There are a million ways to declutter. My approach? Go tiny.

Today’s target is the Ikea Billy bookcase in my home office. On tiptoes, I reach a high shelf and lift a lined wicker basket. Tucked among boxes of paper clips and pads of pastel Post-it Notes, I find a black wooden egg with the glowing face of an extraterrestrial printed on one side. I shake it and the maraca beads rattle, prompting a faint memory of the music class I took my daughter to when she was 3. In the same basket is a photography loupe I used for magnifying contact sheets in my ad agency days, before everything went digital. I carry both objects into the storage area of my basement and add them to the cardboard box designated for Goodwill. And with that, I mentally cross another day off my list.

My husband and I, recent empty nesters, are preparing for our first move in more than 25 years. It’s the big one: We’re planning to downsize from our single-family suburban house to a one-bedroom condo by the Jersey Shore in the next two years.

The work of sorting and removing what won’t be coming with us felt monumental — until I stumbled onto a solution.

While scrolling Instagram one day, I discovered Toronto-based professional organizer Ivanka Siolkowsky. She had just embarked on another “Year of No Shopping,” limiting her purchases to essentials only. But this time, she’d added a decluttering twist. Each day, she would choose two items from her home to donate, sell or recycle.

I was intrigued and thought: Why not apply the idea to downsizing to make it less overwhelming? I even gave it a name: Microparing.

Unlike Marie Kondo’s famous KonMari Method of tackling an entire category of possessions in one exhausting marathon purge, microparing is a low-stakes, gradual approach that takes mere minutes. I didn’t anticipate how gratifying it would be. Microparing is like a mini treasure hunt that rewards me with the same hit of dopamine I once got from retail therapy. Some days, motivated by my productivity, I’ll keep going and remove more than two items.

As enjoyable as this process has been, I know I’ll eventually have to pick up the pace if we’re going to pare down enough for our move. It raises the question: Is microparing truly an on-ramp to downsizing, or is it simply delaying the major work ahead?

“You’re not running 26 miles on day two. You’re walking for 30 minutes right now, every day. And so you’re actually doing it the right way,” he says. “You’re building the muscle of ‘getting rid of.’ You’re proving to yourself: ‘I can do this.‘”

Microparing feels almost subversive, bypassing the emotional part of my brain that will mourn the ending of this phase of life. Right now, I’m just skimming the surface, but as I confront items with stronger memories attached, letting go will become more challenging. Like the home movies my dad filmed and professionally edited — nearly 200 videotapes that are too numerous to digitize and store but too precious to throw away.

After all, this is the house where we raised our daughter from her toddler years through college and beyond. It’s where we gave three consecutive dogs a loving home and a yard to play in. It’s where I launched my own business two decades ago and where both sides of our family — some long gone — gathered for birthday parties and Thanksgiving dinners. The objects filling our closets, drawers and shelves are the physical evidence of our lives to this point, breadcrumbs that transport us back to who we were.

Siolkowsky says many people struggle with downsizing because of “the misconception that stuff equals memories.” Objects can jog memories, but those memories won’t necessarily disappear with the object, she says.

After my dad died, I held onto his collection of art books and vinyl portfolios from a long career in advertising, a profession we once shared. Making that distinction between objects and memories allowed me to finally let them go. I kept a few items and donated the rest to the art department at our local high school, which felt like a meaningful way to honor my dad’s legacy.

“And so when people can start to let go a little bit of not just the stuff but the ideas that they have about themselves, then they can open themselves up to all of these new possibilities,” she says. For example, maybe you were a teacher for 35 years, but you also dreamed of painting someday.

Roberson asks clients to think about their most cherished moment and choose something that’s a physical representation of that time to keep and display.

Paxton has clients create a “legacy list” of the five items that matter most to them. He tells couples to compose their lists individually, then come together and share the stories behind those objects, which he says is key. “You find out what’s emotionally important very quickly.”

Discarding two items a day has definitely primed me for the next step of taking on more. So I asked the experts for tips on scaling up my efforts to pare down.

Roberson recommends starting by cleaning and says that after removing everything from a surface, people are “a lot more selective about what they put back.” Similarly, she advises emptying boxes onto the floor rather than sifting through them. “The mess is actually beneficial to you,” she says. When confronted with a lot of stuff, people usually realize they don’t want it all.

Siolkowsky suggests flipping my mindset and instead of looking for objects to get rid of, walking through my home and saying, “these are the items that I absolutely love” and want to take with me.

The process of downsizing deserves care and deliberation, which is served by my gradual approach. There’s something sacred about holding and contemplating what took a lifetime to accumulate — and in clearing space for what’s next.

“There’s this amazing opportunity for reinvention and reassessment, and I think honing parts of yourself that you love — that you want to see shine more and sparkle more and be more alive in your life,” Roberson says.

Taking Siolkowsky’s advice, I separate cherished books from the ones I’m willing to give away and start a photo album on my iPhone to use as a visual reminder of the items I plan to keep. That includes my elegant black writing desk, a framed print that belonged to my parents, an oversize vase blown from blue-tinted glass and other pieces that will transition harmoniously to a coastal setting.

Microparing allows me to shed the excess and curate a collection of belongings that’s smaller and more intentional. Downsizing requires letting go, but freedom awaits on the other side. When my husband and I finally move, we’ll be eager to embrace the lightness of a simpler lifestyle.