Simplicity Nomad: On Endings, Beginnings, and the Sacredness of Letting Go
Follow along @simplicitynomad for blogs, seasonal wisdom, and glimpses into the art of living with less but feeling more.
I’m living in a threshold moment. Every day feels like a mix of exhilaration and terror — and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve stepped out of the steady rhythm of office life and into the wild openness of what comes next. There’s no map, no fixed plan, only a process of discovery. And honestly? I love that. The unveiling of the unknown, the surprise, the mystery — that’s the essence of life to me.
But this in-between space comes with its own work. Right now, that work looks like paring down, purging, and letting go. I’m sorting through the layers of a life, holding each item up to the light and asking, Does this belong in the story ahead, or has it already finished its chapter? It’s more than just clearing closets. It feels like ritual — a sacred act of release that creates space for freedom, creativity, and new adventures waiting to emerge.
In the midst of this transition, I’m reminded how deeply I need community. Our Simplicity Living Circle has been my anchor through weeks and months of uncertainty. Gathering with others who are also seeking slower, truer, simpler lives has grounded me when the world outside feels so unsteady. This Saturday, we’ll meet again — this time with a potluck feast. What better way to honor the harvest season than by feeding one another, body and spirit? A shared meal is its own kind of ritual, reminding us that even as we each walk our own paths, we are not alone.
The timing of all this feels especially poignant. Today, we step into the Celtic Tree Month of Ivy — a season of connection, resilience, and perseverance. Ivy climbs, it weaves, it binds together what might otherwise fall apart. Tomorrow at sundown, Yom Kippur begins — a sacred day of atonement, reflection, and renewal. Together, these traditions whisper the same truth: we are always invited to let go of what no longer serves and step into life freshly.
So here is a simple ritual for those of us standing in the doorway between one volume of life and the next:
Here’s to endings, beginnings, and the beautiful mystery in between.
Light a candle.
On one slip of paper, write what is ending — a role, a pattern, a chapter you are ready to close.
On another, write what you are opening to — not specifics, but qualities: freedom, joy, courage, curiosity.
Burn or bury the first paper. Place the second where you will see it often.
May this act remind us that endings and beginnings are woven together, and that in letting go, we step more fully into the mystery.
As I continue purging, packing, and stepping into the unknown, I hold onto this: simplicity is not emptiness. Simplicity is spaciousness. It is freedom. And it is the path I choose to walk — one step, one box, one ritual at a time.