The Manifestation Journal

The pit in Alani’s stomach tightened as she opened her eyes. The sun had only just come up, but she was a light sleeper. As soon as life began to stir outside her window, so did Alani. It had been like that since she was a little girl, rising with the singing birds. She didn’t always have the anxiety though.

Alani blinked a couple times to adjust to the light, preparing mentally for the day ahead. Today, she was going to see a life coach named Yuma—a sprightly Asian woman with long, dark hair and friendly eyes. They’d met a few weeks ago, and Alani was surprised to feel instantly at ease in her presence when they spoke.

She dressed and walked into the kitchen to make herself some coffee. Chico chirped as she entered the room, weaving his long, feline body back and forth through her legs while Alani re-filled his food and water bowls. She gazed at his shiny black coat as he ate, appreciating whatever God put him in her life. She asked for a simple man, and He delivered. All Chico needed was Alani to be happy, and that was alright with Alani.

The coffee pot dinged, bringing her back to the present. She poured herself a cup, took a sip, and sighed as the warmth of the coffee reached her belly. The first sip was always the best.

…

Alani arrived at a small house placed awkwardly between a run-down strip mall and an abandoned parking lot shortly before 9am. She parked and for a moment, nervously considering leaving. Then, deciding that it would be rude to leave without at least showing her face, Alani stepped out of her car and walked cautiously up to the front door.

She knocked and Yuma immediately opened the door with a bright smile, putting her at ease.

‘Hi, Alani! So good to see you again. Come in, come in.’

Yuma ushered Alani inside, welcoming her into a surprisingly cozy foyer that smelled of lavender and sage. She briefly noticed the sun streaming through stained glass windows from within before being shown to a smaller seating room to the right.

‘It smells so good in here, Yuma. I’m relaxed already… Is this one of your tricks?’

Yuma laughed a deep belly laugh.

‘Tricks? I wouldn’t call it a trick. But is it working?’

They laughed together this time, and sat down in oversized chairs across from one another. Alani felt for a moment as if she was visiting an old friend.

‘I’m so glad you came today, Alani. I’ve been thinking a lot about you. But first things first: What do you hope to get out of our meeting today?’

Alani thought for a moment before replying, unnerved slightly by her directness.

‘I just want to know what I’m supposed to do with my life. I’m tired of feeling lost.’

Yuma nodded, placing a long, porcelain finger along her jawline.

‘And what is it that you feel you want the most? What do you want to be?’

Alani frowned. No one had ever asked her that… At least, not as an adult.

‘I don’t know what I want the most. I want lots of things. I want to be many things.’

Yuma nodded again, bringing her hand down to gently clasp the other in her lap.

‘Alani, have you ever heard of a manifestation journal?’

She shook her head, no. Yuma stood up from her chair and walked over to a small desk against the back wall. When she returned, she held a worn, brown leather journal in her hand.

‘This is my very first manifestation journal. I’ve had several, and I keep them all. But the first one will always be special. Have a look.” With glittering eyes, she offered the journal to Alani.

Alani opened it and flipped gently through the pages, reading of goals already accomplished while Yuma watched her quietly.

‘I want you to make one.’

Alani frowned again. She hadn’t journaled since she was a teenager. It felt…angsty.

‘I don’t think so, Yuma.’

But Alani could tell by the look in Yuma’s face that she was not going to have much of a choice in the matter. They talked for a while more, and it was decided that Alani would find a journal—any journal—and begin by writing one of her desires on the first page that evening. After leaving, Alani considered Yuma’s parting message as she drove:

‘Listen to your heart and describe your dreams as if you’ve already achieved them, as if they’ve already been granted to you. You must believe that they are already yours.’

…

She wondered if it was really that simple as she pulled into the parking lot at Staples. She swiftly located the journals and chose a small black notebook located on the bottom shelf. Always the minimalist, Alani thought to herself. No need to overthink it.

When she got back to her apartment, Alani put the notebook on the counter and sat down in front of it. She felt foolish as she stared at the blank pages, pen in hand. Then her stomach grumbled, and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She soon felt her enthusiasm waning and being replaced by irritation. Giving up, Alani scribbled, I am grateful for the delicious 5-star meal I will soon be receiving, even though she knew she had no extra money for any fancy meals any time soon. She then closed the journal and went to get some lunch, the day’s previous activities almost immediately pushed from the forefront of her mind.

…

The next morning, Alani woke again with the sunrise—but without the normal anxiety. She took her time as she got dressed, mindfully choosing her outfit. She even noticed the coffee tasted better than usual today, and was grateful for the extra pep in her step. After all, it was Monday, (Monday morning at that) and she was headed back to the office.

When Alani arrived, her co-worker, Madison, appeared around the corner and sat at the edge of her desk.

