primal satisfaction. And, if nothing else, you can't beat that view.

How to Turn Setbacks to Your Advantage

Setbacks happen. They can be life shattering, like divorce, or mildly annoying, like having to wait for the next bus because the current one is full.

This has been my week of setbacks. It began with a battery that died at a bad time, followed by two difficult days at work, and has continued with the maybe end of a delightful love affair. Suffice to say, I have had better weeks.

When setbacks cascade like this, it is easy to assume that life is heading off on some doomed trajectory. It can feel overwhelming. It can feel like you will be down forever.

The good news is, setbacks are not forever. You can deal with setbacks, and you can turn them to your advantage.

First, you have to deal with the setback:

• Surrender in the moment. When you first meet a set back, you will have an emotional response. Anger. Sadness. Disappointment. Don't fight it - just feel it. 
• Show yourself kindness. It can be as quick as forgiving yourself in the moment, or it can require more time, like going for a run or a swim. Don't skip this step.
• Identify the immediate issue. Once the emotions have passed, identify the issue. If you've missed a bus, the issue is that you will be delayed or that you must find a new route. 
• Act on the issue, not the emotion. Take targeted action on the issue you have identified. If you've been delayed, let someone know you will be late. If you need to find a new route, ask someone or consult a map.

Acting on emotions rather than issues is ineffective. If your emotions are not subsiding, wait. Talk to someone you trust before acting. Talking out loud about a situation diffuses emotions and gives clarity to the real issue.

Once the immediate issue is dealt with, turn the setback to your advantage by following these 3 steps:

1. Analyse. Your life is your best teacher. How did this setback arise? What emotions did it bring up? Why? Were they a help or a hindrance? Was it easy or difficult to address the issue at hand?
2. Prepare. This new information is valuable. It shows you what steps you can take to prevent or mitigate similar setbacks in future. Did that run really clear your head after an argument? Would it be worth picking up a transport map?
3. Harness. Every setback is an opportunity. It is a chance to improve, refine, change direction, and to become a better you. Harness this. Find the good shit in the bad shit.

With practice, turning setbacks to advantages becomes habit. You can master this alchemy, starting now.

What has set you back recently? How will you turn this to your advantage?

Essentials: Work

Keeping a boat running is a lot of work.

On the boat, everyone has a set barge task. Well, everyone at the moment except for me.

The assigned barge work amounts to 2 hours per week. Currently, there are more people than set roles. As the newest person, I haven't been assigned an official task yet.

While waiting for my name to be added to the communal white board task list, I asked the admiral if I could come and help on his newest boat instead.

Up on deck

Currently docked in a shipyard in Brentford, this barge was not more than a hull when the admiral bought it.

I spent a bright Sunday afternoon in December on this new barge, with the admiral and 3 of my shipmates.

The dock at low tide

The setting was one of nautical industry. The admiral was buzzing, seeing his dream of another house barge emerging from the strong steel hull.

My reception on board wasn't entirely warm, however. From one shipmate, I was met with a blunt "Construction work is not for girls" before being promptly ignored.

The day was clear and bright

I find that the best way to deal with being dismissed is to show intent through action. I got stuck in wherever I could, first sweeping and making tea, then moving boards and insulation.

Once it was seen that I was there to work, I was shown how to use the circular saw and the jigsaw and asked to cut some board.

Then, I put up a wall before finally finding my niche - adding silicon sealant to windows and installing them up on deck.

The admiral gave a lot of thought to the windows, looking to make sure plenty of natural light will fill the cabins and hallways below deck. In this way, I worked happily until the sun began to set and all the windows were in.

Satisfaction

As we lost the light, we stowed tools and stacked wood. We tidied everything away, ready for the next day.

Until my contribution is decided at home, I will get stuck in where I can, adding my labour to the communal pool to help make things happen.

It is an essential of boat life - everyone works. Our work has a tangible meaning - the result is something we can see and feel and experience. There is immense satisfaction in this.

3 Simple Ways to Care for Yourself

When you are setting your priorities in life, how do you make sure to look after yourself everyday?

