Book-vana

Books are the one thing that I have always felt entirely justified purchasing. They also happen to be the one thing that I might say I have a collection of, albeit small. While only a few books serve as well-worn references, my bookshelves as a whole offer an externalization of my identity to anyone who cares to peruse them. They offer me a retrospective of my life. The titles elicit memories of specific times, places, experiences, and people.

I recently heard about a book that would be enriching for No-New, "Shiny Objects" by James Roberts. I resisted my programming on book purchasing. Even my affinity for owning books could not overcome the contradiction inherent in purchasing a book subtitled, "Why We Spend Money We Don't Have in Search of Happiness We Can't Buy."

I procured the book with an easy trip to my local library. Two chapters into the book, I was able to happily reflect on how I had not spent any money on this complete flop of a book. When it came due, I gladly returned it with a fleeting thought as to how I might warn future borrowers of the book not to waste their time.

While the book was not a success, the library sure was. I have since discovered that the library is able to access books from many other library systems, including those of large universities. This is fabulous news when the closest university (and major city) is a two and a half hour drive over mountain passes.

While I am not yet tempted to give up my existing collection, I am now curious about the role that it fills for me and what it would mean to let it go. As I contemplate, my library card is getting a good workout.

No need

Last week I had the experience that is the downfall of many a resolution. I got bored. I started questioning why I was doing it at all. I entertained thoughts like "It does not make any difference" and the classic "This is dumb."

Of course, this coincided with a want. I honestly do not remember exactly what it was. A sippy cup? A plastic spray bottle? It was something that I did not want to buy used and that I believed I needed. I managed to hold firm to No-New, and survived. Without the item.

I was left wondering, "What do I need?" And what do I want. If I adhere to a narrow definition of need (i.e. what is necessary for my survival), I find two things. First, that I already have far more than I need. Secondly, that my only ongoing needs are for sustenance and energy. What then, if we expand the definition of need to include comfort? Stimulation? Joy?

As with most dichotomies, I believe that the need-want split is limiting and ultimately useless.In examining my own consumption, I am finding it more helpful to be patient, to let the want sit for a little while and see what happens. If it stays, perhaps there is something that I already have that can be re-purposed. Or maybe my neighbor can lend it to me. Or it may be available at a local resale shop.

Once instant gratification is denied and the original urge of desire has passed, most wants get very quiet.

Report Card: January 2012

In January I purchased two non-edible items. I bought a new roll of masking tape at a regional grocery store and a used ball for my daughter at a non-profit resale shop that recycles any profit into vouchers for those in need.

A-

I feel good about the ball, especially given how much my daughter enjoys it. The masking tape is more problematic. In hindsight, I might have been able to find some at the Habitat-for-Humanity store. More importantly, the masking tape brings up the bigger issue of items that are inherently not reusable or reparable. Ballpoint pens, toothbrushes, and windshield wiper blades are other examples. I foresee a set of parameters for making such purchases more mindfully. Stay tuned.

Outcomes I: Time

Had you asked me last month if I spent much time shopping, I would have confidently responded in the negative. However, my experience over the past few weeks has shown me otherwise.

Now that my shopping options are limited to resale shops, my shopping habits have changed dramatically. The element of predictable instant gratification has been eliminated. Purchasing one particular item may entail many stops, and finding the item at all is not guaranteed. While this style of shopping may have appealed to me in the leisure of my early twenties, in my early thirties with a walking ten-month-old in tow, it does not.

So, I generally opt not to shop at all. Whereas before I sometimes felt like I spent all of my daughter's waking moments running errands, we now spend expansive afternoons touring the plethora of city parks. Inclement weather sends us to the library or the local museum. The time we have to do these things feels vast.

It makes me wonder, how on earth was I spending so much time "running errands" in the first place? And what were all those errands that felt so compelling and necessary at the time?

I want something!

I went skiing this weekend for the first time in quite a while. The ski boots that I bought used ten years ago have finally gone from bad to painful. It is very tempting to buy a new pair as they are on sale everywhere. I am three weeks into My No-New Year and finally I am faced with a bit of a challenge. Prior to this I was stuck on debating whether or not masking tape qualified as new. Let the search begin!

Run-up to No-New

I made the decision to commit to My No-New Year in mid-December. However, I found it easier to commit to deprivation in the future, leaving a window for preparatory overindulgence. As luck would have it, the masochism start-date of the year was just around the corner: January 1st.

This gave me two weeks to purchase whatever new items I was to have for 2012. A procrastinator at heart, I did nothing out of the ordinary for the first week. During the second week I felt the excitement that comes with a deadline and the urge to gluttony that comes with impending restriction. I anticipated the need for a shopping extravaganza with days of rigorously scheduled stops picking up every last thing.

Instead, I could only think of three things: picture frames, baby presents, and window blinds. I bought the picture frames because I had long meant to cover a wall with family photos and I really wanted the frames to match. I bought the baby presents because although I am happy to receive used items as gifts, I cannot quite bring myself to give them yet. I did not buy the blinds because an ordering snafu kept me from purchasing them before the 1st. That was it.

It was the feeling that I had as I walked out of each store was the most memorable part of that week. I felt a lightness as I bade farewell to the familiar box stores. I felt relief that I would not step foot in one again for twelve months. It was a feeling of freedom, akin to walking out of the classroom on the last day of school.

An affirming glimpse

As I listened to this episode unfold, another layer of my endeavor was illuminated.