I hear a lot of platitudes about how to call in good things. 

Open up to abundance.
Call in love.
​Align with energies of ease and flow.
Effortlessly attract blah blah blah.

That has NEVER worked for me. 

I prefer to flail a lot, and swear, and fall into the mud a bunch of times, and generally make a mess of things. 

And yet in the last few months, I’ve gone from learning the lessons of hardship and pain into sitting at the feet of joy.  There is a quiet sweetness to life that wasn’t there six months ago. There are a bunch of reasons for this– my daughter and I moved into a bigger and beautiful home, for one thing.  We started taking horseback riding lessons.  I pushed through the next hard draft of my memoir.  Joy showed up in surprising ways.

Some of it was just time, and hard work, and immense good fortune, and slogging around until something finally clicked.

But there’s something else there, too–

a bit of magic that will move your life forward SO quickly– which is to

get RID of what isn’t working. 

​This is one of the fundamental principles of The Queen Sweep, which I totally stole from ancient feng shui wisdom: that in order to bring in something new, you first have to make room for it.

We talk a lot about white space in my classes, and it sounds nice and dreamy, like a blurred-out Instagram filter.  But it’s not a fluffy, light process at all.  Creating white space in your life is a muscular, sweaty, gritty kind of magic.

It’s doing the hard work of saying goodbye to what no longer works.  Letting go of sub-par to make room for stellar.  Risking safe for spectacular.

This is scary as shit.  Anyone who pretends it isn’t is lying.

It requires you to step into the void of the unknown.  To risk losing what you have in search of something that might turn out to be a mirage or a fantasy.

It’s an odd week for my clients, again– so many of them are standing on a precipice of needing to make a decision.  The things that never really quite worked right, and in fact were kinda miserable, but somehow sorta were livable as long as they squinted juuuuuust right?

Those things are suddenly NOT WORKING at all.  Shifts both internal and outer are nudging them toward making scary, scary choices.

I can’t promise my clients that if they take the leap, that they’ll be caught.  More than once I’ve laid wet and broken on the concrete wondering where the damn net was.

But I do know that if you practice taking little risks, you’ll be infinitely more ready when the big choices present themselves.  You’ll have muscle memory around trusting yourself.

And then when the big questions arise, you’ll know how to find the answers inside yourself. 

So how do you get ready for those big scary leaps?

You take little bunny hops first.  Lots of them.  A great place to practice is with your physical world.

Please hear me loud and clear: you don’t want to go blow up your life (quit the job, start the business, tell the board of directors to shove it) until you have a lot of practice making brave decisions in small things. Building bravery muscle in a low-stakes arena is how you come to trust yourself and your own judgment enough to take those big courageous leaps when the time is right.

So to build some EFBA (epic fucking badass) muscles, try practicing these small terrifying moves:   

Order a new drink you read about in a book once.
Get a new hairstyle, one with green streaks.
Wear an outfit that makes you feel shyly gorgeous.
Spend a night away from your kids.
Send back the dish that isn’t right.
Fire your flaky personal trainer.
Toss those craft supplies that just make you feel guilty.
Quit the horrible pointless committee.
Call your bank and negotiate a better rate.
Set a boundary with that difficult friend.

If it scares you a little bit and it also feels light and free and thrilling?  If it tastes loving and delicious?  You’re heading in the right direction.

This is a way to go bigger.

Float free.
Feel that terror.
And that freedom.

Because you’ve just created a little breathing room for something new and beautiful to rush in.

much love, 
Katherine