Steamy signatures

I write her intials everywhere. Carved in trees. Sharpied on the golf balls I use. I love the symmetry, the simplicity because she is anything but simple. My written devotion to her always begins in the shower. I'll slide the glass door open, turn the shower knob slightly hotter than what is immediately comfortable. Then I'll step out and wait until the glass fogs like beer mugs in a fridge. When the glass morphs from transparent to translucent, that's when I'll step back in. I'll stand still, elated by the hot water, embodying the warmth that feels like she did, and then I'll begin the artwork. I'll search for a spot I hadn't used before, and then I'll write her intials, "SWS" and underneath, a heart and an X and O. Then, I'll write it again on the other side, then again on the shaving mirror. I'm approaching two years in a row without missing a day. I'll even do this at friends' houses. In essence, I'm the Banksy of love.

Throughout these past years, I've become unrecognizably spiritual. I've read for and listened to hundreds if not thousands of hours on manifestation, visualization, the power of the mind, the law of vibration, and the law of attraction. I've done meditation in total silence, guided with female and male voices, and with different frequencies. I've done breathwork in quaint settings, in ice baths, and in endless saunas. I've discovered who I am at my very core.

I've learned it's essential to write out what you want. Thinking is vague and writing forces specificity. Clarity strengthens intention. Handwriting engages more parts of your brain than from just thinking. This makes the goal feel more real and deeply embedded. It makes it feel concrete and creates a psychological ownership.

Next to the speedometer in my car, I have a notecard. Written in red ink are the words, "Good things are coming my way. SWS." I see it every day and it centers me on days it doesn't feel like good things are coming. On my desk, is a goal card written in present tense, "I am with SWS. I am financially free. I am virtuous." It's important to write in the present tense because your brain has to resonate with the feeling of actually having something.

Through this practice, I’ve learned that repetition is devotion. Some people pray with rosaries; I pray with steam and ink. Every morning is a ritual, and every ritual is a silent wish cast toward the life I want. There is something to be said about how consistent I am. I feel pride and within me, something sacred. It transmutes longing into discipline, and discipline into identity. When you do something every single day, it stops being something you try to believe and becomes something you are.

Like everything in life, the fog on the glass is ephemeral. It fades. The letters disappear. But that’s part of the beauty. Nothing about this habit is permanent except the person I’m becoming through it. Desire, when left unattended, dissolves into doubt. But when tended daily, it hardens into conviction. I am not just wishing anymore, I am conditioning. I am training my mind to expect alignment instead of absence.

People think manifestation is delusion wrapped in complex language. I used to be skeptical. I've proven it in other less important ways, and I’ve realized that the subconscious does not respond to logic; it responds to repetition and emotion. When I write her name, when I see it in colored ink near the speedometer, when I read the present-tense declarations at my desk, I am saturating my inner world with familiarity. For me, familiarity doesn't breed contempt, it breeds belief. Belief shapes behavior. Behavior shapes outcomes.

There are days when doubt creeps in. Days when ineffectual and fruitless years feels heavy instead of romantic. On those mornings, the shower feels less poetic and more procedural. But I do it anyway. Because that's who I am. Faith isn't supposed to be loud, it's quiet and consistent. Faith is showing up when the evidence hasn’t yet arrived.

Maybe one day I’ll step into the shower and won’t feel the need to write it anymore. Maybe the glass will fog and I’ll simply smile, because what I once etched in steam will be standing beside me in flesh and breath. Until then, I will keep carving intention into the ordinary moments of my life, and I will write her intials until she is by my side.