I’m packing because we’re flying to Mexico tomorrow. I’m torn between minimalism and my old habits (just in case—it’ll definitely come in handy!). Suddenly, Mia’s camera caught my eye. You know, that little camera for toddlers. Mia loves taking pictures, and we already have about 600 in this camera. About 50 of them are different shots of her favorite unicorn, another 37 are feet, shoes, weird frames—you know how it is. But there are also plenty of beautiful and sweet moments. Sometimes she looks through these photos, she loves revisiting memories of a trip or a moment—these are her memories, which she relives over and over again thanks to these photos.
I noticed that she stopped taking photos some time ago. When I offer her the camera and she seems to want it at first, but then puts it down right away. And somehow I recently realized that this happened around the same time that the “clip” on her strap broke. Unfortunately, it broke in such a way that it can’t be glued back on, and there’s no other way to attach it. Since she can no longer hang it around her neck or keep it with her, it’s harder for her to use it.
I’m packing and looking at this little camera, and I’m thinking it would be great to bring it along, because she’ll be able to take pictures with her aunt and grandma, and there’s just so much to remember and experience in Mexico! So I’m sitting there with this strap and this camera, trying to figure it out… and seriously, there’s just no way. I’m not very good at thise handy solutions, so the first thing that comes to mind is, maybe buy a new one? It was a pretty cheap toy and it’s no big deal, so should I just do it? But on the other hand, the camera works great, so do I want to contribute to consumerism that’s already spiraled out of control? Maybe I should just let it go and leave it? But that doesn’t solve the problem either. And suddenly, I look around the room and my eyes fall on some yarn. I think to myself, maybe I could make a little macramé-style basket and attach the strap to it? But the camera is so tiny that the yarn might be too fluffy and cover everything, including the screen. I rummage through my arts & crafts bin and find the perfect thread—strong and glittery—that might work! Finally! A thread that’s been sitting in the bin for 10 years has COME IN HANDY! (LOL) I get absorbed in the project because I like this kind of crafting, and I start experimenting—tying tiny knots, twisting, more knots—so it can withstand the number of bumps and challenges that a child’s imagination is sure to throw at it… and there it is! Finally, I attach the leash, and it worked! It’s not a beautiful solution, it’s not perfect, I don’t even know if my boss will approve of it, but it effectively solved my problem. Without unnecessary consumption, without giving up, and on top of that, it gave me a great deal of creative satisfaction.
And it got me thinking… How rarely do we give ourselves permission and space these days to approach problems creatively? Consumption is right at our fingertips. You can always buy something, get something, or replace it. It’s so easy and relatively cheap that we don’t even think about it. And it’s also the solution closest to “perfection.” Buying a new camera—replace the same thing, in pristine condition. Or hey, maybe there’s already a new, better model out there? Meaning to have something Better! Tempting, isn’t it? Because, after all, it’s better to have something nice, new, intact, and fully functional. Repairing things that are cheap and Made in China sounds pretty… grotesque? Pointless? A waste of time? “I’ll spend more precious time fixing it, and it’ll break anyway…” Others will say—buy better quality! More expensive, “I can’t afford cheap things.” But sometimes you don’t need to buy expensive things at all, especially for kids who’ll just destroy them or lose them anyway, and expensive and “good” things break just as easily.
Stepping back from this chaos of thoughts to determine what’s “better” and which solution will be the most correct, quickest, most effective, eco-friendly, educational, and so on, I focus on the sheer joy of fixing things… Or even more so on giving myself permission to sit down, get frustrated (it can’t be fixed!), almost throw it all to hell, but eventually find a solution and do it my way. And to actually enjoy it. Without ideology, without the expectation that this is THE best solution, without worrying about what others will think, and without judging the result at all. What I felt was a kind of self-trust. That when I give myself time and space, I’m able to find a solution that fits me, my capabilities, draw from my own resources, and even enjoy the process. Living in a world where we have access to so many perfect (external) solutions, we leave so little room for trusting ourselves—our creativity, intelligence, intuition, and simply having fun. As a result, I feel fun and easiness.

P.S. My boss approved and packed it!