Blogger Minimal Student writes a thought provoking piece on persistence, a lesson she learned over time through running. It is an excellent article, but perhaps the most profound snippet is found toward the end:

I had neglected my body for years, but now it was one of my highest priorities. Being healthier became a part of my daily life, rather than something I begrudgingly tried to fit into it.

Why is caring for ourselves something that we try to 'fit in' around everything else?

We see around us global epidemics brought about by poor lifestyle. Obesity is outwardly visible, and stress, anxiety, and depression are hidden. Both are precursors to more serious conditions, like cardiovascular disease, hypertension, and stroke, among others.

These epidemics have their roots in a failure to prioritize self, in favour of prioritizing the external. I understand why this happens - if we aren't deliberately focusing on our well being, it is easy to get distracted by the life going on all around us, rather than the life we are living.

So what can we do about it? Here are 3 simple ways to start caring for yourself today:

1. See caring for yourself as a part of your day. If you conceive of self care as naturally as waking up, getting dressed, or brushing your teeth, you will do it. Adopt the mantra - Taking care of my self is part of my day, not something that I squeeze in. 
2. Do it for yourself. Don't lose weight for your partner. Don't stop smoking for your kids. Don't start eating healthy to be on trend. Do these things for you. Know that you are doing them for you, as a way to show yourself love. Don't share that gift with anyone else. When you regularly care for yourself, you will be a better partner, parent, and friend just by being yourself. 
3. Stop rushing and start planning. By now, it's clear that self care is pretty damned important. What do we do for important things? We plan. Take time today to plan for self care tomorrow. Pack your running gear tonight. Make a shopping list for the ingredients that you need to pick up tomorrow. If you go into self care in a rush, you will carry that negative feeling of rush and stress with you.

These 3 simple ways to care for yourself can be applied to anything you would like to do to show yourself care - it's the same whether you are looking to take exercise as much as if you are wanting to meditate. 

Do those things every day that will help you to be the best you. You owe it to yourself.

Essentials: Fire

I am learning the essentials of boat life from my shipmates.

The first thing I was taught, before anything else, was fire.

The Stove - Where Fire Lives

It is December in Northern Europe. Our boat has no central heating; no switch that you flick for instant, climate controlled warmth. We're on the river.

Without fire this boat would be a very cold place.

The first person home after 4pm is responsible for lighting the fire. Then, coal needs to be laid on the fire every hour on the hour (a rule that is useful; if you come home at 7:30, you know that the fire is ok until 8).

Adding quick burning fuel to heat up the fire

Each of my shipmates so far has shown me different techniques that they use to build, feed and manage the fire. Fire craft is personal - no two approaches are exactly the same.

At the 10 or 11 fire feed, you're looking to have 3 layers of coal. The flue needs to be opened when the coal is laid, and then dampened (with the flue key at a 45 degree angle) once the stove door is closed. This will keep oxygen flowing to the fire, but not as much as when the flue is open, allowing the coal to burn slowly.

The wood has caught and will help the coals to catch

That's how the boat stays warm as we turn in to sleep.

We're reminded of the importance of the fire every morning when we get out of bed.

Lifting up the duvet and climbing to the floor, the boat is about as warm inside as it is outside. Changing out of pajamas and into clothes is done as quickly as possible. Breath steams in the icy air.

It is harder work to stay warm in a home like this - but it is a deeply satisfying chore. Making fire is a communal activity, where we all contribute. Feeding the fire is a little pleasure - when you are feeding it, you are in the warmest place in the entire boat.

I've come to see the fire as both beautiful and useful, and to view my responsibility to is as my first priority when I am home in the evening. With a bit of effort from all of us, I have faith that wintering on the river will be much cozier than I thought possible.

How to Prioritize

Is your to do list longer than your arm? Does thinking about the things that need to get done discourage you?

We often choose to spend our time without thinking about it. Our lives are filled with external distractions - advertising entices us, our bosses ask us to work late, and our tech bings and flashes with news and updates.

