On Stealing Other People’s Light (and Other Perfectly Reasonable Crimes)

I have recently decided that if I’m going to be a criminal, I’m going to be a very specific kind of criminal.

Not the glamorous kind. Not the Ocean’s Eleven kind. Not even the “I accidentally walked out of Costco with a rotisserie chicken under my arm” kind.

No. I want to steal people’s magnetism.

I want to steal the calm from the people who walk into a room and lower everyone’s blood pressure. I want to steal the steadiness of the ones who don’t flinch when the world is clearly on fire. I want to steal the warmth of the people who somehow make you feel less alone just by sitting there, breathing in your general direction.

And here’s the good news: apparently this is not only allowed, it’s encouraged.

There’s an old spiritual idea that says we are constantly exchanging energy with the people, places, and even things around us. We are walking Wi-Fi routers of mood, intention, and inner weather. Every thought, every word, every choice is broadcasting something. And whether we like it or not, we are also picking up everyone else’s signal.

Which explains a lot about family gatherings.

It also explains why some people leave you feeling bigger, braver, and clearer — and others make you feel like you need a nap, a stiff drink, and a small existential crisis just to recover.

We like to pretend we are sealed units. Self-contained. Independent. Rugged individuals. But emotionally and spiritually, we are more like open windows. Stuff comes in. Stuff goes out. Sometimes we don’t even notice it happening until we realize we’re suddenly irritated, or suddenly hopeful, or suddenly exhausted for no logical reason.

That’s magnetism.

Some people have a strong field. You know them. The ones who don’t have to raise their voice. The ones who don’t need to dominate the room. The ones whose presence feels… anchored. You leave them steadier than you arrived.

And some people — bless their complicated hearts — have the opposite effect. Their anxiety, anger, bitterness, or chaos is so loud it practically has its own soundtrack.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: the stronger magnet usually wins.

Which means if you are tired, stressed, or already a little threadbare, spending time around someone who is radiating doom and drama is not a neutral act. It’s an energy transaction. And it is rarely a fair trade.

But here’s the hopeful part: this also works in the other direction.

You can deliberately place yourself in the presence of people, ideas, places, music, and even memories that strengthen you. You can sit near the calm. You can lean into the steady. You can, quite unapologetically, steal the good stuff.

You can also do something even weirder: you can feel someone’s influence from far away.

We’ve all had this experience. You think of a person you love or admire, and something in your chest softens. Or steadies. Or lifts. That’s not sentimentality. That’s resonance. That’s tuning yourself to a different frequency.

And honestly, in a world that seems committed to vibrating at “panic” and “rage,” changing the station is an act of survival.

There are practical ways to protect and strengthen your own magnetism, too. Being calmer helps. Being more intentional helps. Moving your body, breathing deeply, eating like you actually care whether your cells want to cooperate with you — all of that helps.

Meditation helps not because it makes you holy, but because it makes you less hijackable.

Nature helps because trees, oceans, and mountains are very old and very unimpressed by our nonsense. They broadcast a kind of stability that is hard to argue with.

I have a favorite tree like that. It started as just a tree. Then it became a landmark. Then, somehow, it became a companion. I don’t know how to explain this without sounding slightly unhinged, so I won’t try. I’ll just say: some living things have a presence, and if you’re quiet long enough, you can feel it.

The real question is not whether magnetism exists.

The real question is: what are you marinating in?

Who are you spending your time with? What are you feeding your attention? What emotional climate are you letting set up permanent residence in your nervous system?

Because you are not just living your life.

You are being shaped by it.

So yes. I am stealing magnetism. I am stealing calm where I find it. I am stealing courage. I am stealing steadiness. I am stealing light.

And I encourage you to become a thief, too.

In times like these, it’s not just self-care.

It’s self-defense.

Julie Bolejack, MBA

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