“Keep only those things that speak to your heart. Then take the plunge and discard all the rest.”
I read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo 9 years ago, and I remember being pretty moved by it. I liked the idea of dumping all of my clothes from every season onto my bed, going through them one by one, and asking if they sparked joy. I never accomplished her entire method, especially when I lived with others, but have gone back to her wisdom time and again whenever I get the buzz to do a deep cleaning.
It was a couple weeks ago at my acupuncture appointment that my doctor recommended I use the KonMari method to say goodbye to teaching. She could sense the anxiety bubbling under my veins as she felt for my pulse.
“Just as you thank an object for its service, for what it taught you, you can do the same for your job,” she said, then turned slightly as she acted out how she would do it. “Thank the classroom, thank the building, thank the people, your colleagues and the cleaning staff, thank everything for all that it taught you, for getting you here, to this moment.”
As I drifted off into that deep, restive acupuncture sleep, I started thinking about all of the thank yous I would give. On my way home, I stopped at Target and purchased a pack of 24 thank you cards. Every day since then, I have written a few cards, working my way through a list I made on my phone’s notes app.
For this slice, I went back to my copy of The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up and found Marie Kondo’s reasoning behind this gratitude-before-discarding thing: “The process of assessing how you feel about the things you own, identifying those that have fulfilled their purpose, expressing your gratitude, and bidding them farewell, is really about examining your inner self, a rite of passage to a new life.”
As I read these quotes, I felt a warming in my chest. How much has it felt lately like I am shedding that which doesn’t serve me anymore? And how true is it that every time I have shed that which does not serve me, in spite of the fear that it may induce, I have ended up receiving so much more than I could have imagined?
She continues: “To truly cherish the things that are important to you, you must first discard those that have outlived their purpose… Can you truthfully say that you treasure something buried so deeply in a closet or drawer that you have forgotten its existence? If things had feelings, they would certainly not be happy. Free them from the prison to which you have relegated them. Help them leave that deserted isle to which you have exiled them. Let them go, with gratitude.”
Staying in or keeping ahold of something — a relationship, a job, a place — that no longer serves you is not fair to you or them. It holds both of you back. I am so grateful to KLA and 5th grade and the families for everything they have brought me, and I also know it’s important that I step away now, so that the next teacher who will best serve that role can step in.
But it’s hard, and that’s where the act of truly considering the role each thing has played in your life comes in: “When you come across something that you cannot part with, think carefully about its true purpose in your life. You’ll be surprised at how many of the things you possess have already fulfilled their role. By acknowledging their contribution and letting them go with gratitude, you will be able to truly put the things you own, and your life, in order.”
I am tidying my life, I suppose, with this transition. That’s the metaphor for it. Making space for a new career that brings me joy.
One final quote: “It is not our memories but the person we have become because of those past experiences that we should treasure. This is the lesson these keepsakes teach us when we sort them. The space in which we live should be for the person we are becoming now, not for the person we were in the past.”
Which reminds me of the other wisdom I received a few months ago: Don’t ask “what next?” But rather “what now?”
I can’t wait to find out.
Writing With Abandon 
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