2 min read

More tips on letting go

What Pharrell Williams knows.
Butterfly resting on the outstretched pinkie finger of someone's hand.

This week is a significant one in the annals of getting rid of stuff. On Friday, musical visionary and fashion polymath Pharrell Williams begins auctioning off decades worth of his memorabilia, via a designated website called Joopiter.

The Financial Times caught up with him recently to get a sense of what's motivating this clear-out – as well as take a peek at some of the merchandise.

Everything must go — Pharrell Williams is selling off his legacy
In an exclusive interview, the musician, producer and innovator explains why he’s auctioning 20 years’ worth of sneakers, watches and jewellery via his latest business venture, Joopiter

The photos of some of the goods – there's a gold-plated BlackBerry! – are noteworthy, but even more striking is Williams' sense of cool detachment when the author wonders if he'll miss some of these things:

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“I was born without it,” he shrugs. “And when I die I won’t have it, right?”

It's an act of purging that exemplifies what I was getting at last week. Sometimes the thing you're clinging to most tightly is the very thing you most urgently need to relinquish.

Remember Pixar's classic movie Up? It's a whimsical tale of a widower who goes off on a helium-fuelled adventure by attaching hundreds of balloons to his creaky old house. Even though he's moving forward with zest, he's hauling all the mementos of his married life along with him.

There comes a point, though, when he needs to discard some of the extra weight in order to keep going. Watch this two-minute scene:

I love that glimpse of side-by-side armchairs presiding over a pile of more casually tossed-away objects. They're a physical embodiment of Carl and Ellie's happily coupled state – and they're set aside gracefully in the rush of the journey's next chapter.

There can be tenderness in that act of letting go and leaving behind. I have a strategy that helps when the pull of nostalgia is strong. I take a picture of the thing that's launching a memory, file it away on my phone, then find a way to send the physical object along to its next destination.

You'd think that losing the object would mean losing the memory. Without a tactile, three-dimensional prompt, won't that delicious inner reliving lack force and clarity?

It turns out the opposite is true. The small number of photos in that folder are far easier to retrieve than objects in a closet or storage unit. It's a condensed version of the past, snug in my pocket.

Travel light, it reminds me. Be open to new possibilities ahead.

May you be open as well.

Affectionately,