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doesnotdispensemedicaladviceorprescribetheuseofanytechniqueasaformoftreatmentforphysical,emotional,ormedicalproblemswithouttheadviceofaphysician,eitherdirectlyorindirectly.Theintentoftheauthorisonlytoofferinformationofageneralnaturetohelpyouinyour

questforemotionalandspiritualwell-being.Intheeventyouuseanyoftheinformationinthisbookforyourself,theauthorandthepublisherassumenoresponsibilityforyouractions.Theeventsrelatedinthis

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Dyer,WayneW.

Icanseeclearlynow/Dr.WayneW.Dyer.—1stedition.pagescmISBN978-1-4019-4403-2(hardback)1.Dyer,WayneW.2.Motivationalspeakers—UnitedStates—Biography.3.Counselors—UnitedStates—Biography.4.Motivation(Psychology)I.Title.BF503.D942014

158.3092—dc23[B]

2013022893

HardcoverISBN:978-1-4019-4403-2

1716151443211stedition,February2014

PrintedintheUnitedStatesofAmerica

Foralltheway-showersthatIhavewrittenabouthere—Thediamondsandthestones

—Withaweandprofound

gratitude.

Andtomyeightchildren—alldiamonds,

Tracy,Shane,Stephanie,Skye,Sommer,

Serena,Sands,andSaje—Youarethelightsofmylife.

“Ifwestopforamoment,itis

possibletoperceiveapatterninourlives;themotivatorsthathave

influencedusbecomemoreobvious.Weareabletoseelifeunfoldingfrombothendsatonce,comingintothe

presentmoment.Butuntilwehavegottoacertainpointofrealization,thisisnot

possible,becauseeverythingis

stillseenasaseriesof

apparentcausesandeffects.”

—RESHADFEILD

TableofContents

Chapter1

Chapter2

Chapter3

Chapter4

Chapter5

Chapter6

Chapter7

Chapter8

Chapter9

Chapter10

Chapter11

Chapter12

Chapter13

Chapter14

Chapter15

Chapter16

Chapter17

Chapter18

Chapter19

Chapter20

Chapter21

Chapter22

Chapter23

Chapter24

Chapter25

Chapter26

Chapter27

Chapter28

Chapter29

Chapter30

Chapter31

Chapter32

Chapter33

Chapter34

Chapter35

Chapter36

Chapter37

Chapter38

Chapter39

Chapter40

Chapter41

Chapter42

Chapter43

Chapter44

Chapter45

Chapter46

Chapter47

Chapter48

Chapter49

Chapter50

Chapter51

Chapter52

Chapter53

Chapter54

Chapter55

Chapter56

Chapter57

Chapter58

Afterword

AbouttheAuthor

It’s Christmastime 1941, afewweeksafter thebombingofPearlHarbor.Americahas

been drawn into war; two ofmy mother’s brothers areservinginthemilitary,oneinEurope and the other in thePacific. My father is nolonger in the picture. Hispersistent carousing withother women, excessivedrinking, and regularencounters as a lawbreaker,whichhavelandedhiminjailon several occasions, havefinallymade living with him

impossibleformymother.Hehassimplywalkedawayfromhis fatherly responsibilities,nevertobeheardfromagain.Mymotherisalonewiththreechildrenundertheageoffivetofeed.She’stakingherthreeboystohermother’shousetobewatchedwhileshegoestoworkfortheday.Mytwoolderbrothersand

Iarewaitingwithourmotherfor the bus to arrive on

JeffersonAvenue on the eastsideofDetroit.We’redressedin our snowsuits, mittens,galoshes, and earmuffs,standing at the bus stop nexttowhatappears tous tobeahuge mountain of freshlyplowed snow. The road islittered with salt to melt thecontinually falling snow, andit is one big nasty mess. Atruck drives past the four ofus, spraying us so hard with

slush that we’re knocked offof our feet. We land safelybut soaked on the giganticpileofsnow.Mymotherbreaksdown—

she’s dressed for work andcovered with dirty, saltyslush.Sheisexasperated.Herlife is obviously out ofcontrol with the departure ofherformerhusband,andshe’sdoing her best to make endsmeet. The lingering

Depression, along with aworldwar, contributes to heroverall situation. Work isdifficult to come by, andmymother must rely upon themeagerhelp thatcomesfromher family. They too areoverburdened by the long-termeconomicdownturn.Itisa difficult period under thebest of circumstances, due toshortages of all manner ofgoods, and the fog of war

itself.My two brothers are very

upset, too. Five-year-old Jimattempts to console ourmother; three-year-old Davidiscryinguncontrollably.Me?I am having the time of mylife. This is like a nicesurprise party with a bigcastle of snow that we’re alllyingontopof.Wecanhavefun! I don’t quite understandwhyeveryoneissoangryand

frustrated.Andthenthesewordscame

out ofmymouth: “It’s okay,Mommy. Don’t cry. We canall just stay here and play inthesnow.”I’m the baby who seldom

cries;thetoddlerwhotriestomakeeveryonelaughandfeelgood, regardless of what’sgoing on. I’m the kid whomakes silly faces to changethe environment from sad to

glad. I am that little boywho’dbesureTheremustbeaponyheresomewhereifthesandboxwasfullofmanure.Idon’t know how to be filledwith sadness. My demeanorseemstobenaturallyinclinedtolookforthebrightsideandpay little heed to things thatmakeeveryoneelsedreary.According to my mother,

I’mthemostindependentandinquisitive little boy she and

her family have everencountered. Apparently Iarrived with this happydisposition intact. I am sohappy to be here in thisworld.At19monthsofageIam almost the same size asDave, who is 18 monthsolder. I try togetmybrotherto laugh and feel safe,because he seems to beafraid, sick, and most of thetime,sad,butheseldomeven

smiles. I find the world soexciting, and I lovewanderingandexploring.As I grow up, nothing

seems to disturb or distressme. I look around and all Isee brings me to a state ofawe and wonder. I wanteveryonetobehappy.Iwantall of the despair in myfamilytojustdisappear.Iamsure we don’t have to bemiserable just because our

fatherissuchashit.Iwanttosee my mother have joy inhersoulratherthanallofthisdistress. I want my oldestbrother,Jim,tostopworryingso much about Mother andhistwoyoungerbrothers.IfIcan make them happy andhave some fun,maybe all ofthis other stuff will just goaway.I just can’t comprehend

whyeveryoneseemssodour.

