As I sort through my past
I ask myself why I’ve held on to so much.
Memories associated with each object in my space,
I start to feel exhausted at the sheer enormity of it all.

I pick up every object,
look at it,
ask myself, “Do I want to take this with me?”
Some things answer with a resounding
some are lukewarm and say
“Eh, maybe?”
some tell me bluntly
“It’s time for me to go.”

Anxiety arrives on the heels
of the decision to let go.
Is this the right thing to do?
Will I need it later

and regret passing it on?

More anxiety arrives
as the fear builds>
How can I discern between
what is truly wanted,
and what is excess–
sometimes there is such a fine line.

So now I summon my trust,
my hope, my faith
that if I were to let go of something
and discover that I need it later
it will come back to me again

Then I can relax
and let go a little more.
There is so much spaciousness
and beauty
and clarity
and freedom
in this trusting.

Please share your thoughts. Your presence here is greatly appreciated.

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