Peace [and Quiet] on Earth

"Communion" © 1992 Cynthia Friedlob [hand-colored photograph]

I've been thinking a lot about how my need for uncluttered, open space includes the need for quiet space. Emptiness allows room for reflection, but the reflection won't come easily unless there's also quiet. Kaid Benfield wrote an article for The Atlantic in which this idea is pondered on a larger scale, that of a city:

"I have a theory that, the busier and livelier a city is, the more it needs places of retreat, places where one can get away and be quiet and still."

Parks, gardens, libraries, museums, and places of worship can offer quiet relief from the pressures and fast pace of city life, but what do you do when you're home? Where do you go for relief from your busy and lively day? If you're surrounded by clutter, there's nowhere to go, and that's very unfortunate for both your mental and physical well-being.

During the holiday season, it's common to hear expressions of hope for peace on Earth. For those of us who are fortunate enough to have our basic needs well met, in fact, to have much more than we need, it might be time to acknowledge that uncluttering is not just an aesthetic issue, or even a basic stress-reducer; it's also an important part of finding a deeper, personal peace. And there's no chance for peace on Earth until we can find peace within ourselves.

Best wishes to you for peace, now and in the coming New Year.

Artfully Organized

I've mentioned before that our brains are hardwired to create order out of whatever we encounter, so it would be reasonable to assume that the less work our brains have to do to figure it out, the faster we'll get to a mental state we find comfortable. If we constantly assault our brains with chaos, we'll become stressed, exhausted, perhaps numb. We won't be able to function at our peak, nor will will we be able to fully enjoy ourselves because our poor old brains will be preoccupied trying to make sense of things. This is why empty beaches at sunset are relaxing -- and why uncluttered homes are less stressful.

We can use this information to help us get inspired to organize our possessions. What if we tried looking at beautiful images in which "stuff" is organized and displayed in such an appealing way that it becomes art? Once you've pared down your clutter to a manageable amount, it's helpful to change the way you look at what you're keeping. If you think of it as art and think of yourself as the curator of your own personal museum, you'll approach organizing it in a different way.

Check out "A Collection A Day, 2010," a blog by artist/illustrator Lisa Congdon in which she uses photographs to beautifully document her many collections.

Then go to Things Organized Neatly, a blog featuring photographs submitted by its readers, with each photo representing things that are well-organized. [Hat tip to Dina at Discardia for this link.]

So, how many things should you keep and organize? That's up to you. But you might want to take a look at one of my favorite books to get some perspective about how many possessions people have in other parts of the world. Material World by Peter Menzel, Charles C. Mann, and Paul Kennedy features photographs of families from all over the globe, standing outside their homes, surrounded by their possessions -- many or very few. It will help you decide that maybe your personal museum doesn't have to be quite as large as the Met!

© 2011 Cynthia Friedlob

Image credit: Gavin Mills at stock.xchng

Simple Living: Predicted Twenty Years Ago. Again.

I have just a few items in print that I can't seem to let go: the 20th anniversary issue of Rolling Stone, Abbie Hoffman's obituary, and a story (and cover) from the 1991 issue of Time magazine entitled, "The Simple Life." Setting aside discussion of the first two for some other day -- more likely, never -- let's examine the third. I'm simultaneously disheartened and heartened to read it again, almost twenty years after its publication. And, at the time it was printed, I recall feeling simultaneously disheartened and heartened to read it some twenty years after those of us who came of age in the late '60s and early '70s had professed the identical ideals: "a simpler life with deeper meaning."

Here are quotes from the article, which was written by Janice Castro, with reporting by Ann Blackman/Washington, Melissa Ludtke/Boston, and William McWhirter/Chicago, with other bureaus:

These are the humble makings of a revolution in progress: Macaroni and cheese. Timex watches. . . . Bicycles. . .

See the pattern? It's as genuine as Grandma's quilt. After a 10-year bender of gaudy dreams and godless consumerism, Americans are starting to trade down. They want to reduce their attachments to status symbols, fast-track careers and great expectations of Having It All.

In place of materialism . . . having time for family and friends, rest and recreation, good deeds and spirituality.

In a Time/CNN poll of 500 adults, 69% of the people surveyed said they would like to "slow down and live a more relaxed life" . . .

In scaling down their tastes, most Americans are making a virtue out of necessity. Contrary to perceptions, the past decade was an era of downward mobility for the majority of U.S. families, who kept up their spending by borrowing and relying on two incomes. Only the wealthiest 20% of Americans significantly increased their real income during the Reagan era, and the poor slipped further behind. . .

Not everyone believes America has changed its stripes, however. "If the present generation has learned anything, it is that talk is cheap. But are they really doing anything different?" asks Stanford economist Victor Fuchs. "The baby boomers are just growing up and playing out a predictable life-cycle change." . . . John Kenneth Galbraith, the eminent liberal economist, dismisses the trend as a bicoastal fad among fast-trackers. . .

The beginnings of the new mind-set probably go back as far as the stock-market crash of 1987, which had little immediate effect on the overall economy but gave many people an uneasy feeling about the Roaring Eighties." . . . Many people were awakened by individual experience: the plight of a homeless neighbor, the collapse of a bank, a friend's job loss. . .

The article continues with talk of "cocooning" (remember that buzzword?), the importance of spending more time with family, and:

. . . another reason for rejecting rampant materialism: its impact on the environment. . . Recycling has taken hold as a voguish and satisfying pursuit . . . Gilded '80s [TV] shows such as Dynasty and Falcon Crest are gone, swept away by . . . Roseanne, The Simpsons and Married...with Children . . .

In their search for more enduring gratification in life, many people are seeking spirituality, if not a born-again commitment to organized religion . . .

And the article concludes with:

Is the simple life just a passing fancy, a stylish flashback of the 1960s? Not so, say people who have studied both eras. Contends Berkeley sociologist Robert Bellah: "It's no longer messianic, the way it was in the '60s, but relatively pragmatic. That may give the present mood a greater staying power." That's good, because the American generation now reaching middle age has a lot of promises to keep -- not to mention mortgages to carry, tuition to pay and lawns to mow. No wonder they want to keep it simple.

Sound familiar? Yes, indeed. But it's different this time around.

In the '60s, the counter-culture revolution was bolstered by children of some privilege. It's easier to rebel if you know you can always go home and do laundry. I know; I was there. I was in school, then worked for a non-profit.

