A Sacred Unravelling: Coddiwomple Diaries

A month into the journey

It’s been four weeks since we began our coddiwomple - a purposeful wandering toward an as -yet - unknown destination. In that time, my partner and I have traded the familiar for the fluid. Each day offers unexpected lessons, especially about the art of letting go.

Part 1: Letting go of possessions

Although we didn’t know exactly when we would leave our home, we had been contemplating the move for nearly a year. A few months before the decision became real, I began gradually sorting through my belongings—selling, donating, and giving things away. When the moment came to commit, I knew I’d need to be ruthless: downsizing from a small two-bedroom flat to a rucksack and a tiny storage unit.

To my surprise, I actually enjoyed the process. Unburdening myself felt liberating. Friends would see my posts on local recycling groups or marketplace listings and ask if I was okay. “Are you sad to be parting with so much?” they’d say. Some people were genuinely upset on my behalf. But the truth was, every time another piece of furniture or a beloved spiritual object left the flat, I felt lighter—freer.

And rightly so. I’ve spent most of my adult life as a spiritual practitioner, walking a path that honours non-attachment as a key to contentment and peace. If, three decades in, I found myself unable to let go of my crystal singing bowls, you could reasonably question whether the path had borne any fruit.

I’ve always loved the quote from Fight Club:

“The things you own end up owning you.”

When I first heard that, something in me stirred—and I quietly made a vow: not me. I wouldn’t let that happen.

There was also real joy in passing things on. Some items had served their purpose for me but still held potential to inspire or support someone else. That kind of release felt like a gift in both directions.

What surprised me most, though, was how little I’ve missed my altar. Over the years, I’d created a sacred space in my home—a focal point of devotion, remembrance, meditation, and ritual. So much energy had been cultivated there that just sitting in that space felt like coming home.

As we prepared to leave, I created a small travel altar in a cloth pouch, thinking I’d need it. But I haven’t used it once.

Instead, I’ve been turning inward more deeply than ever—thanks in large part to a beautiful Yoga Nidra practice by Tracee Stanley called Altar of the Heart. It’s become a near-daily ritual, guiding me back to an inner sanctuary where everything I need already exists. The sacred hasn’t been lost; it’s been distilled—from outer form to inner essence.

As Rumi says:

“Everything you seek is within you.”

Even altars.

Letting go of possessions was the first threshold—tangible, visible, and surprisingly easeful. But soon after came subtler layers of release: our idea of home, our sense of security, our concern for what others might think. Each layer has asked for its own kind of surrender.

That’s where I’ll go next: letting go of certainty and redefining what it means to feel safe.

To be continued in Part 2: Letting Go of Security.