Santa Claus and the Law of Attraction


Let me preface this post with an admission. I believe in Santa Claus. Always have, always will. Thoughts are things. Thoughtforms become more dense the more people think them. They become more of what we call real. So what could be more real than Santa?

Peel back a layer now. The Universe is a mirror. It can only reflect back to us what we show to it. All of what we see as reality is only energy arranged in different patterns, and we do the arranging according to our beliefs, our focus, our thoughts. So if I believe in something–it’s real. End of argument, and I win. Santa exists. (Besides, I’ve met the guy.)

Every year around this time, I write a letter to Santa. It doubles as a list of New Year’s resolutions, though it’s different. It’s not stuff I’m going to try to do. It’s stuff I choose to create in my experience, with a little help from a bearded guy in a red suit. It’s a great exercise, even for a non-believer, because when you write down your desires and goals, you are giving them their very first physical form; a word that represents them in ink, on paper. It’s physical. You can write them on your computer too, but I really want you to print them up. Make them more real. Physical. After all, the whole point is to make the things we’re putting on this wish-list a part of our experience here in the physical realm.

In your letter to Santa, it’s okay to dream big. As big as you can even imagine. But be sure you’re asking for things you’re ready for. Things that are the next logical step up from where you currently are. And remember, you can’t move from where you are until you’ve made peace with that place, so it’s important this letter not be written from a place of desperation and need, but from one of contentment and joy. (Desperation & need will net you a lump of coal for sure.)

You’re not allowed to ask for anything for anyone else. So all of you who are going to selflessly ask Santa for world peace, with a drama-queen worthy, “No no, nothing for me, really,” can just fuggetaboudit. This is about YOU. You cannot create in another’s reality. Only in your own. Try being selfish, just this once. Give yourself permission. It’s a letter to Santa fer cryin’ out loud. Write it the way you would have when you were a child. A mile wide and twice as long.

Don’t give in to the urge to tell Santa why you deserve the things on your list. This is not a sob-story letter to the producers of Extreme Home Makeover. Nor is it a country song. Santa doesn’t need to read how you lost your house, your car, your lover, your dog, and got so drunk you shot the juke box. The energy that goes into the letter is the energy Santa will put into your “toys.” So if you send him a heartbreaking tear jerker, dotted with droplets from your own eyes, you’re going to get gifts of heartbreak and tears from Santa’s magical velvety sack. (Did that sound as filthy to you as it did to me? No matter, you know perfectly well what I meant.) You are where you are. Deal with it, and start looking toward where you’re going.

As you write your letter, imagine how it’ll feel to get the gifts you’re asking for. Feel that feeling now. Practice unwrapping them, and your reaction to them.


Don’t feel like you have to finish your letter in a single sitting. You can keep adding to it, tweaking it, from now until Christmas Eve (or the night of the Winter Solstice, as I do.) That night, leave the letter out with cookies and milk; the traditional offering to Santa. Re-read it. Out loud. Be happy. Go to bed knowing, KNOWING somehow that the spirit being, thoughtform, energy surge known as Santa Claus is going to sneak into your house and read it. Listen for him, listen for those reindeer on the roof. If you believe in magic at all–you just might hear him.

I saw him once, or his shadow anyway. Trying so hard to pretend to be asleep, facing the wall, I heard him tiptoe into my room, and saw the big round belly shaped shadow as he peeked in at me. I swear, I did. It’s as real as any memory of my childhood. Do you remember when you believed? I mean really believed? Get hold of that feeling again.

Sorry. I veered there. Back to your letter. The next morning, (after you’ve left your note out with the milk & cookies,) burn the letter in your fireplace if you have one, or somewhere else if you don’t. Crumble the cookie and scatter it outside for the birds, and pour the milk onto the ground to nourish the earth.

Look for the things you’ve requested to begin manifesting in your physical reality during the course of the new year. The more you believe in them, and vibrate on their level, acting and feeling as if they’re a sure thing, believing in them 110%, the faster they’ll come. Start looking for signs that they’re on the way. The more you look for them, the more you’ll see them.

This is one of my most cherished holiday traditions. I do it every year, and many of the things in my letters have manifested while others are still waiting in escrow while I wrap my vibe around them.

Two years ago, the very morning after I had left my letter out with my annual treats, (the day after the Solstice) I was driving home and saw Santa in a van, on the side of the road. I stopped to see if he’d had mechanical troubles. And to be sure I’d seen what I thought I had seen. And yes, there he was, red suit, hat and all. “I’m fine,” he said. “I’m just…waiting. It’s almost time, you know.” We had a lovely moment. His beard was real. I wished him well, told him I was expecting big things from him this year, he smiled and said, “I know.” I got tears. Did I mention his beard was real? Did I also mention this was the very next day after I’d left out that year’s annual letter? I did? Good.

I believe.

I might publish my letter here or I might not. Depends on what’s in it. But I’m starting it soon, so I’ll let you know. I hope you’ll let me know if you try it for yourself.

And I hope your holiday season is the happiest ever, but not as happy as next year’s!


#maggieshayne #lettertosanta #solstic #christmas #ritual #holiday #santa #Ibelieve

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