And after the '70s, what happened? The "Roaring Eighties," as the Times article called it. The era of "real gold," "L'Oreal...because I'm worth it," and, most famously, "Greed is good." The stock market was the place to be and if you weren't in it, you were missing out on a "sure thing." At least until 1987.

Then, in the '90s, the urge to simplify and cocoon was championed by people who were exhausted by their demanding jobs that had allowed them to spend enormous amounts of money on luxuries. And it's easier to simplify if you've got money in the bank. I know; I was there. I was in show biz, then became an artist.

What happened in the '00s? Financial lunacy. This time it was real estate. If you didn't own property, you were missing out on a "sure thing." And this time, even the big boys, the banks and brokerages, were so caught up in the madness that when the market collapsed, it brought them down right along with the individual investors. I know; I was there, but on the sidelines. I was fortunate not to have overextended in real estate and not to have trusted the stock market with everything else. I'm enormously thankful for that because you never know when life will throw a curve ball in some other way.

So where are we all now, with yet another decade behind us? There's still some talk about the benefits of simple living and lots of talk about protecting the environment, but today, for so many, simplification isn't by choice; it's being imposed on a lot of people who have been caught by surprise. When simplicity is a result of a lack of other options, it's doesn't feel so virtuous. It just feels like you're poor.

Bad financial decisions are at the root of the problem for many people, but for some -- many who were in the vanguard in the '60s and '70s -- age discrimination is now part of enforced simple living, too. Limited jobs mean limited opportunities. Scaled back expectations are the new reality for almost everyone, but especially for those who are too young to retire and too old to be considered employable, even if they have impeccable credentials. We live in a society that too often devalues experience and has never particularly valued maturity. There's an example of a curve ball thrown by life and it's clear that not everyone was prepared for it.

The obviously disheartening aspect of reading that Time article is reflecting on the fact that today's mess is just another example of the rather painful economic cycle that our society seems to repeat so predictably. What's heartening about it? It reminds us that we do manage to get through the hard times eventually. Society survived the Great Depression; why not the Great Recession?

So, with the blessing/curse of optimism, let's consider what's the best bet for getting through today's challenging time. Other than the obvious financial reality check that's required for most people, there's an attitude change that would be helpful and at least part of it relates directly to being a thoughtful, uncluttered consumer.

First, believe that less really is more, just as Ludwig Mies van der Rohe said over fifty years ago. I'm not advocating embracing the concept of "less" because it's frugal, or sensible, or necessary; instead I'm advocating embracing it because it offers us not only beauty, but also flexibility. Beauty gives us joy in the moment and flexibility is a highly valuable commodity during a period of change.

What if you made buying choices that would simplify your life by resulting in fewer possessions, but more appealing possessions? What if you chose to keep only those things you already own that are beautiful or useful, just as William Morris advised over a hundred years ago? (Beautiful doesn't necessarily mean expensive; it means pleasing to the eye, your eye.) What if you kept only the sentimental items that had true sentiment, not just history attached?

What if you emptied your home of all of your unnecessary stuff, not because you were panic stricken and felt obligated to have a garage sale, but because you wanted to make space to actually live in your home? Or because you wanted the flexibility to move if you needed to or chose to do so?

Then, what if you embraced the concept of change? What if you were bold rather than timid during these difficult times? What if you had faith in yourself and your ability to do whatever is necessary to stay afloat? What if you took this opportunity to remake your life the way you'd like it to be? I doubt that you'd be lugging around all of the stuff you currently own because you'd see much of it as a burden. I doubt that you'd be clinging to everything you've ever owned because you'd see that now is what matters and planning for the future makes more sense than seeking (false) security in the possessions of the past.

What if you embraced the goal of "a simpler life with deeper meaning?" I doubt that you'd be who you are at this moment, but I bet you'd become who you are in this life.

What if you did that?

© 2010 Cynthia Friedlob

Embracing Charity in Tough Economic Times

It's no surprise that charities and other non-profit organizations suffer during economic downturns. Public and private funding is cut back and individuals are reluctant to donate as much as they have in the past because they can't afford it or they feel insecure about their own futures.

The current malaise that affects our society has had exactly those effects. The Chronicle of Philanthropy, a newspaper serving the non-profit world, has a summary in their "Bracing for Tough Times" article from last February by Holly Hall and Sam Kean.

You can find evidence in reports from across the country, too. The Dayton Daily News in Dayton, Ohio, has an ongoing series about "coping with an uncertain economy" and the effect it's having on charities. Florida Catholic has a story from Pensacola. Nashville's NBC affiliate television station, WSMV, has a website report on the "money crunch" faced by charities.

And it's not only the recipients of the benefits of charities and non-profits who feel the pinch; it's the entire community. The State News, the student publication from Michigan State University, reports on the impact to that state's economy: "The Michigan nonprofit sector is the fifth largest industry in the state in terms of employment as it provides about 380,000 jobs. According to the MNA, Michigan nonprofits generate nearly $69 billion in total economic activity annually and have assets of more than $80 billion."

Charities have to make up for their lost revenue somewhere, so not only are services reduced, but jobs are eliminated or hours are cut. Building improvements are put on the back burner. Just staying afloat becomes the primary goal.

There's one specific issue that came up just today when I spoke to a friend who's retiring and closing her business: the price of gasoline. She's been working very hard to sell or otherwise dispose of equipment and furniture. She discovered that Salvation Army has had to cut back the number of trucks they use to pick up donations because gas prices make the expense of operating them too high. She also discovered that movers are adding as much as a fifteen percent surcharge for fuel to their bills.

Commuters have certainly suffered from the high price of gas, especially in places like Los Angeles where people often drive ridiculous distances to get to work. But gas prices have also forced some charitable organizations to completely rethink how they serve their constituencies. In a recent NPR Marketplace piece, Sarah Gardner reported:

“Volunteers for Meals on Wheels drive their own cars to deliver over a million meals a day to home-bound seniors. These days, the meals and the wheels are more expensive. A recent survey showed at least 58 percent of the charity's local programs have lost volunteers due to high gas prices. . . many of those were seniors on fixed incomes themselves.”

Enid Borden, President of Meals on Wheels Association of America observed that "volunteer shortages have meant also cutting some delivery routes. She blamed two senior deaths on those cuts.”

If people dying as a direct result of gas prices doesn't get you out of your monster SUV, what will? -- But, if you were driving a gas-guzzling SUV, you probably wouldn't be reading this blog anyway.