Getting a bit of head space, then, is a challenge. With the constant distraction and the endless ways we could spend little bits of our lives, how to choose? How to decide?

I went to a time management seminar at Inner Space. The seminar details were posted at work, but I think our HR team didn't know that Inner Space is a hippy haven. This wasn't to be your typical time management seminar, drawing grids and deciding if something is both important and urgent or not.

Instead, the seminar leader encouraged us to focus on our ultimate aims in life. Not on hitting targets. Not on achieving the highest profit in time for quarter end. Instead, she suggested the following 3 aims:

1. Unconditional contentment
2. Unconditional love
3. Unconditional peace

These 3 aims are focused on your internal state rather than on the external world. They are also achievable, regardless of what is going on around you. 

The seminar ended with the leader advising that, if we consider our aims in all that we do, and if we let go of the things that won't help us achieve these aims, many things on our to do list will fall away.

Think about something on your to do list right now. Ask yourself - will doing this thing lead me closer to a state of internal contentment, love, and peace? If it won't, then is it truly necessary?

The more you do this, the more you may be surprised to learn how many things on your to do list are externally motivated and directed: 

• Are you chasing that promotion to increase your esteem in the eyes of others, or are you doing it because you are passionate about it, and it will bring you contentment in your work?
• Are you trying to lose weight to appear more attractive to others, or are you trying to improve your health and fitness so that you can pursue your passions and show yourself love?
• Are you buying things for your home in order to display it with pride to others, or are you working to create a space where you can find peace?

Following this simple self interrogation technique, you may find that some items remain on your list, but the motivation behind them is clarified. By knowing that you are working on something that will bring you closer to your aims, you will find that life becomes less of a chore and more of a joy.

Take a look at your to do list right now. What will those things help you to achieve? 

Minimizing Fear

Fear is a funny thing.

It is at once an instinct that keeps us from harm, while also being an irrationality that holds us back. Plus, it feels bloody awful in the moment.

An unexpected side effect of the last several months has been the decrease in the fear that I feel. As I moved away from the end of my marriage, as I got my mind sorted out, as I started to make decisions, and when I started to work on Operation Greenrock - at each step, the fear that I carried lessened a bit.

That said, I still have fears...

Arriving home on a December evening

I feel fear in the dark. The end of my walk home takes me through a very dark park to the river's edge, where the waiting lights of the boat eventually rise up out of the river.

The piss loo window on a Tuesday morning in December

I feel fear sitting on the piss loo (so named because we have a separate loo for doing "big jobs") in the early morning, thinking about what creepy crawlies might surprise me mid-stream.

My (incomplete) fear inventory from there goes something like this:

• Fear of taking risks
• Fear of not being able to take care of my self
• Fear of foxes, rats, bees, and spiders
• Fear of losing face
• Fear of missing out 

What can you do about fear?

The key to reducing fear involves three steps:

1. Surrender to it in the moment. Fear, like all emotions, is inherently valid when you feel it. Ride the wave out and be kind to yourself afterwards. Remember: your feelings don't define you.
2. Build a body of proof that you are stronger than you think. When you are doing something that shows objectively that you are capable, be mindful of it. Pause and become the observer. Take note. Say to yourself, "Look what I can do". 
3. Set yourself challenges. As you build up your body of proof that you are stronger than you think, set yourself small challenges to your fear. When I still felt a powerful fear when faced with making decisions, I started out with making a very small decision, like what to eat for dinner.

Reducing fear over time involves a cycle of steps 1-3, not always repeating in that order, with an emphasis on diligent mindfulness throughout. 

As I continue pursuing a more minimal lifestyle, minimizing fear steadily is as important to me as minimizing the amount of stuff in my life.

What are you afraid of? What one thing could you do today to challenge your fear?

Watch and Learn

I'm posting this a day later than I wanted to. It has been a challenge to get my rustic internet solution up and running, but I am pleased to report that it is working now. Sort of.

I digress - I have moved into the boat, and I have had my first night on the water.