There are so many things tobe excited about. I can playfor hourswith a spoon or anempty cardboard box. I lovetogooutsideandgazeat theflowers,thebutterflies,orthestraycatthatkeepscomingtoour yard. I am in a kind ofblissful state of appreciationand bewilderment almost allofthetime.Ialsohaveaverystrong mind of my own. Iwon’tletanyonetellmewhat

I can or cannot do—I insistupon discovering myboundariesonmyown.WhenI am told no, I simply smileand then proceed to dowhatmy inner self instructsme todo—regardless of what anybigpeoplemightsayaboutit.I seem to be totally in a

worldofmyown—onethat’sjoyful, full of exciting,unlimited potentialities anddiscoveries that I can make

on my own. No matter howhardanyonetriestomakemebe gloomy, they can neversucceed because I came herefromaDivinelight,andthereis nothing anyone can do toputoutthatlight.ThisiswhoI am—a piece of God whohasn’t forgotten that God islove.AsamI.

ICanSeeClearly

Ican’tcountthenumberoftimesthatmymothertoldmethatsloshysnow-pilestory.Itwas her favorite recollectionof me just before she wasforcedtoplaceDavidandmein a series of foster homesand orphanages; while myoldest brother, Jim, went tolivewithourgrandmotherforthe better part of the next

decade.As I look back at the

earliestdaysofmylifeinthisincarnation, I can see clearlythattheoldmaximThereareno accidents in this universeis a truism that applies rightfrom the moment of ourcreation, andwaybefore thatas well. In an infiniteuniverse there’s truly nobeginning or ending. It isonlyourformthatisbornand

dies—that which occupiesour form is changeless andtherefore birthless anddeathless.As the father of eight

children,I’mquiteconvincedthat each individual arriveshere with their own uniquepersonality. We are intendedherefromaninvisiblefieldofinfinite potentiality. Thatwhich has no form, has noboundaries—it’s the I that’s

in the ever-changing body.All of the accomplishmentsthat fill my personal résumébegan taking shape at themoment of my conception,throughout my nine monthsof embryonic existence, andasItookmyfirstbirthbreathonarrival.Ilookbackatthatlittle19-month-oldtykelyingon a snowbank, and not onecell that comprised that littleboy is still here on planet

Earth. Yet the I that was inthatbody is thesame infiniteI that recalls it all some 70yearslater.EvenbeforeIcouldreador

write I needed a personalitythatwouldbecongruouswiththemusicIcameheretoplay.Icanseeclearlynowthatasachild I needed to feel that Icouldreachout toothersandhelp them feel better aboutthemselves and their

circumstances. I somehowknew that attitude iseverything in life—even as ababy, so that the attitudemymother described to me thatcharacterizedmyinfancywasin some mysterious wayconnected to the dharma thatIwastofulfillthroughoutthislifetime.Lying on top of that

snowbankwiththerestofmyfamily,seeingtheminadeep

stateofdistress,andinstantlydecidingtotrytomakethingsa bit more bearable bymaking them laugh orinviting them to have funinsteadofbeingsad,is—onaspiritual level—the same aswritingbooksaboutbreakingfree of the trap of negativethinking and enjoying life tothe fullest. The form is adultwithabiggerandolderbody,but the same infinite I is

communicating through abrand-new set of eyes andears.I’ve watched all eight of

my children blossom intotheir own awakenings. Theyall showed up here at birthwith their own uniquepersonalities, perhaps from aseries of previous lives—themysterious possibilities areendless. But I know forcertain that the one Divine

mind that is responsible forall of creation has a hand inthis engaging mystery. Sameparents, same environment,same culture, and yet eightunique individuals, all ofwhomarrivedwith theirowndistinct character traits. Ithink Khalil Gibran stated itperfectly in The Prophet:“Your children are not yourchildren. They are the sonsand daughters of Life’s

longingfor itself.Theycomethrough you but not fromyou,andthoughtheyarewithyou yet they belong not toyou.”We all have a mission of

some kind to fulfill at themoment we make the shiftfrom nowhere to now here,fromSpirittoform.I’velongrealizedhowimportantitistoallowmyownchildrentoliveout their inner dictates,

realizing that that’s preciselywhat I’vedone formyentirelife, based on the stories thatmymothertoldmeofmylifeas a baby and then as atoddler. She was neversurprised that my lifeunfoldedasitdid,becauseofwhat she observed in myinfancy.Eachofmychildrenhad their blueprint fromGodas well. My job has been toguide,thenstepaside,andlet

whatever is inside them thatistheirownuniqueness,steerthecourseoftheirlives.Iknowthat Icamehere to

fulfillapurposethatIdecidedupon before undertaking thatjourney from invisible tosolid—from Spirit tohardening into a physicalreality. Beginning with thethree unhappy people withme in that slushypredicament, I was actually

doing the early research andpractice for living a life inwhich I could help influencemillions of people. While Iwas in that snowbank, I wasintuitively trying to geteveryonetoseethatwehadachoice about howwe lookedat the situation. The I insidethe kid wanted the others toknow it’s not really so bad—we can turn this wholething around by laughing

ratherthanbeingupset.The greatest service that

can be offered to childrenwho show personality traitsor inclinations thatmightnotbe understood by the adultsaroundthemistoallowthemto express their own uniquehumanity.Iwasblessedtobeable to livemuchof the firstdecade of my life in anenvironment where parentaland other adult meddling in

my life was kept to aminimum.IknowthatIcameinto the world with what Icall “big dharma”—with ablueprint to teach self-relianceandapositivelovingapproachtolargenumbersofpeople all over the globe. Iam ever so grateful for thecircumstancesofmy life thatallowedmetobeprettymuchleftaloneandtodevelopasIwas so intended in this

incarnation.Justaseverythingweneed

forourphysicaldevelopmentis handled by a Divine,mysterious, invisible forcewhile we develop for ninemonths inutero, so too is allthat we need handled by thesame Source for all otheraspects of our being. Wecome from a state of perfectwell-being—Divine love—and our creator needs no

assistance in taking care ofthis unfoldment. It is onlywhen we interfere with thiscelestial programming thatwe get off the path of God-realization.Icanseeclearlytodaythis

entireuniverseisonpurpose.I see now that our earliestpersonality traits andpredilections are expressedbecause they represent ourhighest selves.At theseearly

ages we are still very muchconnected to our Source,because we haven’t yet hadthe chance to edge God outandassumethemantleof thefalseself,whichistheego.

