The concept of surrounding yourself with only things that spark joy seems self evident. If you have something in your home (and especially if it is displayed) it must provide happiness, right? I didn’t find that to be true.
Each time we moved to a new house, we would go through our stuff and move on from some things. In that context, tidying was a natural act—no one wants to spend time or energy packing up items that are no longer needed or wanted. But I still found that there were things I kept, even if there wasn’t a logical reason to keep them. There were boxes of “keepsake” items that I hadn’t looked in years, kept only because they supposedly had emotional significance to me. Trinkets floated around the house that I hardly realized where there, and in some cases I could no longer remember their origin. Those keepsake boxes and trinkets had become clutter—they were items that I retained but that lacked any present value.
I realized that if those things did matter, they wouldn’t have remained sealed in a box for all those years. But getting rid of them was still hard. Those items were tangible, physical proof of my past. If I no longer had them, was I losing that past? The truth was I didn’t remember it anyway, at least not without the prompting of an item, and if that item was buried in a box it couldn’t provoke any memories.
Folks like Marie Kondo remind us that items do not carry memories, we do. If someone else saw an item but lacked the history, all they’d see is the item. As I evaluated my keepsakes, I considered whether the item itself was necessary, or if a simple photo would do. In most cases, an image was all I would need. (I review my photos and journal entries often, an image would actually mean more exposure for the memory compared to its life in a box.)
Some of the hardest items to deal with were gifts. Marie would argue that the purpose of any gift is to be given, and that after it has served that purpose neither the giver nor receiver should have any further expectations. I like that philosophy even if it is sometimes hard to accept. Gifts should always be things that we believe the receiver either wants or needs, and not things that we want the them to have. For example, everyone who knows me is aware of my disdain for button up shirts. Buying one for me would be self-serving, meant to please the giver, as opposed to something meant to please me. But sometimes we strike out, even with the best intentions. I have given and received gifts that showed thoughtfulness, but that didn’t work out. Keeping those items is unnecessary, and they can have an effect opposite of the intended goal—unhappiness. The best course of action is to return or exchange those items so they don’t become “things” cluttering up your house.
The goal here isn’t to part with items in a race to see who can have the least, but to be deliberate about what you keep (and to understand that your feelings about those things may change over time). Some people may find they no longer need a lot of what they have. Others will find joy in more things. Both options are correct for the respective individuals.
I have enjoyed evaluating the things that are around me or stored away, and making decisions about their ability to spark joy. The process has been helpful in two ways. First, it has put me back in touch with memories that have been hidden for a long time—the ones I wish to jolt more often now have a permanent, more accessible location in our physical or digital home. Second, the things that I now see every day are the things that matter—it is freeing to release items that are simple objects. (Surprisingly, some objects actually made me feel bad, because they only reminded me of what I will never do.) I like the visual clarity offered after moving on from stuff that had been relegated to simply taking up space, and how what remains are the things that truly spark joy.