by Chris Holcomb –
This past semester at Purdue, I took a class called “Global Green Politics.” It was a general overview of environmental politics at the global scale, focusing on a wide variety of issues and viewpoints. The professor did a great job of teaching it from a neutral perspective with the goal of presenting to us the facts, and then letting us make decisions from there. More than that, she wanted us to develop well-reasoned opinions that we could stand behind and act upon. The culminating assignment of the course was to do a “Creative Project,” to use our unique skills and abilities to create something – art, music, a product, a food, anything – to cast a new light on an issue relating to the themes of the course.
The rules were simple: if I used something in any way – sat on a couch, set something down on a table, turned on a light – it counted as a possession.
This wasn’t good for me. I don’t necessarily consider myself the most creative or artistic person; I can’t write music, draw a picture, or write poetry. And I enjoyed the course and respected the professor, I really did, so I wanted to put forth effort in my project and create something meaningful. So what did I do? Well, of course, I procrastinated! I kept hoping for a moment of awesome inspiration. Finally, on the Saturday before it was due, I headed to Greyhouse and picked up an Ale-8, knowing that Ale-8 always solves my problems. Convicted by my professor’s urge to act upon our beliefs, I got to thinking: maybe I shouldn’t be making something for this project; maybe I should be doing something.
Jumping off of my curiosity to learn more about human needs, I started making a list of every single possession I had used that day. Remember, this was a Saturday. I hadn’t gone to classes, I hadn’t done anything major. All I had really done was play frisbee, eat 3 meals, and hang out with some friends in my apartment. That’s it. Long story short, my list ended up totaling to 108 items, not including the food I ate. I used 108 possessions to run for two hours and lounge around the rest of the day! Suddenly, I knew I had my project: to determine how many possessions I really needed to survive for one day.
The rules were simple: if I used something in any way – sat on a couch, set something down on a table, turned on a light – it counted as a possession. Anything else in my house, it was as if I didn’t own it. So, I made some adjustments from the day before. I slept on my couch, used the sweatshirt I wore Sunday as a pillow, and used one bowl and spoon for all of my meals. I even ended up handwriting the paper I had to write for my project. At the end of the day, my total ran to 28 items, 74% less than the previous day.
I didn’t do everything right. My experiment wasn’t sustainable, as I changed clothes the night before and didn’t shower. I also took full advantage of my church’s free bagels and post-service brunch, not counting items that weren’t mine and used out of community with others. Then again, maybe it was a good thing I treated it the way I did. It gave me at least a small taste of what it’s like to live in poverty, to see people using nice things all around you but not be able to use them. And in the end, I can’t really say that my day would have been that much better with 80 more possessions. I got a little break from the hectic land of the internet and got a chance to catch up on some much needed reading.
For me, this experiment and the one I’ll talk about next are just a start in my journey to determine what people need. They’re very basic experiments, maybe more adventurous than educational, but a good chance to get my feet wet.
Chris Holcomb is an intern this summer with Mustard Seed Associates. Hailing from from Elkhart, IN, Chris will be a senior this year at Purdue University majoring in Economics with a concentration in Statistics and minors in Sociology and Environmental Politics and Policy. This post is the second in a series he’s been doing on his experiments with simplicity and human needs. You can also follow along at his blog, The Llama and the Cow.
Comments on this entry are closed.