It’sspringof1948—Davidis nine years old, and I’mabout to turn eight. I’m

screaming at the nearbycustoms officials who areinspecting cars enteringCanada in Sombra, Ontario:“My brother is drowning—mybrotherisdrowning!Youhave to do something rightnow—rightthisminute!”It’s our first time

swimming in the St. ClairRiver this year. Last Augusttherewasasandbarabout50yardsawayfromthecustoms

dock where we swim duringour summer visits. (Thecottage where we stay inSombra is owned by mymother’s boyfriend and myfuturestepfather,BillDrury.)During the winter, the rapidcurrentsintheriversweptthesandbar away, and David isnow caught in the fastcurrents,unabletostand.AsIwatchinhorror,hisheadgoesunder, andhishand isbarely

visible above the water’ssurface. This is my brother,my best friend, and my onecompanionthroughourmanyexcursions into foster homessince wewere both toddlers.He isdisappearingbelow thesurface,andforasplitsecondIamimmobilizedbyshock.At thispoint I run into the

customs shack, where BillLaing, a friendly facedcustomsinspectorwhoknows

us, hears me and instantlyruns to amoored boat, startstheengine, andheads towardthe last spot where mybrotherwasseen.Astheboatnears the spot that I ampointingto,Dave’slittlehandappears one last time rightabove the surface. Bill andhis assistant are able to pullmybrotherintotheboat,turnhimover,andpushthewateroutofhis lungsandmouth.I

watch his skin color comeback from its grayish non-color—Daveisgoingtobeallright.Iamsogratefulthatthepeople in the customs shacklistened to my panickyscreamsforhelp.I’mamazedhow quickly they got thatboat started and rescued mybrother.Thateveningwhenwe tell

our mother about the closecall,Daveisstillinastateof

shock. The next day, herefuses to go back into thewater—andthiscontinuesfortheforeseeablefuture.My brother’s reaction to

the near-death experience isone of the most mysteriousthings I have everencountered. Dave not onlyavoids swimming, he breaksout in severehives if anyonetries to persuade him to goback into the water. I watch

my brother carefully, as weare always together, and Inotice that even when he iscaught outside in a suddenrain, each drop of water thattoucheshisskinleavesahivemark. Dave is so severelytraumatized by this incidentthatthisconditionwilllastformostoftherestofhislife.Inadulthood,raindropscontinueto leave nasty reminders onhis skin of his flirtationwith

the Grim Reaper in the St.Clair River when he was anine-year-oldboy.Fast-forward almost three

decades. David is in theArmy, stationed at Ft. Riley,Kansas. I am on a trip withmy nine-year-old daughter,Tracy, to publicize my bookYourErroneousZones.We’reinSt.Louis and thenKansasCity, so I decide to make atrip toJunctionCity,Kansas,

to visit my brother, whom Ihaven’t seen in many years.Dave has been stationedoverseas and has done twotours of duty during theVietnam War; he’s receivedthe Bronze Star for hisextraordinary service andbraveryunderfire.Here is how Dave

describes what happenedduring our visit, in his booktitled From Darkness to

Light. It brings home to methe significance of his brushwithdeathbackin1948:

In 1976 I wasstationed at Fort Riley,Kansas, and lived inJunction City. Waynewas in town promotinghis best-selling book,Your Erroneous Zones.He and his daughterTracy were staying at

theTravelodgedownthestreet from me andinvited me over for aswiminthepool.Wayne told me to

focus my thoughts onanything other thanhives as we entered thepool.He kept talking tome, and I didn’t have achance to think aboutanythingotherthanwhathe was saying. In fact,

he was speaking sosoftly that I couldn’tmake out what he wassaying, so I had to keepmovingcloserandclosertohim.Wayne purposely had

drawn my attention tohim.Before I knew it, Ihadbeeninthewaterforhalfanhour.WhenIgotoutofthepoolanddriedoff, I couldn’t find a

singlehiveonmybody.For the first time in 27years, I didn’texperienceabreakoutofhives when I wentswimming. ImmediatelyI went back into thewater for another halfhour with the sameresults. Since then I’veenjoyed swimming andhave never experiencedan outbreak of hives

again.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

As I stood on that dockwatching my brother beingswept away in those fastcurrents,IfeltthepresenceofsomethingthatIamunabletoexpress adequately here, or

anyplace else in my entirelifetime.ThatpresenceishererightnowinthismomentasIwrite about one of the mostsignificant events ofmy life.It is a feeling of not beingalone,andaforcethatpropelsone into actioninstantaneously. On that latespring day itwas notDave’stime toexit this lifetime,andI was the appointed one toensure that his dharma

continued.Thatsceneissorealtome

even now—every detail of ithas been emblazoned on myinner screen. I learned inthose few moments when IwaspropelledintoactionthatIcouldmakepeople listen tome, and that I actually heldthe power of life over deathwithinme.Todelaywouldbeto invite disaster. To standthere and cry was not an

option.Toletfearoverwhelmme was not for me toconsider. I felt a life forcepushing me away from thescene I was watching unfoldbeforeme, sweepingme intothat customs shack, insistingthatIscreamatthetopofmylungsatBillLaing.I cannot say what this

mysterious force is, but I doknow it to be something thathas been there for me on

manyoccasionsinmylife.Itis something invisible that Ican feel and that I talk aboutinmylecturesandinmanyofthe41booksI’vewritten.Itisa powerful knowing, like anangelic invisible guide that Itrust.Theexperiencewithmybrother’s brush with deathwasthefirsttimeIabsolutelyknew that it wasmuchmorethan an eight-year-old boyspringing into action on that

river dock in Sombra,Ontario. It is a comfortingpresence that I feelmoreandmore frequently in my lifenow, and that I absolutelyneverignore.From a clearer perspective

now as I look back at thatevent in 1948, and then atwhathappenedin1976atFt.Riley, I can see theconnection,aswell ashow ittiesinwiththecoursethatmy

life has taken. Little did Iknow at the time that mybrother’s near drowning andhis body’s extreme reactionwould be an opportunity formetoputintopracticewhatIintuitivelyknewasthemind-body connection and itsincredibly amazing capacityforhealing.AtthetimeofmyvisitwithDave, Iwas justatthe beginning of myexploration into thepowerof

the mind and its ability toperformhealingmiracles.Thequarterofacenturyin

which hives appeared onDave’sskinwheneverhewasinasituationofhaving togoin, or even near, the water,wasovercomeinoneepisodeofputtinghismindonhealingrather than the fearsomethought of catastrophe. Froma clearer perspective, I cannowseehowmypresenceon

that dock that resulted inmybrother’s rescue wasinstrumentalingivingmetheinformation and theconfidence to become ateacher and practitioner ofmind-body healing. Thatchildhood experience helpedguide us both, leading us toexploreandrealizethepowerwe possess to accomplishanything that we place ourattention on with love rather

thanfearasouranchor.In some incomprehensible

way everything is connected.My brother’s near drowninggavemeanopportunitymanyyearslatertohelphealhimofthe traumatic reaction thatcaused him to have seriousskin outbreaks, as well aslaunch me into a career ofteachingself-empowerment.

