As a child, I never liked science. In fact, not only did I not like science, I never performed or scored well in science classes. My dislike carried straight into adulthood, and at 41 years old, I am just now beginning to be interested enough in science to read about certain topics.

However, there was one moment when I was sixth grade that science piqued my interest. I was a shy student in a new school that year, and my science teacher was an extroverted, animated lady. One day, she sat in a chair and showed us students an example of how objects in motion tend to stay in motion. She had us imagine she was sitting in a moving car when someone slammed on the brakes. She showed us how the body shifts forward in that moment, and taught us the importance of wearing seat belts. That image stuck with me, and I learned the definition of inertia. For a brief time in my life, I didn’t feel stupid in science class.

All these years later, I’m still not a good student of science. My brain tends to get overwhelmed when I can’t  comprehend how something (say, for example, the speed of light) works, and I move on to something I can understand better (like language). But over the past few months, one, vital component of science has intrigued me, and I find myself thinking about it and reading about it quite a bit. I feel a little like that sixth-grade girl who feels capable of learning something about science.

Back in September, I participated in a private Facebook group about manifestation. While I won’t get into the specifics of that group here, one of the things frequently discussed was energy—positive energy and negative energy. The person leading the group often reminded the participants that it was important to maintain positive energy.

Now, I’ve often been the glass half-empty person. I wouldn’t necessarily say I have a positive outlook on life. Just call me Eyeore. However, after being part of the manifestation group, I’m more mindful about what kind of energy I’m putting out into the world.