Letting Go of the Things That Define You
On an average day back in the early 2000s, I wandered the shelves of Barnes & Noble near my hometown in Princeton, NJ.
I was at a crossroads in my life. I had just started studying music at my local community college, with my sights set on transferring to Berklee College of Music in Boston. I was putting the ghosts of my past behind me and looking toward a bigger future.
It’s a phase you’ve probably been through yourself. That moment when your identity is just starting to solidify, but the future still feels like a blank slate.
It was in that headspace, searching for something to define the next chapter of my life, that I spotted it—hidden on a back shelf in the music section: The Ambient Century by Mark Pendergrast.
The minimalist cover—a simple waveform and a mid-century font—drew me in immediately.
But it wasn’t just the design. Inside was a rich history of Ambient music, tracing its evolution from early 20th-century composers to the modern DJs I admired. It tied everything together in a sweeping, academic, and deeply inspiring guide.
And in that moment, I knew I had to have it.
Because for me, at that time, this book wasn’t just a book. It felt like me—or at least, the version of me I wanted to become. It was a reflection of my aspirations, my identity, and my future all wrapped up in those pages.
What I didn’t know at the time was how long that book would follow me.
From NJ to Boston. Through six apartments in Boston. From Boston to DC and two apartments there. And finally, from DC to Los Angeles. For over 20 years, it wasn’t just a book I carried. It was a piece of a past self, a reminder of who I was trying to be.
But there was just one problem.
For all those years, the book mostly sat on my shelf, gathering dust. Despite how important it felt, I almost never read it.
The moments it got the most attention were during my moves, when I’d pick it up and ask myself: “Do I still need this?” And for over 20 years, the answer was always yes.
But just a few days ago, as I prepared for my biggest move yet—to Japan—I found myself holding that same book again. The cover is now worn, and the pages have yellowed. But this time, something shifted.
For the first time, I fully realized: I’m not that person anymore.
That version of me has long since passed. And with that, the things I held onto—like this book—needed to change too.
What We Hold Onto
In that moment, I understood something profound: many of the things we keep—whether they serve a purpose or not—become physical expressions of who we used to be.
We hold onto them because they symbolize a part of our identity, a phase of life we haven't fully let go of. That book was more than just a reminder of my musical aspirations; it was a reminder of a version of myself that no longer fit the life I was living.
And so, like so many other relics of my past, I decided to let it go.
The Things You Keep
Modern life gives you few limits on how much stuff you can have.
And most of what you own feels like more than just things. They’re pieces of your identity and artifacts of your journey.
But here’s the thing: what you think of as your identity isn’t fixed. And neither is anything else.
The Buddha taught that all things are impermanent. And because of this, what you perceive as ‘self’ is always changing.
While there’s a place for keepsakes and mementos, the version of you those things represent is no longer here.
When you cling to your past self, you risk missing out on your present reality—or even your future potential.
Holding onto things that no longer serve you keeps you anchored to a past version of yourself. But letting go opens up space for the person you’re becoming.
What are you holding onto that might no longer be serving you?
Letting Go Doesn’t Mean Eliminating Everything
Letting go doesn’t mean purging everything you own or forgetting your past.
Some things are truly valuable, and others carry deep meaning for who you are today.
The real power lies in recognizing how your attachments shape your identity. Some belongings serve you, but others weigh you down.
The question is whether you still need that old identity—or if the item is cluttering up your life and mind.
You can always ask yourself: Does this still serve me? How does this fit into my current life?
The more you ask these questions, the easier it becomes to release what no longer serves you.
And if we can do this within the practice of mindfulness, we discover something even deeper: beyond the content of each moment is the awareness in which we experience them.
That is what never changes.
I would love to hear what you’re ready to release. Send me a note or comment and let me know.
~ Rob
PS: As I reflect on the privilege of choosing what to keep or let go, I’m reminded of my neighbors in the Palisades who had everything taken from them without choice.
If you're able, please consider donating to the California Community Foundation or World Central Kitchen to support those affected.
