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.