The best of what's to come.

Your whole life could feel like this, if you just let it.Today is glooooorrriiioouuusss. The sun is shining, it's warm out, it is actually an honest-to-god, even-though-it's-May-I-still-can't-believe-it spring day. Right before I sat down to write today, I hopped over to the coffee shop on the corner for my usual coconut almond milk latte. Walking back, I gazed at up my building and thought, "Do I really want to leave all this? It's so nice, being here on days like this. Living right on Main Street in a gorgeous space, where I can walk everywhere in this pretty small town. Everything is kind of easy here." 

But then, as I thought more about it, I heard a voice reminding me that if I lived on the West Coast, *all* days would be like this. 

It's so easy, sometimes, to talk ourselves out of what we want, or to lower those expectations. To stay where things feel safe, and easy, even if that safe and easy is not at all what we really want. 

Not long after I made my declaration that I was moving to the West Coast, I found that I kept trying to prepare myself for some crappy, cramped apartment. "You probably won't have space for that," I would find myself thinking, as I stared at some beloved object. "You should enjoy all this while you have it, because our next place is probably not going to be this nice." And then I would catch myself and ask, "Why the fuck would it NOT be this nice?!" Every single time I've moved, it's been a better place than the last (with the exception of the time when I moved to the suburbs for love. That place objectively sucked, but I was there for love and so in that sense, it was still a step up from the place I was in before). And the space I'm living in right now is really ridiculously awesome, but the most important thing it's taught me is that, when I need them to, things just kind of fall into place for me when it comes to moving.

I may be unlucky in love, but I'm damn lucky in living spaces. 

So I sat myself down and wrote out a list. You know how some people do that list of things they want in a soulmate? I decided to do that with my West Coast living space. 

1) Lots of light
2) Clean, white space (white walls, etc)
3) Feels airy (could totally be a studio space, as long as it has something that makes it feel spacious, like lots of windows or high ceilings, etc) 
4) Has windows I can open
5) A space outside where I can read or do yoga in the morning
6) Walkable distance to a coffeeshop
7) Short drive to the coast 
8) Allows pets
9) Washer and dryer inside the apartment
10) Has a tub
11) Exposed brick or hardwood floors would be nice, too
12) A skylight would be super primo, but definitely not required

I made the above list and found myself thinking of how, with the exception of a couple things, finding a place I'll love actually seems pretty easy now. And it changed everything - instead of worrying about kind of crap hovel I might have to settle for when I make the big move, instead I get to dream about what kind of airy, beachy, beautiful bungalows I might find myself in.

Whether you're literally moving into another living space or just moving into another dream or phase in your life, don't talk yourself out of wanting exactly what you want. I'm a big believer in putting things out to the universe: Once you get clear about what it is you really want, you make it that much easier for the universe to bring it to you. And that's why we move, right? That's why we change. To get to the Better of what it is that we have now. Sometimes I find myself questioning a change because I don't want to lose the good of what I have now. But I'm kind of living proof of the fact that, every time I've made that leap, my life has changed in miraculous, magnificent ways...and the good you have now can and will stay the good you have later. 

At a certain point in your life, week, year, it's time tell that jerk cautionary-tale voice in your head to beat it, and teach yourself to expect the best of what's to come. 

What's the Better you're trying to talk yourself out of? 

Make a list, a collage, or a kickass soundtrack of what the Dream looks like. 

(And then start believing' in it, Dream Weaver.)