Traveling Without a Suitcase: On Regret and the Virtues of Lightening Our Psychic Load

The Freedom of Traveling Light

When you travel, the inevitable question arises: carry-on or checked luggage?

We’ve all weathered the hassles of lost luggage, sprinting through airports with a heavy bag, long waits at the carousel praying our suitcase made it onto the same flight. On the other hand, can you really live without that extra pair of shoes? And do you want to battle for overhead bin space?

I’m not advocating for checking bags. But we all know the feeling of freedom that comes when you drop your suitcase at the counter and head off to security with nothing but a small daypack.

But what about traveling without a suitcase?

Traveling Without a Suitcase in Japan

On a recent trip to Japan with my son and his family, we joined the crowds at the Shibuya Scramble, were wowed by the cherry blossoms and the tech displays at TeamLab Planets, hiked in the Arashiyama Bamboo Forest, meditated next to Buddha statues at Otagi Nenbutsu-Ji Temple.

Imagine the luggage required (including a car seat) for three adults and two kids—on and off trains, up and down staircases, in and out of hotel elevators. Towards the end of the trip, off they went to Disneyland as I headed solo to Hiroshima and Miyajima. The last thing I wanted to do was schlep my luggage onto the bullet train and the ferry to Miyajima, and then through the streets of Hiroshima. I was losing sleep over the logistics.

It turns out that in Japan, it’s common to ship your luggage from hotel to hotel. So I rolled my suitcase the two blocks to the local 7-Eleven, filled out a form with the address of my next hotel, dropped in an AirTag, and watched the little icon travel in fits and starts across the map as I made my way unencumbered. Two days later, my suitcase was waiting for me in my hotel room in Narita.

The cost? $12.56.

It’s no coincidence that Japan gave us Marie Kondo, the minimalist guru who taught the world the joy of letting go.

Lightening Our Psychic Load

The older I get, the less I need—or want. Work clothes I’ll never wear again. Rollerblades collecting dust. A mountain bike that hasn’t seen a trail in years. A too-small wetsuit. A broken mixer. Just how many mismatched coffee cups can I possibly use? I find it deeply satisfying to gift these things or drop them off at Goodwill. I know I’m not alone in that feeling of liberation.

So it begs the question: If letting go is so freeing, why are we such a consumer society?

There’s a lot of fear in letting go. Maybe I’ll need that special hex wrench I didn’t even remember was in the drawer.

Emotional Baggage: Grievances and Regret

And what about the invisible luggage we shoulder—regrets and old grievances? The opportunities we squandered, the choices we second-guess, the relationships that unraveled?

As I edit my third novel, Nesting in Place, about two women reckoning with their pasts, I keep returning to one question: How do we make peace with regret?

Here’s what I’ve learned:

• Who among us has not made mistakes? And, am I sure it was a mistake?
• Is my life better, more fulfilling, when I think about the mistakes I’ve made?
• The “other” path I might have chosen wouldn’t have been perfect, only imperfect in different ways.
• And perhaps most importantly: Life is more poignant, more exquisite, more painfully beautiful—when I embrace all its imperfections.

I’m still working on letting go of old regrets. I’d love to hear about the ways you’ve made peace with the past.

I invite you to read related blogs including Hope Arrives Like the Tap-Tap-Tapping of a Woodpecker and Where are you G-d? A Letter to My Non-Jewish Friends about Israel, Gaza and Holding Two Truths. And my novels, Thin Places, and Cross Body Lead that are available locally at Volumes of Pleasure in Los Osos and wherever paperbacks and ebooks are sold.

#travel light #minimalism #letting go #regret #emotional baggage #Japan travel #Marie Kondo