‘Hey girl! How was your weekend?’

‘It turned out to be pretty great! How about you?’ Alani asked, as she turned on her computer.

‘Actually, mine was incredible,’ Madison said with a grin. ‘Check me out.’

Madison flashed a small stack of $100 bills, waving them in front of her face like a fan.

‘Dang, girl! Did you hit the lotto or what?’

Madison then revealed that she had spent the weekend in Atlantic City and hit it big on the slot machines.

‘Dumb luck, girlfriend. But that means lunch is on me! How do you feel about that fancy sushi spot up the street? I already asked if we could take lunch together today, and God knows I owe you for all the times you’ve helped me here.’

Alani agreed, of course, and chuckled to herself. And as Madison walked away she again wondered: could it really be that simple? Later, as she stuffed herself with roll after roll of made-to-order sushi, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the days’ good luck. She thought of Yuma, and smiled.

Later that evening, when she returned home after work, Alani pulled the little black book from her bag and open it again to the first page. She thought again about who she wanted to be, and how she wanted to be perceived. With new confidence, Alani pulled her pen back out and wrote her next manifestation: I am grateful for being recognized as a hard-working, creative, and passionate individual capable of great accomplishments. She felt good when closed the journal that evening, noticing as she prepared for bed that she was looking forward to seeing what the next day would bring.

Again, Alani arose the next morning with the sun. And again, she noticed the strange calm she felt, devoid of any anxiety. It was something she was hesitant to get used to, but increasingly grateful for.

She grabbed an iced coffee from the fridge and fed Chico before heading for the door. When she got to work, Alani sat down and tried to forget the manifestation she had written the night before. In fact, she did her best to focus on her work the whole day, but couldn’t ignore the rising disappointment she felt when no one stopped by her desk or provided any feedback regarding her work. When she went to bed that night, though, she committed to starting the next day with the same optimism—despite her disappointment.

However, when the next day passed much the same way, Alani began to feel foolish for thinking that her life might change so drastically just because she’d written her hopes down in some book. At the end of the second day, she laid in bed and began to doubt Yuma’s idea.

…

On the morning of the third day, Alani opened her eyes and felt a familiar flutter in her stomach. This time, though, she felt guilty for doubting Yuma. The night before, she had dreamed of her late grandmother, who had always told Alani to follow her dreams. She considered that a good omen and began her day with renewed optimism, sending a mental apology to Yuma.

So when her manager called her into his office later that day, she eagerly closed to door and sat down in the chair in front of his desk.

‘Alani, thanks for coming in today,’ her manager said, coolly.

Alani’s excitement began to fade as she noticed the lack of friendliness in his tone.

‘Sure. What’s up? Is something wrong?’

‘Well, as you know, there have been several budget cuts implemented recently…’

But Alani was no longer listening. She’d heard the beginning of this speech many times. It was one she’d become very familiar with as a temp worker. At some point, her manager dully thanked her for her hard work—and when she left, she tried her best to avoid Madison on the way out.

Alani got in her car and began to cry. What am I supposed to do now? She let herself cry for a few more minutes, and then wiped her face and prepared to put the car in drive—when suddenly, her phone rang. She looked at the screen and saw an unfamiliar phone number.

‘Hello?’

‘Bonjour, is this Alani Weeks?’ asked a man with a heavy French accent.

‘Yes, may I ask who’s calling?’

‘This is Adrien Bromberg, calling from Le Cordon Bleu, is this a good time?’

Le Cordon Bleu?! Alani thought. This must be a joke.

‘Alani, are you there?’

‘Yes, yes, sorry Monsieur Bromberg. This is a great time.’ Alani blurted.

‘Bon. I am glad to hear it. Alani, I wanted to speak with you today to inform you that, after much consideration, you have been chose to receive the Skills and Attitude Scholarship offered here at Le Cordon Bleu. The award committee spent several months reviewing hundreds of applicant videos, and genuinely appreciated the level of commitment you have exhibited to honing your gastronomic expertise.’

Alani was again left speechless. She had submitted her application 4 months ago and was, at this point, convinced that she had not been chosen. It was a shot-in-the-dark submission, sent one weekend during what she’d written off as a manic episode. Both relief and fear washed over her, simultaneously, as she came to realize the impact of a $20,000 scholarship.

‘Wow, Monsieur Bromberg. I’m not entirely sure what to say.’

‘Well that is easy,’ Adrien said encouragingly, ‘Accept your award and join your fellow chefs here in Paris in the fall. You have earned it.’

In that moment, Alani realized the truth: her manifestations had come to fruition not just because she had written them down, but because she had earned them. She had always been capable of achieving her goals, she had only needed to believe it herself.

‘Compte sur moi, Monsieur Bromberg. Count me in.’