do you manifest?

it’s kind of the rage these days. 

sort of like green juices and overalls {yes, they’re back.}


most of the people whom i adore, copycat, internet stalk, and who would downright obtain a restraining order against me if they were privy to my obscene admiration for them–they all manifest; things, people, and circumstances into their life. 


i still write letters to the north pole.


maybe it’s just the mystery of the manifest, but i won’t do anything that will get me in trouble, put on restriction, my name on the board or written up by management.

manifest definitely sounds like something that snags you into detention or a word one uses confession:

bless me father for i have sinned, it’s been 25 years since my last confession, i manifested 5 times last week in the yoga studio.


just typing that sentence out ignites the obedient, non-dissident, wanting-to-follow-the-rules histamines in my body, causing me to itch uncontrollably.

{can i manifest some calamine here?}


and here’s my other grind:

isn’t manifesting a little like double-crossing?

i’d hate to think my objective is taking away from someone else’s potpie or diminishing their spoonful of sugar.


i began this post with an unobstructed, east coast ocean view on my brain; as my vision, my intention {ok my manifest.} i think there might have been a hammock in there too.

but it seems rather vulgar when others in the world are suffering. 

i’m manifesting some guidance from you…