Theyearis1950,andIamin fourth grade at ArthurElementarySchoolinDetroit.

This is my very first timeattending schoolwhile livingwithmyreunitedfamily.Each day at precisely 2:45

P.M., if the entire class hasbehaved reasonably well—meaning there’s no talkingoutofturn—ourteacher,Mrs.Engels, reads The SecretGardentous.Iamenthralledlistening to her, particularlyby theway shemakes all ofthecharacterscomealive.

IntheclassroomI’minmyassigned seat, going throughthe motions of memorizingmy multiplication tables,reviewingtheweek’sspellingwords, looking at maps forour geography lesson,practicing cursivehandwriting, and all of theother tedious details of myfourth-grade school day. Butsecretly I’m eagerlyanticipating listening to The

SecretGardenat2:45,soIsitat my desk and gaze at theclock on the wall. (As I sithere at my desk some 62years later, I can see thewords Seth Thomas in myimagination on the face ofthatclockintheclassroom.)Iseemtobetheonlykidin

the class who is obsessedwiththestoryunfoldingeachafternoon, and I notice thatmanyofmyclassmatesseem

oblivious to the fact that ifthey don’t behave, the storywon’t be forthcoming. I amten years old and havealready become aware that Idon’t see the world the waythe other children aroundmedo. I have discovered thatpeople will listen to me if Ispeakwithconviction.Ihavealso learned that I enjoyspendingmostofmy time inmy own inner world,

exploring ideas that mycontemporaries never evenseemtoconsider.Here in Mrs. Engels’s

fourth-grade classroom, Irealize how much power Ihave to make things happenthat are important to me.Each day I voluntarilyassumetheroleof“Enforcer”of the silence that Mrs.Engels so cherishes. If theclass gets even slightly

unruly, I leave my seat andremind the offenders thatthey’re jeopardizing ourSecretGarden time, and thatI won’t stand for thisdisruptive behavior. Theylisten and they calm down,notbecausetheywanttohearthestorybutbecauseItakeapositionofauthority.This is an illuminating

experience for the ten-year-old me. I realize it’s

happenedbefore in thefosterhomeswhereIhadlived,andnow here again in a brand-new school. When I speakwith confidence andkindness, I’m listened to.Anyone misbehaving in away that prevents Mrs.Engels from reading to us isbrought to order by mewithoutthreatsorunkindness.Oh, how I love just closingmy eyes and listening to the

magicthatis,forme,myownsecretgarden.The story, written by

Frances Hodgson Burnett in1911, is about ten-year-oldorphanedMaryLennox,whois sent from India to live inEngland after her parentsboth die in a choleraepidemic. She arrives inEngland a dour, hurt,negativeyounggirlwhofeelsthat her parents didn’t want

her. The story describes herdiscovery of a whole newworld that changes heroutlook on her life. Here Iam, a ten-year-old boy, justhaving spent the majority ofmy life with similar feelingsof being unwanted, nowlisteningtoastorythatspeaksto another way of looking atlife.Theideaoftherebeingasecret place either in theworld or in one’s mind

fascinatesme.I listen mesmerized by

conversations that Mary andhersicklyfriend,Colin,havewith the flowers and a birdcalledrobinredbreast.Robinsfly around me, too, buildingtheirnestsandchirpingawaywhile I walk home fromschoolattheendofeachday.I engage in conversationswith these new avian friendsall the way home, living in

my own imaginary secretgarden, where sickness andweakness disappear andwhere a positive attitude istheantidotetoallsuffering.Ifeel the exquisite power ofthe words read by Mrs.Engels and create my ownsecretgardentoescapeintoaworld where all things arepossible. Here I talk to theanimals and the flowers andfeel the presence of real

magicinmylife.Coming to this new home

to live with my family isn’tnearly as comfortable asliving in someone else’shome. Bill, my newstepfather, drinks a lot andwhen he does isargumentativeandmean.ButI manage to stay somewhatoblivious to his ranting,largely because of myawareness that in my

imagination I can create asecret spacemuch likeMaryLennox’s garden in England.In this space no one isallowed entry without mypermission. I am fascinatedby this idea that life is notrestricted to what I see andhear with my senses. Idiscover thatIcanbehereinthisworld inmybody, and Ican also get outside of thelimitations of my physical

self and live within my ownprivateworld.In The Secret Garden I

hearMrs.Engelsspeakabouthealing people of seriousillnessandthinktomyself,IfMarycandothat,socanI.IfMary and Dickon and Colinand all of her secret-gardencompanions can talk to theanimals and listen to thetrees,thensocanI.My imagination soars. I

envisionmyselfasamagicianwhocandoanythingheputshis mind to. I see guidanceformeinallofnature.Ilearnhow to go within and clearmyinnerworldofeverythingthat interferes with the blissofmy inner peace. Imake adecision that Bill can neverget tomewith his craziness,or his obsessive tirades overissues that exist only in hisown impairedmind. I have a

secret garden of my own,which I realize I’ve retreatedtoofteninthepreviousyearsoflivinginfosterhomes.Here in this new

environment, living in anundersized home with threepeople who are essentiallystrangers, one of whomspends his days and nightsdrinking beer, I am given agift that is immenselybeneficial. The gift is

awareness of my secretgarden—the place withinmethat has no restrictions, noobstacles, and where I cancreate for myself a way ofliving that is immune to anyand all influences that mightbringmedown.Throughout the years to

come, living in anenvironment of verbal andalcoholic abuse that is thenorm, I have secure within

my imagination a refuge thatItreasure,andI’manxioustotellothersaboutit.Mrs. Engels reading The

