I was not practicing for my role in a local production of Clichéd Things Actors Do. Nope, this was just me in my home, all alone, having one of those tiny breakthroughs.

Here’s what I saw: a squooshy couch with big pink cabbage roses on it.  A shopping bag with a deep fuchsia sweater in it.  And my iphone in its swirly indigo-and-pink cover. An unremarkable scene, to be sure.

Except for one thing.  I never used to like pink.

Maybe it’s the Portland local ale, or the subtle dementia that creeps in when our children try to talk to us about their new favorite movie, but I sort of hadn’t noticed how much pink I’d brought into my life.  Or how much I adore these bright blips of rose, fuchsia, coral, and that heavenly shade that combines them.

There it was in my living room: incontrovertible evidence of a sea change.

There is a strange magic to the spaces we create.  They reflect what’s happening inside us long before our conscious minds can put words to it.

Even though the past months have been full of chaotic change, major upheaval, and plenty of tears, they’ve also been full of great blooming joy.  And although I’m seeing the same dire economic forecasts you’re seeing, in my deep heart I feel a resilient optimism shaking itself off and squinting up at the sun, grinning madly.

And even though the days are still hot and the air is thick with pollen, my animal self is readying for the coming winter by picking up a giant blanket of a sweater, in the brightest possible color, to wrap around myself to ward off the dark days of [WF_CLEANUP] and lethargy.

In all these tiny yet tangible ways, I’m setting my course.

The part of me that is suddenly drawn to this outlandish shade of pink isn’t verbal, or logical.  She doesn’t give a hoot about schedules or bank accounts or what Bazaar magazine says is stylish for the fall.  If you put words to her, they would sound like this:  “Oh!  Greeeennn!!! Oh, lummy golden greeny mmmm, and Oh!! Pink!  Oh popping brightly mwah!  Pink!”

Our dreamy selves have a great deal of wisdom to give us.  When we can get them to talk to the parts of us that pay the bills and make the meals, they form an immensely powerful alliance.  Too often we pit these parts of ourselves against ach other.

Many of my clients come to me because they feel out of whack in a way they can’t define.  They are pushing but something isn’t happening, or they reached their goals but it didn’t feel like they expected it to, or they simply feel a deep wordless yearning.

Some of them have zipped the dreamy parts of themselves into a garment bag and gotten a lot of work done.  Some of them are creatives who have sold away parts of their dreamer until they feel wispy and insubstantial.  They have worked hard, put their ideas into action, and been brave, wise, insightful, and clever.  But they don’t feel satisfied, because that dreamy part of them is starving.  They might be happy with 97% their lives, but they don’t know the language of delight.

Let me tell you a secret.  That dreamer in you is the cheapest date in the world. All she requires is your amused attention, and she’ll give up the goods.

So take five minutes right now, and get out a piece of paper.  Don’t find your pretty journal or a proper notebook; use a crumpled envelope or the back of a receipt.  That’s how you get your striving brain to sit back and take a little nap so you can play and dream without censorship.

Now, close your eyes and take ten deep breaths.  Imagine your breath whisking away any tightness in your body and clearing the way for inspiration.

Imagine the kind of place that your best self would live if money and practicality were no object.  If there were no hunger or violence in the world, if you and everyone else already had everything they could possibly need, and your only task was to delight in your life, what would that look like?  Go ahead and be ridiculous; no one is watching.  Is it a castle?  A treehouse?  A Frank Lloyd Wright?  A canyon?  A cottage?  A brand new high rise?  Imagine walking through it, touching things gently.  How do you feel?  Let the image be bright and rich with detail.

Now see if you can come up with three to five words that capture the essence of that space.

Is it light and airy?  Crisp and edgy?  Is it full of color and taste and sound, or is it silent and tranquil?  What colors do you see?  Go ahead and jot down a few words.  Cross some out.  Write down some more.  Play with it until you come up with five words that make you laugh, they’re so frivolous and decadent and…delicious.  Now stick that little scrap of paper in your wallet and don’t give it a further thought.

And send me an email and tell me what happens next.  Because this, my dears, is how you make magic.