Making way for community engagement in an ownership society

I hate the phrase, “we live in a society,” but truly, most of us reading this blog live in a society that encourages ownership and discourages community engagement. We are told that ownership is a sign of success, and typically we compete with each other to see who is the most successful - who has the most stuff.  But those of us who can’t afford to own everything we want are actually blessed with a tremendous opportunity to become more engaged in our own communities.

My approach to life is to work hard at achievements that are important to me and to realize goals and dreams that are close to my heart.  But at a certain point, growing up means realizing that you can’t have everything that you want - at least not, as Gail Vaz-Oxlade says, at the same time.  And at that point, life becomes about learning how to be happy with exactly what you have.

A vibrant community offers opportunities to find happiness without owning everything you want. If you can’t afford a pet, you can volunteer at an animal shelter or offer to walk dogs or take care of the animals that belong to your friends, colleagues and nieghbours. If you can’t afford to buy new books, dvds, cds, the public library has an abundance to share. If you can’t afford to own a swimming pool, the YMCA and community recreation centres offers access to swimming pools for next to nothing. If you can’t afford to own your own car, then car shares are an easy way to gain temporary access to wheels.  If you can’t afford a house but long for a vegetable garden, you can pay as little as $30 a season for access to a huge vegetable plot at a nearby organic farm (Ignatius farm in Guelph offers this).  If, similarly, you wish for a flower garden, the Guelph Arboretum offers a space where you can sit quietly and enjoy flowers, birds and butterflies at no cost.  Parks, of course, also offer many BBQ areas and places for napping under trees or in the sun - easy and free substitutes for a patio, backyard lawn or cottage.  Most people would assume that you have to sacrifice privacy, but in my experience, these spaces are underused.

There are so many opportunities, when living in a community, to find what you need, no matter how much money you’ve got. The added bonus, though, is that when you become involved in the sharing of land and objects, you begin to feel a part of a community. You build relationships with other people. At Ignatius farm, for instance, they offer support to their gardeners and have pot-lucks and social events. The library has many free events happening, including movie showings, book clubs and craft workshops. You meet other people in your community and you support those who are working hard to bring people together.

Sharing, borrowing and renting are underrated. There is an unwritten assumption that your stuff has value, that what you own can be considered an investment. The truth is that most things we own are environmental and economic liabilities, not assets, and they add less to our lives than we  have imagined.

But regardless if we have money or we don’t, at a certain point we need to find ways of making ourselves happy in the moment. And if you don’t have everything you want, there are always ways to compromise, and to find satisfaction in the art of community engagement.

Update: If you want to read more on this subject, check out “A Transumer Manifesto” on Shareable, an interesting post discussing some similar concepts. I just discovered this thanks to World Changing Canada .

The mini-staycation

For the civic holiday, I was lucky enough to have my sister come to Guelph for an extended stay.  Originally we had planned to go to Prince Edward County, but then changed our minds and decided to have kind of a “staycation” instead. Yes, this is in addition to my real vacation-staycation which is commencing this Friday.

This weekend was, I think, what real long weekends should be.  Sometimes, lengthy conversations on a balcony with a bottle of wine, or staying in your pajamas all day can be perfect staycation activities, and we did a little of this. But we also did some exploring.

Noteworthy discoveries included The Arboretum.

I could not believe that this remarkable source of beauty has existed right under my nose - a 5 minute drive away - without me knowing about it. There are luscious gardens of every type and beautiful nature trails. The collection of dwarf trees made me feel like I was in Alice in Wonderland. The Japanese garden would be a perfect place for meditating, and the butterfly garden and natural bird bathing area would be an ideal spot for sitting and simply taking in nature. It was stunning and practically deserted!

Other fun trips included St. Jacobs - the market as well as the antiques warehouse. I was well acquainted with the market but never knew the antiques market was so good.  Hundreds of booths, each with their own style, and the items were always well laid-out and displayed.  My kind of antiquing!

We ate really, really well.  Amongst the delicious dishes we prepared included a feast of local produce and meats - steaks, corn, mushrooms, amazing cheeses. My favourites included my sister’s caramelized onion dip, and a ratatouille made with all sorts of fresh, local vegetables. Oh yes, and plenty of local beers and wines.

One thing we did to enhance the free, relaxed feeling of being on vacation was pool our money into a single “vacation fund” so we could freely spend without worrying about who bought what. As a result, we were able to just draw money out of the vacation fund without worrying or thinking about it , and that made it even more fun. It’s a tip I’d strongly recommend.