SecretGardenfor30minutesattheendofeachschooldayisquitelikelynotmemorablefor the other kids in thatfourth-grade classroom. Forme it was a benefaction thatsparked a fire within me forwhichIamalwaysgrateful.Itwas the beginning of an

awareness that I havesomething inside of me thattrumps what goes on outsideof me—my own secretgarden where all things arepossible.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Even after six decades

have passed, I often lookback to that classroom withMrs. Engels and think abouthow Divine providence wasworking on my behalf.Somehow I was guided intoherclassroombya force thatwas conspiring to set a firewithin me that would propelme to write and speak aboutthe ideas presented in thatnovel written over a centuryagonow.Beforebeginningto

writeICanSeeClearlyNow,IdecidedtoperuseTheSecretGarden again, to remindmyself of what had ignitedsuchaprovocativeinterest inmyyoungself.Thefollowingpassage, which the authorwrites about ten-year-oldMary Lennox, truly piquedmy attention: “She was agreat believer in magic.Secretly she quite believedthatDickonworkedmagic,of

course good magic, oneverything near him and thatwaswhypeoplelikedhimsomuch and wild creaturesknewhewastheirfriend.”The excitement that this

ideagerminatedinmebackin1950 was to become theimpetus for a body of workencompassingmyentireadultlife. At the time I wasunaware I’d spend a lifetimeexamining and exploring this

idea of there being a solitarychamberwithin all ofus thatwhen nurtured and tested,gives us a power to live ourlives at extraordinary levels.In a universe that has noaccidents—a universe that isDivinely orchestrated—itseems clear to me that Mrs.Engels, my prescient fourth-grade teacher,was inmy lifeto awaken a passion withinmeforgoingwaybeyondthe

ordinary. This experienceopened my life to a passionfor greatness, for achievingmiracles, and for believingthat there are no limits towhat one can accomplish ifonetunesin to thepowersoftheinvisibleworldthatisourbirthright.Asaten-year-oldboyIwas

introduced to two ideas thatwere guideposts for thejourney that was to become

my destiny. The first is thatpeople will respond for thebenefitofallconcernedifyouspeak to them withconfidence and in anonjudgmental manner. Thesecond guidepost is thatthere’sasecretgardenwheremiracles and magic abound,and it’s available to anyonewhomakesthechoicetovisitthere.OfcourseIdidn’trealizeat

the time that those hourssitting and listening to TheSecretGardenwereinrealitymy grooming for a life’swork. Those were purelythrilling moments for me.When thebell rangandclasswas dismissed, all the wayhome I traipsed through myown secret garden. It was apassionthatwasignitedthen,and I still feel almost giddywhen I contemplate what all

of us are capable ofexperiencing when we allowourselves to reach our ownfullpotential.Years later as I read

Candide, Voltaire’s best-knownwork, IwasremindedofMrs. Engels’s class. Aftertraveling the world andseeing the worst ofhumankind,thetitlecharacterwryly explains at the end ofthis satirical tale that the

violenceandplunderofkingscould not compare with theproductiveandpeaceful livesof those who minded theirown business and cultivatedtheirowngarden.Every time I read this

passage from Voltaire I seethe ten-year-old boy I was,contemplating his own secretgarden and—unbeknownst tohim—setting the stage for alifetimeofencouragingothers

to eschew the ordinary lifeand truly tend to their owngarden.

I’m in a new school,Marquette Elementary, myfifthschoolinasmanyyears,

listening to Mrs. Cooper tellus—her fifth-grade students—that she’s quite hurt andupset by the way we arebehaving. She goes so far asto say that we’re the worstclassshe’severtaught.Sitting in the back of the

classroom I find myselfamused by her angryresponse. These thoughtsswirl through my head as Iwatch a grown woman lose

controlofherself:Howcouldsheallowthemisconductofagroup of children to be thesource of her discomfort?She’s the teacher, she’s theboss, she’s supposedly incharge of this room, and sheis allowing everyone else’sbehavior to get the best ofher. How could she possiblygive her power away to agroup of small children whoare only being unruly

because this class is soboring? I recognize that ourteacherisattemptingtomakeall of us behave through thetactic of trying to make usfeelguilty.And I realize thatI am not at all like the otherkidsinthewaythatIthink.InmymindIreturntoMrs.

Scarf’s home at 231Townhall Road in Mt.Clemens,Michigan—a fosterhomewhereIwaslivingless

than two years before.Manychildren arrived and leftduring the time my brotherDavidandIwerelivingthere,and I remember a younggirlnamed Martha hystericallycryingafterbeingdroppedoffby two adults. I overheardMrs. Scarf tell her husband,“GofindWayne;he’llbeabletomakehercalmdown.”I came into the room and

took Martha by the hand,

tellingherwhatagreatplacethis was and how much shewas going to enjoy livinghere. I found Dave and wetook her on a tour of thechicken coop, the cherry andpeach trees, and the garden.Then I took her over to myfavorite bush, where lilacswere blooming and lilies ofthevalleyweregrowingcloseto the ground. I gave her thetwo flowersandaskedher to

smell them and to thinkhappy thoughts—and rightbefore my eyes, Martha wastransformed into a cheerful,excitedplaymate.Nowintheclassroomwith

Mrs. Cooper, I think aboutwhat it felt like to miss mymother so much in thoseyears and how I had to lookafter my older brother, whowas frequently bullied bysome cruel children because

hewassmallforhisageasaresult of a serious anemicdisorder. I remember thatthrough all of those years Isimply used my thoughts toturnsadeventsintoblessings—andhere’sagrownwomanall bent out of shape over alittle bit of disruptive noise,notknowinghowtobehappyby imagining herself sniffingthe tantalizingly scrumptiousfragranceofalilacoralilyof

thevalley.Andshewantsmeto feel guilty over her owninability to find joy in everymoment?!I have a knowing within

myself thatnoneof theotherkids seem to have. It is soperfectly obvious to me thatnoonehastheabilitytomakemefeelbadorcajolemeintofeeling guilty over theirpowerlessness.Iamsoawarethat I am different. I know I

canchoosehowIamgoingtofeelatanymoment.Irestmyheadonmydesk,awarethatIcan choose peace rather thanwhatMrs.Cooperchoosesforherself.The class is dismissed and

we all head out to theplaygroundafterlunch.Sueisterribly upset because of thethingsthattheteachersaidtothe class and is crying withherfriendsJaniceandLuann.

