One Last Time: A Ritual for Letting Things Go

 

I consider myself a fairly non-materialistic person. Yet I never seem to go long without feeling the need to let go of something. Some of this is due to my tendency to hang on for a long time to whatever I do obtain – whether it's something I’ve been given or have bought for myself. Running shoes are a good example. I use them exclusively for running for about a year, then for casual wear for another couple of years, then as house and yardwork shoes for a few more. Lately, though, running shoes have become so delicately constructed as to throw off this gradual transition. They barely make it through the running phase. But I digress.

As you may have guessed, I tend to part with things mindfully. Recently I’ve been making my way through a stack of CDs that I’ll most likely donate for a local library sale. I engage in this little ritual of listening to them one last time before letting them go. It’s an interesting exercise. Clearly, if I knew that I still wanted them, I wouldn’t have put them in that stack in the first place. Nevertheless, listening to each of them one last time becomes something of a celebration. I think of why I bought it in the first place, and the memories that I associate with it. Sometimes I feel like I’m really listening to the music in a way that I haven’t for a long time, or perhaps ever. I think of who might listen to it next, and I revel in the fact that it will have another life with someone new – someone who will appreciate it more than I do now. Knowing that it’s the last time seems to lend greater immediacy to the experience.

I recently said goodbye to a couple of sweaters that were given to me by my late mother. They’d become a little baggy, and were sporting a few too many snags. Despite my sentimental attachment, they didn’t quite make the cut after I decided to limit myself to a single sweater drawer. But, whereas I always thought of them as dresswear, maybe somebody else who obtains them secondhand will feel free to simply knock around in them for years to come. I wore them one last time before putting them in a bag to go off to the secondhand store. And while I did I thought of the love with which my mother had picked them out. I thought of the many years they were among my finer clothing items. And I thought of the life that they still had in them.

Perhaps my having witnessed parents and grandparents departing this earth with a glut of belongings in their possession has given me a different outlook on things. I feel a bit like I’m deconstructing a life that I once lived – or at least the material trappings thereof. I’ve come to embrace the idea of things flowing into and out of my life on the way to their next meaningful incarnation. For instance, the previous owners of our home threw a freezer into the deal that we just never found all that useful. It felt great to be able to give a young family something they would really make use of. Likewise the treadmill the previous owners left in the basement. When somebody expressed a wish for one, we were more than pleased to oblige.

Do you have any things that you suspect might give you greater joy to part with than to keep? Some things will likely not require much thought. Other items, however, might warrant the “last time” approach. Wear it, listen to it, or utilize it with full awareness that it might just be the very last time you’ll do so. Revel in its present position poised between possession and non-possession. If you decide to let it go, great. Enjoy the richness of increasing spaciousness. If you decide to keep it, though, I suspect you’ll have a greater appreciation of it for having gone through this exercise.

 

Image Credits

 Photo of sweater and CDs courtesy of the author. 

Copyright 2022 by Mark Robert Frank