Today's client told me, "I only want to have things that I use and love." So I used that as the criteria for each thing we considered.
We worked in her storage locker in the basement of her apartment building. Inside were two bikes that she and her boyfriend regularly rode around on. Then she got shy and told me about her old bike which she no longer rode. It was sitting outside the storage locker. She pointed out that it had a really good lock but a flimsy plastic chain that you could pull apart with your hands. I joked that it was her way of wishing someone would steal the bike so she wouldn't have to make the decision of parting with the bike.
She agreed but she also didn't want to let go of the bike. She told me how she rode it everywhere for ten years. She had a stockpile of memories inside of her about the bike. She felt so flimsy as she spoke about keeping the bike. It was like the strength had been drained from her.
It's funny how we want to hang onto things that we no longer use because we don't want to part with the memories. As if we could control our memories. Our thoughts have a life of their own. They come and go in random fashion all day long. Memories from when we were a kid, ones from something we did a few minutes ago, and they only last a few seconds.
I told her that hanging onto something so tightly that we no longer love or use tells the universe that we think special things are rare and need to be trapped and held forever. Letting go of this bike would help her love and enjoy her new bike. It would leave her open for new great experiences rather than memories.
She quietly thought about it. Then she nodded and said she could let go of the bike. She seemed relieved. It's amazing how powerful resistance can be when it rears its head. And it's doubly amazing to see the resistance fall apart with simple questioning.