Several months ago, I sold most of my possessions in an estate sale. One by one, all my things were picked through, broken up, and sent in different directions. Before the sale, all my shit fit comfortably into a 3,000 square-foot house; now everything I own fits into my Honda Civic. There’s part of me that’s still shocked by what I did, willingly starting over and effectively hitting a giant “reset” button. Some days I wake up and think, I really should have kept a few more t-shirts or maybe a chair. It would be nice to have a chair right about now. But for the most part, I feel a lot lighter, less weighed down, and less attached. Plus, dusting goes A LOT faster.

I’ve noticed that when I go shopping, my experience is greatly different than it used to be. Before, I’d see so many things that I wanted, things I thought I had to have. Now, I see very little that I want. It’s like it’s got to be really attractive and useful (and be able to fit into my car) in order for me to even desire it, much less buy it.

The only piece of furniture I kept (other than a couple of lamps) is a mid-century modern bookcase. When I had the estate sale, I went through hundreds of books, and decided all the ones that went with me would have to fit on the shelf, which only has a capacity of about fifty. I told myself I would only keep a book if I truly loved it or thought it was important enough to read within the next year.

Well, the process did a few things. First, I’m left with the cutest little bookshelf, and I love every book that’s on it, so it brings me a lot of joy. Second, it took off the pressure I was putting on myself to read all the books I had paid for. In one big stroke, that was gone. Let someone else read them. Lastly and most importantly, it proved that I could let go of things that I love. (This is huge, since I’ve been hanging on to stuff since I was a child.)

I can’t say that letting go was easy. There were some bookshelves that my sister and I grew up with, and I thought she could get them in the sale, but she didn’t. When she found out, she cried, and some days I still wonder if I made a mistake in letting everything go. But then I think about one single book I found at a junk sale in Tulsa, and how that one book deeply changed my life. Someone decided to let that book go so that I could find it, and along with it I found my meditation practice, more peace, and more compassion for myself and others. So I can only trust that the things I let go of are working similar miracles for those who own them now.

My therapist says that a positive thing about “the great letting go” is that it’s helping to make me more discerning, that I’ll be more careful about my purchases in the future. Also, she says that letting go of all your stuff makes room for more stuff/better stuff. Well, I think she’s right about the discerning part, which is why I haven’t bought a lot of things in the last six months. As for the making room for more stuff/better stuff part, there’s definitely a lot of room over here, but the stuff hasn’t so much shown up yet. So I’m going to keep waiting, and I’ll have to get back to you on what happens. In other words, don’t go sell all your stuff and think that more stuff/better stuff is going to show up on your doorstep the next week. The universe doesn’t work that way. Apparently.

Tonight I had dinner with a dear friend of mine who’s one of the few truly magical people that I know. What I mean by that is that she hasn’t let life make her jaded. She’s still in love with the sound of leaves blowing in the wind.

When we said goodbye, my friend gave me a belated Christmas present, five crystals spheres made for hanging in a window, breaking up the light, and sending it dancing in different directions. “It’s for your new home, whenever you arrive there,” she said. “Every window should have these.”

So maybe more stuff/better stuff does just show up on your doorstep. And whether it happens little by little or all at once, I’m sure that at some point “the great letting go” will become “the great receiving” again. And whereas I used to think that the receiving was the exciting part, I’m starting to see the letting go as equally exciting. Just like light that hits a crystal, isn’t it beautiful when things are broken up and sent dancing in different directions?