Itseemsthatshefeelssingledout as one of the instigatorsof the incident that set Mrs.Cooperoff.IbegintotalktoSue,with

anunderstanding inmyheartthat I have the ability withinme to make her see thissituationforwhat it is, ratherthan what she imagines it tobe.“Whyareyousoupset?”Iask her. “Can’t you see thatshe is only trying to make

youfeelguilty?”“Because she was looking

right at me and saying howbadIwasandthatImadeherfeelbad.”“Why do you suppose she

wasdoingthis?”“Togetustobehave.”“Do you need her to feel

bad in order for you tobehave?”Iask.“No,Ijustdon’tlikeitthat

she is mad at me and thinks

I’mbad.”“What difference does it

make what she thinks ofyou?”“It makes me feel bad if

someoneismadatme.”“Isn’t her being mad her

problem?”Iwanttoknow.“Not if it’s my fault she

feelsbad.”“What if she told you that

you were a tree—would yoube a tree andwouldyou feel

bad because she thoughtthat?”“Of course not,” Sue

responds.I spend the recess period

getting Sue to realize thatMrs.Cooper is attempting tocontrolandmanipulateherbyplaying on her weakness. Iwant to help my fellowstudent realize that no onecanmakeherfeelbadwithouthergivingthempermissionto

doso.As we walk back into the

classroom Sue has a bit of asmile on her face, but inmyheart I know that she has alongway to go to learn howtobeindependentoftheneedforapproval.IalsoknowthatI have something withinmyself that gives me afreedom that the otherchildren don’t have. I knowthathowIfeelissomethingI

can choose in anycircumstance,andthatnoonecan take that away fromme,unlessIallowthemtodoso.Ialso know I can help othersfeel better by simply talkingcommonsensetothem.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Looking back at thatexperienceinthefifthgradeInow realize that I seemed tobe wired together in a waythat was unlike my peers.That day on the playgroundwith Janice, Luann, and Suehas always been stamped onmymind. Itwasonlyoneofmany similar occurrences inwhich I was almost able tostep back from what wastaking place and watch

myselfbehavinginwaysthatI had never seendemonstrated by any adults,let alone by 11-year-oldcontemporaries. At the time,itjustseemedlikethethingtodo. It made perfect sense tome to not let external thingsbothermeorimpedemefrommyownsenseofwell-being.From this vantage point it

issoobvioustomethatIwasactually in a kind of training

camp forbecominganactiveteacherofhigherspiritualandcommonsense principles. Iknowthat thisuniversehasacreative Source of energysupporting it that is literallythe matrix of all matter.Nothing occurs byhappenstance anywhere,becausethisuniversalmindisperpetually on call, goingabout its miraculous ways ina myriad of infinite

possibilities. Those innerthoughts of mine that wereprompting me to rely uponmyownmindandtohelpmyclassmates get past theirordinary ways of looking atthingswereapart andparcelof this universal Source’splan for me. Those earlyexperiences are still so vividinmymindtoday.This was my training

ground, and those were my

baby steps toward a lifetimeofteachingself-reliance.AsIlookbackatmyearliestdayshere on earth, I can see thatspendingthebetterpartofmyfirst decade in a series offosterhomeswasallapartofGod’s infallible plan forme.IfIwastospendmyadultlifeteaching, lecturing, andwriting on self-reliance, thenIobviouslyneededtolearntorelyuponmyselfand thusbe

in a position to never bedissuaded from thisawareness. What bettertraining ground for teachingself-reliance than an earlychildhood that required asense of independence and aneedforself-sufficiency?At the time, of course, I

wasn’t aware of all of thefuture implications that theseearly experiences were tooffer me. Now, from a

position of being able to seemuch more clearly, I knowthat every single encounter,every challenge, and everysituation are all spectacularthreads in the tapestry thatrepresents and defines mylife,andIamdeeplygratefulforallofit.

It’s a new school year atMarquetteElementary,whereI am beginning grade seven.

On the first day of schoolclassmate after classmateapproaches me, telling methatwehavetwonewtransferstudents in our class, andweshould shun them. I’mperplexed as they informmethat these new kids aresomehow different andtherefore undeserving of mycompanionship. Rather thanjudgingthesenewclassmates,I’m intrigued by what is so

threateningaboutthem.One of the new kids is a

boy named Guy, a transferstudent froma localCatholicschool, Our Lady Queen ofPeace. Apparently the factthat he’s from a Catholicschool,andhasbeeninsomekindof troubleat that schooland was kicked out, issufficient reason to boycottGuy from any possibility ofjoining in our seventh-grade

camaraderie. I hear most ofmy friends speak ill of thisboy.Theyhavenoknowledgeofhimwhatsoeverotherthana few rumors being bandiedabout—originunknown.I’mverymuchawarethatI

wield enormous influence onmy classmates. Mywillingness to speak upfearlessly endears me tothem. Thus, I know that if Ishun these new students,

they’ll indeed stay outsiders,but if I embrace them, theothers will fall in line andwelcomeratherthanostracizethem. This is a power I’vehadineveryschoolsituationIhavebeeninfor theprevioussevenyears.Theothernewstudent that

year is a girlwho lives rightdownthestreetfromme.HernameisRhodaandIhaveyetto speak with her. My

classmateskeepcominguptomeandwhispering,asiftheyweregivingmeforbiddenandtaintedinformationaboutthisnewgirlatourschool,“Don’ttalk to Rhoda; she’s a Jew.”ThisisawordIhaven’theardbefore, so I ask, “What’s aJew? What does it mean?What does she have thatmakes her so undesirable?”Notoneofmyclassmateshasan answer. They only know

they’ve been told somethingabout Jews somewhere bysomebody, and that meansthey can’t be friends withthem. They’re all willing toshunthisnewgirlbecauseofa label that’s somehowmadeheranoutcast.Rhoda lives a half block

frommeonMorossRoadonthe east side ofDetroit. ThatsameeveningIdecidetofindoutwhatallthefussisabout.