So how do we turn all this bleak information into something positive? How do we most effectively deal with this crisis?

There's a popular saying that the two Chinese characters that make up the word "crisis" are "danger" and "opportunity." Alas, that's a myth that's been debunked, but I still believe that the basic idea is sound. We're certainly in dangerous times in terms of being able to meet the needs of so many of our citizens, and for some of us, our own needs. Obviously, cutting expenses and being especially thoughtful about our purchases are sensible responses, but there can be danger there, too, if these decisions are based not only in practicality but in fear. Decisions made in fear can be confining, stifling, and can hold us back from fulfilling our potential. The way out of a crisis is not to hold back in fear, but to move forward wisely.

So let's look at the great personal opportunity we have and make another decision based in love and charity. If you are fortunate enough to have more than you need, this is definitely the time to let it go. If you have clutter, there's no better time than now to donate your extra stuff to those who are in need. There's no better time to clear out your home so that you can clear your mind to deal with whatever situation comes your way during this period of uncertainty.

Think about that phrase, "staying afloat" -- to move or rest lightly on the top of the water. It's a lovely image, floating down a stream while the water underneath and around you ripples and gurgles over rocks and hidden tree trunks; it's the opposite of sinking like a stone because of clinging to excess baggage, literally and figuratively.

If we want to float lightly through life and think clearly about how to create a brighter future for everyone, we need to have less stuff. There's no better time than now to embrace the concept of charity.

© 2008 Cynthia Friedlob

Fire and Perspective in California

It's fire season in southern California. Take a look at this CNN News report:

"Wildfires engulfing huge swaths of Southern California have killed at least 14 people and sent tens of thousands seeking refuge. The state's deadliest blazes in more than a decade raged through areas as far north as Simi Valley in Ventura County, east to San Bernardino County and south to San Diego County -- scorching more than 300,000 acres. Weather forecasts indicate more hot and dry conditions that will mix with the Santa Ana winds and could fan the flames that have reached 100 feet tall in places. President Bush declared Los Angeles, San Bernardino, San Diego and Ventura counties major disaster areas Monday, opening the way for federal dollars for governments, businesses and people affected by the fires."

You will probably be interested to note that this report is from October 27, 2003. Yes, sad to say, fires are all too common in this area. It's possible that, once again, this year's disaster may have hit a new record for devastation, but the statistics are not yet in -- many fires are still burning. The most up-to-date information is available at CalFire.

Lives lost, homes and buildings in ashes, acres of land blackened. Here in the city, some twenty-five or thirty miles away from the nearest blaze, the sky has been overcast gray from smoke all week long. A thin layer of ashes settles on cars that are left outside overnight. On at least one day, the sun was red; the moon was red that evening.

There have been numerous interviews with people displaced by the fires, some who hope their homes will be saved, some who already know that hope is futile. As they fled, a few managed to grab special possessions, usually photos or small personal mementos.

There may be an occasional comment about the sad loss of property, but in every case, these people come to the same conclusion. They are grateful to be alive and, without fail, say that everything truly important they have with them: their family members and sometimes a cherished pet.

If you were faced with losing your home because of a natural disaster, you'd undoubtedly feel the same way. But why wait for a disaster? Why not re-evaluate your relationship with your possessions right now? Why not be grateful today for what's truly important in your life.


© 2007 Cynthia Friedlob

Death and Rebirth of Hippie

This year marked the 40th anniversary of the Summer of Love, an event which actually began in January of 1967 with a "gathering of the tribes" known as the Human Be-In at Golden Gate Park; then continued to build with the June release of the Beatles' "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" and the incredible Monterey Pop festival. That summer, thousands of young people literally invaded the Haight-Ashbury district in San Francisco on a quest for unforgettable music, a communal lifestyle of total freedom and, of course, psychedelic drugs. Heady times -- no pun intended.

But, as Jim Newsom wrote:

"The Summer of Love deteriorated rather quickly out in the Haight. As too many people arrived, the upbeat spirit of optimism and community gave way to despair and disenchantment, the drugs got harder and heavier, free love gave way to STDs. By mid-summer the glow was fading. On October 6, a group of hippies staged a mock funeral on the streets of San Francisco called 'The Death of Hippie.'"

The beautiful summer of the flower child may have turned into a terribly harsh winter, but the cultural impact of those times is undeniable, prompting many celebratory events this year. In New York, there was a 40th anniversary psychedelic art exhibit at the Whitney Museum and "Hair" was re-staged by the Public Theater; on the west coast, an anniversary tribute Monterey Pop concert was headlined by a reunited Big Brother and the Holding Company along with Jefferson Starship.

The hippies were the antithesis of today's consumers, united in a sub-culture of free food, free stores, free love (and the resulting free clinics), second-hand clothing, shared housing, and a bias against large corporations.

Fortunately, it appears that "Hippie" has been reincarnated in this era in a slightly different version, perhaps just as the Eastern religions that took root in the West back then might have predicted. This time around, there seems to be a broader appeal and a more durable foundation than the Haight could offer. Take a look at just a few examples of what's going on -- or still going on:

The Freegans, The Simple Living Network, Buy Nothing Day, The Rainbow Family, The Farm, No Impact Man, The Global EcoVillage Network, The World Business Council for Sustainable Development, The Fair Trade Federation, Living Water International -- there are literally thousands of individuals, groups and organizations representing the spirit of the counter-culture movement of the Sixties, a movement that was not just about sex, drugs and rock and roll as detractors like to opine, but was also highly politically motivated and aware.

It's encouraging that there is increasing awareness now about protecting the environment from dangerous exploitation, ensuring decent working conditions for those who make the products we use, and celebrating the inherent goodness of the simple life. We know that we can't sustain, or justify, our society's over-consumption when so much of the world's population is suffering without even such basic necessities as safe water to drink.

I like to think that many of the current worthwhile efforts for social change are a direct result of the Sixties -- and proof that Hippie really is back.

Good morning, Starshine.

It's Not Stuff, It's Art

Unless you're a survivalist or a Freegan, with little more than a backpack full of basics, or unless you're a person who shops exclusively at thrift and antique stores or Freecycle, eventually you're going to have to buy something new.

Being a thoughtful consumer, you'll want to maximize the value of your purchase, whether it's household furnishings or clothing or even something decorative or artistic -- yes, thoughtful consumers are not required to sacrifice to the point that they never buy anything simply because it's beautiful or it lifts their spirits. Having beautiful objects in a beautiful environment is a worthy goal for those of us fortunate enough not to worry about meeting our daily living needs.