Staying at home meant that we didn’t have to spend time driving, and we eat and drink as much as we wanted!

There is so much amazing food, natural beauty and fun discoveries to be made right in our own cities and towns.  What did you get up to this long weekend?

Dealing with Gastronomic Gaffs

Like most people, I can give myself a hard time when I don’t live up to my own high standards.  But I’m not a perfectionist. I aim for excellence instead; excellence, I think, can encompass high standards for professionalism, quality, dedication and sincerity, without finding oneself completely derailed by the idea of perfection. Perfectionism makes us lose focus, abandon deadlines, and fail to accomplish the main point or goal of any given task. Excellence, on the other hand, provides a guide to a high quality or caliber of work, but allows the person to know when to say  ”it’s good enough” and move on.

In the kitchen, I let myself fail. In this blog, I post my kitchen successes.  But there are many other kitchen failures.  A few nights ago I made Aloo Ghobi. It smelled delicious, and I thought it was going to taste really good. But it was bland. I don’t know why, because I’d used more spice than what the recipe called for, and my spices are more powerful than most, because they are fresh and whole ground. Perhaps the cauliflower I used wasn’t flavourful enough because it wasn’t fresh enough - it had been sitting in my fridge for a while. Regardless, I thought I might be able to turn the leftovers into a curried cauliflower and potato soup.  I used some leftover corn water as stock.  I’m not sure where my fist mistake was made - either the vegetables cooked way too long and released too much starch - or the corn water was too starchy and I should have just used plain water - but the end result was disgusting. I pureed it and it came out way too thick and unsalvageable. It was a disappointment, because the aroma from all the spices was incredible.

If anyone has a clearer idea about where I went wrong, please let me know, because I’d like to learn from my mistakes. But I don’t obsess about my kitchen errors, no matter how I many ingredients I waste. It’s sad, yes, but I look at my kitchen experimentations as an investment. I haven’t taken cooking lessons, so the only way I’m going to learn is by trial-by-error and making mistakes.

I think a lot of people are afraid to learn how to cook, or simply just write the entire idea off by saying, “I can’t cook.” The reality is, if we give ourselves permission to fail, we can learn to do just about anything.

Good culinary skills are something that will last you your entire life and, from a financial perspective, it’s something that will save you a lot of money in the long run.  Sure, if you have to throw out a failed meal, you might think, “it would have been cheaper to go out to eat.” For that instance, maybe. But you wouldn’t have learned a valuable lesson from your Big Mac, and stopping at McDonald’s won’t make you a better chef.

So, when I tasted that soup and realized it had the texture of glue, I shrugged my shoulders and moved on. Like I said, cooking is an investment and mistakes are just part of the game.

What’s been your biggest kitchen mishap and how did you deal?

Update: potluck picnic in the park

Just wanted to say a special thank you to Gail Vaz-Oxlade and blog reader friends who attended the potluck picnic in the park last Sunday! It was a beautiful day, and just as the rain disappeared last year in time for our gathering, this year the rain held off until everyone was ready to leave. I really appreciate that people drove from out of town in order to meet and catch up.

Thank you, Gail, for your sound, practical advice, your warm and open heart, your generous spirit and you infectious laughter! We love it!

DIY power generation

I normally don’t post about local events, because I have readers from all the country - and the globe - but this event is too cool not to mention. This weekend in Toronto, Subtle Technologies is having a workshop on how to build your own power generator out of, well, trash.  The amount of power generated will not be enough to power your entire home, but it will be sufficient to power a small gadget like an ipod or cell phone.  Personally, I’ve wanted to create something like this for a while but didn’t know how to start. This little workshop is uber practical, because you walk out the door with your own little power generator, not to mention the skills to build on and share this craft with others. Here are the details of this cool project:

Extreme frugality, classism & sustainability

I was quoted in the Globe in Mail a week ago in an article on Extreme Frugality.  And while I most certainly did not appreciate the journalist using the words “obsessive” and “compulsion” to describe some previous experiments with couponing and bargain-hunting (words I never would have used to describe myself) I thought I would put aside my complaints for now and focus on my thoughts about “extreme” frugality.

It’s a classist discussion

Whenever I hear talk of extreme frugality in the media, what bugs me is that there is always an assumption that everyone has the same means, the same financial resources, that everyone has enough - more than enough.  These articles always start from a certain vantage point, assuming that the people who use so-called extreme frugal measures do so in the context of a certain degree of wealth.  And I feel like this element needs to be considered when exploring extreme measures of frugality, because we don’t all have access to the same means. Many Canadians live in poverty. Many Canadians are faced with difficult financial choices. Many Canadians suffer from other complex issues that affect their choices, such as addiction and mental health issues. So when journalists and bloggers make fun of people who take “extreme” measures to meet their needs, it kind of bothers me, because certain realities - and certain people - are being ignored.

