Not Everything Comes by Itself
“You May Not (or May!) Snap Your Fingers and have it.
But You Can Listen for the Next True Move”
Boy, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could just snap our fingers and have things done?
The house tidy after toddlers.
The laundry sorted, folded, ironed and -miracle of miracles - put away.
The repetitive emails answered without sounding like a customer-service robot or, worse, like AI trying to sound warm.
The toothache gone.
The bank account perfectly balanced and tipping on savings.
The body fully rested and ready for action.
And then, since we are snapping our fingers anyway, why not go bigger?
The dream job.
The ideal life partner.
The house by the sea.
The life that finally feels like ours.
There is a reason manifestation is so tempting.
Not because we are silly. Not because we are lazy. Nor because we want life to do all the work while we sit there drinking tea and gazing out of the window. Though, frankly, that also sounds rather nice.
It is tempting because somewhere inside us, we remember that life is not meant to be only struggle. We remember heaven’s grace. We remember perfect timing.
We remember those moments when something did arrive at exactly the right time. A person. A phone call. An opening. A sign that made us think: Ah! So life does speak.
I believe in that.
I believe in intuition. I believe in signs. I believe in the small inner nudge that says, write the email now, turn left, say yes, say no, not this, now.
I believe that the body often knows before the mind has prepared its PowerPoint presentation. I believe that some doors open only when we have stopped banging on the wrong ones.
But I also believe this:
Not everything comes by itself. We have to participate. Not push. Not chase. Not exhaust ourselves trying to prove our worth to life, love, employers, families, or the gods.
The key word is to align.
Aligning is different from forcing.
Forcing says: I must make this happen or I have failed.
Alignment says: What is the next true move towards my aim? What do I do now so that it and I get to meet on the same railway station?
That question does not ask us to solve the entire life. Not even to become perfect by Monday. It does not ask us to heal every wound, organise every drawer (although I find that that helps a lot) lose the weight (wouldn’t it be just great to be perfect weight AND toned?), find the job (Yes, please!), launch the project, become radiant, and have the home Architectural Digest ready before dinner.
It asks only:
What is the next true move?
Sometimes the next true move is obvious.
Make the appointment. Ask for help. Send the email. Drink the water. Ask the question. Go for the walk. Open the laptop. Get it done rather than perfect.
Sometimes it is less obvious.
Wait (how much more?) Rest (do you sleep peacefully?). Stop explaining. Do not reply yet. Leave the room. Let the idea breathe. Let the person show you who they are.
This is where belief work matters the most.
Because our lives are not only shaped by what we desire.
They are shaped by what we believe we are allowed to desire.
What we believe we can sustain, once we attract it.
What we believe we are worthy of keeping once it arrives.
A woman can say she wants love and still be loyal to the belief that closeness is dangerous or elusive.
She can say she wants abundance and still be loyal to the belief that visibility will cost her safety.
She can say she wants a new life and still organise her days around the old one.
This is not failure. It is information. It shows us where we are not yet aligned with the future we are asking for.
The work is not to shame ourselves into becoming someone else. The work is to notice. To feel the deception we have been instilling on ourselves. To ask gently:
Where am I saying I want something, but behaving as if I do not trust it?
Where am I asking life to change, while keeping myself in the exact same posture?
Where am I waiting for permission that will never come unless I give it to myself?
Oftentimes what we call waiting is fear in a prettier dress.
And what we call patience is avoidance with better manners.
There is nothing wrong with waiting when waiting is wise.
There is nothing wrong with surrender when surrender is what we are truly after.
But surrender is not the same as disappearing from our own life.
Trust is not the same as being passive.
Faith is not the same as refusing to take responsibility for the next step.
Life may bring the opportunity.
But we still have to both answer the message and act on it.
Life may place the person on our path.
But we still have to be present enough to recognise them and do what it takes to receive it/
Life may whisper, begin. But we still have to pick up the pen and hit the keyboard.
Sometimes alignment is not only an inner movement. Sometimes it is relational.
It is choosing to stay close to people who are also trying to live more truthfully. People who are building, writing, beginning again, changing direction, taking small, brave steps toward what they love.
We often think inspiration must come from far away: from the famous, the polished, the already successful, the untouchable. Indeed we need people to look up to. But very often the truest motivation, the one that has immediate effect, is much closer.
It is in the friend who finally starts the thing she has been talking about for years.
The woman who dares to speak honestly. The person who keeps going, even without applause.
The circle that does not compete with jealousy but reminds one another: there is room for all of us. There is life. There is more than one seat at the table.
This too is alignment.
To celebrate what is alive in others instead of resenting it because letting someone else’s courage in your life, can wake up our own. So stop treating another woman’s movement ahead as evidence that we are late, behind, or losing.
Sometimes the people around us are not our competition. They are our mirrors who show us what becomes possible when a human being stops waiting for permission and begins.
So, perhaps we cannot snap our fingers and make the whole life appear at once.
I am sorry, fake wizards out there.
(The laundry, especially, remains stubbornly immune to manifestation)
What we can do is listen.
We can listen to the nudge. We can listen to the body. We can listen to the part of us that is tired of betraying itself.
We can listen to the little voice that says, I do not want this anymore.
And then we can listen to the quieter, the shy one, the scared one that says, try this.
One small true movement. One honest yes. One necessary no.
One less postponement. One less betrayal of ourselves.
Finally entering the conversation.
This weekend, the question I am asking you to ask is not:
When will it happen?
But:
What is the next true move that I can do in that direction?
Not what you have been made to believe that your perfect version of you who wakes up at 5 a.m., drinks green juice, and never loses her keys, should be.
Just the next true move.
What is meant for us may indeed be on its way.
But we also have to be there to meet it.
And perhaps some of the people who can help us remember this are already sitting closer than we think.
If this speaks to you, this is part of the work I do inside The Happy Turtle: helping women notice the beliefs that keep them waiting, shrinking, or going in circles and gently return them to their life that is asking to be lived.
You are welcome to pull up a chair.