Are you a believer in manifesting? I am – in the same way I’m a believer in vitamins, fabulous lighting and making a to-do list. In other words: potentially useful, probably harmless, but I’m not prepared to hand over my credit card and let the universe do the rest. Manifesting has become one of those ideas that began life as a fairly sensible psychological proposition and ended up somewhere between a vision board, a crystal shop and a very expensive retreat in Tulum.
At its most innocent, manifestation is simply the practice of imagining what you want, paying attention to your goals and behaving as though change might actually be possible – that’s bloody brilliant on paper. If you can articulate what you want, you are more likely to notice opportunities, make different choices and recognise the moment when one appears.
But somewhere along the way, “I’m going to work towards this” became “I am energetically attracting this”. And then things got expensive. Suddenly, we were not merely setting goals. We were raising our vibration. Reprogramming our subconscious. Aligning with abundance. Releasing limiting beliefs. Becoming magnetic. Calling in our soulmate. Frankly, my subconscious has enough on its plate without having to manage the shipping address for my soulmate (although just putting it out there – Gerard Butler in 300 meets Mr Darcy. Manifest!).
Manifestation has become a cultural arms race. There are vision boards. Affirmations. Journalling prompts. Moon rituals. Scripting. Meditation. Breathwork. High-vibe language. Low-vibe people, whom we must avoid. There are people manifesting houses, cars, careers, six-figure incomes and men with secure attachment. Just as we often pray when we really, really want something rather than to express contrition, humility or gratitude, it’s classic, grabby human nature to use “the universe” like a customer-service department.
And this is where my scepticism kicks in. Because there is an uncomfortable question underneath the groovy Instagram graphics and carefully curated morning matcha: can you really vision-board your way out of grinding poverty? Can you manifest your way out of childhood abuse? Cancer? Bad luck? Structural inequality? A predatory landlord? A recession? A tragedy? A nervous system that has spent 20 years learning that the world isn’t safe? There are those rockstar ninja warriors that rise from the ashes, but many, many people stay tangled in the weeds.
One of the darker implications of extreme manifestation culture is that, when it doesn’t work, the failure can somehow become yours. You didn’t believe hard enough. You had a limiting belief. Your vibration was at rock bottom so now, so are you. You weren’t aligned, attached to the outcome enough or trusting the universe.
This is where a philosophy intended to make people feel empowered can become oddly punishing. If good thoughts create good outcomes, then bad outcomes can start to look like evidence of bad thinking. There is something deeply seductive about a world view in which everything is within our control; I have been swept along by it myself. I recently, and quite unwittingly, offended someone in conversation. She was telling me about a friend whose husband is an absolute cad – after years of cheating on her and neglecting the kids – and my knee-jerk response was: “Why is she with him? Her picker must be pretty broken.”
In other words: she manifested this. It sounded perfectly logical in my head at the time. If we are all architects of our own reality, then surely we must bear some responsibility for the catastrophes we repeatedly invite into our lives. But, of course, that is a cruel thing to say about someone who is already hurting. It is also the point at which empowerment can quietly morph into blame: if you believe you manifested the good stuff, you can end up believing you manifested the bad stuff, too.
Poverty isn’t caused by insufficient positive affirmations. Childhood trauma doesn’t disappear because you put “I am healed” on a Post-it note. And sometimes something awful happens to a person who has done absolutely everything “right”. I do understand why a growing number of people endorse some form of manifestation belief – the idea that positive self-talk, visualisation and symbolic action can help cosmically attract success. There is nothing inherently ridiculous about wanting to believe life can change. The trouble begins when hope gets confused with physics.
I do understand why a growing number of people endorse some form of manifestation belief – the idea that positive self-talk, visualisation and symbolic action can help cosmically attract success. There is nothing inherently ridiculous about wanting to believe life can change. The trouble begins when hope gets confused with physics.
Which brings us, naturally, to Jennifer Aniston and her boyfriend, Jim Curtis. Curtis is a silver fox 50-year-old hypnotherapist, transformational coach and wellness author whose new book, The Book of Possibility (Simon & Schuster, $36.99), was released in late September. Its approach combines neuroscience, hypnotherapy, mindfulness and spirituality, with a three-part framework: “Release. Align. Become.”
Aniston – likeable, successful, inspirational – is not a newcomer to the wellness universe. She has spoken for years about the goddess circles she attends with close friends, complete with a feather-and-charm-decorated talking stick. She’s described discovering the practice and finding the gatherings valuable as spaces where women could talk about fears, worries and their lives.
So when reports emerged that Aniston was apparently using the circle to manifest a proposal from Curtis, the internet did what the internet does best: it collectively adjusted its sunglasses and whispered, This is extremely Los Angeles. What we do know is that Aniston has publicly supported Curtis and his work. For the launch of The Book of Possibility, she interviewed him at New York’s 92NY, and subsequently posted that she loved the book – and loved the man.
And actually, having looked at Curtis’ ideas, I find myself willing to look past the LA cheeseball trimmings. Because underneath the language of “manifestation” is a genuinely interesting idea: our subconscious patterns influence how we experience the world. I first became interested in the subject years ago after attending comedian John Cleese’s talk about Guy Claxton’s book Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind, which explains how our creativity flourishes when we give our slower, more intuitive subconscious the time and space to work its magic, rather than trying to bully every problem into submission with relentless logic.
The brain is doing things while you are busy worrying about the brain doing things. And that, I suspect, is where manifestation has its most useful core. Visualising a future can help you clarify what you actually want. Writing down a goal can force you to confront whether you genuinely want it. Repeating an affirmation can interrupt a familiar negative thought. Meditation can create enough mental space to notice patterns you normally barrel straight past.
None of this requires the universe to operate as an Amazon fulfilment centre. You can believe in possibility without worrying if thoughts emit a mystical frequency capable of rearranging external reality. You can say, “I am capable of finding love”, without believing that somewhere in Bondi Beach a man is suddenly receiving an energetic push notification. You can imagine yourself in a better career and then – crucially – pimp out your CV.
This is the part manifestation culture sometimes forgets: the vision board is not the plan. It is the beginning of one. I also get how valuable and lovely the social side of declaring your wishes is. I have experienced the ancient practice of sitting in a circle of women, sharing what we hope for, what scares us and what we are trying to change. Strip away the ceremonial cacao and it feels like friendship and community – a sacred space, if you will. Humans have always created rituals for uncertainty. We light candles. We make wishes. We blow out birthday candles. We pray. We write things down. We tell each other our dreams.
The problem is not wanting more from life; the problem is pretending that wanting is the same thing as having. Manifesting takes more than snapping our fingers. Less: “I have already received the yacht.” More: “I would like a different life. What would I have to do to move towards it?” Dream wildly. Make the board. Imagine yourself at 70, looking back and wondering what you were too frightened to try. By all means, manifest. But please don’t outsource your life to the cosmos.
Jim Curtis may or may not be a visionary, or simply a man who has found himself in the astonishing position of dating Jennifer Aniston. Either way, he is onto something in recognising that changing our subconscious patterns can genuinely change how we see ourselves and the choices we make – even if the universe isn’t actually taking requests.
The vision board is not the plan. It is the beginning of one.