Arguments about extremism assume that debt is normal

Most people would consent that extreme measures are okay if it’s a matter of life and death, but what if it’s a matter of life and debt? If someone is using “extreme” frugal measures to live within their means, but does not technically have to, because they have access to credit, is that being responsible, or is it pathological? It’s a thought worth pondering. In the media, giving up luxuries for the sake of living within ones means is portrayed as extreme. But Gail Vaz-Oxlade argues that debt is not normal.

How I define extremism

However, I have my own limits. For me, I define frugality as being “too extreme” for my own lifestyle when it falls into one of the following categories:

- jeopardizing my health

- being unethical or taking advantage of others

- reducing my quality of life

- causing the decline of self-respect

- harming personal or professional relationships

During tough financial times, I aim to find ways of cutting back so that I don’t have to jeopardize the above. For the most part, it can be done, it just requires a lot of planning, a lot of creativity, a lot of hard work and a positive attitude.

Our throw-away culture: an environmental hazard

However, many of the “extreme” frugal measures listed in the Globe article may not necessarily compromise any of the above categories. The re-using of dental floss in particular strikes me as interesting, because the blogger who refused to post this tip recognized it as a safety concern.  Although I’ve never re-used dental floss (and don’t intend to) I don’t like the automatic repulsion to the idea of reusing things in our throw-away culture. We’re so used to buying and throwing away disposable items that we don’t stop to ask, “can this be reused?” Or, “is there an alternative to this product that doesn’t have to be thrown away?”  Recently I realized that I could, for example, reuse my aluminum foil.  I only discovered that it was reusable when I ran out of tinfoil and urgently required some, and decided to wash my last piece instead. It was like a lightbulb went off - “why am I not reusing this?”  Granted that this is hardly a life-changing realization, but it’s a simple of example of how we get used to throwing things away thoughtlessly, because “there’s always more where that came from”. We usually only question these habits when we’re in a position of scarcity - but sometimes that’s when we realize that we can actually make-do with less and do quite well. Maybe we need to start imagining scarcity in order to be a little more creative and a little more environmentally responsible.

So if someone finds a way to reduce their environmental impact by reducing or reusing, and it does not cause harm in any of the ways I listed above, are we right to call this extreme, or are we right to call this responsible?

An enviable life

I found myself telling the reporter that I live an “enviable” life. After all, I have a job that is well aligned with my values and that is meaningful to me, I am surrounded by natural beauty, and my home only contains posessions that reflect my personality, my loves, my passions. It is a simple, uncomplicated lifestyle that truly reflects my values.  Some of my practices would be considered extreme - not watching television, for example, or not having junk food in the house. These habits could be considered extreme by others, but to me, they just make sense - they enhance the quality of my life and my health.

Indeed, it’s taken me a while to find this balance. Partly, I think it’s about experimenting and discovering what’s important to you and what fits within your goals. Sometimes frugality and simplicity can complement each other but sometimes they are antagonistic to each other, and finding a way to align them has been my goal.  After a few years of experimentation, I can finally see them aligning into a nice balance.

What do you consider to be “too extreme” frugal behaviour?

For the love of thrifting

One of my favourite things about thrifting is that you can stumble upon completely original and unexpected treasures, and you can splurge on fun items all you want, because they are so affordable.

This week I walked in to St. Vincent de Paul for the first time, and very pleasantly discovered two baking sheets, (a cookie sheet and a jelly roll pan) both new-looking, for 50¢ a piece.  Ever since I lit my good, un-godly expensive jelly roll pan on fire (a long, but hilarious story for another time) I’ve been in need of baking sheets. I’m glad I didn’t buy new when this practically new set cost only $1.

I also found these fantastic vintage faux-snakeskin bracelets for 50¢ each. I have a love affair with faux-snakeskin.

I also made a trip to the local Salvation Army, and found this cute and cuddly vintage sweater with 1% angora rabbit hair, for 99¢. I love everything about it - the bright colour, the pattern, the cut (love those slouchy, 3/4 length sleeves.) It fits perfectly and it is in impeccable condition; the owner must have taken great care of it. In fact, the only reason I know it is vintage is due to the Eaton’s tag. (Remember Eaton’s?)

