I’ve developed a theory about stuff and things. All categories: art, books, kitchen items, clothes, spiritual relics, furniture, lamps, cool mirrors from Liberace’s estate—you name it. There are so many things I’ve acquired that I LOVE and, in my mind, cannot live without. Having these items is more than just having a thing; it’s a statement of who I am, what I love, what makes my life easier, or what brings me joy.
I used to think that when I got something I loved, it was meant to be mine forever. Even though I moved a lot, I would just take all the things I thought I couldn’t live without with me.
Back in 2014, when, due to circumstances beyond my control, I had to move from my house in Los Angeles, I had to rethink that. It turned out I was going to New Mexico, and I had a one-bedroom guest house full of stuff. Much of it I loved—for instance, a Quan Yin floor lamp that was unique and exquisite, a set of blue cooking bowls I loved to pieces, cookbooks—so many things.
I was driving to NM, and only so much would fit in my car. I didn’t want to be tied to Los Angeles with a storage unit, which I consider a monthly money pit that sucks your funds until you finally decide to close it down and sell everything. So, it was time to downsize.
It wasn’t easy. I had garage sales and used online sales sites and sold as much as I could until the day someone came and hauled away all the remaining stuff—a truckload—at no cost to them or me. They would use their channels to sell the items, some of them expensive. Watching that truck pull away was not easy. I drove to NM with all my remaining belongings, the things that would fit into my 1998 Toyota Camry.
I’ve gone through this type of thing at least three times in the last 10 years. And I’m doing it again. I have little left, which makes it even more difficult, because the things that have lasted are, well, important, meaningful, and useful.
One thing I’ve carried since 2006, when I got it, is a small stone praying monk. It weighs a lot for its size. When I look at it, I feel a wave of peace.
Here’s where a new mindset comes in—the one that’s helped me let go. I am a steward of the things I own. I take care of them and get to enjoy their beauty and usefulness, and when it becomes time to let go of them, I shepherd them along to the next person who gets to enjoy them. As I mentioned above, it just happened again with the monk.
Yesterday, I decided I could let it go, so I posted it on FB Marketplace. People wrote asking me if I would take less, and I agreed to let one woman have it at a reduced price. Just as we were arranging where to meet, another woman, Suzanne, wrote. She wanted the monk for the children’s program at Portland Insight Meditation Center. My heart fluttered!
I wrote to the first person and told her about the second one. I loved the idea of the monk going to a kids’ program, but if taker #1 had her heart set on it, it was still hers. She wrote back and said she couldn’t think of a better place for the monk to go. She was getting it in honor of her daughter, whom she had lost, but she really didn’t need more stuff. It warmed her heart that many children would get the benefit of the statue.
When Suzanne picked it up, she asked me to sign the bottom of it and, if I remembered, to include the date and place I got it so its history came with it. It truly went to the perfect place. And I was the conduit.
That’s the best way to look at passing your items along. You’re the vehicle that gets them to their next home, all the while enjoying them until it’s time for them to go.
The joy I get from knowing where it went is greater than the joy of having it. The same goes for the Liberace mirror that went to a collector, the Quan Yin lamp that went to an acupuncture office, and many other items that have found their way to the next person who loves them.