Where are you sitting in the world right now? Can you outline the winding path of your life that has led you to this moment? What events, decisions, relationships, and thoughts brought you here, right now, reading this? As you peer into your computer or read this on your Blackberry or iPhone, can you picture the smallest piece of the interconnected web of people, information, and ideas that brought you to today?
Don’t ponder too hard about this.
You might end up thinking, “I have no idea—this is crazy. I am going to go do something else.”
If you haven’t heard of the Law of Attraction, clearly you haven’t attracted the concept to yourself until just this moment. So you can google it. (Or not.)
One of my favorite authors, Wayne Dyer, has been talking about the Law of Attraction for years. I remember him describing how he heard about the Peloponnesian War and had no idea what it was, but for some reason the name of the war stuck in his head. He wondered about it. It popped up here and there. One day, he was on the road and he pulled over to make a call at a pay phone. (Remember those? Good thing he didn’t have a Blackberry, or this whole thing never would have happened.)
This pay phone was in the middle of nowhere. On top of it, there was a single piece of paper. Wayne picked it up to look at it. It was a page ripped from an encyclopedia. Can you guess what page it was? It was from the Ps. It described the Peloponnesian War.
Wayne used this example to illustrate how you can manifest anything, if you focus enough thought energy there. I struggled with this idea. He said if you think, “Gee, I’d really like some strawberry ice cream,” and hold your vision clearly enough, someone might come up to you with an extra cone in their hand. (I have tried that over and over, and all I can seem to manifest is rainbow sherbet in a cup.)
But while I struggle with the idea of manifesting any frozen concoctions without rock salt, since that time, I have learned a lot more about the Law of Attraction from the great work of Abraham-Hicks. And I have seen it actually happen, time and time again, in my own life.
Examples? You want examples?
I was once driving home around 11:00 pm at night from a friend’s house, thinking, “Gee, it’s really late! I might see a fox or some kind of animal if I watch carefully enough.” Within three minutes, what ran in front of me? A fox! I was so surprised that I called my friend and told her what happened.
Another day I was complaining over dinner about my cat, and how he was being incredibly annoying in ways that only cats can. Later that night, I was driving home down a dark country road. I thought, “I better be careful—it’s pretty dark—I could hit a deer or something.” What happened? I didn’t hit a deer—I ended up hitting and killing someone’s cat.
What’s the lesson here?
It’s obvious—don’t think about animals you could hit when you are out driving at night.
Of course, these things could happen to anyone. If you drive on any road in New Hampshire after 11:00 pm, there’s a good chance you might see a red fox or a deer—if not, at least a few bats. (At minimum, you will kill a boatload of bugs with your windshield.)
So here’s another story that may challenge the non-believers out there. And this is also 100% true.
I once had a dream that I was riding a bicycle around a rotary. In my dream, as I circled the roundabout, a white minivan merged out of nowhere and almost hit me. I swerved out of the way, so the car missed me. A blonde woman with frizzy hair was driving, and gave me a ditsy, apologetic wave. I was furious. She clearly didn’t realize how close she came. I flew after her on my bike (in your dreams, you go like lightning, you know) and when her car stopped, I pedaled up to her window. “Don’t you know that you almost killed me?” And then I woke up.
I recorded this dream in a journal that morning because it was so vivid.
Five days later, I was going to visit a friend in Marblehead, MA. As I passed through a green light at an intersection, a car suddenly pulled out from the right, not seeing me, and slammed on his brakes. He couldn’t stop fast enough—he grazed the right side of my Volvo. A man flew out of his car and came up to me. I was shaking as I got out. I was upset—clearly I had the right of way, he was turning right on red, and he wasn’t paying attention. I snapped at him, “What were you thinking?” The man apologized over and over, graciously. He was horrified when he saw the car seat in the back, and said he was thankful the seat was empty and I was alone. He was so sweet I immediately felt terrible and said, “It’s no big deal, and I am fine.”
The weird part? The guy had blonde frizzy hair to his shoulders, just like the woman in my dream. And he was driving a white Plymouth Voyager minivan.
I later told a friend about the accident, and how weird it was that I had the dream beforehand. I said, “I steeled myself for a fight…I was so mad at him for not seeing me.”
My friend laughed. She said, “You sure did steel yourself—you put yourself in a car!”
Wow. That blew me away. In my dream, I was on a bike. But when I was hit for real, I was in a car. How did that happen?
I thought for a long time, “What did I attract to me? Was it the dream? Was it a warning so I’d be more attentive, so I could swerve when I saw the man was going to hit me? Or did I attract the accident by dreaming about this situation?”
I’ve never had what one might call a premonition, so I just chalked it up to the Law of Attraction and what was in my vibration at the time. (Clearly, there’s a theme here—me hitting things with my car and cars hitting me. Some psychoanalyst will probably tell me what that means.)
Others might say that there is divine intervention going on here. I believe that is true, too. The Law of Attraction doesn’t work without a higher power or the universe responding to what we put out there, and vice versa.
Wayne Dyer once said that when he plays tennis, he sometimes has the experience of running hard to get a ball that he wouldn’t normally reach. But in these moments, he has such a strong expectation that he will get to the ball that he actually does. I have experimented with that in some doubles matches and found that sometimes, the ball does wait. There’s a quantum thing that happens where it’s just me and the ball, and the ball and I both know how much time I have (me more consciously than the ball, of course—but we are both made of molecules, right?). Somehow I see myself getting to it and somehow the ball surrenders to my clear vision of what is going to happen.
After these rare but satisfying moments, my partner and the opposing team just look at me. They say, “How did you get to that ball?”
I don’t let them in on my secret. I’ve got way too much to do as it is, watching out for those animals and cars on the road.
“I have no idea,” I say. And I just shrug my shoulders.