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BECOMING HOME: THE MOVE TO LOS ANGELES
The premise...
I'm moving to Los Angeles.
And instead of waiting until I'm unpacked and settled to tell you what I learned, I'm going to let you come with me through the transition.
Because moving is exciting.
And moving can also be disorienting, exhausting, emotional and surprisingly grief-filled.
This is exactly the kind of moment when I rely most heavily on the practices I've spent decades cultivating.
So over the next several weeks, I'm going to show you what that actually looks like.
Not as an expert standing outside the experience.
As a woman living it.
THE PRACTICES WE'LL SEE IN REAL TIME
NOTICE THE STORY
When something activates me, I don't immediately try to fix it.
First I notice the story.
What am I telling myself?
"This is too much."
"I should be further along."
"What if I regret this?"
"I have to get everything done."
"What if the new life isn't as good as the one I imagined?"
The story isn't wrong.
It's information.
Noticing gives me just enough distance to choose what happens next.
RETURN TO THE BODY
Before I solve the problem, I come back into my body.
Sometimes that's meditation.
Sometimes it's walking.
Sometimes it's breathing.
Sometimes it's putting my bare feet on the ground and remembering:
I'm here.
I'm safe in this moment.
I don't need to solve next month from today.
WRITE BEFORE I KNOW THE ANSWER
My journal isn't where I document what I've figured out.
It's often where I discover what I actually think.
I let the pen move before my mind has organized the answer.
Sometimes a sentence appears that changes the entire way I'm seeing something.
CREATE SOMEWHERE FOR THE FEELING TO GO
Sometimes words aren't enough.
That's when I paint.
I don't necessarily paint about the move.
I let color, movement and intuition carry whatever my body has been holding.
I'm not trying to create a beautiful painting.
I'm creating somewhere outside myself for the emotion to exist.
LET JOY AND GRIEF SHARE THE ROOM
This may be the biggest practice of all.
I don't have to diminish my excitement about Los Angeles because leaving is emotional.
And I don't have to question the move because I'm grieving something I'm leaving behind.
I can love what I'm moving toward...
and love what I'm leaving.
Both can be true.
USE RITUAL TO MARK THE THRESHOLD
Transitions deserve acknowledgement.
There will be things I consciously release.
Things I consciously bring with me.
Maybe candles.
Maybe crystals.
Maybe a meditation.
Maybe a final painting in this home.
Maybe a written intention for the new one.
Ritual gives meaning to something our nervous system already knows:
Something is ending.
Something is beginning.
RETURN TO VISION
When logistics take over, it's easy to forget why we said yes in the first place.
So I'll keep returning to the vision.
Not the apartment.
Not the boxes.
Not the checklist.
The life.
How do I want my mornings to feel?
What kind of creative life am I building?
Who do I want around my table?
What am I making room for?
Vision reminds me that I'm not simply relocating.
I'm choosing into the next season of my life.
THE QUESTION UNDER THE WHOLE SERIES
Is the question...
"How do I get through this transition?"
Or maybe it's...
"How do I stay connected to myself while my life is changing?"
That's what I want to explore with you.
Because whether you're moving...
ending a marriage...
changing careers...
watching your children leave home...
grieving someone you love...
or simply realizing that the life you've built doesn't quite fit anymore...
we all encounter thresholds.
And we don't have to abandon ourselves while crossing them.
We can notice.
We can breathe.
We can create.
We can grieve.
We can dream.
And little by little...
we can become home to ourselves wherever we go.
There are only ten days left before I move to Los Angeles.
Which means the boxes are getting real.
So are the goodbyes.
And so is the excitement about what I’m moving toward.
Because this move isn’t only about where I’m going to live.
There’s something I’m bringing with me.
When I arrive in Los Angeles, I’ll be launching a project called 100 for 100 — an invitation for me to offer 100 complimentary healing sessions to 100 people who spend their lives helping other people.
The healers.
The caregivers.
The teachers.
The people who hold everyone else together.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how often the helpers are the last people to ask for help themselves.
So while I’m packing up one chapter of my life, I’m also quietly preparing to begin this one.
I’ll tell you much more soon.
For now, I’m noticing how beautiful it feels to move toward something — not only a new city, but a new way of showing up in it.
Ten days.
Here we go.
x
Jules
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