What happens when you create a powerful personal manifesto?

Hello, Reader.

It’s 4:38 AM, and I’m at my desk with its embroidered patchwork tapestry and clutter of picture frames. The table lamp on the right-hand corner of my desk casts a dim, fuzzy circle of light in the dark room, one diffuse, longitudinal edge passing just to my left. Because I’m a little jet lagged, I’ve brewed myself a strong cup of hot chai, spiced liberally with cardamom and black pepper, and sweetened with a little honey. I want to be fully awake, alert, because I’m working on a personal manifesto, my very first.

A manifesto is a public declaration of policy or intentions. A personal manifesto outlines your guiding beliefs and values. It’s a written reminder, and a public declaration to yourself, that yesterday’s rules don’t apply. It’s a map and a lighthouse, and a kind, inspiring voice in your ear. As I write that, I remember taking one of those inter-terminal airport trains and just before the train left the station, an automated female voice urgently, repeatedly, declared, “Doors are closing and will not reopen. Doors are closing and will not reopen.” A personal manifesto announces some metaphorical door has closed behind you and you have arrived in a new world, one whose rules and edges you now get to define. It’s not a final document- you’ll probably change it as you grow and change. Best of all, it’s training and preparation. A few years ago, I remember coming across the book The Courage Habit by Kate Swoboda and feeling inspired that courage, like exercise, could be developed into a habit, one that you train yourself to reach for. I imagine that’s what a document like this can do for you.

I’m writing out a personal manifesto because I know I’ve arrived somewhere new. Maybe it’s audacious, in the absence of explicit validation from the world, to decide we’ve arrived, but you’ll agree there are times in our lives when the knowing doesn’t enter from the outside-in. You could feel it in the loosening of a neck or abdominal muscle you didn’t know was tight. Or, you catch your heart humming to a happier tune.

Reader, I think arrival feels like relaxation, and hope renewed.

Most of us live in cultures where (only) the visible mile-markers of success are celebrated. There is value in that. We don’t live in isolation. Having our art (work) recognized, valued, compensated, and celebrated is important and nourishing. There is magic in being seen and acknowledged. For a writer, being read and supported completes a vitalizing circle. But that’s only one part of it. It’s also the part we don’t have much control over, except in showing up and persisting. So, I think it’s important to figure out what arrival means for you. - How To Know When You’ve Arrived.

After all, what’s a journey without a map?

Reader, do you have a personal manifesto? If yes, what motivated you to write it down? And what has been your experience?

If you don’t have a personal manifesto, would you consider creating one?

I’d love to hear from you.

Best,

Priya

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