The green wire was stuck. I pulled the wire. The plastic bulb broke. The bulb made a small sound. I sat on the floor with the wires. It was July. The Christmas lights were in a ball. I wanted to untangle the wires now. I did not want to wait until December. The floor was cold. My fingers were tired. I had been pulling at the green wire for twenty-two minutes.

Pania sat on the sofa. Pania did not look at the wires. Pania looked at her phone. The phone made a chime. Pania made a face. The face was not happy. Pania tapped the screen.

“The email came,” Pania said.

I looked at the green wire. I did not look at Pania. I asked about the email.

“The email says I need more cream,” Pania said. “The email says I am almost out of cream. The brand sent the email.”

The Illusion of the Empty Jar

Pania stood up. Pania went to the bathroom. I followed Pania. We looked at the shelf. The shelf held a jar. The jar was white glass. The jar was one-third full. The cream was thick. The cream was white. Pania touched the cream with her finger.

“The jar is not empty,” I said.

“The email says it is time,” Pania said. “The email makes me feel worried. I do not want to have no cream. I do not want my skin to be dry. I will order the jar now.”

Pania ordered the jar. Pania spent sixty-four dollars. The jar would arrive in three days. The old jar would still have cream in the old jar. This is the restock reflex. The brand taught Pania the reflex. The brand uses the email to start the reflex. The reflex costs money.

I went back to the wires. I thought about the jar. I thought about the cream. Most brands sell cream with water. The water makes the jar big. The water makes the cream feel wet. The water does not fix the skin. The water evaporates. The water is a filler. When the jar has water, the jar goes fast. You use more cream. You buy more jars. The buying cycle is short.

The brand knows the cycle. The brand sends the email at forty-five days. The brand wants the money at forty-five days. Pania has cream for twenty more days. Pania buys early. The brand has the money for twenty days. Pania has a shelf with two jars. One jar is new. One jar is one-third full. The one-third full jar will sit. The one-third full jar will grow old.

The Silence of a Dry Nib

Stella F. fixes pens. Stella F. lives in a small shop. The shop has many pens. The shop has many bottles of ink. I visited Stella F. last week. I took a pen to the shop. The pen did not write. Stella F. looked at the nib. Stella F. used a lens.

“

People fear the end. People buy a new bottle of ink when the old bottle is half full. They fear the silence of a dry nib.

– Stella F., Pen Specialist

I told Stella F. about Pania. I told Stella F. about the jar of cream. I told Stella F. about the email. Stella F. cleaned the pen. Stella F. put the pen in water.

Pania has three jars in the cupboard. Each jar has a small amount of cream. The cream in the jars is dry. The cream in the jars is yellow. Pania does not use the yellow cream. Pania uses the new cream. The new cream comes from the new jar. Pania pays for cream she does not use.

The Scarcity of Self

This is the scarcity-of-self. You feel you are not enough without the jar. You feel the skin will fail without the jar. The brand builds this feeling. The brand uses the phone. The brand uses the inbox. The brand uses the subscription.

The clock moves. The jar arrives. You have too much cream. You have too many jars. Your money goes to the brand. The brand is happy. Your bathroom cabinet is full. You are not happy. You are anxious.

The Honest Balm

I thought about the tallow balm on my own shelf. The balm is different. The balm has no water. The balm is made of tallow. The tallow is from beef. The beef was grass-fed in New Zealand. The tallow is cosmetic-grade. The tallow has no smell.

I looked at my jar. My jar is small. My jar is glass. I have used the balm for fifty-two days. The jar is half full. I do not get emails from the brand. The brand is Taluna. Taluna does not use the restock reflex. Taluna makes the balm in an ISO-certified facility. The facility is in New Zealand.

The balm is dense. You use a small amount of the balm. You rub the balm between your hands. The balm melts. The balm goes into the skin. The skin is like the tallow. The fatty acids are the same. The skin takes the tallow. The tallow does not sit on top. The tallow does not evaporate like water.

Compressing the Cycle

Marketing is a game. The game has rules. Rule one is to compress the cycle. If the customer buys every sixty days, the brand makes money. If the brand makes the customer buy every forty days, the brand makes more money. The brand uses the email to move the date. The brand uses the “low stock” warning to move the date.