Last week I had good luck as well.  Findings included a Mexican blanket for $5.  Mexican blankets are great.  In addition to their funky patterns and colours, they are extremely warm and durable - and transferable from snuggling on the couch to lying on the grass during a summer fireworks display or picnic. (Apparently cats are rather fond of them as well.)

I also found this vintage clock for $1.99. I love stylish vintage stuff like this; it makes a great addition to my kitchen.

Something I love about thrift store shopping is that you need to have a creative eye in order to do it successfully.  Maybe something that was dismissed as tacky or out of style by its previous owner, can be re-interpreted as hip and vintage, or kitchsy-chic.  You get to have fun, exploring new ideas about what fashion and interior design mean to you, and come up with a style that is all your own.

So, have you made any great thrift store discoveries lately that you are just itching to share?

5 simple things i love

For some time now, I’ve been meaning to thank Tracey McBride at Frugal Luxuries for mentioning me as one of “top 10″ bloggers who brighten her day. I’m terrible at following up with these things, but I did want to make my own list “ten things that make me happy.”  To begin, here are the first five:

1. kittens. more specifically, the sound my kitten makes when climbing into her fleece bed, which is right next to mine. She kneads and kneads before settling in, giving off this gentle noise of the fabric being pulled by her tiny claws. I usually hear it just after I’ve climbed in myself, and knowing that she’s tucking in for the night, right beside me, gives a wonderful feeling of wellbeing.

Butternut, when she was about 3-4 months old

2. pajamas. I love pajamas. I have heaps and heaps of them, and I keep them and wear them even when they are old and faded, because it seems that the more worn in the get, the more comfortable they get.  Soft cotton or flannel, elastic waist bands, childlike prints… what’s not to love?

3. saturday mornings.  I try to make sure that my house is clean and tidy in preparation of Saturday morning - or at least my kitchen and living room, which is where I spend said mornings. My ritual includes leisurely coffee in my gorgeous white robe, which is another thing that makes me happy all in itself.  I save my really good coffee for weekend mornings so I thoroughly enjoy it. I gaze out of my balcony, catch up on my favourite blogs, look through design books or magazines, and generally savour some time to be quiet and alone.

4. friends who inspire me.  The kind of friends who are out making a different in the world, innovating, thinking, creating. The kind of friends who inspire me to think differently, who challenge me, who listen to me, who spur my own creativity in new directions, who inspire me to keep going, keep creating, whose confidence gives me confidence in myself.

5. the public library. Specifically, I love the feeling of bringing home a stack of books and dvds from the library.  Each new batch has something different. I love discovering new books on just about any subject.  Many books I’ll take out just to gaze at their pictures on Saturday mornings (see above.) And I’ll take out old sci-fi or Star Trek dvds without feeling guilty for renting something I’ve already seen 100 times, because after all, it’s free!

What are some simple things that make you happy?

A not-so-obvious kind of beauty

The following is a guest post by my one and only twin sister, Camille, who is a fabulous writer.  In her thoughtful post below, she explores how we can appreciate the beauty that surrounds us, no matter where we are.

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In my work, I meet a lot of people who live in beautiful places – in small towns with picturesque rivers and pretty little forests, or on big, sprawling farms in the Prairies where you can watch the sun set or a storm come in for hours, or in places that are adorned with incredible views of the Rocky Mountains. Where I live, in Toronto, I don’t have the same kind of beauty around me all the time, at least not the big, obvious beauty that just comes to you – the kind you can’t miss.

I admit it, sometimes I envy them.

But I do love it here.

I love the way our neighborhood park fills boisterously with people on a beautiful summer day.

I love the community garden in that park that is kept up by volunteers. I love the patches of ‘guerilla gardening’ around the city, where someone has chosen to make an ugly spot beautiful.

I love the graffiti – the stencils, the statements, the way the artistic visions merge as the art changes.

The way the patios fill with people in the summer, the way we make room to share the space so we can all drink beer and enjoy the sun.

The collision of cultures of Kensington; the way the ethnic neighborhoods pop up and suddenly you are immersed. The way organic, vegan restaurants are housed next to punk bars. I love the Mexican tortilleria where the cooks make food just like they used to in Mexico, and I love that a few steps away is the family-run butcher shop that has been open for generations.

I love the University of Toronto campus, especially in fall when it becomes a vision in ivy and maple: all gold, orange, and red. And I love its stately buildings, their curved nooks and the secret spots you can take solace in.

I love the Hebrew writing on an Italian café near Chinatown, a remnant from the days when the neighborhood was filled with Jewish immigrants. The stunning historical church in a residential Portuguese neighborhood that you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention.

