Imagine

“Nothing is impossible, the word itself says I’m possible.”

—Audrey Hepburn

We live in limitless possibility.  At least that is what I read and study and truly believe.  The only thing standing in my way, is me.  And I have been a huge roadblock lately.  This is what was on my mind as I was walking the dog.  The knowing that if I do not put one foot in front of the other, I will go nowhere.  Logic so completely evident as I am walking the dog.  But the second I sit at my desk the same knowing that consistent steps will move me forward feels so very elusive. 

Why does it take so long for us to act on habits, beliefs, relationships and thoughts that we KNOW are not in our highest good. We know, but we continue to argue with ourselves.  Believing our creative rationale and justification can devise a new story, a new plan, a new reality. Why do we sit in that liminal space so long? Is is just our ego? Lack of trust in ourselves or our abilities?  Or are we confusing fantasy with imagination?

Fantasy and imagination.  They seem the same and the difference is very nuanced.  But in truth, the difference is one that gets to the heart of real transformation—not just the what of change, but the why not yet.  That liminal, in-between, “I-know-but-I-don’t-act” place—isn’t just procrastination or laziness. It’s a deeply human holding pattern.

There are several reasons we stay in a holding pattern.   At our core, we don’t want to change.  It isn’t in our nature.  Even when our current habit, belief, or relationship is harmful, it’s known. The ego prioritizes familiarity over freedom because control feels safer than the unknown.

Change, even positive change, feels like ego-death—a surrender of the story we’ve used to define ourselves.  Our thoughts, habits, and emotional responses are encoded in our neural pathways and belief systems and changing our story is changing our identity.   An identity that, even if it is no longer working for us, is comfortable.

But the most nuanced and interesting aspect to consider is our addiction to fantasy.  This one is subtle: the illusion of change can feel just as good, temporarily, as real change. Sitting in the space of “maybe tomorrow I’ll do it” gives us a hit of hope. So we build new plans, new versions, new fantasies—not because we’re ready, but because we want to be ready. And fantasizing is less risky than acting. 

We also fear losing what we haven’t even had yet.  Yes, our brains…. they make it up and then fantasize losing our new life before we even create it, own it, or allow it to impact our reality.  We grieve the idea of a potential future that hasn’t yet arrived. Even if it was based on illusion. Even if it was never going to work. Letting go means letting go not just of what is, but what could have been—and our minds hold on for dear life.

This is one of the most quietly powerful traps of transformation—the addiction to fantasy. It’s deceptive because it feels like progress. You can see where you want to go, feel who you want to become, even taste the freedom of it. And in that vision, you feel alive. Empowered. Whole.

But then… you do nothing.

Fantasy offers an emotional high without risk. It's a dopamine hit with no discomfort. You get to imagine the outcome—changed habits, healed relationships, confident self—without walking through the vulnerability of doing it.  It becomes like a drug.  You feel good thinking about your future self.  You get attached to the idea of change.  And that hit of “someday” becomes more soothing than the friction of “today.”

How is imagination different?  Imagination is sacred. It’s the blueprint of growth. But when it becomes untethered from action, it moves into pure fantasy.  Fantasy is the mind’s escape from reality. An idealized picture of what is possible.  Imagination is the mind’s creative engagement with reality—visionary, grounded, and a tool for inspired action.

In short:

Fantasy avoids reality.

Imagination reshapes it.

How do we know when we are living in fantasy?  When we need to anchor our vision of the future to the earth and step into imagination?  Start by reverse engineering your fantasy.  Ask yourself questions that are grounded in action.  What does this future version of myself do daily?  How do they spend their mornings?  Their energy? Their attention?  What steps are needed to advance you down the path?  Name one thing your future self does daily…and then DO IT.

And the “things”?  Keep them small.  Baby steps.  Real change lives in the boring middle.  Action isn’t glamorous. But it IS sacred repetition.  Practice, practice, practice.  And remember patience and persistence.  Progress will feel glacial.  But consistency is key. 

Be aware.  Track your emotional resistance.  Instead of avoiding your feelings, become aware of them—in a kind and compassionate way.  This is not a journey of self-judgment.  The bridge between fantasy and imagination is filled with, “This won’t matter,” or “I’ll start tomorrow,” or “I don’t feel ready.”  When these arise, write them down. Those are the bricks in your bridge—the ones you must lay by hand, one fear at a time.  As Robin Arzon says, “Take every brick ever thrown at you and use it as a foundation for the new life you are building.”  Whether you are building a castle or just a new path, bricks are the perfect start.  Each excuse, fear, or delay you confront becomes part of the structure carrying you forward.

Embrace ritual.  Create daily anchors that act like railings along your bridge.  A morning mantra that reminds you who you are choosing to become.  A moment of stillness each night to ask — did I show up as her today—even in small ways?  A short movement, meditation, or grounding act that says: I’m already on the bridge.  Ritual gives your body and nervous system something to trust while your mind unlearns old ways.

Embrace your new identity.  Rewrite your story. Instead of asking, “Did I arrive yet?” ask, “Am I acting in ways that are real and repeatable?”  Are you taking daily baby steps that ground you in your new identity?  This flips success from a distant destination to a daily embodiment.  You realize the bridge isn’t separate from the destination.  Walking the bridge between fantasy and imagination, between dreaming and action—over and over—is how our new identity becomes real.

“Nothing is impossible, the word itself says I’m possible.” 

There are many days, especially the cold and rainy ones, where I wish I did not have to walk the dog the entire route.  Where I did not have to put one foot in front of the other and remind myself that consistency is key.  On the truly stormy days, I take her to doggy daycare and let her walk herself.  We need those days too.  The ones where we opt out of fantasy or imagination and learn to just BE.  That it is okay to not always be on the bridge or the path or any other road.  We are only human after all and sometimes the journey is just tiresome. 

Staying stuck in the liminal space between who we are and the life we imagine for ourselves, serves no one.  Fantasy is frustrating.  And addictive in its promises.  Action gives us energy.  Daily repetition builds trust.  Trust in ourselves, our progress, our dream.  Trust that if we build a new life, a new identity, it will not disappear before we reap the benefits of our hard work.   Trust and practice remind us that while we live in a world of instant gratification, that is not the real world.  We must show up every day. Every day is a new day.  Every day requires our participation.  And every day can and should spark our imagination.