07/08/2025
A new story is emerging around manifestation and creation—one that moves beyond the individualistic narrative we’ve been wrapped in. The old story says we can achieve anything our hearts dream of, often tied to fantasies of wealth and success that serve only our singular lives or our families. But a deeper, wiser story is surfacing now.
This new story is about reciprocity—about our relationship with all that feeds and sustains us. Reciprocity begins not with taking, but with giving. Yet we’ve become consumed with acquiring: purchasing, achieving, accomplishing, consuming. We’ve saturated our hearts with the belief that we are more lovable when we have more—more money, accolades, external success, and material acquisitions. In the process, we’ve forgotten the web of life. Forgotten that we are deeply connected to all things on this planet.
This planet—our true home—extends far beyond the foundations of our houses and the property lines we obsessively protect. All life flows from the great mother—Pachamama, the Andean deity, the nurturer and life-giver. She is the creator and sustainer of the natural world: agriculture, ecosystems, composting and decay, the ebb and flow of the ocean, the winds that kiss our cheeks when we step outside.
And yet, we chase superficial relations instead of cultivating our relationality with her. We bow to money, not the Earth. We consume to mute our anxiety instead of surrendering to her wisdom. To say we’ve lost our way is an understatement. To say we’re obsessed with obsession itself is no longer a radical idea. We are being consumed by our own overconsumption.
Reciprocity is relational. When a mother gives birth, she becomes the guardian of new life. That child becomes sacred to her. The family—when guided by cultures that understand the necessity of community—steps into an ecology of care, recognizing themselves as part of a larger system. They shift from individual thinking to collective responsibility.
But in modern society, we suffer from a lack of collective thought. We no longer understand the importance of nature’s systems, how each living being feeds into the next in a sacred cycle. Life is a dance of feeding, seeding, pollinating, birthing, and letting go. Yet we leave mothers to navigate the rhythms of nurturing alone, unsupported by the kind of community that goes beyond the social—one that holds us through darkness, hardship, and the sacred mess of life.
When we realize that tending to the natural world is the path to healing what ails us, life can begin a metamorphosis of remembering. We begin to honor instead of consume, to give to the Earth before reaching for our next purchase. We remember what true relationship looks like. We begin to listen again—not through screens, but through the soles of our feet, the touch of the wind, the scent of the soil, and the quiet messages whispered through the land.
Manifestation begins with remembering that we are guests here. Just as we would never enter a friend’s home and take what we want, we shouldn’t treat the Earth as something to exploit. We would arrive with offerings—flowers, food, reverence. Yet we treat the planet as a shopping mall for our unmet longing, instead of the sacred home it is.
But what if the longing we feel is not for more things, but for deeper connection? For communion with the land that has held life for millennia and will continue long after we are gone? Our role here is not to satisfy our personal desires, but to align with the needs of all beings and remember the ancient technologies of connection. These are not digital—they are vibrational, emotional, spiritual. They are found in attunement, in sensing one another’s hearts, in living as part of a single pulse.
Manifestation isn’t about how much you can get—it’s about how much you can remember and give. In some Indigenous traditions, children are taught to tend to their own darkness and are forbidden from casting it onto elders. In contrast, our modern culture has become fixated on the external and inattentive to our inner energetic life. We are unpracticed in self-attunement, and often unconcerned with the well-being of the collective.
Those with more often spend more—on themselves—rather than finding ways to support those in need. But true manifestation is not about getting what we want. It’s about remembering who we are, and who actually provides for us.
When we break the spell of disconnection, we awaken from the amnesia of self-indulgence. We return to right relationship—with each other, with the Earth, and with the unseen forces that have sustained life long before us and will long after we are gone.
Before you ask the Earth for more, pause and ask: Have I listened today? Have I given thanks? Have I offered something back to the life that sustains me? Or a practice that might support you;
This week, offer something to the Earth—your time, your presence, your care. Plant something. Pick up garbage. Sit in silence on the soil. Let your actions become prayers of remembering. This one is practical, tangible, and invites embodiment of the deeper teachings through ritual and presence.
with love, Noelle
A new story is emerging around manifestation and creation—one that moves beyond the individualistic narrative we’ve been wrapped in. The old story says we can achieve anything our hearts dream of, often tied to fantasies of wealth and success that serve only our singular lives or our families. B...
