Letting Go

We think that holding on is the hardest thing ever. We think that being able to cling to something--without fail--is the biggest challenge the world can set before us. But we're wrong. The hardest thing, the very hardest thing, is letting go.

At twelve bags of garbage and counting, I have been letting go of a lot of things lately. I've thrown away old ticket stubs, notes and gifts from my middle school students (I did keep an awful ceramic bank that's a violin-playing elephant because it's delightfully hideous), printouts of funny internet forwards (I'm pretty sure the internet will hold onto them for me if I want to see them again), and various and sundry other things.

When faced with a choice of throwing something or keeping something, I asked myself, "Do I want to keep this forever?" Because that's really it, isn't it? Do I want to lug this book/greeting card/scrap of paper/business card with me from apartment to apartment for the rest of my life? So: either I throw it away now or I throw it away later, but I can't take it with me. 

I wasn't going out with Ed long when his grandma died, but I was there to help clean things out, and believe me, I was profoundly affected by what I saw.  The woman had drawers full of wallets, closets full of old clothes, a tub full of shoes. And not a Rubbermaid tub from Target. No, I mean a tub--like the claw-footed one you bathe in--and it was full of shoes the woman probably never wore. I kept thinking of her while I was emptying out bins and pulling down stuff from the top of the closet. I would look at something and say, do I want my loved ones to have to figure out what to do with this after I'm dead? I'm not planning on dying any time soon, but I will die someday so I don't think it's such a morbid question to ask.

There are things I want to keep, of course. For example, I have a tub (a small Rubbermaid one from Target) full of Harry Potter memorabilia. Articles, programs from the four HP conventions I attended, licensed merchandise. I'm keeping this because I might have a child someday (or I'll just be everyone's favorite spinster aunt) who will read the books and love them and who will want to know what it was like when J.K. was still writing them. And the kids will be like, "Tell us about the midnight book parties, Auntie Hero!" And I'll be able to show them. 

It's time to get rid of other kinds of stuff too. Old ideas, expectations, unmaterialized possibilities. Do I really want to carry that stuff around with me forever? Of course not. I want to have room in my brain for the new stuff. I certainly won't forget, but I need to let some stuff go. It's just the healthy thing to do.

It's time to throw away old dreams and nurture new ones. It's time to have more room in my closets and shelves, and more room in my life for the things that I want. It's time to start fresh with a clean slate and a clean room. If I hung on to everything, I'd spend all my energy just hanging on. I wouldn't accomplish anything, wouldn't get anywhere. But if I let go, I'll have all the more energy for my growing new life.

Goodbye, twelve bags of old life crap. So long, old ideas. Farewell to all of the things that have weighed me down.

Memories are feather-light, and I feel like flying.

~Hero