What my ideal day revealed

World Of Liesbet Podcast solo-episode: [listen]

I did an exercise a while ago that stayed with me.

You had to imagine your ideal day and write it down in detail.

At first, I was quite sceptical. 

It felt a bit… unnecessary.

But once I started writing, something unexpected happened.

And over time, that simple exercise quietly started to influence how I live my life today.

About a year ago, my coach gave me a book: Walking into This World by Julia Cameron.

She simply said: “This book changed my life. I think it might do something for you too.”

I’m not someone who naturally enjoys structured creative exercises. 

I tend to think things through in my head rather than write them down.

But by the time I reached week 9 of the program, I had already gotten enough out of it to give it a real chance.

So I did the exercise.

The prompt was simple:

Describe your ideal day. From morning to evening. In as much detail as possible.

I was sitting outside in a quiet holiday park in the Belgian Ardennes. 

My children were playing nearby. 

The dogs were walking around calmly.

And I started writing.

What came out surprised me.

Not because it was extraordinary.

But because it wasn’t.

I didn’t describe a life of big achievements, or a packed agenda, or a high-performing version of myself.

Instead, I wrote about light, space, nature, movement, meaningful work and being surrounded by the right people

A calm morning. 

Swimming.

Walking. 

Creating.

Thinking. 

Time alone.

Time together.

A day that felt… spacious.

That surprised me.

Because if you had asked me before, I would have described success very differently.

A bigger career. 

More impact. 

More recognition. 

More… everything.

And yet, when I allowed myself to be honest, what I longed for was not more.

It was different.

That exercise became a quiet turning point.

Not because everything changed overnight.

But because it gave me something I didn’t have before:

A reference point.

Over the months that followed, I started asking myself a different question:

How can I bring small pieces of that day into my real life?

Not the whole picture.

Just fragments.

I began to

protect time more consciously

say no to things that didn’t align

create space in my days again

Sometimes that looked like very small choices.

Drawing for 15 minutes in the morning instead of starting work early. 

Moving to a different room in the house because the light felt better. 

Going for a walk when my energy dropped, instead of pushing through.

Other times, it meant harder choices.

Letting go of opportunities. 

Choosing rest over productivity. 

Facing the discomfort of not doing what is expected.

And that wasn’t always easy.

Because alongside those choices came something else:

Guilt.

Doubt.

The feeling that I should be doing more. That others might need me. That I might be letting something slip.

There’s also something deeper.

I care deeply about the people around me.

When they are not okay, I feel it.

And learning to take care of myself without disconnecting from that sensitivity is still something I’m figuring out.

But something has shifted.

I notice it in small moments.

In conversations that stay softer. In reactions that don’t escalate as quickly. In the ability to pause, instead of push.

This episode is not about creating the perfect life.

It’s about noticing what matters.

And allowing that to guide you, even in very small ways.

If you feel overwhelmed, this might sound unrealistic.

But I would say the opposite.

That’s exactly when it matters most.

Start small.

A minute of stillness. 

A cup of coffee without distraction. 

A walk without purpose.

Not to fix your life.

But to reconnect with it.

This way of thinking also connects deeply with other ideas that have been guiding me recently:

Tiny Experiments — approaching life as something you can explore in small, low-pressure ways instead of something you need to get right immediately.

This episode is part of that exploration.

A quiet one.

But an honest one.

And maybe that’s enough.