Do you ever wonder if all those people who write books about manifesting abundance are multi-millionaires?
How about the ones who write about creating health and wellness – are they all lithe octogenarians who jog up mountains and haven’t had so much as a cold since 1952?
Or am I the only person who has written a self-help type of book, believed it completely, but been (if I’m totally honest) just a little way off putting everything I wrote into practice every day of my life? Or even most days?
From time to time, that’s bothered me a bit. I’ve wondered what I’d say if some heckler at one of my talks asked what kind of reality I was creating for myself, given that I tell everyone it’s possible.
My mind kept wandering back to that man in What The Bleep Do We Know!? who sat in his study and explained to camera how he consciously plans every day out, decides what he wants and then enjoys what the Universe brings him.
I’m not sure that I made a conscious decision to start living like that – ‘on purpose’ as they say – but it’s happened.
There are many New Age phrases that slip off the tongue so easily. ‘In the Flow’ has to be one of the most clichéd. What I’m learning, though, is that it describes exactly how this manifesting lark works. If you imagine this stream of excellent, abundant experience flowing into your life like a warm shower, you have to concentrate and avoid wandering away from it.
For example: In a recent post Of Rusty Keys, Unicorns and Leaky Roofs you may recall that I said this:
Ideally I’d like the surveyor’s report to highlight all the problems, but not find anything too structural that needs repairs beyond my rather limited means.
What I got was just what I’d requested – a surveyor’s report that highlighted urgent repairs with an estimated cost of exactly the amount of money I have in the ‘rather limited’ piggy bank.
At that point, for about fifteen minutes, I moved out of the flow.
I started wondering what would happen if builders uncovered unexpected and expensive problems that couldn’t have been foreseen. I was miserable at the thought that my life savings would be swallowed up by decidedly un-sexy re-pointing and roof felting, with nothing left for the transformations I was dreaming of – the upstairs bathroom (conservation officer said ‘Yes’!), the butler’s sink and oak kitchen, or even redecorating the rest of the cottage, which currently boasts peeling white wood-chip paper in every room.
It takes practice, this business of creating and allowing the Universe to provide.
I’m getting better at it, though. Soon I had moved back into the flow of that lovely warm shower. I’d been given exactly what I’d put out for – because that’s the way this works. So I swallowed hard, put in an absurdly low offer on the cottage and, within an hour or two, we had haggled our way to a price both I and the seller felt happy with. That means the piggy bank is looking a little plumper and in any case, if more money is needed somewhere along the line, I’ll just say, “Ideally I’d like…” and wait for it to arrive.
As you may have noticed, I’ve already – within two weeks – received the first three items from my ‘wish list’ in that previous post.
The magic continues.