After suffering through the break up of my 26-year relationship, I emerged from the darkness a different person. Once a cranky journalist, I became a New Age optimist. Now here I was walking through my studio apartment twirling a lit smudge stick, making sure the pungent scent got into every corner.

I had always been intrigued by spirituality, but my interest lay dormant while living with a cynic grounded in the world of five senses. “I don’t believe in that stuff,” my ex said when I
interviewed a witch for an article and tried one of her spells as part of my research. Without my ex’s judgment, I felt free to explore new areas. Perhaps it was also a way to spite her ghost.

I began applying the law of attraction in various areas of my life; the basic principle is that thoughts have an energy that attracts what you’re thinking. Even in this economy, I had success in creating prosperity, so I was a believer. My income increased, I landed a book agent and I secured a coveted full-time job. While the whole country was in a recession, I was thriving. I didn’t miss the irony in that twist, but I’d always been out of sync with the majority. During the 1980s, when everyone was making tons of money, I was struggling to pay my bills. During the ’90s, when lesbians finally discovered casual sex, I was monogamous.

Now everything was going well, except I wanted to have a new partner. Or a steady girlfriend. Or at least a few hot dates. But working the principles that brought me money had not yet attracted anyone special into my life. Looking back, I realized why the exercises in the relationship area had not materialized love and romance: I’d been furious at my callous ex who walked out on me and showed no remorse.

The books I’d devoured warned that any negativity lowered my vibrations and blocked me from being magnetic. In order to raise my vibes and attract a woman, I had to move past my anger. I was making progress on this in therapy. My shrink said I felt “safer” with the negative feelings, but they created a wall. “You have a guard rail around your heart.” My psychic, who usually agreed with my shrink, told me, “Love is there as soon as you want it. You’re delaying it because you’d rather brood. Make your upcoming big birthday one of liberation.” Turning 60, I decided to go for it.

After reading Soul Love, The Soul Mate Secret, Tune Into Love, Expect a Miracle and Love Will Find You, I compiled lists: the qualities I wanted in my partner, the things I’m grateful for, the attributes I like about myself, my interests and passions. I placed one list in a red envelope under my pillow and burned another, tossing the ashes into the Hudson. My notebooks were filled with lists and affirmations that I recited, reminding myself I was smart and funny and talented.

I chanted mantras in Sanskrit, built a small altar and bought crystals. I placed my desire on the prayer list at my church. I listened to guided meditations about finding a match. I hooked up to a machine connected to a laptop that printed a color picture of my aura. On a physical level, I prepared my place making sure I had at least two of everything—two wine glasses, two coffee mugs, two end tables. I went through my closets and shelves and gave away clothes and books. I kept fresh flowers in my apartment and moved objects around, but only so much feng shui was possible in a 400-square-foot studio. 

Once I tried these methods, I was taken over. I didn’t feel silly about doing these exercises and obviously had lots of company, including Oprah and Erykah Badu. The message in The Secret was basically a gussied-up version of the power of positive thinking, a concept that has been around for ages. Looking back, I realized that I needed to create things in this order. Landing a great job gave me confidence and having money made me less tense, more magnetic. I felt competent, powerful and independent. After a year of concentrating on this, it was time to stop, chill out and wait for love to arrive. Whenever I felt anxious, I would listen to a guided meditation. Dropping the anger remained a challenge. I still cursed out the ex on occasion, but I no longer did it every day.

These days I’m going to dances, parties and fundraisers, although the experts indicate our meeting may be quite unexpected. We might lock eyes on the checkout line at the health food store or the changing room at the yoga center. More than one psychic has seen me hooking up with a visual artist or someone connected with galleries. “Go to openings,” they say. 

I visualize delightful scenarios: She’s sitting across from me at breakfast. We’re strolling in the park or walking along the surf on a quiet beach. I admit that part of me laughed at my antics as I reeled through my apartment with the smudge stick like a possessed woman who’d inhaled acid-laced fairy dust. But I believe I can make my dreams happen. While I’m not aiming to become the next Marianne Williamson, I’d become shameless in my quest for love and romance, willing to try almost anything.

I’m staying ready by taking care of myself on every level: mental, physical and emotional. I’m eating well, doing lots of yoga and I have dropped to my lowest weight in years. I even got a new hairstyle from a hip Chelsea salon. Now I walk down Hudson Street and the world seems full of potential.

Could it be the “dark-haired, dark-eyed lady” I met at a workshop and bumped into a few weeks later at a gay women’s party? She seemed sexy when we danced to “Roll Out,” Patti Labelle’s latest hit—from her group’s first studio album in 30 years. And if Patti Labelle can make a comeback, so can I.

Kate Walter is a freelance writer based in the West Village. She teaches personal essay writing at NYU/SCPS.You can find more of her work at www.katewalter.com or hear her read at Happy Ending Lounge on July 9.