Published June 30, 2005

The colorful mound in the center of the luxuriously carpeted bedroom was growing as the two Sonoma women forged on with the appointed task. Atop the stately four-poster bed,a different heap swelled,while inside the closet across the narrow wall of the room,spaces were gradually coming into view which hadn’t been seen for years.
"This dress was very expensive," the trendy young mother exclaimed as she fingered the shiny gold buttons on a flaming red dress she held aloft.
"It’s lovely," her helper commented.

"I well remember the day I bought this." Holding the garment in front of her,she waltzed toward the full-length mirror as she continued."It was the first time I ever walked into an exclusive shop and paid the full price for something I wanted." With a deep sigh, she added,"I really have special feelings about this."

Another sigh followed a thoughtful pause. "But the truth is,I never wear it any more." And she flipped the treasure across the room dramatically. Falling on the mound with its long cuffed sleeves splayed out in different directions,it looked like a discarded rag doll who had lost her head.

Someone walking into the room just then might have thought the young woman had lost her head. While I watched and coached, she had piled thousands of dollars’ worth of "perfectly good" clothing into a heap to be later stuffed into big green garbage bags.
Telling me the story of the scarlet dress had helped my client bring closure on this piece of her personal history.Only then was she able to let go.

It’s the "letting go" that most often trips us up when we attempt to cull the surplus goods in our homes. I’ve known folks to tuck the discard pile in a corner and one by one drag out bits and pieces to use again. One 73-year-old stowed the boxes of "giveaways" in her company’s warehouse – never to be seen again! In her lifetime,anyway.
Letting go is an emotional experience.That’s one reason why I encourage a Partner in Grime to share the culling experience,especially with clothing.An outside person can be much more objective about what looks well on you and what doesn’t, what is outdated or even ghastly. Besides, with someone there,you can tell stories.Relating your story about a possession links up your intellect with your emotion.With the story told,the emotion that clings to an object is somehow appeased.And then you can let go.

Deep-seated emotions,habits formed in childhood, a skewed sense of thrift,nostalgia,pride, insecurity, guilt, indecisiveness – these all play roles in keeping our closets stuffed and our homes filled with stuff.Such elements in our personal backgrounds lodged in this consumer society have left otherwise sane, intelligent and take-charge individuals floundering – unnerved, bewildered and bound by the scope of their own possessions.

In truth,a glorious sense of freedom follows a purposeful breaking away.My friend Susan gets a taste of this whenever she travels.
"When I’m on a trip," she told me,"I feel liberated by a limited wardrobe! There are only so many pieces to choose among and take care of. I really enjoy it.And it saves so much time."

Notice,Susan didn’t talk about feeling limited. Or looking frumpy. Or feeling deprived. She spoke of freedom.Of enjoyment.Of time-saving.

You have the power to rise above the materialism plague of our culture.You’ll do well to approach the freedom of fewer possessions in small but significant and consistent steps.
I suggest for starters you make a pledge you can keep within the next week.Perhaps to choose for giveaway four pairs of shoes,or 13 books,or 2 sweaters or coats, or 6 of the knick-knacks cluttering the surfaces of your residence.

In addition, consider adopting for the next year the One-Two Rule. Simply put, the rule requires that – except for consumables – for every new item you bring from the store, you must take two items out. Buy a new shirt? Find two to give away. A new magazine? Toss two in the recycle bin. A new kitchen gadget? Find two you can live without.
And while you’re in the mood, is it time to let go of those 23 plastic margarine tubs?