Leave a Chair Open

I studied manifesting.

I tried.

But it never quite settled within me.

I couldn’t understand why everything seemed to point outward.

Pictures of the dream house.

The dream relationship.

The dream life.

Write it down.
Speak it aloud.
Visualize the outcome.

Then wait.

And wait.

My dreams never looked like photographs.

They felt more like a feeling.

A sense of aliveness.
A sense of belonging.
A sense that something beautiful was possible.

I could never quite get on board with manifesting.

And today, I think I finally understood why.

I walked into the assisted living home to teach my art lesson.

I was expecting one of my peeps to be absent.

Instead, there she was.

And beside her sat another familiar face.

The one who had moved away to live with her son.

I hadn’t expected to see her.

My heart immediately lifted.

She has a light about her.

The kind of person whose kindness enters the room a moment before she does.

And there she was,
sitting at the table.

No vision board.

No affirmations.

No manifesting.

Just life.

Showing up unexpectedly.

And suddenly I understood.

What I have been creating is not a life of manifestation.

It is a life with space.

Enough space for people to return.

Enough space for beauty to arrive.

Enough space for surprise.

Enough space for wonder.

As we sat together making art,
laughing and letting color speak for us,
I noticed something.

There had been a chair open.

And now she sat in it.

Perhaps that is what wonder feels like.

Not getting what we asked for.

Receiving what we didn’t know was on its way.

Space is beautiful.

Think of music.

It only becomes music because there is space between the notes.

When I stay open,
I can receive the beauty that is already arriving.

I don’t need to make it happen.

Space opens to wonder.

Wonder opens to ourselves.

So instead of:

“Manifest the life you want.”

Perhaps it becomes:

“Create enough space for the life that belongs to you.”

Instead of:

“Visualize the outcome.”

Perhaps it becomes:

“Listen for the next note.”

Instead of:

“Dig ditches so the water can arrive.”

Perhaps it becomes:

“Tend the garden and trust the rain.”

When I stay open,
I can receive the beauty that is already arriving.

I didn't realize I had missed her until she smiled.

Leave a chair open.

Wonder likes to sit down unexpectedly.