How to Manifest a Sweet Potato Pie
On finding what is right in front of you
Note: this piece first appeared on my “original” Substack, which I maintained for a brief moment in January 2024, and reflected on some November 2022 pie-making! I hadn’t yet found my writing groove and deleted the blog soon after, but I thought it deserved a spot here. I’m reposting the unedited original from here in December 2025 (internet time-travel magic!) but back-dating it to the date of its original publication, just to prevent further timeline shenanigans. Also: if you haven’t made Joy Wilson’s Sweet Potato Pie, you are missing out on one of the holiday season’s great delights.
Last summer, a good friend – a fellow recovering analytical thinker whose need for data leads me to trust her hunches - cautiously recommended a talk on feminine energy by spiritual teacher Christina Lopes. Skeptical but curious, I gave it a listen. “The feminine energy,” exclaimed the energetic Ms. Lopes, “brings to her what she needs.” Ms. Lopes encouraged her listeners to question the belief that striving, pushing, and hustling are required or even useful in our daily quest to Get Things Done.
The feminine energy brings to her what she needs. This mantra stayed with me as my husband and I took the long road trip to Iowa the day before Thanksgiving, where – I was determined – I wouldn’t show up without a sweet potato pie. Specifically, a perfect sweet potato pie with a flaky, tender crust and homemade marshmallow fluff. I am cautious about recommending many things, but an enthusiastic evangelist of sweet potato pie.
We stopped at a grocery store for essentials. Sweet potatoes, of course. Butter. Heavy cream. An impulse purchase of some beautiful beets. Approaching the check-out line, I suspected something might be missing, but it had been a long trip and somehow whatever wasn’t in the cart seemed less important than a hot shower, a parked car, and some unhurried kitchen time.
The pie was in the oven and it was about 8 pm - dark, snowy, cold - before I discovered the wrinkle: I’d bought enough eggs to put in the pie, but had completely neglected to bring extras for the marshmallow fluff. Also, no cream of tartar. Visions of The Perfect Pie in my head, I did a cursory search of the AirBnb cupboards. Some oatmeal; some expired olive oil; some three-year-old celery salt. With resignation, I headed for my car keys.
Suddenly, quietly, and insistently, I heard Christina Lopes say: the feminine energy brings to her what she needs. I thought about going out at night, in the snow, to a crowded grocery store, the day before Thanksgiving, after 14 hours of driving. Somehow, The Perfect Pie seemed like The Perfect Storm. Surely there had to be another way.
I took a deep breath and opened the cupboards again, looking carefully. Some…powdered sugar? I could have sworn that wasn’t there five minutes ago. Well…I did have extra heavy cream. And powdered milk. And cinnamon. Stabilized cinnamon whipped cream? That actually sounded better than marshmallow fluff. And – wait a minute – bunny grahams? True abundance: amazing pie, and my preferred stress snack. I stopped thinking about my car keys.
The pie was delicious. Here’s the thing. I don’t exactly believe that the Universe saw my need and magicked some ingredients out of the void and into the cupboard. Not exactly. What I do believe is that the final result of pausing, relaxing, and looking at the resources already around me bore far more delicious fruit than venturing into cold, dark, traffic, and crowds just to find something that I perceived to be missing. By slowing down and deciding to receive what was available, I saw resources I had completely missed in my panic. Calm provides space for resourcefulness. Surveying what you already have opens the door to creative possibilities. A nice coincidence, maybe, and a data point to consider in the ongoing project of “How to Get Things Done without scurrying around like a panicked squirrel on the last day of autumn.” Less stress; more pie. Something to give thanks for.
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