At the intersection between the Many-Worlds Interpretation and the Law of Assumption, you can bow out of the shitty life you’ve created for yourself and slip into an existence that’s basically your own personal heaven. People call this place your “desired reality.” Let me give you some reference points here.
In my old reality, moving house was always an exercise in abject misery.
But.
Let me tell you how things unfolded after one night I used the “state akin to sleep” to visualize stepping through a doorway into a magical world of miracles and ease.
On Monday morning I received notice that a distant relative had passed away and left me 90K.
Ninety. Thousand. Dollars. I’d never had that much money. I was terrified, actually. All night I tossed and turned, grabbing my phone to research proper money management. Imagine—spending so much of my life plagued by a lack of money, then being blessed with a random windfall and suffering just as much anxiety if not more.
But I needn’t have stressed myself. Because on Tuesday, I received a job offer. A very lucrative, very exiting job offer that was ridiculously up my alley: creative, remote, and part-time with, get this: full-time pay and benefits. FINALLY! A money-making opportunity I actually wanted! I accepted faster than I’d ever accepted anything. No hemming and hawing for days. Just a resounding YES from my very soul. And as soon as I accepted the job, I immediately felt better about the inheritance. I knew that no matter what happened, I’d still have plenty of money coming in. I was on cloud nine and didn’t think things could get better.
But then they did. On Wednesday, I received a wire transfer from a previous employer that had failed to pay me. It was only $875, but it was a relief she finally did the right thing. And it was immediate money.
On Thursday the trend continued. A talented artist reached out wondering if we could collaborate on a project. As he described it, I became more and more excited. I would have done it for free, but he offered me 15K up front. When he sent me the contract, I noticed I’d be receiving royalties as well. I was so happy I almost exploded, my entire existence projecting across the universe in billows of glitter, confetti, and flustered giggles.
By Friday, my inheritance deposited into my account. I had no clue inheritance money could come so fast, but it did. And I was no longer afraid of it.
This is when I embarked on the most joyful moving experience of my life: one in which I could just pick a rental and move there. Luckily, the city I had in mind was also the city where my project mate resided, so if we ever wanted to meet up, it would be easy.
Easy.
What a relaxing word.
On Saturday. I found two quarters on the stairs. A paltry sum, I know, but I ended up needing exactly two quarters later that day.
Easy.
On Sunday, an ex showed up at my apartment out of the blue. He took me to brunch and gave me a care package filled with a soft plaid blanket, Illy ground coffee, a pack of hand-drawn tarot cards, a scented candle, and a dark academia novel. I was touched he knew me so thoroughly. Inside the book was five hundred dollars cash. Startled, I looked at him. He shrugged and kissed me.
“I just want you to remember me.”
“I will, always.”
After brunch he drove me back to my apartment and opened my door for me so I wouldn’t have to juggle my care package and keys.
Easy.
It was still a new word to me, but I was growing quite fond of it.
As I packed boxes, a task that usually felt like it took months and often culminated in a harried moving day, I was delighted to find that I did it all in a week. Never in my life had I packed that fast. The funny thing is, I didn’t rush. I didn’t beat myself up for having so many Christmas decorations. I didn’t fret about everything making it to the other side in one piece. In fact, several times I caught myself smiling and—gasp—humming some jaunty tune. I knew that no matter what, I’d be fine.
Moving day was interesting. As I watched the moving truck ramble away, I imagined my boxes and furniture arranged in a snug Tetris formation, shifting only slightly as they traversed bumpy roads, wide turns, and all that distance. I got my cats set up with their beds, food, water, and litter box in the back of my friend Woody’s conversion van. Then I hopped into the passenger seat, where we listened to Billy Joel and Jhene Aiko and Chapelle Roan and Eric Church. We drank coffee from Starbucks and Dunkin and BP and Cracker Barrel. We stopped to pee often, though the ride was so consistently flat that our bladders probably wouldn’t have bothered us much if we didn’t. We coasted down perfectly paved highways. There were very few people on the road, and the ones that were seemed to just glide into the next lane, allowing Woods and I to continue our smooth trajectory the entire way.
Finally, we pulled into the driveway. I savored the feeling of my legs carrying me up the porch stairs, the beautiful weight of my cat in my arms. Woody carried my other cat, and we smiled at each other before entering the house, an adorable little Victorian with a woodburning fireplace and a pantry and a clawfoot tub and a tall wooden fence completely enclosing the sunny, grassy backyard. Yes, everything was exactly as I hoped it would be. A miracle, considering I never saw the place in person before signing the lease. I’d done everything remotely and hoped for the best.
And this house is the best. It’s hands-down the most peaceful place I’ve ever lived. Thank goodness for my real estate agent, who made the whole process, well…
Easy.
To this day, it seems the universe is conspiring to deliver me money, ease, and convenience. I don’t even worry anymore that I’ll randomly wake up back in my old shit heap of a life. My desired reality would never let me go like that. It cradles me to its bosom like a devoted mother, this absurd thing of happiness and ease, and for that I am profoundly grateful.