Redefining luxury, Druid style

What does luxury mean? We’re back to ideas that are sold to us from the outside, because it’s so easy to respond to that question with a vision of something that costs a fortune. The push towards ever greater consumerism is often one that asks us to turn old luxuries into things we consider essential, and then to hanker after even bigger, more expensive things.

For the sake of the planet, luxury needs to be a sustainable idea. I don’t think that’s quite as nuts as it sounds either. I do not believe that we’re going to save the world with a hair shirt mindset. Most people are not prepared to suffer for their own gain, much less anyone else’s, and we’re up against all those adverts that keep telling us that we should never experience a moment’s discomfort or inconvenience. Hair shirts are not going to enlist anyone. Not even me. But what if we could de-comodify the idea of luxury? What if we could make luxury, or the experience of the luxurious, that bit more affordable and sustainable? That would shrink a few carbon footprints.

You can’t indulge when you’re on the run. If you’re doing the ‘hectic lifestyle’ routine, grabbing instant food whilst running like a headless chicken from one assignment to the next, you can’t enjoy anything. So the luxury that makes all others possible, is slowing down. And often, slowing down is pretty cheap. A few hours off work will give you that.

A lie in is not expensive, but what is more luxurious than being free to sleep until you wake naturally, and then being leisurely about getting up? You don’t have to wallow in the duvet all day to feel the benefit. An extra hour, stolen from the hectic schedule, is a most lovely bit of self indulgence. Or how about having the time, just occasionally, to soak in a bathtub, to indulge in good massage or leisurely lovemaking? Time is the most precious thing we have, so using that time in pleasing, indulgent ways can create a feeling of luxury at little cost. And equally, no matter how much cash we spend, if we don’t give ourselves time to enjoy the indulgence, we don’t get much out of it. What good a vastly expensive cruise if you’re on the mobile talking to the office all the time?

One of the big mistakes we make, is finding a good thing and then indulging all the time so that the treat becomes normal and all sense of reward is lost. Some such treats become addictive and destructive when continually ‘indulged’. Alcohol for one. Luscious food, for another. Eat ice cream every day, and you’ll barely even notice it. Strawberries all year round are not as good as strawberries that only come fresh from the garden for a few glorious weeks. Preciousness and rareness often equate, but if we make something a regular feature, we deprive ourselves of the sense of a treat. Over exposure to anything can just de-sensitise us, so that we cease to appreciate, or even notice.

I used to sit out overnight to watch the mid summer sunrise. It’s a good opportunity to break with the normal routine. A mattress never feels so magical as it does after a night on a hill. A duvet becomes a gift of the gods then. A roof is a profound blessing. Contrast is good. Contrast allows us to see the real value of things. The more we wrap ourselves in ease, the less we get to enjoy what is good. The less able we become to notice the good in our lives. Coming in after working in the snow, hot soup is sublime.

I’ve stripped a lot of the twenty first century ‘luxury essentials’ out of my life in the last year – more from necessity than spiritual devotion, but it’s been good for me. Happiness is a sunny day when I can dry laundry, and just sit outside and enjoying being alive for a while, knowing that the batteries are charging. Happiness is having the time to soak in lots of hot water. It’s watching grebes dive outside the boat, and sleeping until 8 in the morning. Happiness is not having to cycle in the pouring rain, and happiness is also knowing that, if needs be, I am fit, well and strong enough to do that cycle ride in whatever conditions I get. Going to the pub for internet, electricity and cheesy chips is the pinnacle of self indulgence.

I am bloody determined that as my life swings back towards more conventional options, I am not going to forget these perceptions. The more I am able to enjoy the small things, the easier it is to be happy. The smaller my luxuries, the smaller my impact upon the planet. The closer I get to only having what is needful, the more I experience the indulgent quality of having more than is essential. And the more I see how few things really are essential after all.

The art of stopping

Many druids understand money as energy, creating a way of relating to it that is not just ‘root of all evils’ logic. As a culture we’re all under a lot of pressure to earn money. We should be contributing to the economy, paying our taxes, buying, consuming, using, working more hours to pay for more things, and so it goes on. A ‘normal’ life can involve a couple of hours of commuting each day on top of the nine to five job, to be followed up by a few exhausted hours in front of the TV with a microwaved dinner before dragging off to bed. All to pay for the car to get to the job, the childcare that allows you to do the job, the expensive clothes the job requires, and the TV to fall over in front of. Sliding into debt is also normal. So normal that all our governments do it to a terrifying degree.

It starts early, at school or at home. We are encouraged to be meek and obedient, to follow instructions and work hard. Even when the work is dull, insipid or pointless, we are trained from an early age to knuckle down anyway and accept that someone else has decided we need to do it.

How many jobs confer any innate sense of satisfaction? How many people do not finish the working day feeling like they’ve achieved something? And all the while the bills mount up and the cost of living increases. What many of us do for much of the day is generate wealth for other people, through our work, and our spending.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what my luxuries are. Most of them turn out not to have any easily attached price tag. Yesterday we sat in the spring sunlight for a while, watching swans build a nest. We went for a walk. Lying down has come to feel like the most exquisite kind of self indulgence. I have a very physical life, which frequently leaves me aching and exhausted. Lying down is bliss. Sitting in the sun to think, cuddle, daydream and plan is one of the loveliest ways to pass an afternoon. Time found for music, for my fingers to dance over the familiar neck of my violin, or my voice to find a song. Time spent making love. The things that give me most joy cost nothing. All they require is that I step away from the great energy exchange of money for a while.

I’ve come to realise, in the last few days, that stopping should not be a luxury. I need to think of it as a necessity, a vital part of living well and maintaining both mental and physical health. It is natural to stop. Most of nature does only what it must, and then rests. But then, most of nature does not have a mortgage to pay, or any government or media pressure to be a cog in the economic machine. I spend a lot of time watching dogs, with their boundless capacities for joy and enthusiasm. They wag tails even in the rain. The oldest, stiffest dog will still be cheerful on a sunny walk. They know how to live, and I find it all too easy to forget.

The work should be good. It should be meaningful and rewarding in itself, and it should be properly rewarded. It shouldn’t matter whether anyone is paying for it, because that is not the only measure of achievement. The work should add to the world, enhancing life, not taking from it. It should not leave the worker feeling hollow, used or miserable. It must also end. There must be times when it is possible to step away, to turn off the phone, put down the paperwork and be free of it. Too many jobs seem to require full life commitment, not merely the hours a person is paid for. Professional teaching would be right at the top of the list there. As technology ‘improves’ increasing numbers of companies seem to expect that employees will be perpetually on call.

Sometimes we confuse money for goodness. We mistake the movement of it for success. We fail to distinguish between material wealth and quality of life. Certainly, a degree a physical wealth improves quality of life, but when all we do is service a bank account, we are not living. The best things cannot be bought. A reason to smile. Peace. Friendship. A glorious sunset. The laughter of a child. Good conversation. Dreams.