Most of of the things I’ve gotten rid of over the years have been books, movies, nicknacks, and occasionally larger items. Recently, I ditched a bunch of kitchen utensils I never used (and slightly hated), which has made a rather large difference in how much extra space there is in the cupboards.
Very rarely do I get rid of Legos. About 5-10 years ago, I did a small purge of some of the less interesting sets, and some of these I actually forgot I got rid of! Legos have occupied a special place among my possessions. They have been the “sacred ground” of which I have not bothered too greatly to simplify. But even nostalgia has its limits.
The only real projects I have done over the past half decade have been people projects, where I build Lego mini-figures to look like my friends. People get a kick out of these. Five years ago I built Selectron, a complete mech, and this past year and a half I’ve piddled with my design for the VX-10000 from Xenosaga (which still isn’t finished). I’ve enjoyed creating houses and other structural builds, but that’s about it. There’s really nothing else I do with Legos. The pieces are all highly organized for when I do such projects, but most of the sets just sit around. And I’m slowly realizing it’s time to thin these out.
It’s easy to feel attached to some of these sets because receiving Lego sets for Christmas was one of the best things in the world when I was a kid. But my parents didn’t buy those sets for me as if those sets were meant to represent them: they bought those sets because they loved me and wanted me to be happy, and half of my Christmas lists features Legos. I remember being afraid to get rid of the Sega Genesis I had received for Christmas a hellofa long time ago because it had meant so incredibly much to me as a kid. It was weird when I got back from my freshman year of college and my mom asked, “When are you going to get rid of that old thing?”
People aren’t the things they give us. We all know this. But childhood was a special time for me, and hopefully it was for you, too. It’s easy to feel like you’re dishonoring the role that good things played in your life when you later get rid of those things.
And it’s not always gifts, either. I received an allowance and used an awful lot of that money to buy Legos. They are intertwined with my childhood. I spent hours, days, worldbuilding, dreaming, imagining. That was, I think, more important than the bricks themselves!
But you grow up and a lot of that either dies or drastically changes. People, mechs, buildings. Those are really the only things I do with the bricks these days, if that. As the avenues for international travel begin to look more dangerous and less certain this year, I find myself remembering that there are still things I can do to prepare: to keep simplifying.
This is all a lot of exposition to say that I got rid of several sets today, and got some sweet store credit for them. I know I won’t miss those sets: the memories are in my head, they don’t need to be in a plastic bin. And it feels good to know that they’re going to find a new home. Mind you, this is only a subset of the Legos I own. Certain sets are pretty annoying to keep around, but I want to make sure I’m not going to regret getting rid of them first, so I’m holding off on a few. The chances of that are fairly slim, though, and I don’t regret anything I got rid of today.
I guess if I could pull a message from this, it would be that you shouldn’t be afraid to challenge your sacred spaces. I’m not getting rid of these because I feel I have to. I’m getting rid of these because I want to let go. And I think that’s going to play a critical role in living the life I want to live. I’ll still have a mass of bricks and a handful of sets, but quite a few of these I’m never going to use. I’d rather focus on the projects I really enjoy.