Letting Go, Lightening Up

I have a really hard time keep my life + living spaces clear and not-cluttered. No matter how hard I try, it seems as if within seconds of cleaning up, things begin to immediately migrate back to those cleared off spaces.

It doesn't help that I also have a hard time letting go of things. When I try to minimize my possessions, I find myself agonizing over every little thing. What if I need it someday? What if I'm sad that it's gone?

It's kind of incapacitating, and more than a little frustrating.

Recently, however, I had a bit of an epiphany. See, my family and I, we're moving into a different house soon. So everything that we own? We're going to have to pack it up and move it with us.

And then I realized, while looking at some random little thing: I don't want to take all of this with us. With me.

Suddenly, I find myself freed up to make more gutsy decisions. Now the question is not What if I need that lap desk that I've pretty much never used? or What if I'm sad that I throw away Christmas cards we were sent 3 years ago?

Now it's Do I need or care about this thing enough to pack it up, haul it across town, and unpack it in our new-to-us abode?

The answer is, to my surprise + delight, almost exclusively no.

And it feels amazing. Freeing. Like the hills are alive with the sound of music (okay, I know that sounds cheesy, but it really does feel as good as that).

I shared this with a friend of mine. Nodding, she said, "All that stuff? It's been an anchor, holding you down, and now you're pulling it up and setting sail."

I love that metaphor. For too long I've viewed my things as assets, as comforts. And while some of them certainly are, a lot of them are not. Instead, they've been weighing me down, holding me back.

Releasing them, whether through donation or consignment or giving them away, feels light. It feels generously rash. I love it.

Anchors aweigh.