We're not pulling up the anchor, we're cutting the chain.

I’ve never been a big fan of Marie Kondo.

Keep only what sparks joy. Really? Who has ever looked at a chef’s knife and felt joy? But try slicing an onion with your bare fingers.

That’ll spark even less joy.

The problem with holding on to everything is that your hands are full. Ultimately, joy and inspiration are not found among the things you hold on to but in how you use them to build connections.

So today, I am deliberately sorting through the things in life that add value from those I no longer need.

I found a picture of my kids that sparked joy, but if that’s all I keep, I’d be running around outside naked trying to cover myself with a 5×7 piece of paper.

However…

We’ve been getting rid of stuff. I, honestly, had no idea how much stuff we _had_. Our attic and basement were mostly empty, and our garage had space for cars. And yet, we’ve donated a dozen large garbage bags full of clothes the other day. I’ve made three trips to the e-waste recycling center; our garbage can is full twice a week, and we’ve gotten rid of chairs, old shelves, decorations, and detritus that I didn’t realize we’d collected.

We still have so much.

I remember cleaning out my grandfather’s house after he died. We went through decades of stuff, he’d gathered, stored, put away. It was both carefully wrapped and haphazardly crammed into spaces throughout the house, in boxes, closets, and the back ends of shelves, waiting to be used and appreciated.

But he was dead, so it all went right into the landfill.

Why do we hold on to things? It must be deep in our psyche to hoard. But then our possessions become an anchor; it’s hard to move, and we have to maintain it and protect it.

My grandfather’s stuff had meaning, like the Japanese printed silk wrapped around a ring we found in a box. There was love there at some point, a memory tucked away in a box. The meaning existed only in his mind, though, and the box hadn’t been opened in decades. Stuff itself has no inherent meaning. So the moment he died, the meaning dissolved. It became garbage.

And is it really meaningful if it is hidden away in a closet?

We make meaning in our minds, do we really need to carry the weight of physical stuff?

It is somehow also in our psyche to let go. As we throw stuff away, I feel physically lighter. It is freeing, and almost addictive, I have to keep reminding myself _not_ to throw out the knives.

We mistake accumulation for roots. But roots are connections to people, not things. The stuff just gets in the way.

Or at least, it’s worth thinking about. What I know for sure is that less stuff is freeing, and no stuff isn’t nearly enough; you still have to cut the onions. So we’re striving to clean out what we can. The stuff we take with us might not exactly spark joy, but at least it is useful, and we’ve shed so much that isn’t.

And to Marie Kondo’s credit, the photo is definitely coming with us and I plan to hold onto it for as long as I live, even if nobody cares about it once I’m dead.

So what can you get rid of today?

Home

The freedom that comes from throwing stuff away