This weekend my partner and I and a few of our neighbors are having a garage sale. Whenever I hear those words, "garage sale," my mind immediately goes to the sister phrase, "trash and treasure."
And, for me, it's an appropriate descriptor of a powerful emotional component of such a sale: Even though, intellectually, I know alot of this stuff is, essentially, of no real value to me any more, I did, at one time, treasure it--or at least the memories associated with it.
And there's the rub: Parting with the "stuff" signifies a parting with the memories--the emotional "stuff."
Clinically, this parting could be classified as "acceptance." In simpler terms, it can signify "letting go."
Now I realize that some of the "treasures" in tomorrow's sale meet all--and every--qualification for "trash." Or, perhaps, more kindly, they are the ghosts of questionable choices, lapses in retail judgement; or more radically, What the hell was I thinking when I bought this? In this category falls the pine-bark covered photo album (never used), the "extra" bargain bath mat (also never used), a handful of instructional books (mostly only thumbed-through) and a myriad of wicker baskets, seasonal trinkets and bric-a-brac that were idolized for an instant in the checkout line, and then languished in a closet or cupboard for the rest of their questionably "useful life."
However, there also exist some items, which, while not exactly "treasures," do have meaning, context, and even a brief--or even extended--role in a few acts of our life-play. For instance, now-emptied picture frames which held photos of once-dear friends, who, through time, distance and--God forbid--age, faded from dear to distant to who was that and why did I save that photo?
Then, there are the in-between items which, at first (and at the pleading of my partner) go, reluctantly into the "sell" pile; and then, upon reflection, back into the "keep" pile. Not surprisingly, these in-between items are harder to part with. While here and now, in 2013, these items serve no rational purpose, they still tug at an emotional part of me. They will get a temporary stay today.
Others, however, I recognize from previous forays into boxes marked "save," from previous garage sales. Over time, for reasons I don't completely understand, those items, so thoroughly embedded in my emotional brain, no longer have that hold on me this go-round. With little hesitation or fanfare, they graduate to the "sell" pile with not so much as a sigh.
It's often same with emotional ties. Some call it "emotional baggage." It goes by other names, too: "grudge," "crush," "jealousy," "regret," even, "insult." It usually doesn't take too much digging to identify our own emotional baggage. What takes more effort is, metaphorically, clearing it out of our psyche, putting it on the curb of our memory, and letting it go.
While there are few "buyers" for our emotional baggage, it's much like the physical "stuff" of our actual garage sales. It occupies space--space that we might need or want to devote to our current lives and loves. Space that might give us "room," or lighten up our environs.
And, so, when we're ready, like the dusty, hot-air popcorn popper we haven't used or seen for, possibly years, we let it go. We say goodbye to a useless grudge, set free an ancient hurt, kick to the curb an old anger, and make room for other feelings: Lightness. Gratitude. Peace.
When you're ready, give it a try. Unpack some of your emotional baggage. Take a minute to see how it serves you now. If it still does serve you, even in a way that seems irrational to the rest of the world but makes complete sense to you, then...maybe you'll save it awhile longer. But, when you find it no longer deserves a place in your emotional attic, you may want to simply say goodbye.
Let it go. And set it--and yourself--free.
Until next time, thanks for listening.
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