Things don’t always need to linger around to hold value

I like when things serve their intended purpose.

There’s something so satisfying about that moment of completion.

Halloween is the perfect example. A handmade costume created for one special night, bringing its brief magic, and then, it’s done. Trick or treating is over. The kids are fast asleep in their candy coma.

So you go outside and chuck that cardboard costume directly into the dumpster. Wiping off your hands with a done and dusted flourish of finality.

Ahh, a celebration of purpose fulfilled. It’s a spooky reminder that things don’t always need to linger around to hold value. Their beauty is in the single moment they’re meant for.

And don’t get me wrong. I am a fairly sentimental guy. I enjoy thinking about the past. I think nostalgia is fun. I am proud of my former selves. And reflecting on the old days fills me with positive emotions.

But I also recognize that the value of something can lay in the experience it provides, rather than holding onto it. Once something has served its intended purpose, I can honor its role without letting it clutter my space or hold weight it doesn’t need.

Look, not every experience needs an artifact. I don’t demand proof of every meaningful moment. Maybe I will remember it, maybe not. Either one is fine with me. My brain is an unreliable narrator anyway.

Point is, I trust that the event itself was enough. I trust the impact was real, even if it wasn’t forever remembered or recorded.

What’s calming about this philosophy is that it frees me from preservation pressure. There’s no emotional weight of memorializing every goddamn thing. Just throw it away, tomorrow’s a new day.

Now, I understand that a lot of people are against discarding objects after a single use. This disposal contributes to waste accumulation, pollution, and the eventual need for more landfill space.

Fair enough. They’re not wrong. If somebody wants to root through my garbage, salvage my sticky cardboard box, and find a second life for my costume now that it served its initial purpose, be my guest.

But sometimes I wonder about the effort to rescue ratio. Where the time and energy required to salvage and repurpose something outweighs the benefits.

Consider the physical effort of cleaning, storing and finding a new use for the cardboard; not to mention the mental bandwidth and space that work would occupy.

Maybe letting go can actually conserve resources. Maybe the satisfaction of a purpose completed and the freedom to move is worth it.

Halloween, after all, is about impermanence. It’s the holiday that reflects on mortality. We dress up like vampires, zombies and monsters to embrace the cycles of life and death. It’s the perfect chance to step outside of ourselves and embrace transformation, however temporary, before letting it go.

Sure, the holiday has been bastardized into annual twelve billion dollar cash grab to satisfy people’s insatiable appetite for pumpkin flavored consumerism.

But maybe that’s just the holiday serving its intended purpose too. Indulging people’s craving for excess, novelty and sugar is its natural evolution of our commercial culture.

That’s pretty dang spooky if you ask me.