But have you ever given thought to the fact that someone, or a team of someones, must design whatever it is that you buy? By focusing our attention on this part of the process of creating "stuff," we can become more aware and more sensitive when choosing what objects we want to have around us. If we choose wisely, we'll be content with what we have and not be tempted to buy simply for the sake of buying.

When shopping for anything, whether it's new or "new to you," there are only two criteria to consider: the design of the item must be both attractive and functional, otherwise it's of little use. ("Functional" includes those items that are spirit-lifting.) There are many clever ways to reuse and recycle older items, but I also find it interesting to learn more about designers who have made names for themselves by coming up with new items that fit those criteria.

Karim Rashid has designed products that I think are innovative and interesting, although many are pricey and rely on manufacturing from non-renewable resources. But I do find his overall design philosophy appealing:

"Every business should be completely concerned with beauty - it is after all a collective human need. I believe that we could be living in an entirely different world - one that is full of real contemporary inspiring objects, spaces, places, worlds, spirits and experiences. . . Design is about the betterment of our lives poetically, aesthetically, experientially, sensorially, and emotionally. My real desire is to see people live in the modus of our time, to participate in the contemporary world, and to release themselves from nostalgia, antiquated traditions, old rituals, kitsch and the meaningless. We should be conscious and attune with this world in this moment. If human nature is to live in the past - to change the world is to change human nature."

These are not the statements of someone who's just designing "stuff" -- and they're not the words of someone who mindlessly clings to things out of sentiment. Rashid wants us to live in the moment, with things surrounding us that enhance that moment.

Michael Graves, already well-known as an architect, became quite famous as a result of his designs of many household objects for Target. In an article in MetropolisMag.com, writer John Hockenberry states, "[Graves] has been an evangelist for beauty and humor in product design, as in his famous silver conical Alessi teapot as well as his buildings all over the world." By designing for Target, he's also demonstrated that good design should be affordable, too.

Just a few years ago, Graves suffered an illness that left him paralyzed from the waist down. He was so appalled by the ugliness and lack of functionality in his hospital environment, as well as in the designs of most products offered to people with disabilities, that now, Hockenberry reports, "Graves and his team are hard at work on a line of products that fuse one-dimensional medical utility with style, multifunctional elegance, and beauty. . . He says it all comes back to the choice of whether to make something beautiful or to tolerate something ugly. Allowing something to be simply ugly leads to permitting something that's not functional, that doesn't work right, that can be unsafe. . . 'Look around you: people can tolerate a lot of bad design,' he says with a twinkling smile to his staff, who have heard it all before. 'I can't tolerate any of it, of course. And I won't.'"

Graves' personal tragedy will result in wonderful improvements in design for medical devices and for people with disabilities. Perhaps he'll tackle the larger design issues of hospitals, which are usually some of the most ill-conceived, depressing environments one can encounter.

What happens when a fine artist designs? Andrea Zittel is one fascinating example. She creates everything from clothing to modular living units, "trying to combine design, craft and art." I became interested in her when I learned of her A-Z Uniform project which she worked on from 1991 to 2002. In her own words:

"Most of us own a favorite garment that always makes us look and feel good, but social etiquette dictates that we wear a different change of clothes every day. Sometimes this multitude of options can actually feel more restrictive than a self-imposed constant. Because I was tired of the tyranny of constant variety, I began a six-month uniform project. Starting in 1991 I would design and make one perfect dress for each season, and would then wear that dress every day for six months. Although utilitarian in principle, I often found that there was a strong element of fantasy or emotional need invested in each season's design. The experiment as a whole worked quite well, especially since dreaming up the next season's design helped relieve any monotony that might have occurred from wearing the same dress every day."

Because Zittel's an artist, her process moved on to creating uniforms from fabric torn from the bolt, then to making clothing by crocheting a single strand, and finally to using felt. Just thinking about her work can help us reconceptualize our relationship to our clothes: how many we need, how they're made, what purposes they serve when we wear them.

Performance artist Alex Martin also tackled the issue of fashion in her Brown Dress project. She made a brown dress which she wore each day for an entire year, from July 2005 to July 2006. Her reasoning:

"I made one small, personal attempt to confront consumerism by refusing to change my dress for 365 days. In this performance, I challenged myself to reject the economic system that pushes over-consumption, and the bill of goods that has been sold, especially to women, about what makes a person good, attractive and interesting. Clothes are a big part of this image, and the expectation in time, effort, and financial investment is immense."

Martin's current project:

". . . a wardrobe of my own devising -- recycled, re-mixed, re-fabbed . . . only things I made myself (clothes, jewelry, shoes, underwear, bags, everything) and my source materials were clothing items already in my possession - a completely closed loop, 100% recycled from my own closet."

Through this project, Martin offers another commentary on consumer culture, self-reliance, and creating things that are aesthetically pleasing as well as functional.

If we stop looking at our stuff as "stuff" and begin to look at each of our objects as the result of artistic expression, we'll have more appreciation for them. Then living with our carefully chosen possessions rather than just a bunch of stuff will mean paying attention to their beauty. Living in an environment that's not cluttered will be necessary to allow us to see the objects we've chosen and enjoy them. It's a shift in thinking that I believe would affect the way we look at everything in the world: seeking beauty and function, then being grateful when we find it.

Stuff is not just "stuff." Each thing has been designed, each thing is art, each thing is an opportunity to enhance our lives. Is your stuff good art or not so good art? Is it enhancing your life or detracting from it? Is your home an artistic expression of who you are or are you living in a Museum of Mess?

(c) 2007 Cynthia Friedlob

Better Ways to Spend Your Money

If you haven't done so already, please take a moment to check out a few changes that have been made to the new and improved blog of The Thoughtful Consumer!

On the right side of the page, you'll now see bigger, easy to use subscription links. There's also a handy list of labels for all the blog posts that lets you search previous posts by subject. You'll still find the usual links to a few sites I think are important, including a link to purchase my book on Amazon -- very important! Way down at the bottom of the page, you'll discover a reminder to help you keep things in perspective "because there's more to life than stuff." A glance at the constantly changing news headlines from CNN and MSNBC make it clear that there is a big world out there with lots going on that's much more important than buying another little knick-knack that will sit on a shelf gathering dust.

