Whether or not you have watched any of Tidying Up With Marie Kondo, you have no doubt heard her incisive question, “Does this spark joy?” I admit I did not watch her show on Netflix when it came out in 2019, but I had at least heard that question - which Amanda Poppei echoes in this morning’s reading. If you aren’t familiar with this show, its basic gist is that Marie Kondo goes into peoples’ lives and helps them unclutter, deciding what to keep, and what to let go of. She does this not to usher people into instagrammable minimalism, or an austere lifestyle, but to help them connect to and honor what matters most. What sparks joy?
We are still a few weeks out from spring, but nevertheless, this is still a popular time to consider what we can clean up in our lives. Any turning point, New Year’s included, is an opportunity for us to take stock of our lives and decide what we want to let go of, and what we want to keep. And more importantly, what will guide those decisions? Running from one year to the next, we can easily miss this opportunity, which makes this moment of reflection all the more important.
Letting go is hard for many of us. In a 2015 edition of Soul Matters, the Rev. Scott Tayler wrote that we cling to all manner of things, but that letting go is a way of making room in our lives for something else to emerge. He observed,
“Holding on too long and too tightly is never good for the soul. So our faith pleads with us, “Let it go!” But here’s the twist: Our faith follows that up quickly with “Let it in!”...The tragedy of grasping so tightly is not simply that we anchor ourselves to that which burdens us, but that we end up shutting out that which is trying to save and feed us. Letting go is ultimately about letting in. It’s really about making room1.”
Letting go is ultimately about letting in. Tempting as it can be to avoid this choice, there are times when it is necessary. Our lives call us to choose what to leave behind when we move from one place to another; end or begin relationships; leave or start jobs. And some points in the wheel of the year lend themselves naturally to considering this - like the end of one year and beginning of another.
Facing the tension between holding on and letting go, instead of running right past the tension, requires us to consider the values that will help us act decisively and with integrity. What can guide our decision-making? Valuing transformation comes to mind. In our living, Unitarian Universalist tradition, we value transformation because we know that our world is always changing. Our forebearers have claimed again and again that religious “revelation is not sealed,” but open to new information and interpretations. We know the same is true for the contents of our lives. We learn and grow, and sometimes come to realize new things about ourselves. Sometimes we outgrow the habits and relationships that have supported us. The people and things that have surrounded us have carried us as far as they can. And of course, everything around us changes too, emerging with new needs of us, and new gifts to offer. Leaning into and valuing transformation reminds us that change is a part of life, necessary and beautiful. And change includes letting go.
Other guides come forward in our readings. Amanda Poppei urges us toward the virtue of patience. Instead of beckoning us to indiscriminate purging, she invites us to slow down and acknowledge that we might need more time with the things that we are holding on to3. If this isn’t the season to surrender the rock you found on the shores of Lake Superior twenty years ago, there will always be other seasons. But even if there aren’t, we can still give ourselves the grace to say, “now is not the time for this decision.” End of conversation.
Patience with ourselves interrupts the urge to purge without considering what motivates us. It also gives us the space to interrupt the shame we can feel at letting go. We feel shame when we hold on to the things that our inner or outer critics say we would do better without. We feel shame when we’re afraid of how ending something will affect other people and their feelings. Patience, then, is a door-opener and a space-maker. It is not, however, very helpful when the time comes to make thoughtful decisions. Joy, as Marie Kondo shows us, is something we can ground our actions in. Joy is a guide that comes from inside us. Instead of making changes in order to keep up appearances on social media, or to please our real or imagined critics, joy leads us to consider the impact that things have in our lives.
Joy is also a relational guide. I say this to mean that asking “does this bring joy?” is fundamentally a question about our relationship with something, or someone. What role does this have in our lives? How does it nurture us, or the people around us? Perhaps if Poppei had considered the virtue of joy more carefully, she would have seen that the shiny things cluttering her children’s lives do bring them joy - even if the feeling isn’t mutual. Asking “does this bring joy?” reminds us to note how our feelings and relationships change over time. There can be joy in something as simple as the shininess of a rock you found long ago, or the memory of a clay pot that you made in art class. And on the other hand, asking this decisive question can help us realize that the things which used to bring us joy don’t anymore. The dress I found at a thrift store ten years ago doesn’t fit anymore. That friendship you made three jobs ago doesn’t fill your cup the way it used to. We change, our lives change, and paying attention to feelings like joy can help us acknowledge this. Joy guides us to consider the meaning that people and things have in our lives, rather than seeing them as disposable because they had no impact.
Kondo’s joy-oriented approach is in fact not about choosing what to purge from our lives, but what we choose to keep because we cherish them.
“Joy is personal,” she writes on her website. “Each individual’s ideal life – and space – will look different from the next. If minimalism is a lifestyle that sparks joy for someone, I encourage that; in the same way, if someone has determined that many items in their life spark joy, that’s okay, too!4.”
Much of her approach is about creating joyful spaces for us to live in. On closer inspection however, it’s also about tending to the relationships that fill our lives. Understanding the decision to let go as a relational one helps shape the terms on which we want to say goodbye. Something that caught my attention about her decluttering process is that she supports it with a practice of gratitude. When people are ready to let go of something, she encourages them to say “thank you5”. The assumption beneath this is that the things in our lives have had some kind of significance. Material or not, what we love and let go of has meaning. Saying “thank you” is one way that we can take time to consider the role that a thing has played in our lives, and our relationship with it.
