Goodbye, Things

In Goodbye, Things, Japanese author Fumio Sasaki tells the story of how he transformed his life by letting go of nearly everything he owned. Once a typical Tokyo office worker with an apartment crammed full of books, CDs, clothes, and gadgets, Sasaki constantly compared himself to others who seemed more successful or stylish. He believed that buying more things—nicer furniture, trendier clothes, better tech—would make him happier. But the more he owned, the more anxious and dissatisfied he felt. His possessions, meant to symbolize success, only reminded him of what he lacked.

The turning point came when Sasaki encountered minimalism and realized how much his clutter was weighing him down—physically, mentally, and emotionally. He began giving away and selling his belongings, keeping only what he truly needed: a small desk, a futon, a laptop, and a few changes of clothes. This drastic downsizing brought him an unexpected sense of lightness and peace. He no longer woke up to piles of clothes or stacks of unread books whispering guilt. He felt freer, calmer, and more focused than ever before.

Sasaki’s journey is not about extreme deprivation—it’s about discovering joy and purpose through simplicity. Minimalism, he argues, is not an act of sacrifice but one of liberation. When you reduce your possessions to the essentials, you make room for clarity, gratitude, and growth.

The Emotional Traps of Possession

Sasaki begins by explaining that our attachment to material things comes from deeper emotional needs. We buy things to prove our worth, mask our insecurities, or preserve memories. For instance, a person might buy a designer watch to feel successful or collect art books to appear cultured. These items become extensions of our identity—a way to broadcast who we want others to think we are.

However, this pursuit quickly turns into a vicious cycle. The initial excitement of a new purchase fades, and soon we crave the next upgrade—a faster phone, a newer car, a bigger home. Sasaki connects this to what psychologists call the hedonic treadmill : no matter how much we acquire, our satisfaction eventually returns to the same baseline.

He also explores the emotional burden of “keeping things for later.” We tell ourselves that we’ll wear that outfit one day or restart that hobby someday, but these objects end up as symbols of procrastination and regret. For example, someone might keep a pile of unused gym gear as a reminder of a fitness goal they abandoned. Sasaki points out that these unfulfilled hopes clutter not just our homes but our minds, creating invisible pressure and guilt.

Then there are sentimental items—gifts from loved ones, souvenirs from trips, or family heirlooms. Sasaki admits these are the hardest to part with, but he insists that memories don’t live inside objects. Holding onto every keepsake only traps us in the past. He recalls throwing away a beloved childhood photo album and realizing that the memories were still vivid in his mind, untouched by the loss of the physical pictures.

He introduces the concept of the “silent to-do list.” Every object we own ...