It’s the curse of the holidays in a consumer culture, that feeling of off-the-rails consumption that bursts through all reason and credit card balances.  We all feel it, and we can’t stop it.  It has a life of its own.

I wonder what Black Friday will look like this year, with Covid concerns and restrictions in place across the country.  I think about how our priorities have changed this year and how our celebrations look different.  I don’t know if we are changed for now, or forever.  

But what I do know is we have an opportunity to shift out-of-control consumerism back to intentional observance.  Observance of the holidays, of our budgets, of our values. If you’re considering the same things, I’d love to hear!  I have some ideas about how we can slow the consumption and curb the compulsion this year.

First, a tactical tip.  I removed the Amazon app from my phone.  Instead of instant purchases, I keep a shopping list in my Notes app.  I keep a list of what we need.  It creates just the tiniest bit of space between the impulse or the perceived need and the purchase.  When I sit down at my computer, I have an extra step to consider, “Do we still need this?”  And I’m finding staggering results that roughly half the time… we don’t.  

This practice of a gap between impulse and purchase has ripple effects.  There’s a financial benefit, of course, if I’m ordering less stuff.  An environmental benefit.  A mindfulness benefit.  And also a parenting benefit.  I’m explaining this tactic to my kids when they meltdown over something they want.  “Wow, you really want to have more chips or another truck to replace the one you broke.  Should we add it to the list?”  They are comforted knowing their need/want has been heard, acknowledged, and recorded.  And then later when we are all calm we can decide if they really want it relative to all of the other requests that we’ve tallied up.  They learn patience, prioritization, and delayed gratification.  (And I’m relearning it!)

Next, I’m slowing down.  Just moving slower feels healthier.  The convenience of instant purchases is useful, but it also sometimes makes me feel like I’m on a train that’s gone off the tracks.  When the boxes arrive and I can’t even remember what I ordered just yesterday.  Slowing down gives me more attention, deliberation, and anticipation, and enjoyment of the things I buy.  I’m also allowing for some discomfort being without an item for a few days.  And I’m problem-solving instead.  “How can I make do without it?”  Gosh, it feels good to be even minimally resourceful again… using resources beyond my fingers on an app.

Take a shopping pause.  Miranda Anderson, one of my favorite bloggers, writes about the experience of an entire year of no shopping in her book More Than Enough.  She shares the many revelations for her family of 5 as they gave up excess and instead of focused on experiences, consummables, and the occasional replacement item when a pair of shoes was outgrown.  It just makes sense.  She’s also an advocate for experiential gifts generally, as part of an adventurous family, and shares great ideas on her blog.  My friend Rachael recently founded Tiny Earth Co, a company offering exquisitive collections of age-appropriate toys for rent, also shares some ideas on her blog.  Nancy Ray and Lara Casey, local goal-setting evangelists in North Carolina, also advocate for a 3-month, no-shopping “contentment challenge” early in the new year to help detox from over-consumerism over the holidays. 

But what if we stopped it from happening at all?  What if we changed our gift-giving habits and expectations in the first place?  Like everything else we are reevaluating during the pandemic, it’s OK to opt out from shopping traditions that felt inauthentic.  You don’t need to buy something for everyone in your family, your office (haven’t seen them in a while), or even your best friends.  They don’t need anything.  You can chat with them and find other ways to honor the holiday, reconnect, and show thoughtfulness or affection through shared traditions.  Take a virtual watercolor class together, send handmade cards, adopt an animal in the zoo or a star you name, share a cocktail on Zoom, or join forces for a group donation to a cause you care about.  On my work team, we agreed years ago to forego gifts for each other and instead adopt a family through the Salvation Army.  We each choose a child and purchase everything on the list to donate.  It’s the perfect way to work together as a team without adding unnecessary frivolity to the mix. 

Even though travel is limited and experiential gifts for the family might be outside of arm’s reach for now, the REI tradition of #optoutside is a beautiful new tradition to incorporate for your family.  I think Black Friday could be different forever.  What if we all step outside instead?  A hike, a game of croquet, a family scavenger hunt, s’mores by the fire, even online window shopping and choosing a family gift or future vacation destination from the comfort of your couch.  All of these sound slow, safer, and healthier to me than battling a deal in a big-box store against an unmasked raving lunatic.

Here’s to a season of slow savoring and intentional spending. I’m cheering for you!