The Art of Letting Go: Reflections from an Empty Room

As I bemoaned my outcast state one day in the middle of moving, I was hunched disconsolately in just one of the rooms of my huge house looking at empty walls, barren bookcases and cabinets. It was so much work - Sorting, tossing, and packing at least 22 years in that house and all that I had dragged along from the decades before. My brain was exhausted from decision-making, my arms and back sore from stacking box after box in the garage to prepare for the movers. 

And still there were boxes to finish packing in the middle of this room. I was feeling terribly sorry for myself and greatly overburdened. Would it never end?

And then, as I stepped back and looked at the room again, I was suddenly aware of the centuries of people in the world that had been given merely a few hours or minutes notice to flee their homes. Afraid for their lives, gathering children from their beds, frantically stuffing their pockets with jewelry or coins that might be needed to negotiate for food or shelter or protection or God only knows what in the uncharted days ahead of them. No room for nostalgia or comfort, only hoping for survival in an unknown future. They too, had treasures that they loved: hand-carved and carefully stitched keepsakes lovingly passed down, faded photos of beloved faces - moments that had once defined a life, wedding dresses, the beloved toy, holiday dishes, grandmother's buttons, grandfather’s pipe… all left behind. 

I felt chastened like a spoiled child whining about not having the perfect toy while sitting in a sea of toys. Here I was, leisurely packing and sorting my abundance over the course of months. Moving from one stable home to another. 

In that moment, my self-pity transformed to gratitude and humility. I had so much to be grateful for in this beautiful house that I was moving on from - in a time of my own choosing. I had been gifted the luxury of time to revisit the memories in each room, the cornucopia of a rich life: the effervescent joy of good parties, the soul warming snuggles of bedtime stories, thunderous fights, magical celebrations. Pets entered our lives and left them here. The smells of the fireplace, freshly cut grass, the promise of dinner, spring breezes, cut flowers; all flowed through this house. The sounds of children’s feet thundered down the stairs to the music of laughter, wails of pain over bloody knees and broken hearts echoed like ghosts. The colors of the walls changed in the time lapsed photography of my mind, furniture came and went, children stretched up into adults.

It’s all about perspective isn’t it? It’s all about finding the perspectives about our lives that create gratitude and compassion. It’s about stepping back, taking a breath, taking a fresh look and smiling with tears glistening in our eyes.