Rule #1 of introducing yourself to a new culture: Watch and Learn

In a new environment, it is safe to assume that you know next to nothing about how things work. You might have an idea or two, you might have read something somewhere... no. The real experts are the ones around you.

My first day on the boat began with moving everything in. With the help of two of the coolest guys that I know, Joe and Norbert, we were able to get everything from the old flat to the boat in one trip in a Zipcar Touran. 

Job done, and following a well-deserved beer in the pub, I returned to my floating home to face the reality of what I'd chosen to do. I got down to the more-complicated-than-in-a-flat task of unpacking and finding homes for my things.

Dressing a duvet in a small space is a challenge. Unpacking a large suitcase in a small space is a challenge. Deciding how to use the shelf space is a challenge. But in the end, I think I got it looking quite good:

The view from the front of my cabin

And the view from the back of the cabin!

The big reveal? All the walls in my cabin are painted with chalkboard paint! This ensures I will always have something to do, even when the generator isn't running and we have no electricity.

My first observations:

• Despite reducing the amount of stuff that I have by 50%, it still feels like way too much
• Fire is incredibly important
• Cold is a state of mind

Moving in to my new home, I was struck by how it reminded me of my adventures long past, moving into a new culture in a far away place. It's not so much a house share as it is a little community, with a culture all its own.

All told, it was a more comfortable, warmer first night than I would have imagined. I am fully in my role as an observer, watching, learning, and asking questions. I will draw on those old memories of patience, get-stuck-initude, and creativity as I work to integrate myself here. 

With some luck, I should start to get the hang of things fairly quickly.

The Scarcity Mindset

What's your starting point for looking at life?

Is life a struggle, where you have to hold on to what you've got at any cost, lest you lose it? Is it a competition, where more for someone else means less for you? Is it a maze set with traps, where you never quite have everything you need?

This is the scarcity mindset. It's common and its side effects are well known - it brings stress, worry, and anxiety. This scarcity mindset is a big part of what drives materialism.

I saw the threat of loss around every corner. I saw material loss, where not earning enough meant not having the things I 'needed', as well as loss of esteem, where others would think less of me for not having enough things. 

Starting with scarcity of things, the mind extrapolates. Surely, if there is scarcity in the realm of the material, then there must be other scarcities in life. Scarcity of time. Scarcity of love. Scarcity of affection. Scarcity of peace and happiness. 

Eventually, every moment of occasional happiness was accompanied by an emptiness at knowing that the happiness would end. That I would lose it. The occasional moment of true affection from my increasingly distant partner would leave me feeling despair, because I knew that it would be lost again so soon.

The thing about life is that perception becomes reality.

To fix the scarcity mindset, you must make one clear decision - you must reject it, and choose instead a mindset of abundance.

I now choose to see that we live in an abundant world. We live in a human world, where our capacity for kindness and love is limitless, and where kindness begets kindness and love begets love. That's not to say that that things don't go to shit from time to time, but that shit is the occasional occurrence rather than the norm.

How do you develop the abundance mindset?

It all starts with you. If you see scarcity in yourself - if you see a lack of capability in yourself, if you have a shortage of love and kindness toward yourself, this is what you will see in the world. 

If, on the other hand, you recognise your own abundance, you will see abundance in the world. If you recognise the wealth that is your experience and if you show yourself love and kindness, you will have what you need. 

This change of perspective is a part of why I want to live a more minimal life. It has helped me to hone in on what is important to me, and to see self-care as a core part of my everyday life, rather than something for special occasions. It has shown me that I have what I need internally to function, without needing constant external validation of my worth as a person - including external validators like a big TV and lots of shoes.

How do you choose to view the world?

How to Save Money in One Simple Step

I read something today that made me stop for a good few moments and think. I'd just finished reading an excellent blog post over at Minimal Student. She asks two good question, which I repeat with my answers below:

What would you do if you had a million dollars?

I would get up and go. I would stick £50k in the bank as a panic fund, and then I would go. I would go like I used to go - I would get a sniff of something, a hunch, and I would follow it to wherever in the world it led. 

