The Journey of Letting Go: Storage Units, Gratitude, and What Really Matters

Have you ever opened a storage container and felt your heart tug in two directions at once? One part says, keep it all, it’s beautiful. Another part says, let it go, it’s time. That was our week in England, knee-deep in a container full of what once felt like security, home, safety, and beauty. We sorted, sweated, laughed, argued, prayed, then sorted again. Under the dust and the bubble wrap, something very tender showed up. Not just old couches and books. A clearer heart.

A Storage Unit, Two People, and a Mantra

We began with a simple chant for grounding, Gauranga, a sound that has carried us for decades. It’s an old friend in new places. We repeated it, slowly, like the way you set down a heavy box and catch your breath. Gratitude for the mantra, gratitude for the teachers who shared it, gratitude for the path that holds when the rest gets messy.

This isn’t a story about furniture. It’s about what furniture tries to give us. Peace, home, freedom, safety. Real needs. But we noticed, again, how unreliable a bookshelf is when you’re aching for shelter of the heart. The couch did not hug us back. The bed did not say, hey, you’re safe and seen. The mantra did.

How We Ended Up Here

Two years ago, Maria had a crossroads. Keep renting a dreamy place for about £2,000 a month, or put everything into storage and set out with less. Maria chose the container. It felt smart at the time. Temporary. Gentle. Maria paid roughly £200 a month to store what we could not let go of yet. It worked, until it didn’t.

Fast forward to this week. Maria opened the container and found the nicest bed she ever had. The softest couch. The kind of things you’d think people would line up to claim. Except the neighbors already had one. Their dog had a couch too. People were busy, birthday parties everywhere. Marias estate sale energy was met with slices of cake and balloons. It was funny and also not.

We kept moving. Lift, decide, release, repeat.

What We Kept and Why

We live on a modest budget. It gives us time and space to do what we love best, like connecting with people each day and serving where we can. So our keep list is very short now:

• Towels and blankets, because we use them every day.
• Soap and washing powder, because clean clothes feel like dignity and reset.

About that detergent, next time we won’t get the scented kind. It’s strong. Perfumes shout when what we want is a whisper.

The shiny tech? It sat in the dark and aged. Plastic does not ripen like fruit. It just breaks down. We looked at gear we once geeked over and said, thank you, then goodbye.

The Cost of Holding On

Let’s be plain. Paying to store what we won’t use is expensive. Not only the money, which is real and heavy, but also the psychic space. The decision fatigue. The little voice in your head that keeps looping, someday I’ll deal with it. Someday drains energy from today.

There is a spiritual cost too. In bhakti, detachment is not about coldness. It is about turning toward what is true, and away from what fogs the view. If you like to read, here are two perspectives that match what we felt this week: the way bhakti invites us to soften attachment and ego in The Power of Bhakti Yoga: Devotion and Spirituality, and the peace that comes when we drop possessiveness, as described in Giving up material desires.

We also liked this reflection on guarding the inner life, a gentle nudge to keep the real treasures close and safe in Protecting Our Spiritual Assets.

A Great Dane, Many Houses, and One Lonely Heart

There was a neighbor where we rented before. A massive, beautiful Great Dane. He barked day and night. We could feel the ache. Dogs need affection and company, like we do. The owner was very wealthy, many houses, lots of things, but not present where the dog was. The dog had space, but not love. And that’s the point, isn’t it?

You can only sleep in one bed. You only have one stomach. The body and the stuff around it have limits. The Romans built vomitoriums so they could eat more. That picture stayed with us. Consumption without connection is a flat road to nowhere.

If your life needs a storage container for emotional reasons, not practical ones, that’s a gentle signal. Maybe it’s time to clear. Maybe it’s time to choose presence over possession.

Don’t Leave It For Someone Else

A small public service announcement, with love. If you are over 50, please, please don’t leave your mountain of items for others to sort. We’re in our container now, and we feel it in our bodies. It’s heavy and boring and also tense. It tugs on relationships. One of us moves fast. One of us needs slow. There were moments of agitation, then a laugh break, then back at it. We’ve got seven days, and we’ll make it, but wow, it tests patience.