But back over there on the right side of the page, you'll notice that I've added a list of links to non-profit organizations. It's called "Better Ways to Spend Your Money Instead of Buying More Stuff." One of the things that happens when you stop spending your money on unnecessary things is that you may actually have a little money left over. Now, depending on your circumstances, you may want to use that money to pay down your debt, or save for a down payment for a house or for your retirement, or use for some perfectly legitimate expenses that would improve the quality of your life in some important way. But if you've got even a few dollars to spare, surely you're too thoughtful to spend them mindlessly.

Part of being a thoughtful consumer is unloading all that excess stuff you've accumulated, either by tossing it in the trash, recycling it, or donating it. The other part is making wiser buying choices in the future and thoughtfully sharing whatever extra cash you can spare. Maybe you've already got a favorite charity or two that you like to support; my list is just a suggestion to get you thinking. We all know that there's no shortage of worthy causes in this world.

Believe me, I understand the need for personal indulgences sometimes and I'd never suggest that we deny ourselves a reward for our hard work or just because we'd like an occasional treat. But if we pause for a moment before allowing ourselves that indulgence, we might realize that we'll get just as much satisfaction by making a donation as we would if we spent the money on ourselves.

There's even a good way to make cash donations to charity on-line while you're uncluttering. If you've discovered that you have some items that are worth selling on eBay, you can specify that all or part of your sale price be donated to any of a large number of non-profit groups. Check out the details on this link to Mission Fish, the clearinghouse organization that eBay uses to distribute your profits to the charity of your choice. It's a great way to unload unnecessary stuff and do some good at the same time. I've also used it to donate profits from eBay sales of my brand new artwork. It's very rewarding to create a work of art, sell it on-line and have the money go directly to charity.

Our choices as thoughtful consumers can allow us the joy of supporting causes we believe in, whether we'd like to help cure a disease that affects us or a loved one, help feed the hungry, keep the doors open to our neighborhood library, save an historical building in the heart of our town, donate a musical instrument to a child who otherwise wouldn't have the opportunity to experience the thrill of playing it, or any of a myriad of other possibilities.

And there's another joy that comes from living an uncluttered, thoughtful life: we're not so bogged down by stuff and the physical and psychological effort it requires from us just to get through our day, so we begin to feel truly free. When we're liberated from too much stuff, we're able to share not only our resources but our time, too, with our family, our friends, and perhaps by volunteering for one of those worthy causes we hold dear.

Less stuff, more time, more money, more generosity. Everybody wins. What could be better?

(c) 2007 Cynthia Friedlob

The Emotional Sponge and Clutter

I've recently discovered a great blog called Psychology of Clutter by Dr. Amie Ragan, a licensed clinical psychologist who often works with people who have difficulty dealing with clutter. I was particularly interested in her posts about "Emotional Sponges."

Dr. Ragan describes an Emotional Sponge as someone who engages in "the act of soaking up what other people throw at you (criticism, negativity, problems) without ever questioning whether or not you need, want or deserve it." (Words in italics are mine.) I'd like to add: whether or not there's anything you can do about it. We all want to be compassionate listeners and helpers to our friends and loved ones, even in situations where the best we can offer is a sympathetic ear. But some of us take on the responsibility for "fixing" a situation when we're not the ones who can fix it.

Unless you're under attack by one of Dr. Ragan's "Psychic Vampires" (a person who actually enjoys making you feel bad about yourself, in which case, please turn and run immediately or at least carry a psychological wooden stake!), chances are that you'll get caught in the unfortunate position of being an Emotional Sponge occasionally, primarily thanks to the folks I have unceremoniously labeled the Deadly Dumpers.

We've all encountered people who seem to specialize in unloading their personal problems on others. These are not people who are going through a rough patch in their lives; they are people who see life as one gigantic rough patch. You probably have noticed that these people have the remarkable ability to suck all the energy right out of a room. Your primal response is to try to avoid them just to save yourself. These Dumpers usually present themselves as ever-suffering victims of circumstances beyond their control. Sometimes there are what we all would agree are "valid" reasons for their unhappiness and depression, but I suspect that Dr. Ragan would want to help them rework their thinking about those circumstances, whatever they might be, so that they could function more effectively and more joyfully in their lives.

There are also people who seem to specialize in focusing on the "doomed" state of everything from office politics to the fate of the world, unloading their despair or cynicism on all who will listen. Again, these are not people pointing out specific problems in order to have a thoughtful discussion about them; these are people who will squash any notion that there is even hope for a satisfactory resolution and insist that all efforts are pointless. Obviously, they are equally capable of sapping the energy from anyone they encounter. Most often they also are seriously depressed and in need of psychological help. But, oddly, I've noticed that sometimes someone who falls into this category is not depressed or even particulary personally disturbed, but instead actually appears to enjoy the process of lamenting the state of things and "proving" that the situation is utterly hopeless. I wonder if this isn't some rationalization that allows them to remove themselves from any responsibility for taking action to facilitate change, or perhaps their cynicism is an effort to seem "sophisticated" in the way that a young teenager might affect discontent as a demonstration of "maturity." I'll leave the professional analysis of this phenomenon to Dr. Ragan and other trained specialists.

However, in each case, we innocent, unwitting souls, just trying to get on with our day, dealing with our own challenges, finding joy where we may, easily can fall prey to these Deadly Dumpers. If we have the unfortunate tendency to be Emotional Sponges, we will absorb all the negativity they unload and stand there feeling horrible. But they will walk away either trapped in their own, narrowly focused agony or, in the latter case, no worse for wear because dumping all that negativity doesn't bother them. Either way, it's not a good deal for the Sponge.

Dr. Ragan's clever solution to help you stop being an Emotional Sponge is to think of yourself as a bowl rather than a sponge. I love this imagery which allows you to hold on to whatever comes your way, then pour out whatever you don't want to keep, whenever you want to do so. Clearly there are some people you'll still want to avoid, but should a Deadly Dumper be thrust upon you in circumstances where you can't duck out a side door, extricate yourself as quickly as you can, then pour out the unpleasant and totally useless negative contents of your bowl. Ah! Relief!

And how does all this apply to clutter? Let's consider an Emotional Sponge as someone who retains possessions out of sentiment, feelings of obligation, perhaps even fear of loss or change, someone who must be uncomfortably "squeezed" to release stuff. A "bowl" (I think I'll use the term "Beautiful Bowl") understands that all possessions, no matter what they are, no matter what their value, are only temporary, most certainly in the larger sense. Therefore the Beautiful Bowl is able to use them up, enjoy them while it's appropriate, and release them - pour them right out - without great difficulty when the time is right. A Beautiful Bowl can pour out lovely things, too, to give away to others, again, when the time is right. Most importantly, a Beautiful Bowl remains beautiful by not being filled to the brim with unappealing contents.