What I love about this city is the bus driver who kindly chats with the intellectually disabled person who sits up front.

It’s the person who walks carrying her stuffed Wal Mart bags on her head, rather than in her hands, because that’s the way she used to do it in her former country.

It’s the dad I see at the bus stop every day, with stretched ears and tattoos, who’s taking his little daughter to school and reads her stories on the bus.

I love that the kids in a local community centre (where I once volunteered) paint the windows during pride week to express messages of acceptance and love for all types of families and people. And I love pride week. Not just the parade but the way the city gets extra bright and colourful, even more welcoming and diverse than it is the rest of the year.

I love the food in this city, but it’s not just that I can have a good meal. I love the peace I feel on quiet Baldwin Street sitting on the picnic table in the front of my favourite Chinese lunch spot. I love that this restaurant is being passed on to the next generation; I watch the owner holding her baby granddaughter in her hands while the grown up daughter rings in my order. I love that when this restaurant announced it would be closing temporarily for renovations there was a flurry of questions from patrons, who eagerly filled out a guest book with stories of their experiences here and what it’s meant to them.

I love the little hole-in-the-wall places where, thanks to the commitment and passion of the people who run them, you can get the best of things. The best Trinidadian roti. The best long-pulled espresso. The best lamb kebabs.

I love the baristas, the chefs, the sommeliers, the optimistic and determined restaurateurs, the many people who bring us not just good food – who bring us the best food. I love that I’ve talked to some of the city’s best chefs, because they’re not hidden away, they’re serving food at festivals and charity events and willing to talk. I’ve eaten next to the city’s most celebrated, most famous chef in a small Vietnamese restaurant near my house, because he knows how good it is.

I love the people I’ve met here. I love the entrepreneurs – the people who are passionate about their businesses, who are excited about life, and the ideas and possibilities they are so eager to share. I love the friends I’ve made, the mentors I’ve found – the uniqueness of these people, the richness they bring to my life.

I love that this city is endlessly, hopelessly pregnant with possibility. It is the sweeping, satisfying turns my career can take, the amazing people I might meet, the endless opportunities for discovery, both large and small.

Things are big here, yes, but really it’s the little things. It’s walking home on a snowy evening while snow shovellers pause to let me pass. It’s stopping on a rough little street on a sweaty summer day to look at a mural I never noticed before. It’s drinking in the colour from the many bunches of beautiful flowers that small groceries put outside their shops, announcing it’s spring. It’s witnessing a simple kindness that passes between two people who look and sound so different.

Yes, sometimes I miss the quiet of the country, the deep, silent richness of a forest, the freedom of open spaces and of being profoundly alone. I do love the big, obvious beauty of the mountains, or of a picture perfect country farm.

But living here, I’ve learned that the beauty you have to work a little harder for – well, it’s not so bad either.

7 minutes left in the day

Valentines Day is nearly over (sigh of relief) but I thought I should close the day by showing my readers some love.  Thank you all for supporting me through the tough times and through the good times as well.  My readers, you are lovely people.  You share your precious insights with me, you keep me motivated, you show me compassion and support, you make me feel connected to the world.  You share my passion for caring for this earth, for eating locally, for eating good food, for living frugally and with meaning. You do good. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I was thinking about giving myself a Valentines gift this year, but really the best gifts are the intangible ones.  A great gift, a great gift of love, is listening, really listening, when someone is speaking.  Not just listening to hear what you want to hear.  Not just listening while you silently plan your response. Not just looking to use the other persons’ comment as a way to justify your own beliefs.  But listening to hear what the other person is really trying to say.  It’s tougher than it sounds, especially when you’re in pain or are feeling stressed or worried yourself.  But it’s worth the effort.

This seems like it’s just a gift to the other person, but it’s not.  Whenever we fully submit ourselves to the moment and to addressing another person’s needs, when we acknowledge our sameness, our connection, we find ourselves deeply touched, deeply submerged in joy.  We may feel a sense of purpose like no other time in our lives.

I’ve been thrown a couple of curve balls this week - actually, it was just one, big, hairy , hurtful disappointment amidst an otherwise exciting, interesting time in my life.  Suffice it to say that when people let us down and hurt us, it’s easy to get distracted from what keeps us grounded.  It’s easy to get lost in our heads, to forget that others need our full attention.  In the next couple of weeks I will be bouncing around heading off to miscellaneous out-of-town conferences, conducting workshops, hosting events, all while trying to digest this recent change in my life.  But I will aim to allow myself the opportunity to sink in to the moment, even just briefly, to appreciate the stillness that is around me.

With love,