There are times when the universe supports change in your life. You get a nudge that it’s time to leave or change a situation. You’ve been in it for a while; you’re comfortable there.
But deep down, you know it’s time. To move. To end your relationship, quit your job, move cities or give up a crutch.
You keep getting signs. Doors open that support your next step: you get offered a new job contract. You meet an attractive man. Someone tells you about the low price of real estate in the city you dream of moving to.
I call this “the escalator effect.” The universe is providing you with a boost to the next level of your growth. It’s a window of opportunity that stays open for a short time.
There is a price to getting on the elevator: you have to let go of something first. You can’t get on it and still be in the situation you’re in.
Years ago, I was involved with someone and had knew for months that it was over. I was trying to push aside that knowledge. In a workshop, I had a moment of crystal clarity that we had no future. It was time to end it officially.
All kinds of amazing things were taking off in my life at that time: I was suddenly meeting LOTS of intriguing men, I had incredible business ventures gearing up, I felt very optimistic about my future—I was on an upswing. The universe was providing me with an escalator.
Except that I didn’t get on it.
It was six months before I ended the relationship. By that time, the escalator was long gone. Instead, there was a cliff in front of me. I was stuck looking down at the crevasse. I could still leave, and I did. Now it was much harder to do.
The escalator is the gift we get from the universe when we ACT on our intuition and “the signs” as they appear. It supports our growth into the next stage of our lives. When we resist and hesitate, that help evaporates.
The message? Act fast when you know it’s time.
The universe supports bold, brave moves.
The video above is a twist on this idea: it’s still up to you to move.
And, fyi, I don’t do margarine. Butter, maybe, a la Last Tango in Paris. Not margarine. 
