I Need None of This

I’m sitting on the floor of my bedroom throwing away memories.

My lease is up in three months. It’s going to be time to move again. There is a certain thrill in this to me, and a certain sadness. I will be leaving a happy safe space that came into my life at a very critical time. A well-lit, clean, organized, open space that housed the biggest roller coaster of emotions that I have ever gone through…all in a short year.  But it was welcoming. It was mine. My heart healed and broke and healed again in this space and I learned to love again in this space. Years down the road, I will think back to this place and I will appreciate it and remember it fondly. I don’t know if it is this place or what I put into this place, but the walls radiate love and acceptance and peace and calm. It whispers to me that I am enough and that I am happy.

But it is time to move on. It is time to embrace a new chapter. Not every apartment move will be a new chapter, but this one is going to be. And because of this impending and uncertain yet wildly inevitable change I am finding myself looking around at my stuff and saying aloud in my quiet apartment…”I need none of this”.

The items that we often think are irreplaceable for sentimental value or memories tied to them…even those emotional ties are fading…and I am throwing away a bagful of photos and memories. I am making piles for a garage sale. I am mentally rejecting item after item should the need arise to let go of them.

But it’s fear I am throwing away. Fear that if I don’t hold onto these things that important things will be forgotten or lost. Fear of the unknown or of lacking.

But I just don’t care anymore. It’s just stuff. They are just pictures. They aren’t the memory itself. They aren’t the experience. They aren’t the relationship.

The more we tie ourself to our stuff, the less open we are to opportunities or chances in our lives where we may be called to abandon these things. We think, “well, what will I do about my…“. and “Where will I keep my...” and other such silliness.

Happiness to me isn’t in the items in my home.

It’s in relationships. Adventure. Experiences. The freedom of not being held back by things or by fear of losing things. Risk-taking in what is but our ONLY life.

Clinging to stuff has an extraordinary link to expectations. You expect that you need to build a nest to store your things to care for yourself and your family. So you build your little home empire, and you cling. But when those expectations disappear, and your heart is open to pretty much anything that is coming around the corner, building your little empire becomes precisely the opposite of what you want to do.  I want to continually connect with the next level of disconnect from the material. It doesn’t mean not having things and it doesn’t mean not having nice things…it means not being attached or dictated by them. And it means being prepared to shed them should the time come.

I am on the edge of an adventure, it might be exciting or it might be harrowing but I feel it in my bones the way your knees ache when a storm is coming. And I am going to be ready for it, whatever it may be, by not worrying about or clinging to stuff or expectations of what my future should look like.