The date moves earlier every year. People buy more than they need. People store the jars. People forget the jars. The jars expire. The money is gone.

Pania came back to the room. Pania looked at the wires. “I bought the cream,” Pania said. “I feel better now.”

“You have cream in the bathroom,” I said.

“It is almost gone,” Pania said.

“It is thirty-one percent full,” I said. “I measured the balm.”

Pania looked at me. Pania did not like the measurement. Pania liked the feeling of the new order. The order was a promise. The promise said Pania would be safe. The promise was a lie. Pania was safe before the order. Pania had enough cream.

We untangled the lights. The lights were long. The wires were thin. We found the broken bulb. I replaced the bulb. I plugged the lights into the wall. The lights were bright. The lights were multi-colored.

“It is July,” Pania said. “Why are we doing this?”

“I want to know they work,” I said. “I do not want to worry in December.”

I was doing the same thing. I was restocking the light. I was preparing for a fear. The fear was a dark tree. The fear was a failure of the holiday. I was like Pania. I was like the email.

The Weight of the Wallet

I sat on the floor. I looked at the lights. I thought about the tallow. The tallow is honest. The tallow does not pretend to be more than tallow. It does not have water to make it look big. It does not have fillers. It is just the fat. The fat is good for the skin.

A good product should last. A good brand should wait. If the product is good, the customer will come back. The customer will come back when the jar is empty. The brand does not need to push. The brand does not need to haunt the inbox.

Taluna waits. The balm is handcrafted. The balm is simple. It does not have parabens. It does not have synthetic fillers. It has the tallow. It has the nourishment. When you use a product that works, you stop looking for the next product. You stop clicking the links in the emails.

I told Pania to stop the emails. I told Pania to unsubscribe.

“But I will forget,” Pania said.

“Your skin will tell you,” I said. “The jar will tell you. You can see the bottom of the glass. The glass is clear.”

Pania thought about the glass. Pania thought about the money. The restock reflex is a habit. You can break the habit. You can wait until the jar is empty. You can look at the shelf. You can see what you have. You usually have enough. Most people have enough for a month. A month is a long time.

I finished the lights. I put the lights in a box. I labeled the box. The box said “Lights Work”. I put the box in the cupboard. I felt a small peace. The peace was not from the lights. The peace was from the order.

“I have enough,” Pania said.

She said it like a secret. She said it like she was learning a new language.

But tomorrow I will not buy more lights. I will not buy more cream. I will use the tallow balm I have. I will use the balm until the jar is clean. I will see the bottom of the white glass. Then I will go to the website. Then I will buy the next jar.

The Empty Space is Transition

The world speaks the language of more. The world speaks the language of soon. The world wants you to run before you walk. The world wants you to buy before you use.

I went inside. I looked at my bathroom shelf. The jar of tallow balm was there. It was simple. It was quiet. It did not send me emails. It did not tell me I was running out. It just waited for my fingers. It waited for my skin.

I took a small amount. I rubbed it into my hands. My hands felt soft. My hands felt real. I did not need the next jar yet. I had this jar. This jar was enough.

I sat in the chair. I watched the dark come into the room. I did not turn on the lights. I did not need the Christmas lights. I did not need the phone. I had the silence. The silence was free. The silence did not require a subscription.

I will tell Stella F. about the lights. I will tell her the pen is writing well. I will tell her I am not afraid of the dry nib. I have ink. I have balm. I have time.

The buying cycle is a choice. You can choose a longer cycle. You can choose a better product. You can choose to wait. The wait is where the peace is. The wait is where you find out who you are without the jar.

Pania will receive her jar in three days. She will put it in the back of the cupboard. She will use the old jar for two weeks. Then she will forget the old jar. She will open the new jar. The cycle will continue. But maybe next time, she will look at the white glass. Maybe next time, she will see the bottom. And maybe next time, she will not be afraid of the empty space.

It is not a crisis. It is a transition. My skin is fine. My shelf is fine. My wallet is fine. I will untangle the next wire when the time comes. For now, the lights are in the box. The balm is in the jar. The world is quiet.