I used to have eight shoeboxes filled with trinkets and keepsakes, mostly from my childhood and adolescence. These were items I kept around out of habit, only to be looked at occasionally when moving or doing a major clean-out. Now, I'm down to just two. The rest were either tossed, donated to Goodwill, or condensed into the two remaining boxes. As I prepare for another move, I realize I don't actually care to move these shoeboxes another ten times in my life. The contents have largely served their purpose, and whatever fleeting joy I get from seeing them again is a certain type of nostalgia; one that looks backwards rather than forward. While that kind of joy is perfectly valid, the burden of carrying these things, no matter how small, is still a burden. Perhaps it is equal and opposite to the joy of being reminded of them again.
For the sake of mental accounting, let's say these two forces cancel each other out. I’ve only recently realized that by ridding myself of these items, along with thoughts or ideals that no longer serve me, I actually move forward, even if only by a small step. Removing them frees both my physical space and my mind for something new.
There is a subtle but important truth in letting go: whatever you give away can often be replaced if you ever truly need it. I learned this lesson when I found myself missing a certain x-acto knife that I had thrown out a few months prior to needing it. I saw it as a reminder of a time when I clung to things simply out of habit, but didn’t think twice by ordering a new one. The thought that I can always purchase what I need is a very freeing exercise. In this light, decluttering becomes less about loss and more about empowerment.
Sometimes, though, certain items feel irreplaceable. When faced with this dilemma, I have found a simple solution: take a photo. A snapshot preserves the memory and details of an item without it occupying physical space. That image becomes a keepsake, reminding me of what once was, even as we make room for new possibilities.
I have also set up personal guidelines for deciding what to let go. If I have not used an item in over a year, I ask myself whether its presence truly adds value. I weigh its sentimental worth against its cost of replacement. More often than not, I find that I do not miss the item at all, and the thought of buying it again, if necessary, feels like a small price to pay for the freedom I gain.
Many people have heard of Marie Kondo, the queen of tidying up, but I find comfort in knowing that even she has embraced a bit of mess as life unfolds. Now that she is a parent, she understands that a little chaos can be an essential part of a life well-lived. There is a delicate balance between order and spontaneity, between perfection and living fully. We are not meant to be pristine all the time; sometimes the most meaningful moments are found in the imperfect, in the space created by letting something go.
I invite you to consider: What can you release from your life today? Whether it is a box of keepsakes or the lingering weight of an ill-serving thought, you may discover that embracing less leads to a richer, more open way of living.