We live in a world that has prioritized convenience over all else. We have crammed so many things into our schedules from school to work to sporting events, that we haven't left much time for what used to be ordinary steps in everyday life.
We can grab a coffee on our way to work instead of making our own, and buy lunch instead of packing. We pay more for pre-cut, pre-washed lettuce, guacamole, hummus, fruit and veggie trays, all of which we are capable of making ourselves, but have lost the time or desire required to do so.
Since embarking on the quest to reduce the waste that I produce, I have taken the time to do some of these mundane things that I used to pay no attention to. Instead of buying almond or cashew milk, I have begun making my own rice milk. Not only does this simple process save me over two dollars per week, it allows me to take responsibility for what I consume. We are so disconnected from what we eat, what we wear, and how we decorate, that we forget the work that goes into making things. Someone in the world has stitched together our clothes, picked our fruit, prepared our coffee, and we usually don't stop and ask ourselves if they were paid as they should.
Washing lettuce is not my favorite pastime, and making my own hummus takes effort, but I do these things anyway. It reminds me that I am a living, working part of this world. I am not here to mindlessly consume, but also to create. I find that when I make something myself, I appreciate it a lot more. I am aware of the time and effort it took to create, and therefore I can truly enjoy it.
Both of my grandmothers instilled in me a love for creativity. My grandma on my father's side was an artist. I remember her teaching my sister and I how to make jewelry from clay, although I got frustrated because mine never came out quite as well as hers did. One time she came to visit us and brought a contraption that could cut right through styrofoam. We spent hours creating cool shapes and making use out of what would have been thrown away. I also remember her making miniature furniture to decorate our dollhouses with, and fixing articles of clothing that may not have been our size, but they were on sale so she had to make use of them. Her basement was flooded with projects she had grand visions for but hadn't gotten to quite yet.
My grandma on my mother's side is a creator in the kitchen. She made most of the food at my wedding, and made sure to leave no one out. This meant chex-mix of four varieties: regular, gluten free, peanut free, and vegan. She took the time to perfect vegan cinnamon rolls, apple dumplings, and has even experimented with tofu! I grew up watching her piece together quilts, and make rugs out of clothing scraps. We made our own play dough and she let the grand kids do our own cooking experiments which didn't always turn out so well.
To find joy in creating could mean actively setting aside time to draw and paint like we did as kids. Maybe it means baking a pie for the fun of it and inviting people over to help. Maybe we can find appreciation for life in things we don't necessarily enjoy like hand-washing dishes to save water, or hanging clothes to dry. Take the time to patch that old sweater you've been meaning to fix, or send someone a handmade card. I really want to try converting some old t-shirts to produce bags I can bring grocery shopping.
These things may sound a bit corny but they are the things that our society has overlooked, and I think it is time we make them a part of our lives again.