And what does a Beautiful Bowl do with its most special contents, its favorite memories and the love of family and friends? Let's think of one more kitchen analogy. Great chefs know that you never, ever scrub a wok or a cast iron skillet after using it. You wipe and clean it gently, but you allow it to build up a coating, a patina referred to as "seasoning." I like to think of those special contents as the patina that's never washed away from our well-seasoned Beautiful Bowl; those memories and that love will stay with us forever.

(c) 2007 Cynthia Friedlob

Are There Any Simple Decisions?

The concept of being a thoughtful consumer quite easily leads to considerations of being an ethical consumer. But isn't this quicksand for many of us who are coping with already having consumed too much, too thoughtlessly? How can we worry about making the "right" purchasing choices in the future when we've already done such a lousy job with our past choices that we're positively drowning in stuff?

Clearly the primary concern for those of us dealing with clutter is unloading our excess possessions. This is a good time for a reminder that clutter doesn't necessarily mean junk; clutter is simply a quantity of stuff that is so large that it interferes with living our lives joyfully. It's not always as obvious as stacks and stacks of unread magazines that never will be read and now have become a fire hazard. A closet full of lovely clothes that don't get worn because they no longer fit is a closet full of clutter. A kitchen full of exotic cooking gadgets that never get used because you only enjoy cooking simple meals is a kitchen full of clutter. If it doesn't leave you room to live the way you want to live, if it doesn't leave you space to breathe, if it weighs you down in your mind, it's clutter and it's got to go. Working through that process of elimination obviously must be the priority for most of us.

But life goes on and every day we're faced with purchasing decisions, even as we sort and toss and clean and fervently vow that never again will we allow so many things to crowd our homes and burden our brains. So, why not try to make the right decision every time we buy something?

Well, first of all there's that pesky concept of "right" that needs to be defined. Do you only buy food that's organic because you believe it's healthier for you and your family? A good idea, but it can be expensive, it limits your product choices, and you may not live in an area with easy access to organic products. Must your clothes be manufactured only by companies that don't engage child labor? That does require determining which companies fit that category before you go shopping. Must your product choices be "made in America?" American companies now often have at least some part of their manufacturing done in other countries, so are they no longer producing "American" products? If you want to consider the impact your purchase has on the environment, how, exactly, do you assess it? For example, what about that lovely politically correct bamboo floor you're installing that required a huge amount of energy expenditure to transport the wood to this country? If you're a vegetarian, will you wear leather shoes?

Makes you want to scream, doesn't it?

Not only are there your personal beliefs that need to be clearly thought out and refined, there's also a huge amount of research that needs to be done in order to find out where a company or product fits into your criteria, once you've decided what's "right" for you. I've tortured my brain too often about this issue and, while I'll make every attempt not to be a fool in making my purchasing decisions, I have decided on a gentler approach that makes sense to me.

First, by simply reducing the quantity of purchases I make, I believe that I am favorably impacting the environment. When I do buy, whether I choose something used and give it new life, or buy something new of high quality so that it will last longer, I'm pretty certain that I'm demanding less of our limited supply of natural resources.

Second, I'm not totally oblivious to the news (although some days I'd truly like to be!), so if I'm made aware that certain companies engage in practices that I find offensive, I'll avoid their products. We live in a land of abundance, so it's not too hard to find an adequate substitute for almost anything we need to buy.

Finally, I'll try my best to consider what I know about the source of the product I'm buying, the people who make it, the process they use, its purpose in our world and the purpose it will serve in my own life. Just a momentary pause to think, even with limited information, will help me make better choices. Then, when I make some mistakes, because I can guarantee I will, I'll forgive myself and move on.

I made a choice today that I'm happy about: American Flatbread, an organic vegetarian pizza made in an artisan bakery in California and purchased at my local health food store. I often eat food that is not organic, I'm not a vegetarian, and I bought it because I was walking by the store and I didn't want to have to cook anything demanding for dinner. But I took a moment to read the box and liked what the company had to say. Result: it tasted great! I have no connection with the company and am not receiving any compensation for an endorsement; I'm just passing along a tip about a good product and using it as an example of how that brief pause before purchasing resulted in a satisfying experience.

On other occasions, I've also paused, reflected, purchased and ended up with something totally unsuccessful, so my system is hardly flawless. But more times than not, it has worked for me. So, if I take a few deep breaths, put the system into practice and make the leap of faith it requires, well, then at least I don't feel like I want to scream.

(c) 2007 Cynthia Friedlob

A Resolution to be Kind

I have conducted a thoroughly unscientific study of various resources and have discovered what the most popular New Year's resolutions are that the vast majority of us will be making (again) this year: We would like to lose weight, exercise more, and get organized. I suspect that a fairly good case could be made that these popular resolutions are inter-related issues for many of us. Now, I'm not saying that all overweight, out-of-shape people are disorganized, or that all disorganized people are overweight and out-of-shape, but work with me here just in case this scenario sounds familiar to you.

Based on my own thoughtful but thoroughly unscientific reasoning, I ask that you consider these possibilities. While there are many factors that lead us to being overweight, one significant reason that we over-eat is depression. Over-eating is "self-medicating" and, honestly, who doesn't feel better, at least momentarily, after something chocolate? And where does that expression, "comfort food," come from? Notice that it's never applied to salads. Unfortunately, after feeling better, we usually feel guilty and that makes us depressed.

Depression and being overweight also leave us feeling fatigued and that is hardly the frame of mind that prompts us to leap off of the couch and exercise. That produces guilt and then that usually makes us inclined to self-medicate even more. Perhaps brownies.

I'm not trained to offer profound insights into all the various causes of serious clinical depression. However, I can pretty much guarantee that, for the average person, living in a cluttered, over-crowded environment and constantly feeling overwhelmed by extra stuff can be enough all by itself to make just about anybody feel pretty depressed. And if you're feeling depressed and overwhelmed, you might decide to self-medicate with an extra snack or two. Also, if you're feeling overwhelmed, you might begin to wonder what's wrong with you, to blame yourself, criticize yourself and feel like you've failed somehow. Well, at least some candies will help, won't they? Only temporarily. Then, more guilt, more depression. And all those excess possessions stay right where they are, continuing to torture you.

