A few weeks ago my Life Coach Tia Singh (aka @TiaSparkles on Twitter) asked me to perform an exercise. She wanted me to close my eyes, and picture myself ten years from now. She asked me the following questions. Who was I? What did I look like? What were my thoughts? What did I do for a living? Where did I live? What did my house look like?
The purpose of the exercise was to immerse myself in all that I hope to be, and through that experience, begin to understand that my future self is here with me Now. I just have to believe it.
This post describes a segment of my future home. (Each of the three pictures shown above hold exterior attributes of my future home.)
Picturing the house is easy. It encompasses such intricate details. The iron gates at the front are guarded by tall portentous trees, which shield the noise of the busy street.
Once you drive past the legion of trees, the ground opens up to a field of flowers and grass. Colours blaze from one end to the other. All you can do is stop the car and step out, to fully embrace the vision. The colours are not just beautiful, they serve a purpose. They coerce your eyes to follow them, leading up to a curved driveway, and the beige stone house at the end of the path. Part inauspicious, part inviting, but entirely mystical, the lure of the house, prompts you to return to your car and proceed forward.
You park the car at the front of the seven concrete steps which lead to my double doors, painted fire engine red, of course! You expect a knocker, but alas no, I am still a city girl at heart. Use the doorbell!
I open the door. (I will describe ME, in Part two)
I welcome you with a hug. You have made a long journey to see me. As you take your first step into my home, I hear you gasp. I smile, because I had the same reaction when I first stepped into my home. You are staring forward. The back wall is a sheet of glass; your eyes are drawn past the glass to the blue-black mass of the ocean. White shards, crash into the surface as waves swirl up, then down, in perfect unison.
The sound of laughter breaks you from your trance. It’s the laugher of a child. We leave your bags at the front. There will be plenty of time to retrieve them later. I take your arm, and link it with mine. We pass a few doors and hallways that strewn out in different directions. But I lead you forward, to the wall of glass, to the laugher, to the center of my home.
You instantly turn towards Emma’s direction. She is watching “Finding Nemo” I believe for the 1000th time. For the 1000th time she is laughing at Bruce the Shark. She is sitting leather sectional with her feat up. The colour is on a winter white. Buffy, has her head on Emma’s lap. She strokes Buffy’s head, rhythmically. They are so in tune with each other. (But that is the way, with a child and her pet. )
“Emma, look who is here.”
She turns her head, looks at you and smiles. She does not attempt to get up, she does not want to disturb Buffy.
“Hello”. She says. “Mom-Mom (what she has called me since she was a year and a half) is so happy that you are here. She has not stopped talking about your visit.”
(Because I take each day with Emma as a gift, I am not able to see past her current age of 18months. I am not able to describe what a future Emma sounds or looks like.)
She turns back towards the tv. She is ten after all, and Nemo’s attraction is much stronger that yours. Sorry.
I want to show you more, but I understand you need to see the ocean. So we walk up to the glass and look out.
“It’s beautiful.” You say, as you face me.
End of Part one.