Joy and gratitude are powerful guides. But we are not one-dimensional emotional beings, and they do not characterize all of our relationships. We can’t make every choice as though joy is the only feeling or value on the table. Kondo and Poppei both consider our relationships with the material things of our lives, and joy may be something clear and unambiguous we can use to decide when it’s time to let go of material things. But habits, attitudes, and interpersonal relationships are emotionally complicated.
Perhaps your child or grandchild came home for the holidays with a new name, or new pronouns. It may feel hard to let go of a name and all of the memories that come with it. But saying "this doesn't bring me joy" will not help us let go and make room for something new. It doesn't help us uncenter our own feelings to realize the joy that a new name brings our loved-one. Neither does it honor that joy is only one of many feelings that fill our relationships. As such, joy lacks the breadth to help us make and accept certain changes.
This brings us back to our opening words. Lucille Clifton confides to us that it will be “hard to let go of what she said to herself about herself” as she runs into the New Year. She is confronted with a lifetime of promises, self-talk, and habits while crossing this threshold. She proposes another way of relating to the things in our lives: forgiveness and reconciliation. “i beg what i love and / i leave to forgive me6”. Instead of saying “thank you” to the things she plans to leave, she says “I’m sorry, but I have to go now”. It’s a way of recognizing a bittersweet and complicated relationship, and its necessary end.
The things we say about ourselves, think and know about ourselves, can in some ways be harder to let go of than say, a sweater that doesn’t “bring joy” anymore. Our habits and ways we understand ourselves aren’t things we can easily box up and leave in the donations room of a second-hand store. Taking stock of ourselves and who we are today is more challenging. It will be hard to let go of all our years of saying we aren’t funny enough, or smart enough, or skinny enough, because those habits have molded us into the people we know ourselves to be. Maybe there was a time when those habits helped motivate us to change for the better, but have grown out of control. We might even be scared to find out who we are without those habits. For some people, joy will still carry us through to the change that’s best for us. But not for everyone, or at every time, and other tools will be necessary.
When the time comes to make our choice, how will we live it out? Values and virtues will guide us to our decision, but can’t make it for us. Change is hard, we know, and seldom comes painlessly. Letting go, especially of habits and relationships, often looks like setting and resetting boundaries in our lives. Deciding to let go and move on never exists in a vacuum, and follows the buildup of many other actions and reflections. The social worker Nedra Glover Tawwab writes and counsels extensively about boundaries in relationships, which sometimes result in relationships ending.
"Of course,” she writes, “terminating a relationship isn’t easy, so put a healthy plan in place to care for yourself through the process7."
Grieving the loss, practicing self-compassion, and deciding how you want to show up in your other relationships, present and future, are all actions she recommends for your care-plan8. These practices also apply to the boundaries we set with ourselves when letting go of old habits and old things we have said about ourselves. Grieve the loss of who you used to be. Be compassionate to yourself. And look ahead. Consider how this change will breathe something new into the rest of your life. Letting go is about making room9. Making room for new habits, for new relationships, for new choices.
Letting go is also balanced and supported by holding on. As you release something in your life, maybe you will return to an old hobby or practice that nurtured you in years past. Perhaps there is a friend or family member who will help you grieve the bittersweet ending of another relationship. This can also be part of your care-plan: what can you hold onto during this time of transformation? Who will balance and steady you through the consequences of your decisions?
Running into the New Year may be the time to let go of that old coat, or the book you never finished, or something that lost its luster. Maybe it’s time to make room for a new romance, a daily run, or a new spiritual practice. Life could be calling you to return to something you’ve lost or neglected. I invite you to consider what you will say when you let go. Thank you? I’m sorry? Will you hold on by saying, “I missed you,” or “It’s good to see you again”? As you look forward to the transformation coming into your life, how will you mourn the old and greet the new? Cast your circle as wide as you need to find the support for this. And take the time you need for this decision. It doesn’t have to on January 1st. “When you’re ready, you’ll know it. Until then, it’s okay to keep it just a little longer9.”
1. Amanda Poppei, “Holding On and Letting Go,” Braver/Wiser, April 22, 2020, https://www.uua.org/braverwiser/holding-and-letting-go
2. Scott Tayler, "What Does It Mean To Be A People of Letting Go?" Soul Matters, October 2015, 2.
3. Poppei.
4. Marie Kondo, “KonMari Is Not Minimalism,” KonMari, accessed December 29, 2024, https://konmari.com/konmari-is-not-minimalism/
5. Tidying Up With Marie Kondo, Episode 1, “Tidying With Toddlers,” directed by Marie Kondo (2019, Los Gatos, CA: Netflix), streamed television show.
6. Lucille Clifton, Good Woman: Poems and a Memoir 1969-1980 (Rochester, NY: BOA Editions Ltd., 1987), 134.
7. Nedra Glover Tawwab, Set Boundaries, Find Peace: A Guide to Reclaiming Yourself, (New York: TarcherPerigee, 2021), 129.
8. Ibid., 129-130.
9. Tayler.
10. Poppei.