giving.

It turns out that stuff doesn't just disappear when you decide to rid it from your life; you actually need a plan for how, when, and where it's going to end up. I like to call it The Unloading. For some things, it's straight into the trash or recycling bin. Easy breezy. But since we weren't in the habit of keeping things we didn't like or didn't use, most of our excess stuff needed a bit more help getting out the door.

We used a variety of strategies. Facebook posts helped to deliver eight bags of kitchen items, a shelf full of theatre books, and a CD case of Broadway musicals to happy new owners.  A bag of working-fine-but-we-upgraded-models-because-we're-terrible-yuppies electronics was donated to a deserving local organization. A couple boxes of books were bought by Harvard Book Store. Most of my clothes went to consignment, but a few special pieces were gifted to friends and colleagues.

We still have a few things to pass along, but for the most part, we're finished with the unloading. It was...illuminating. Although I'm grateful to make some money back via consignment, I discovered in the process that the act of giving is far more rewarding than the act of selling. Each item I gave away freely was met with such joy and excitement from the recipient; it in turn made me far happier than the item in question ever had. Incredible.

I realize this is a lesson we're supposed to learn in kindergarten. I heard it countless times in Sunday school, in Girl Scouts (before I got kicked out), and from well-meaning parents, teachers, and every proselytizing leftist activist I dated in my 20's. 'Tis a far better thing to give than to receive. Blah, blah, blah. Yeah, sure it is.

Except it's true. The act of giving -- particularly when you're not hoping for anything in return -- is deeply fulfilling. And through minimalism, I discovered that I want to do more of it.