Some people approach big changes like ripping off a bandaid. For me, transitions feel more like flying across the inky-black ocean at night. I’ve come to love these liminal weeks of anticipation and planning — hovering above the deep, feeling thoroughly present to myself and temporarily alienated from most everything and everyone else. Taking my time with transitions is a love borne of necessity. Significant transition induces existential jetlag. And like skipping timezones, change can feel much more navigable when we take a moment to let our hearts and minds catch up to our bodies.