NOT A BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO MANIFESTING

NOT A BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO MANIFESTING

A Quiet Word With the Universe From Yourself

I am not going to teach you how to manifest. There are enough people doing that already, usually while sitting in a perfect white room with a candle burning, three crystals lined up like obedient little soldiers and not a speck of dust anywhere. My house does not work like that, and neither does my mind. My thoughts arrive together, all talking at once, while the kettle is boiling and something I put down two minutes ago has mysteriously disappeared. This is not another guide promising that the universe will deliver everything you desire before teatime. This is simply a quiet word with the universe from myself.

I have always believed there is more to us than the part we can see in a mirror. We spend so much time looking outwards for answers that we forget to look inwards. People speak about opening the third eye as though it is a secret window hidden in your forehead, but perhaps it is not about looking into another world. Perhaps it is about finally looking properly into yourself. It is seeing your own fears, your hopes and the little voice that keeps saying you are not worthy of the things you want.

Manifesting, to me, is not waving a magic wand and demanding a better life. It is working with the inner self until you are ready to receive something different. There is no point asking the universe for happiness while telling yourself every day that you do not deserve it. You cannot plant a seed and then dig it up every five minutes to see whether it has grown. At some point, you must trust the soil, leave the seed alone and give it time to find the light.

I decided to try a small experiment of my own. I have written thousands of poems and stories for Vocal, placing bits of my life between the words and sending them out for strangers to read. I would love one of them to be chosen as a Top Story. It may only be worth five dollars, but this is not about five dollars. I could probably spend that on something daft without even remembering what I bought. It is about recognition. It is about somebody noticing the work, choosing it and saying, “This one deserves to be seen.”

That is what I truly want, so that is what I chose to ask for. I gave myself seven days, not because the universe keeps a diary or needs a deadline, but because I wanted the experiment to have a beginning and an end. I did not want to spend the next six months staring suspiciously at every notification. Seven days felt long enough to believe and short enough to stop me becoming obsessed.

I took a small piece of brown paper and sat quietly with it. Brown paper felt right because it was plain and honest. It did not pretend to be magical. It had no golden edges, secret symbols or instructions written by somebody charging forty pounds to tell me how to breathe. It was simply a piece of paper waiting for my words.

I wrote my petition clearly. I asked for one of my pieces to be recognised as a Top Story on Vocal within seven days. I did not write it as a desperate plea, and I did not beg. I wrote it with gratitude, as though I was speaking to something that already understood why it mattered to me. Then I held the paper and allowed myself to imagine the moment. I pictured seeing the words Top Story beside my work. I felt the surprise, the happiness and that lovely little jump inside when something you hoped for finally happens.

The important part was not seeing the picture in my mind. The important part was allowing myself to believe I could be chosen. That is where the inner work began. Straightaway, another voice tried to interfere. It reminded me how many pieces I had already written without receiving that recognition. It told me there were too many other writers and asked why Vocal would suddenly choose me. That doubtful voice had plenty to say, as doubtful voices usually do.

Instead of fighting it, I listened. Then I answered it. I told myself that not being chosen before did not mean I could never be chosen. I reminded myself that my work had touched people, made them laugh and sometimes brought tears to their eyes. Readers had called me a storyteller as well as a poet. Those things were real. I did not have to invent confidence from nothing because the evidence was already there. I only had to stop pushing it aside.

When I had finished, I safely burned the brown paper and watched the edges curl. The words disappeared into the flame, but the wish did not feel lost. It felt released. I was no longer clutching it so tightly that I might squeeze the life out of it. I had spoken my intention, felt it and let it go. The universe did not need me standing over it asking every ten minutes whether it had read my note.

Now comes the part many manifesting guides forget to mention. I still have to do my part. I have to write, edit and publish. I have to choose my images carefully and keep putting my work where it can be found. I cannot ask for recognition and then hide everything in a drawer. Manifesting is not an excuse to sit still. It is a way of bringing your thoughts, feelings and actions into the same place.

There is also a difference between need and greed. My own rule is simple: ASK FOR NEED, NOT GREED. I am not asking for thirty-two million pounds, a diamond bath and nine-inch false nails that would prevent me from using the toilet without assistance. I am asking for one meaningful sign that my work has been seen. The universe can keep the diamond bath. It would only need polishing, and I have enough to do.

If the seven days pass and nothing happens, I will not call myself a failure. I will not decide the universe has blocked my number. I will look at what the experiment changed inside me. Perhaps I will have written with more confidence. Perhaps I will have stopped treating my dream as something foolish. Perhaps the answer will arrive differently from the way I expected, through a comment, a new subscriber or somebody remembering a story I wrote.

That is another part of manifesting: remaining open without pretending every passing pigeon is a secret messenger. We can notice the unexpected without forcing meaning into everything. Some things are signs, some are coincidences and some are simply pigeons looking for crumbs. We do not have to lose our common sense to believe there may be more to life.

I am still learning what manifestation means to me. I do not want to copy somebody else’s rituals simply because they look impressive on a screen. We each need to find our own way of speaking to the universe, God, our higher self or whatever name feels true. The method should feel like it belongs to us. Mine may involve brown paper, a quiet thought and a little bit of humour because that is who I am.

Perhaps the greatest thing we can manifest is not the prize itself but the person inside us who finally believes she is allowed to receive it. The outer desire may begin the journey, but the inner change is what carries it forward. When we stop treating ourselves like an apology, the world sometimes begins to answer us differently.

I have made my request. I have promised to keep writing and to remain open to the answer. I will not chase it around the house, frighten it away or demand that it appear wearing a flashing sign. I will give it space. If my Top Story arrives, I will celebrate it. If it does not, I will try again with more understanding and no shame.

This is not a beginner’s guide because none of us are beginners in our own souls. We have been listening to ourselves, doubting ourselves and dreaming quietly for years. Perhaps all we need is the courage to turn that quiet dream into a clear intention and allow ourselves to believe it could happen.

And today, my quiet word has been spoken. Now I shall see what happens.

Let me know how you get on, and please tell me your success stories.

#Marie381UkWriter/Poet