I want laughter to feel like pink champagne bubbles.
I want my home to feel like a cozy puppy pile.
I want my body to feel like the sun rising over the Western Sahara.
I want my friendships to feel like being wrapped up in my favourite sweater on a chilly Sunday afternoon.
I want my money-making to feel like a snowfall on Christmas.
I want my word to feel like its weight in gold.
I want my facilitation gigs to feel like Idina Menzel hitting the high note in Defying Gravity.
I want being of service to feel like baking my signature vegan chocolate chip banana bread.
I want my philanthropy to feel like a midnight blue sky lit up with a thousand stars.
I want my challenges to feel like the tough-yet-rewarding dancer’s pose in a 90-minute hot yoga class.
I want my love to feel like fireworks on New Year’s Eve.
I want my next success to feel like summiting Mount Kilimanjaro (all over again).
I want the end of the day to feel like a well-deserved perfectly-prepared Daniel-Craig-as-007 martini (shaken not stirred).
Welcome Twenty Thirteen.