It’s 3 am and my algorithm has taken a right turn at booty-building workouts and landed in the angel portal section of Instagram. “Type ‘yes’ in the comments to claim your abundance for 2025.” Dusting Magic Masala off my fingers, I dutifully obey. I’m not entirely sure what cosmic contract I’ve just entered into. Abundant happiness? Booty gains? Good gut bacteria? Termites? I guess I’ll find out.
The next video is a woman informing me that writing someone’s name on the back of a bay leaf and burning it will have them calling you within 24 hours. I immediately think of my cook who has ghosted me since his last visit to his village, leaving an abundance of bay leaves decaying in my pantry. Seeking male attention hits a spicy new low.
Another video says my dream weight can be achieved by writing it with a blue ballpoint and sticking it on my water bottle. I think I left my water bottle at the Padel courts; if I actually made a trip to visit it there, it may get me a step closer to my goal weight. I chalk this one up as plausible.
I do realise that possibly none of this is manifestation, but I’m lazy so the lines between wishes, manifestations, polite requests, bargains, bribes and straight-up demands are all very blurred for convenience sake. I haven’t gotten around to figuring out what I want from 2025, but the Reels make one thing clear—when I approach the universe with my begging bowl this year, I need to be more specific and willing to back it up with a little muscle. *Manifests some upper arm definition*
And while I do believe anything is possible, the realist in me knows far, far less is probable. And even less than that is likely. Maybe setting expectations low is not the best place to start with manifestation, but I will not be building sandcastles in the air. *Manifests sandcastles on an exotic, faraway beach instead*
My belief in Instagram voodoo and faith in bay leaves ends at a great recipe. But I’m looking for more of a meet cute with Steph Curry than a great chicken curry, so I turn to a higher power: ChatGPT.
“Easy manifestation steps.”
Step 1: Clarify intentions
If I could heat up my intentions like butter into ghee, I would. You need to know exactly what you want before you can ask for it. I can’t have coins on my vision board when what I’m reaching for is a yacht. Not having landed on a clear outline of my desired bank balance, I start to wonder maybe clearly outlined abs is more my thing? *Manifests better decision-making skills*
Step 2: Visualisation
Having failed at Step 1, my mind’s eye has meandered from career goals to spiritual ones. Step 2 seems like something I may only be able to muster at a more disciplined stage in the year. June perhaps. We’ll circle back to it. *Manifests the ability to completely stop procrastinating*
Step 3: Align your thoughts
Okay we know what we want-ish, we’ve imagined it. Now we must believe we are worthy(ish?) of it. No, no; we are worthy. Negativity is the barrier between where you are and where you want—nay—deserve to be. We have to taste it. Whet our appetites for it. I’m really getting into the zone. *Manifests a more can-do attitude*
Step 4: Take inspired action
This is now what gets me up in the morning, my goals. I will schedule how to achieve all that I desire, starting with buying a journal and some stickers and ending with not consuming frivolously as much in 2025. *Manifests discipline in life and in consumption* Who am I? Mindfulness kween. Battle cry or affirmation, either way at dawn (7:45), we ride.
Step 5: Trust the process
My husband says I’m of the glass-half-empty strain of person, but I am determined to trust this process. Either way, he is Punjabi and his glass is usually filled with whiskey and in a few minutes, it will be fully empty. In this too I trust. *Manifests a husband with a little more faith in me*
*Manifests he doesn’t read my last manifestation*
Step 6: Gratitude
Sure, I have the better portion of 2025 to embody my heart’s desires. But if this doesn’t show me a sufficient turnaround, I’m reaching for a bay leaf. Maybe I’ll scribble Jeff Bezos on the back of it, send it up in flames. And then wait for Jeff and maybe his pal Steph to Amazon Prime themselves to my doorstep carrying my hearts greatest desires…and maybe really great chicken curry?
