When Is the Right Time?

There’s a saying often attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt:
“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift—that’s why it’s called the present.”

It’s simple, but it carries a lot of weight.

So often, we find ourselves asking when the right time is. The right time to move. The right time to make a life change. The right time to finally address habits we know no longer serve us. We look for certainty, reassurance, or a clear sign that says now.

The reality is—no one can tell you when the right time is. Only you know.

Any step toward change, whether in real estate or in life, usually comes with unknowns. Those unknowns can feel uncomfortable, even scary, and it’s very human to want to retreat back into what feels familiar and safe. Comfort zones have a strong pull. But growth rarely happens there.

My advice is this: take each step as it feels right. Take your time. Ask the questions. Collect the data. Sit with it. Process. You don’t need to rush change to honor it.

I was reminded of this recently by a dear friend who brought up a book I read during a particularly stuck and uninspired moment in my life: Flights by Olga Tokarczuk. I read it at a time when I felt frozen—unsure of my next move, overwhelmed by possibilities, and quietly afraid of making the wrong choice. That book opened something in me. It didn’t give me answers, but it gave me courage.

One quote, in particular, has stayed with me. I find myself returning to it whenever change feels heavy:

“Standing there on the embankment, staring into the current, I realized that—in spite of all the risks involved—a thing in motion will always be better than a thing at rest; that change will always be a nobler thing than permanence; that that which is static will degenerate and decay, turn to ash, while that which is in motion is able to last for all eternity.”

What struck me wasn’t a call to reckless action—but an invitation to movement. Even small movement. Even tentative steps.

During that season, when things felt overwhelming, I leaned into conversations with friends, family, and my therapist. I intentionally chose spaces where I could explore ideas without judgment—where I could be honest, and where honesty would be reflected back to me by people who truly cared. That, too, was movement.

It’s important to remember that we always have agency. We get to decide when it’s time to take a leap. When it’s time to stay put and appreciate what we have. And when it’s time to gently explore whether change might serve us better. These questions are always worth asking.

Of course, not all change is initiated by us.

Sometimes life moves first. A job shifts. A family dynamic changes. A market changes. A season ends before we feel ready. Our instinct is often to resist—to brace, to fight the current. But if change is the only true constant, then resistance can add unnecessary suffering.

That same quote from Flights reminds us that motion—even when it’s imposed—can still carry us forward. By cultivating openness, by acknowledging impermanence as the natural state of life, we can find more ease within uncertainty. Not certainty—but steadiness.

So here’s my gentle encouragement: get out there. Talk to real people. Discuss ideas. Challenge your opinions. Let yourself be curious instead of fixed. This, too, is movement—and often the first step.

This may not sound like a typical real estate post, but in times of great uncertainty, there’s value in pausing and creating a little more ease.

Because whether you’re buying your first home, upsizing, downsizing, or somewhere in between—the process mirrors any other meaningful change. Understand what you need. Be honest about why you’re doing it. Start learning the landscape. Ask questions. Sit with the discomfort. And when you’re ready, take the next step.

Change doesn’t have to be forced to be powerful. Sometimes, it just needs to be met with awareness—and a willingness to keep moving.