Better to gift while you can see the joy land. Pick a person who will glow when they receive that bed. Give the quilt to the one who is always cold. Let the bookshelf travel to a young reader. Many people sleep on floors. Many have no roof. If something can bring warmth or rest, send it while it still works.

The Heart Under the Boxes

At some point, the container became a mirror. We saw how a life can get covered by useful things that promise what only love can give. Bhakti says the heart is naturally pure. Consciousness is bright. The qualities we long for are already planted within, like seeds waiting for rain. Stuff is fine. Stuff just isn’t God. It cannot love us back.

We walked through a meadow that same day, a wide path through a sea of tall wildflowers. The wind moved the whole field at once. It felt like a blessing. Heaven on earth in the right angle of light. We held hands in that skinny path and said hello to old neighbors who held Maria when she was alone and lost. That’s wealth. To have time to walk, to greet, to thank without rushing.

The Practice of Thank You

Here is a simple practice we tried and want to pass on. Today, thank the people who lifted you. Teachers, friends, neighbors, the one who gave that hard advice you didn’t want to hear at the time. Do it while they are here to receive it. Knock on doors. Send a voice note. If you prefer a warm space to share and ask questions, we welcome you in the Juicy MagiK Agora community. We love hearing from you.

Gratitude doesn’t fix everything, but it changes the air. It opens the window a crack. It makes space where there was only pressure.

What We’re Learning, Box by Box

• Use what you keep: Daily items are worth the space they take.
• Give sooner: Waiting two years to let go only makes dust.
• Choose people over objects: Relationships are the softest pillows.
• Watch the hidden costs: Money, time, decision fatigue, emotional weight.
• Practice detachment, not indifference: Love deeply, hold lightly.
• Accept entropy: Things break. Bodies age. Let that teach tenderness.

There’s a laugh in all this too. At one point we joked about living in a garbage container like Oscar the Grouch. It lightened the mood. Humor is a handhold when frustration climbs.

Tonight we’ll sit, breathe, and chant. After a day of sorting, meditation feels like a long drink of water. If you want to support the projects we’re working on, including offerings rooted in service and satsang, you can visit our page for supporting Juicy MagiK projects. Thank you for even considering it.

A Few Practical Notes From the Pile

• Storage is a business model: Paying to keep what we don’t use is normal now. Be careful, it adds up fast.
• Neighborhood reality check: People already have plenty. Giving is easier when it’s direct and personal.
• Scents and senses: Strong fragrances can overwhelm. Small choices like unscented soap make life simpler.
• Tech ages in silence: Devices don’t hold value in a box. Share them while they still spark.
• Pace together: If you sort with a partner, set a shared speed. Take breath breaks. Snack breaks help too.

We’re not perfect at any of this. We argued, then said sorry. We moved fast, then slowed. We felt silly for waiting two years, then soft because the heart moves when it’s ready. No shame needed. Only honesty, a little muscle, and a lot of grace.

What Actually Lasts

There’s a line that keeps looping for us. You can only sleep in one bed. You only have one stomach. When we forget that, life gets noisy. When we remember, it gets simple.

The most beautiful thing we touched this week was not the couch. It was the moment of eye contact with a neighbor who stood with us in a hard season. It was the tiny chant that steadied shaky hands. It was the sound of wind sliding through a meadow and the sense, for a second, that everything is held.

Closing

Letting go is not about throwing life away. It is about making room for what is already trying to arrive. If you are staring at your own container right now, visible or invisible, we’re walking with you. Start with one box. One shelf. One honest thank you. One chant. One call to a friend.

Before you go, ask yourself: which item could bring someone joy today? If the answer pops up fast, trust it. And if you want to walk with others who are sorting, praying, laughing, and learning out loud, come say hi in the Juicy MagiK Agora. Peace be with you and upon you.

Thank you for reading and being here. May your spaces get lighter and your heart get clearer. May your next step feel gentle and true.

mariakerwin

As a former serial entrepreneur, she turned from a workaholic in the business world to freedom and creativity, living now as a writer, creator and world traveller. Since an early age Maria is close to death and what exists beyond, courageously exploring the dimensions of existence. A Kundalini Awakening guided her into the abyss of fully surrendering to the life force itself, crushing all known aspects of her old life. Finally, it led her to her purpose of bridging both worlds, connecting to what goes beyond the ordinary.

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