I knock on the door andRhoda’smothergreetsme;infact, she’s one of mycustomersonmypaperroute,where I deliver The DetroitNews every afternoon onmybicycle.IdiscoverthatRhodais just like the restofus,butthat she practices a differentsetofreligiousbeliefs.Having been exposed to a

variety of religiousexperiences in the foster

homes I lived in, beingProtestant, Catholic, Jewish,or anything else meansabsolutely nothing to me. Ihave already formed anopinion that the so-calledreligious teachings that I’vebeenexposedtosimplymakenosense.So,I’vejustignoredthe Sunday-school messageoffearandjudgmentandpaidnoattentiontoanyofit.Iseeno need for all of this

crazinessinmylife,andlongagodecidednottoparticipateinitbecauseeverytimeIwasrequired to go to church Iended up feeling worse forthe experience—and I want,more than anything, to feelgood.Rhoda’s family couldn’t

havebeenanynicer,andrightthen and there, I decide thatRhoda is going to be myfriendandwelcomedintoour

seventh-gradeclass.With my acceptance of

both Rhoda and Guy, theirtransition into a new schoolsetting is made smooth andboth of these kids areaccepted as a part of ourclassroom. The use of thewordJewasapejorativelabelishaltedalmost immediately.I am befuddled by thewillingnessofsomanyofmyfriends to judge someone on

thebasisofwhattheirparentshad told them about a wordthat they didn’t evenunderstand. Rather thanthinking for themselves, theyuse their minds to reflectwhatotherstellthemtothink.I am so lucky—I don’t

haveanyolderpeoplearoundme to tellmewho tohateorrejectorjudge.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

These two experienceswith Guy and Rhoda standout conspicuously as I lookbackatmyearlylifeandnowrealize that I was beingprepared for an adult life ofteaching compassion andtolerance, even though Iwasunaware of any such destiny

at the time. I didn’t feelspecial or more enlightenedthan anyone else—in fact, Iwas just one of the 30 or sostudents in the class—it justseemedlikethethingtodoatthetime.Icannowseequiteclearly

that I was being guided tobehave in these ways as ayoung boy. Divine guidancewas obviously directing theplaythatwasonlyinActOne

at thetime.IcannotsaywhyI assumed this kindof a roleintheearlystagesofmylife,other than to speculate that ahigher power was at workduring these formative years.While many of my friendsandacquaintanceswerequitewillingtouseepithetsofhate,I was innately offended bythat language and wouldbristleinsidewhenIheardit.Ididnotchoosetomakeabig

scene when such conductsurfaced. I knew inside, justlike when I dealt with thebully who was threateningmybrother, that fightingwasa waste of time and wouldaccomplish nothing. I hearddifferentvoicesinmyhead—inner proclamations thatencouraged me to be anexampleofwhatIknewtoberight.This theme of compassion

and kindness toward othershasbeenwithmesinceIwasa little boy. Perhaps itwas aleftover from a previous life.Perhapsitgrewfromfeelingsof early abandonment,whereinIwantedtogivelovebecauseoftheloveIfeltwasnot coming to me. But fromthis vantage point I see it asthe hand of Divineprovidence on my shoulderguiding me to behave in

compassionatewaysearlyon,inorderthatImightwriteandspeakabouttheimportanceofextendinglovetoallasapartofalifetimemission.However that spark of

motivationwas placed inmeback then, I want to expressmy deep and heartfeltappreciation for it. It has notonly brightened up my lifeimmeasurably,buthasbeenasourceofcomfortandhealing

for millions of peoplethroughouttheworld.

“WhenI’monTheTonightShow talking to Steve Allen,I’llbemuchmore interesting

than thepeoplewhowereonlastnight!”I’m having a conversation

with my mother and twobrothersearly in themorningbeforeshecatchesherbusforwork and we head out toschool. I am 14 years old in1954—watching Steve Allenalmost every night. I’m lostin fascination as I watch theshow, and I seemyself rightthere in the studio talking to

Steve and kibitzing with hiscast of nutty characters. Idon’t think I’ll be a guest—Iknowit.We have a small black-

and-white Admiral televisionset, the first TV in theneighborhood.Ontheroofofour small duplex at 20217Moross Road is an antennathat brings in reception—depending on how thewindsblow. To me this is the

absoluteheightofluxury,andIbecomeaddictedtomylate-nightentertainmentlongaftertherestofthehouseisasleep.I sit up close to this strangenewcontraptionandkeepthesound down as low aspossible, because my motherhas her alarm set for 5A.M.and I don’t want to disturbher … or have her discoverthat I am wide awake whileshethinksI’msoundasleep.

These nights watchingSteve Allen on The TonightShow are more than mereentertainment to me. In myimagination I merge myselfwith the entire show.Somehow I can see myselfnot only in the present, as aboysittinginmylivingroomwatching electronictransmissions, but I seemyselfinthefutureaswell.Ihave such an incredible

feelingofbeingconnected towhat I will be doing in thefuturethatonsomeoccasionsI look at the tiny screen andsee myself sitting on the setand talking to Steve as anadult.I cannot shake this image

—ever. I speak about it tovery few people, butsomehowIamable tomergethe present with the future,and these inner pictures

become my own privateworld. Probably this seemscrazy tomost others, but it’sveryreal tome. I seemyselfusing this little televisionscreen as a means forreachingandteachingpeople,not just in my city or mycountry,butalsointheentireworld.WhenIsharetheseimages

with my family and friendsthey largely scoff at my

naïveté,soIbegintopracticekeeping these inner picturesjust that: inneronly.And theknowing never leaves me,night after night, as I watchSteve Allen on The TonightShow.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Fast-forwardto1976.Ihadpublished my first book forthe public, titled YourErroneous Zones. I wasembarkingonanationaltour,largely at my own expense,visiting city after city doingasmanymediainterviewsasIcould arrange. Being that Iwas an unknownpersonality,every request that was madefor me to do a nationaltelevision spot was firmly

rejected. And so I decidedthat the other way to reacheveryone in America was togotothemdirectly.Ipackedmybooksup,and

with my nine-year-olddaughter, Tracy, spent manymonths on the road. I didevery interview that mypersonal friend and publicist,Donna Gould, was able toarrange. Finally, in August Ireceived a call from a man

who worked as a talentcoordinator for The TonightShow Starring JohnnyCarson. His name wasHoward Papush, and he hadjust read Your ErroneousZonesandwanted toknowifI’dbewillingtocomeinforapreinterview for a possibleappearance on The TonightShow. I of courseimmediately accepted andarrived in Burbank,