As I went, I would spend my time working with marginalized people. I would spend my time campaigning for a more sex positive world. I would learn how to pole dance. I would study language intensively. And I would regularly drink an obscene amount of beer and stay up talking all night.

Is there a way I could do it for less?

Maybe...

Here's where I got stuck. Well, sure, I could do some of these things for less. But that would mean letting go of some security. It would mean taking risks. It would mean making decisions. It would mean saving up a bit. Not a million dollars, but something.

Then, out of the depths of the internet, a wild quote appeared. It showed me a way to save money in one simple step, and that was to remember:

The price of something is how much life you trade for it.

So much of what we hang on to and conflate with security is simply an illusion. Chasing after cash in order to chase after possessions to pack out our homes brings with it a comfort of sorts. We think we have plenty of things that we might need some day. We think, well, if it ever gets really bad there's stuff to sell.

We look around our stuff fiefdoms and think, look at all I have.

The problem with approaching life this way is that stuff is just stuff. It is not what matters. When I look back on the last years of my life, on the time leading up to Operation Greenrock, I wonder what I've gained. What did I trade all of those years of life for?

I have gained in many respects. I had to trade all of that life to wind up where I am now. I had to trade all of that life to learn skills. I had to trade that life in order to have some moments of total bliss.

At the same time, though, I am questioning deeply if I am prepared to keep trading life now for the mysterious prospect of gains in the future. If divorce teaches you one thing, it teaches you that nothing in life is certain.

You, too, can save money in one simple step by asking yourself, the next time you are thinking to acquire something, how much of my life am I trading for this? Is it really worth it?

Can You Live Without a Job?

This is the question I've been asking myself for most of the evening.

As I break my life down, and begin to strip away unnecessary things, I am starting to wonder just how necessary having a job really is. Is this another area of my life I could minimize?

Anyone who has known me would call me a workaholic. I chased my career and I chased it hard. In particular, my married life brought on a fervor for career success unlike anything I'd experienced before.

Tonight, I started to ask myself why. Why do I need a job?

I was chasing success and status, I've concluded, partially as a response to fears and anxieties. My job could be my proof to the world that I am good enough. It was my proof to my ex that I deserved his love and care, it was my proof to my parents that I was successful. It was also a way to acquire all of the material goods in sight. 

I was using the status and the money to plug a gap in myself - I was trying to chuff this big black hole so full of stuff and external validation with the hope that I might come to feel happy. This was a big part of the life script, wasn't it? This is what we were meant to do to be happy. Get married, get a job, then eventually make babies, buy a house, buy a car...

Except it didn't work.

Now, for the first time, I am feeling a contentment that is unrelated to anything external. I don't need to wave my job around to justify my existence. I don't need to buy something to feel like I matter. I matter enough on my own, and stuff is seeming more of a burden than anything else. 

I feel like I am standing on the cusp of an opportunity. I want to live a life that is full of travel, full of passion and people, full of meaning and reading books and swimming in bodies of open water. I am slowly convincing myself, with the help of assorted internet non-conformists, that maybe there is a way to do all of these things and survive without the stress of a 9-5.

It is a terrifying thought, not having the security of a set monthly pay packet. 

Why, though? Why is it a terror? And, all terrors aside, can you live without a job?

Self Sufficiency Means Always Having Someone to Rely On

I am not sure what it is about having other capable (or even not so capable people) around that makes me want to ask for help.

Maybe it is this latent fear that I'm not good enough or that I don't know what I am doing, but my default instinct when I need to get something done is to ask someone else.

Those who know me know that I'm not lazy - I find pleasure and fulfillment in actively working on something. But I always pause, especially when it is something new, and then will succumb to feeling lost. I will ask for help.

One objective for Operation Greenrock is to train myself in self sufficiency. I've had my first taste of it this weekend, painting my cabin. I've not painted a room since my experiment with wall paper stripping and red paint in 9th grade. I had to get all of my own supplies. I had to provide all of the labour. Most crucially, I had to do it all myself.

