I recently listened to a book, Goodbye Things: The New Japanese Minimalism, by Fumio Sasaki. It was pretty good. I felt that sometimes the author maybe didn’t have enough experience behind him to make him an authority on the subject, but I still liked it and am glad I read it.
The thing that I liked the most was when the author said that when you let things go if you’re really meant to have them, they will come back to you. You’ll buy it again, or someone will give it to you, or it will end up back in your life somehow.
I want to get rid of a bunch of things. Things that I keep just because maybe someone will be mad at me if I don’t keep it anymore. That’s a really sad reason to keep things, I know. But all I think about when I stare at all this stuff is how much harder it makes absolutely everything.
It’s hard to clean.
It’s hard to fix things that break.
It’s hard to know what I have because maybe I have one of those somewhere, but it’s easier just to spend the money on it now that I’m at the store instead of going home, looking for it relentlessly, then going back out to buy it anyway.
I want to get rid of almost everything except for the things that I love. Paper, pens, notebooks. I want to keep those things. But I don’t want the extra books I don’t have time to reread, and I don’t want the clothing that doesn’t fit anymore. I don’t want papers hanging around, or tchotchkes from vending machines (because I keep those things, believe it or not).
I don’t want to keep things out of guilt anymore.
If I’m meant to have it, it will find its way back to me.