Never Underestimate the Power of Manifesting

"Take time to think about what you want—and then trust that the universe will help you."

Taking a Minute to Take It In

Words by Leah Melby Clinton

One of my very favorite prompts to ask yourself or a dinner table full of people is: What would your 21-year-old self think if she could see you now?

Remembering when you wanted what you currently have is powerful stuff, rocket fuel for a gratitude practice or a perspective shift. I’ve found it fits hand in hand with the “radically content” attitude I’ve tried to espouse from Jamie Varon’s book. When I invariably feel annoyed by day-to-day tasks or am asked for the hundredth time to refill a milk cup; or when I look around and let jealousy color everything I see (wanting more or better or bigger or fancier), it’s the best cure-all.

Remember when you would have dreamt of this? When having healthy, happy children and a house with space was what you wanted? When you were striving to find the just-right person or the just-right thing, feeling growing pains as you rattled around a too-small apartment?

More recently (as in this-weekend recently), I was out with newer friends and had a moment of realizing I’d managed to direct the universe to give me exactly what I had been missing and wanting and needing: a community, women to connect and laugh with, to get dressed up for drinks with.

It’s manifestation, plain and simple: You tell the universe what you desire, and it gets to work.

I had worked at getting my thoughts out of my head and heart and onto paper for issue no. 8, unpacking everything around the idea of “community.” For me, it felt like a trio of issues were at play. I was exhausted, for one, running with two small children while redefining what my career life looked like (one that included being remote, away from the officemates and lunch pals who had been such an integral part of my first professional decade-plus).

I felt somehow deceived by the lack of inherent community, too. I’d clung to a narrative that you’d have children and immediately find your tribe at school drop-off. Magically, and easily, you’d be surrounded by new best friends. (Our school is lovely, but I didn’t find that quite worked out.) The biggest stumbling block was how I had a narrow, black-and-white idea of “community” was—and I was missing it.

That’s the takeaway I still remember from compiling that magazine story. How being encouraged to really rethink what community would look like for me was the unlock I needed. To realize, and accept, that it could be a hodgepodge of in-person gatherings and virtual connections.

I redefined what I wanted and told the universe—and that’s how I arrived at this “well, look at this!!” moment of seeing it all, right in front of me. I was away from my children for the night, wearing eyeliner, laughing, pressed close to new friends in a busy, warm downtown bar. It was stunning to mentally acknowledge. I’d finally gotten what I needed and wanted, where and how it was supposed to come.

I’m grateful and amazed and all fired up about how powerful it is to take the time to think about what you want—and then trust that the universe will help you. It’s a theme in The Artist’s Way, a book we’re reading in the women’s group I put together this summer as a fix to the loneliness I’d felt.

“Tangled lives smooth out; tangled relationships gain sanity and sweetness,” author Julia Cameron wrote regarding the almost magical way things can happen when you just, well, ask.

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I’m already thinking about the new year—and feel committed to a “wear what you love” lifestyle.

At the risk of sounding like a complete broken record, I’m consistently floored by how wonderful it feels to wear an outfit that feels absolutely like you. It’s an elusive feeling and hard to define, but you know when you know.

That’s how I felt about this combination, the last thing I wore to commute into the city for work. A midi skirt with sneakers and a great blouse and bag is something that, sartorially, defines me (it’s more or less what a costume-party version of myself would amount to).

The blazer is a classic double-breasted style that’s just slightly boxy (love a blazer that can also feel jacket-like—I’ve shared this one here before), and the old Nikes are “Dbreak” in vachetta tan (most sizes are on GOAT). My skirt is likewise past-season Goop, but this under-$150 lookalike seems very “me.”