The captain and my shipmates were friendly while I was there - sharing the odd cup of tea on a quick break. But no one sat with me while I painted. No one grabbed a roller. Once I was below deck, it was just me, 4 slightly uneven walls, and lots of paint.

As I got started, I felt annoyed. Why was everything looking shit? Why did the roller keep falling off the wire frame? Why won't the masking tape stick? I became my own cheerleader, egging me on to keep going. 

I was back today, getting the edging and difficult spaces done and laying on a second layer of paint to every surface. I contorted into all kinds of shapes, laying on my back to paint the ceiling and stretching to cover any remaining white. All in, I spent 10 hours painting this weekend.

And you know what? It looks really good! All done by me.

Developing self sufficiency, step by baby step, will mean that I will always have someone to rely on.

What should I learn next? What skills in life are as useful as painting?

Making a Boat a Home

There's nothing that quite says 'this room is mine' like painting it. Especially if you are painting it something other than white.

I spent all of today thinking about painting, going all around London buying paint, and then painting. I've still not finished, but I've made a decent start...

This is the view standing in the back corner of my room

This is the view standing at the door to my room

This, apparently, is my bed frame. If you can't tell, that's a door hoisted up on top of a welded steel structure. 

The one wall with a second coat so far - looking remarkably smooth and even!

Back to the boat tomorrow for round two. To build some suspense, let me simply say that there is something very special about this paint, to be revealed on moving in day! Any guesses?

Life is Weird

I had a funny conversation with a visiting friend this weekend. To paraphrase, it went something like this:

"You know, in life there is shit. Bad shit. You never see it coming, but you know it is coming. It came to you before and with certitude you know it is coming again. But bad shit can become good shit, or it can lead you in the direction of good shit. And you never know when good shit is coming, either. It takes you by surprise, too. Putain. We're drunk"

Not that long ago, I was feeling certain that life was going to be nothing more than a long, dull trudge toward death. That's a bleak thought, but then depression tends to be like that. I spent this last summer living in a strange world devoid of all possibility. I was emptied of creative energy and couldn't see what to do.

And then it all changed.

What changed was that I started to make decisions. At first, it was simply deciding to be alone and keep myself entertained. Then deciding what to buy, deciding to cook or get take away. Deciding to be clean or messy. Deciding to be on time or late.

The more decisions I made, the more clearly I could see that this power to decide helps in two significant ways:

1. It makes you an actor in your life. You begin to look at life from a position of power, rather than from the perspective of a passive victim.
2. Things start happening. It is not possible to make things happen if you never decide to do anything.

In deciding, I also accept responsibility for the outcomes of those decisions. Before, I was obsessed with control, I was angry when I couldn't control everything, and I refused to decide. In fact, I actively tried to avoid making decisions wherever possible. If I didn't decide, and things just happened to me, then I wouldn't need to feel shame or guilt if I failed to achieve.

Not going to lie - deciding can be scary. Deciding to move to a tiny space on a boat with a whole mess of strangers is scary. Deciding to get rid of most of my stuff is scary. Deciding to make friends and to try meeting people is scary. 

But it has also returned the colour to my life, and it has opened up the world. Life is full of possibility. And hardly a moment is dull.

Purging: Part II

Books taken care of, I've moved on to clothes, stuff, and things.

Pulling bags and boxes out of the closet, and tearing through my wardrobe, I'm surprised by the volume of stuff I have that I don't even know I have. Dresses worn once for a party, uncomfortable shoes, a veritable plethora of hats and random accessories that clog up unseen space. I am surprised that I moved all of this out when I moved into my own place.

Not quite sure of where else to go, I've listed my stuff on eBay. First time I have tried selling anything there that wasn't work related. I'd like to rehome as much of this stuff mountain as possible. If eBay fails me, I'll look to Gumtree next, and whatever remains will come with me to the boot sale and then on to the charity shop.

I'll report my results here. So far, I've had one bid on one lot for £10. That's £10 to the kitty, sitting me at £40 so far in my mission to sell most of my worldly possessions. Part of me has a strange anxiety about letting go - what if I need one of these things in a few months? A greater part of me, though, is already feeling the relief of knowing that, one way or another, soon these things will be gone. I'll be lighter.