It's not a healthy cycle but I think it's an all-too-common one. If it's a cycle you know well, you're probably wondering how to snap out of it. I'd like to suggest that you stop resolving to diet, stop resolving to exercise, and even stop resolving to get organized. Instead, try making a resolution to be kind to yourself. Unload all the guilt completely. Stop berating yourself for your perceived "failures" and start treating yourself the way you'd treat a friend or family member who simply has a problem. My bet is that you would never say to someone else the type of critical remarks you say to yourself in your own head; you'd simply try to figure out a way to help fix the situation.

Because I believe that our environment has a profound effect on our state of mind, naturally I'd suggest that you start trying to fix your situation by eliminating clutter. My book covers different approaches you might take, various obstacles you'll undoubtedly face, and lots of little tips and tricks. But however you tackle your clutter problem, simply be kind to yourself as you're working on it, the way you'd be kind to your closest friend as you helped her out with her troubles. Be kind, but firm. It is a challenging job you're taking on and you will be required to make some difficult decisions.

My theory is that if you make progress un-cluttering your home, your spirits will be lifted. That means less need for those extra cookies to make you feel better because you'll already feel better. And you'll have more energy, too. Maybe a walk around the block wouldn't be such a bad idea. You'll come back refreshed and ready to un-clutter even more.

I'd love to hear if this approach is helpful to you. All it takes is making one resolution: Be kind to yourself. Happy New Year!

© 2006 Cynthia Friedlob

'Tis the Season to Lighten Up!

It's commonly accepted that the holiday season can produce stress of monumental proportions. For reasons perhaps best understood by psychiatrists and psychologists, many of us create much of that stress because we seem determined to make everything perfect: the holiday decorations, the holiday meal, the holiday gifts. For those of us who already have perfectionist tendencies -- and often people who struggle with clutter actually do so because they are perfectionists, difficult as that may be for "regular" people to understand -- this can create a level of anxiety that makes us want to decamp to a remote mountain top and hide in a cave. Add to that those fast-approaching New Year's resolutions that are usually uncomfortable repeats of the ones we made last year and, well, we may want to stay in that cave like a hibernating bear until spring and skip the whole traumatic experience.

Let's get a grip! This is a holiday season, not an endurance test. And let's be honest about our feelings: seeking perfection is usually about us trying to do what we think we're "supposed" to do, not what others actually want or expect. In fact, if you have someone in your life who wants you to be perfect, you're dealing with a person who is delusional. Rule of Life: no one is perfect and no one should expect anyone else to be perfect. The best we can hope for is to make the holidays as enjoyable as possible for the people we care about. That requires a more realistic approach to handling our time and energy so that we can enjoy the experience, too.

In our household we've managed to pare down both the gift list and the decorating over the years to a manageable bare minimum. We have a simple holiday meal with the immediate family and one or two guests. I save my major entertaining for a Chinese New Year party in February. I made that decision quite a few years ago and friends now look forward to my unusual annual event rather than worrying about trying to squeeze in another party during party-packed December.

But I confess that I still feel stressed sometimes anyway, probably as a result of my own perfectionist tendencies which cause me to compare everything I do with my memories of my childhood holidays. I have the good fortune to have very happy memories, thanks primarily to my incredibly organized mother's skills at creating a charmingly decorated home, preparing delicious meals, and selecting special gifts -- all while thoroughly enjoying herself and not worrying at all about perfection. Yet she even made the gift-wrapping look exceptional, pleating different colored tissue papers, mixing different paper designs, hand-tying unusual bows. Looking back I realize that many of my gifts were quite practical, yet they were still exciting to receive because they were wrapped so beautifully. And there was always some truly special item that I particularly wanted that I was lucky enough to receive, too. I also realize that it took a lot of effort and frugal spending throughout the year to make the holidays enjoyable for my family. Mom's a tough act to follow, although now that she's moved to Los Angeles and shares the holidays at our home, she kindly insists that I'm doing just fine.

But there was a ten-year stretch in which my mother faced this time of year alone. My father had passed away and Mom was living in a small town. She never wanted me to travel there during the usually snowy weather (a long drive was required following the flight), but she was not about to mope around or rely on friends to entertain her. Instead she volunteered every Thanksgiving and Christmas for the Rescue Mission, an organization that served a full holiday meal to everyone, not just the homeless or poor population, but every single person in the whole town who wanted to attend. Now, that's a friendly town! Obviously, this was a major community event requiring many, many volunteers and the generous donations of several businesses, including the use of the huge, newly renovated, historic former train depot, which was always specially decorated for the event. This lovely, sit-down dinner was a great success with a cross-section of the town's residents but it was especially popular with senior citizens who were on fixed incomes and alone for the holidays. Mom always had a wonderful time helping out with the baking and serving the meals. What could be a more inspiring example of the true spirit of the holidays?

So, instead of feeling stressed about trying to be perfect, let's just admit that we'll never be perfect anyway and take a look at what this season offers us: we have a chance to give to others, a chance to share with family and friends, a chance to feel the joy of being a part of something larger and more significant than any pointless attempts to create some imaginary "perfect" holiday. Let's not miss our chance.

© 2006 Cynthia Friedlob

"Take Back Your Time" Day

Tuesday, October 24th, is the fourth annual celebration of "Take Back Your Time" Day, a project of the Center for Religion, Ethics and Social Policy at Cornell University and an initiative of The Simplicity Forum. If you haven't heard about it, it's probably because you've been too busy.

Americans pride themselves on being busy all the time. It's a national obsession. If you ask a simple "How are you?" of your co-workers or friends, most will answer, "Busy!" Many will answer, "Swamped!" But how many will say it with a hint of pride in their voices? We're a nation founded on Puritanical principles, so too much leisure time seems to make us a bit uneasy. We certainly work longer hours and take fewer vacations than our European counterparts. And we are a nation compelled to make certain that our children's time is fully scheduled with homework, sports practices, music lessons, summer camp, etc.

The Take Back Your Time folks think that enough is enough so they created an initiative "to challenge the epidemic of overwork, over-scheduling and time famine that now threatens our health, our families and relationships, our communities and our environment."

