Clear Out Old Shit

For almost a year, my husband and I have been trying to sell our tiny house. We had it hauled all the way from Wisconsin to Colorado, thinking there were plenty of pioneer-hippies in Colorado who’d jump at the opportunity to poop in a composting toilet and climb up a ladder to sleep.

Wrong. Sure, plenty of people came to see it as we posted on various Facebook pages and Craig’s lists, but as it were, pioneer-hippies either don’t have land for a tiny house or don’t have the money.

Month after month we reposted the house, dropping the price a few thousand dollars every time. When a prospect seemed hopeful, we patted ourselves on the back, making plans for the small amount of freedom our liquidated asset would create. Like being able to afford a door for our bathroom where we were living, or replacing saggy underwear. Days passed, then weeks, our smiles dropping from our faces when we faced the cold hard truth: They weren’t going to buy our tiny house, and we’d have to go through this entire process again.

Two days ago, almost a year into our attempts, I had a dramatic shift in perspective. Selling this tiny house was costing us time, which was costing us money. Not to mention the fact that it was discouraging seeing it sit empty in our backyard, the blonde cedar shakes graying in the sun, knowing it could provide someone shelter and a bucket for their poop.

Enough is enough, I thought in a very Dr. Seuss way. This tiny house must go, and today is the day.

When I dug deep I realized that significantly dropping the price would still be more money in our pockets than no money at all. What’s more, the New Year is approaching, and as we move into winter, I’m feeling a distinct desire to clear out the old and make room for the new. The “new” merely being “space.”

I’m cleaning out my clothes, I’m letting go of old stories that don’t serve me, I’m shedding limitations because come the New Year, I want to be birthing something new. And something that might be seen as a loss — like selling the tiny house for significantly less than its value — is actually a gain. I’m gaining time, I’m gaining freedom, I’m gaining space. That space is critical for inviting new, more aligned things into my life.

As soon as we reposted the tiny house for our new, low asking price, we sold it within 48 hours and received more than one offer. The tiny house can finally be of service to someone else, and we’ve gained far more than just money. We too can finally be of service to the world again, if even just a little bit more, because of the space we’ve earned back.

You can’t create epic shit if you don’t have the room to birth it. Because if you don’t have the room to birth it, it’s not going to come to you. Why would it? You don’t have the time or space.

As you get ready for winter and the New Year, what can you clear out? What is insidiously drawing on your resources? It might be time, physical space, mental space, or finances. Get everything out of your storage unit. Cancel that subscription you don’t really care about. Unfollow the people you don’t really enjoy following and are only doing it because you don’t want to make them feel bad.

Use this time to create the chapter you want to see next. Create space in your life to birth your new epic shit, the stuff only you can bring into the world. Make space to become the person you really want to be. You’ll thank yourself later.