Purging: Part I

Getting rid of stuff is a bit of a process. It is interesting to go through and note just how difficult parting with things can be.

I spent a large part of the last several years attaching a significance to my things - I started using them to define who I was. In a way, they became a distraction. Obsessing about stuff made it easier to avoid facing up to things about myself that I needed to change.

Now, faced with them all and considering what I really, genuinely need, I find that most of these things aren't required.

I began the purge in earnest yesterday, starting with my books. I have a huge collection of books. To me, having lots of books meant that you were well read, intelligent, and interesting as a person. They were also a connection to my childhood - some of my richest experiences when I was small revolved around the other world of books. I also spent some of the best quality time with my parents, especially my mother, during the nighttime ritual of being read to.

Unpacking this thinking, it occurred to me that books were a tool to gain interests and knowledge, but that the objects themselves were little more than blocks of paper, taking up space, when they weren't being used. They also couldn't bring back that feeling of closeness I shared with my mother. It was the relationship and experience, the pleasure of reading and the knowledge that comes from turning the pages that I really valued.

I began to sort through them. I realised that most of these books I'd already read, once or twice, and I hadn't touched them again in so long that a layer of dust had begun to settle on them. I kept out a couple of classics that I knew I would read again - 1984 and Apricot Jam, along with books I hadn't yet read. This small stack of 5 became the 'keep' pile.

For those that remained, I wanted a quick sale with minimal effort. I sorted a batch using Amazon Trade-In, where you send books to Amazon in exchange for gift vouchers. The remainder are going to WeBuyBooks, an online wholesale book buyer, in exchange for cold, hard cash. Both programmes offer free postage.

My first purge has netted me a quick £30 along with heaps more space. It's proving liberating so far.

How to downsize a life

There's nothing quite like personal tragedy to get you to rethink everything.

In April this year, my marriage fell apart. What followed was 6 months of deep depression and self-loathing, counselling sessions and SSRIs, and constant introspection. How had I managed to lose myself so fully within my relationship that I could not imagine a future for myself without my husband?

Coming out of this bleakness, I've learned a few things. I enjoy my own company. I need time alone to recharge; being around other people all the time drains me. I am queer - a pansexual kinkster, and I've finally embraced this. These were all surprises, even if they really shouldn't have been.

Most importantly, I have learned that the essence of me is still here, even if I forgot about it for a while. As much as I am now looking back at a teenaged me for guidance on self, I am starting to look forward again for the first time.

Enter Operation Greenrock.

A nasty habit I picked up during my married life was an unhealthy attachment to things. Materialism. Keeping up with the Joneses. Getting to the car, getting to the house, working more hours, stressing about how much I could earn because it determined how much I could buy. Things I wanted to do became cloaked in a fear of loss. Could I really afford to go to a concert, as that would leave me less money for the eventual babies I was saving up to have? Could I really afford to follow my passion, and put the security of my job and my life at risk?

Now that that life has exploded and no longer exists, I am looking a big, fat opportunity in the face.

And so, I am going to downsize my life. On December 1st, I will leave the middle class security of my 2 bed  flat in Wimbledon for 6 months living on a barge on the Thames. Gone will be the big room chock full of stuff that rarely sees the light of day, traded instead for a box cabin and communal living.

Objective 1: Test my values. If I really value the idea of life as a free spirit, I will find out first hand how far I can go in relinquishing my attachment to things.

Objective 2: Find out how far I can go in reducing my spending and in the process discover the bare minimum to sustain comfort and contentment in arguably one of the most expensive cities in the world. Build up the difference in a savings account.

Objective 3: If my values pass the 6 month test, pursue my ultimate and life long dream of living a vagabonding life.

I'll elaborate more later on these salient points. For now, in terms of introduction, this covers the basics of what I am hoping to achieve in the next 6 months. Whether it works out or not, I am sure to learn a lot along the way, and I will share it all here.