If you think that sounds a bit dramatic, consider the most obvious results of no downtime: stress and fatigue, two factors that contribute to just about every health problem any of us might have. And, if we're stressed and exhausted, how do we relate to our spouse, partner, children? Probably not in an ideal way. If we're constantly running short of time, how often do we turn to fast food instead of preparing a meal we can share? If our kids' time is jam-packed with scheduled activities, when do they have time to dream, explore, and de-stress from their pressures? If we're always occupied or preoccupied by our work, how do we get to know our neighbors, create a feeling of community, or even just hang out with our family and friends or -- imagine! -- alone? Hang out. It sounds almost old-fashioned. When was the last time you did that? Not a rushed get-together where you're constantly checking your watch, not a forced family holiday meal, not a social event that was really a business "networking" opportunity. Just a chunk of time during which you did whatever you wanted to do. Sounds pretty luxurious, doesn't it?

Of course, some people aren't being "busy" or "swamped" by choice. Some of us need to work two jobs to earn enough to support a family. Or we're time-crunched because we're the caregivers for entire extended families, including kids, grandkids, and elderly parents -- and we may even have full-time jobs on top of that. Some people are extremely grateful to have a few scheduled activities for their children to help keep them off the dangerous streets. Some people are busy just trying to survive.

But if you're one of the lucky people who have a choice to take back some of your time because you've inadvertently become a part of the overworked, consumer-crazed rat race, this day is an opportunity for you to rethink your situation. So, when you're pondering what you'd do if you had, say, an extra hour every day that you could use for yourself, I'd like to suggest that you consider how much time you spend cleaning, collecting, storing or trying to navigate around all the excess stuff in your home. What if you had less stuff? Would you have more time? I can guarantee that you would. Less stuff always equals more time.

Check out my book, "Sorting It Out: One Disorganized Woman Solves the Problem of Too Much Stuff," for advice and personal anecdotes about letting go of clutter. I call it "un-stuffing." It's a good place to start to take back your time -- and your life.

© 2006 Cynthia Friedlob

Defining Treasure

I've just returned to Los Angeles from my high school reunion in Denver. I spent a truly wonderful long weekend with friends, reminiscing about the past and catching up on current news. Some classmates I hadn't seen for far too many years, but the passage of time didn't matter once we were together. We were like kids again, delighted to be with each other and eager to enjoy our brief celebration.

No one talked about their cars or houses or antiques. No one flashed expensive jewelry or designer clothing to impress anyone else. "Stuff" was meaningless at this gathering. We talked about our families and careers, the joys of our lives and, on occasion, the challenges and the losses. We saw each other through the caring eyes of experience, sometimes with a little sympathy and understanding, often with admiration and respect. It was an example of true communion.

The weekend reminded me of the real meaning of the word "treasure:" 1. accumulated wealth; 2. something greatly valued.

If I had to trade all of my possessions in order to keep the friendship and love of the people I care about, I'd let everything go without a moment's hesitation. Possessions are just "stuff." The accumulated memories, the greatly valued feelings, the people are what matter.

© 2006 Cynthia Friedlob

Buying Peace

I’ve just perused an issue of Yogi Times, a magazine published in Santa Monica, CA. Its tagline is, "lifestyle for the modern yogi." I’m always left with mixed feelings when I read a magazine devoted to yoga or Buddhism, primarily because of the advertising of products associated with "spirituality." The commodification of the spiritual path is not a uniquely American phenomenon, but, thanks in part to the constant bombardment of advertising we endure, we have become the masters of buying products in our search for enlightenment. And yet, how many altar items does one "need" to facilitate meditation? How many t-shirts with "OM" written on them in Sanskrit? How many pieces of symbolic jewelry with sacred emblems or special gemstones?

I’m reminded of a great scene in an Albert Brooks movie called "Modern Romance." In an effort to forget breaking up with his girlfriend, Brooks decides to get in shape by taking up jogging. At the sporting goods store, where he expects to buy some shoes and be on his way, the salesman (played by his talented brother, Bob Einstein) makes it clear that if Brooks is truly "serious" about jogging, he needs to buy a complete jogging outfit, including accessories. Einstein’s deadpan delivery opposite Brooks’ neurotic anxiety makes the scene especially funny. Sure enough, Brooks comes out of the store overloaded with his new jogging gear, clearly believing he’s now on the path to "jogging nirvana."

Believe me, I’m not professing innocence here. I’ve bought my fair share of stuff to enhance my own efforts to become more "spiritual." I regularly wear a baseball cap with "Peace" embroidered on it. I doubt that it’s really contributing very much to a peaceful world, but I enjoy making the statement. More helpful would be my personal efforts to create peace by being a peaceful person. And that’s the challenge, isn’t it? Less focus on stuff, more focus on our actions in the world.

© 2006 Cynthia Friedlob

The Thoughtful Consumer

"Most of the luxuries, and many of the so-called comforts of life, are not only not indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind."

Henry David Thoreau, Walden, 1854

I’m basically a hippie at heart, so I’ve never considered myself a slave to possessions. Yet, in the process of "downsizing" over the past several years, I became acutely aware of how many things I owned that I didn’t need. I could justify holding onto the sentimental things I inherited, at least until I finally figured out that I didn’t even need to keep every single one of those very special items. But what about all those things I purchased? After I concluded that I needed far less than I owned, I started to wonder how much thought I had put into the buying process. Not much, it now seems.

I suspect that most of us are fairly oblivious most of the times we go shopping. Some of us may have decided that organic products are an absolute must, or green products, or, if money is a bit tight, inexpensive products. On the other hand, many of us may be most concerned about products that enhance our status. (I live in Los Angeles where status enhancing is a major league sport.) Since I still subscribe to the maxim that every act is political, it seems that shopping would be more meaningful, consumers more powerful and our purchases more satisfying if we took some time to figure out what motivates us before we buy. Advertisers certainly do.

I’d like to buy products that deliver what I need and what they promise, but I’d also like to shop with an old Iroquois Nations principle in mind: whatever choices I might make, I must consider their impact on the next seven generations. I wish I could say that I live up to that ideal, but I don’t. I fall far short in many areas. Still, it’s good to have a standard and it is with that standard in mind that I’ll be discussing all kinds of issues. And chatting with you, I hope, about letting go of things that we don’t need and trying our best to choose wisely when we make new purchases.

Engaging in making choices with some thought behind them doesn’t necessarily mean that we must sacrifice all luxury; it just means that we need to know our own definition of luxury – and necessity. What can we afford? Where can we indulge a bit? What do we need to know to make an informed choice in the first place? Should be an interesting adventure!

© 2006 Cynthia Friedlob