The best way to call something you want into your life is to fall in love with it ahead of time. I’d say “attract” into your life but that word has taken on some negative connotations since The Secret.
A common obstacle in the fulfillment of a desire is that we often call from a place of desperation, lack, disbelief or control. We are feeling the absence of that thing so keenly that we screech and claw after it, as if wanting something badly enough will bring it to us. That almost never works.
Or, sometimes, if we’re feeling particularly enlightened that day, we may sit in front of our vision boards covered in pretty magazine photos (the old-fashioned Pinterest) or recite affirmations into the mirror or try to fantasize about our dream. Sometimes that can help but I gotta be honest – and this is not very enlightened – it often feels like boring busywork to me… just one more way to spin my wheels in the hopes of conjuring up some magic that will produce the elusive thing that I want.
So you know what I’ve been noticing lately? That when something wonderful comes into my life, it comes because I’ve already been in love with it for a very long time. When you’re in love with something – in the best, most functional sense of the word – you love it just because it is. You don’t attach expectations or stipulations to it. You don’t worry about it. You don’t crave it. You don’t latch on to it. You just allow it to be and allow yourself to be with it.
One of the things I love is a beautiful house. There’s a neighborhood in Santa Monica that I adore and for the past seven years, whenever I have a chance, I take long walks through that neighborhood just to soak in the incredible architecture, landscaping and quiet. You can find everything there – wild rose gardens, sprawling magnolia trees, towering palms, hidden gardens, cactus, Victorian, Spanish or Post-Modern design… and one of my favorite homes could have doubled for a Hemingway Cuban hideaway.
I would love to live in one of those houses someday. I can imagine what joyful creativity could blossom in a such an exquisite environment. I can believe that such a home could be mine. I can see and feel myself there. Those homes make me feel good. I go there when I’m tired, upset, over-stimulated or craving something I can’t define. I never feel jealous or cynical when I walk through the neighborhood; I just feel good, as if that particular environment were feeding me in more ways than one. And in some strange way it serves as a meditation; by the time I finish my walk I’m centered and renewed.
Today the office was loud and hectic so I used my break to go walking through that neighborhood. I parked in front of a home I’d noticed a few days ago… one of the older, more modest houses that still survive on a street where each house competes with the next. I love the little houses too because they’re a rare bit of history in a city that’s constantly evolving. I like to imagine that these are the homes Tennessee Williams saw when he lived and wrote nearby.
There was a woman out front watering her lawn and I felt kind of weird sitting in front of her house but she didn’t seem to mind and I was going walking anyhow. When I returned to my car half an hour later, she was still there and she suddenly looked up and said, “Oh, my gosh, hi Dawn!” It turned out that the house belonged to our accountant who comes into our office once a week and with whom I get along very well. It was also the house where one of my bosses (our accountant’s brother) was born and raised.
She insisted that I come inside for a tour and she told me all about her parents when they built the house to raise seven kids and how she and her husband had no desire to tear down and build again like so many others on the street. It was shaped like a “U” – deceptively spacious on the inside, comfortable, warm and modern. There was a big backyard with a pool and three happy dogs. She told me to stop in and say hi any time I wanted to.
I get such a kick from moments of synchronicity like these. How often have I daydreamed about living in one of those homes and now I know how it actually feels to be inside. My dream has moved a step closer to me. I don’t take these things lightly; I delight in them. Just as in acting, where it’s more effective to inhabit an imaginary world with all five (or six) senses, I believe we can create and call our dreams to us by first falling in love with them and then by dwelling in that place of love as often as we can.
How do you dream and visualize for your life? What synchronicity have you noticed? I’d love to hear your thoughts and stories in the Comments section at the top left of this post.