California, at the NBCstudios. Here Howard and Ispoke for several hours andultimately became closefriends.A couple of days later I

received a call fromHowardinforming me that I wasscheduled to appear thefollowing Monday eveningon The Tonight Show withguest host Shecky Greene, acomedian who frequently

performedontheStripinLasVegas. This would be myfirst opportunity to speak tothe people of America aboutthemessageIwantedtosharewith the world in YourErroneous Zones. I wasecstatic—thrilled beyondanything I might write heretoday. Iwas scheduled to bethelastguest,inwhatinthosedayswascalledthe“author’sspot,” inthefinal15minutes

of the90-minute show,and Iwould be airing at 12:45A.M.The evening that the show

was being taped, as I wasushered tomydressing roomIpassedabankofpayphones—and there, completing acall,wasnoneotherthanMr.Steve Allen, who wasscheduled to be the firstguest. I introducedmyself toSteve and walked to my

dressing room in a cloud ofamazement. I am going toappearonnational televisionwith the man I have soadmired since I was a 14-year-oldboy!The show finished being

taped at around 6 P.M., andmy segment with SheckyGreene went extremely well.Sheckywasengaging, funny,and managed to get me torelaxandsoundcoherentand

interesting.I headed out to LAX in a

state of pure delirium. As IwasabouttogetontheplaneI heard my name broadcastover the PA system, tellingmethatIhadanurgentcall.Ifound a phone, and it wasHoward calling to give mesome bad news. For the firsttime in the history of TheTonight Show it had beenpreempted because at the

Republican NationalConvention in Kansas City,thevice-presidentialnominee,Bob Dole, went beyond hisallotted timeandNBCdidn’tcut away—so my one andonly national televisionappearance had been wipedaway. Iwent from blissed topissedinaninstant!The next day, Tuesday,

Howard calledme in DetroittotellmethatJohnnyCarson

wouldliketohavemeontheshow the following night,Wednesday. It turns out thatin the Tuesday-morningmeeting Johnny was toldaboutthisnewguestwhowasfabulous the night before,even though theshowwasn’taired.I received a plane ticket

back to Los Angeles, toappear with Johnny onWednesday night. However,

because the show ran longwith Johnny talking withOrson Welles and RobertBlake, there was very littletime left for me. So Johnnysaid to me on the air, “I’msorry we ran long tonight.Wouldyoubewillingtostayover and do the show againonFriday,andwe’llgiveyoumore time than you hadtonight?” I said yes andappeared again with Johnny

onFridaynight—thenon thefollowingMondaynight,theyaired the show that hadpreempted the week beforewithSheckyGreene!I suddenlywent from zero

national TV appearances tothree Tonight Show spots infive days. This marked thebeginning of a string of 37Tonight Show appearancesover the next two years, aswell as regular spots on The

MervGriffinShow;TheMikeDouglas Show; The PhilDonahue Show; DinahShore’ssyndicatedtalkshow,Dinah!; The John DavidsonShow;theTodayshow;GoodMorningAmerica;andsoon.As I walked past that

phone bank and saw that Iwas about to be making anappearance with Steve AllenonTheTonightShowIhadanimmediate and almost

overpowering sensationwithinme that I had actuallycreated my own future byhavingsuchastrongknowingbackwhen Iwas14yearsofage.Infact,Iamquitecertainthat time itself ismuchmoreof an illusion than we arecapableofunderstandingwithourbody-mind.Perhaps my knowing back

in1954wasonepossibilityofafutureeventbeingpresentat

what I now think of as thepast.Butiftimeisanillusionand oneness is what trulydefines our experience, thenthe idea of past and futuremustalsobeanillusion.Andif this seems wacky andundecipherable to you, at itoften does to me, then justconsider your dream state.Here you can fly; your long-dead grandparents are alive;and you are able to be a

youngchild,anolderperson,or any age you desire if youplace your attention on it.Considerthatforone-thirdofyour life, you are in anontime dimension andeverything is possible, andthe only way you know forcertain that you weredreaming is to awaken andlookbackatit.From a more awakened

perspectiveinmylifetoday,I

look back at my 14-year-oldself who had an innerknowing, which became anintention that connected tothe all-knowing, all-creatingDivinemindandallowedmetobecomewhatIwasplacingmy awareness on, just like Idoinmydreamstate.Thisishow powerful I believe ourthoughts and intentions are,throughoutourlives.I see now, from a clearer

perspective, that everymoment of our existenceholds an infinite number ofpossibilities. The strongestknowing within us aboutwhat we are going to do orbecome is actually beinglivedoutrightthenandthere,even though we haven’t yetexperienced it in oureveryday reality. A thoughtthat persists is a thought thatis aligned with the Divine

mind, and becomes a realityinwhatwecallthefuture,butis actually a part of theoneness that is just that: one.No division; just oneexperience,whichisnow.Remember—everything

that happened to you in thepast actuallyhappened in thenow, and likewise for thefuture. Everything you willever experience will alsohappen now.Yes, now is all

there is, andwhen I sawandfelt myself on The TonightShow with Steve Allen in1954, it was a nowexperience just waiting toshowup.Ithadto.Therewasno possibility of it notshowingup,sinceIhadsuchaknowingaboutit.What I know from this

vantage point is thatwheneverIhavethatabsoluteknowing within me that

something is going totranspire, I sense that I haveguidance available fromascended masters, who areworkingwithmeandsteeringthe ship of my life in thedirection that’sbeenmyownpersonal dharma from themomentIincarnatedintothislifetime.With this awarenessI’m convinced that I havebeen in some kind ofascended-master training

course from the verybeginning, and that theseknowings that were sopersuasive to me as a youngboy were actually a part ofthat training regimen. Past—present—future in a timelessdimension are simply alloccurring at the same time,even if our time-baseddimensionseesitotherwise.Today I know that I have

spiritual guidance with me,

directing me on a path ofliving and teaching God-realization. I have no reasonto doubt that this sameangelic assistance was withmeback in1954when I sawmyselfinthefuture.Thereseemstohavebeena

fundamental truth at workback in1976 that hasguidedmethroughoutmyentirelife.As I look back onwhat wastaking place as I was self-

promoting Your ErroneousZones, I never once felt anyfrustrationbecause I couldn’tgarner any appearances onnational television. I simplydecided to go to as manycitiesaspossibleand takeonwhatever local offerings Icould generate, and I wouldleave the rest up towhateverhigher powerswere directingmyefforts.AndasIfollowedmyowninnercallings,allthe

while having the time ofmylife,outofthatconsciousnesscame three appearances onthe most prestigious nationalTV show within five days,and a launch into nationalprominencefortherestofmyprofessionallifetime.Iwasn’tchasing success—I waspursuing my own innervision.Thisisallwrappedupina

quote that I have citedmany

times, which was writtenback in the 19th century byone of the most influentialspiritualmastersevertogracemy path. His name is HenryDavidThoreau,andhiswordshave always rung sharply inmy consciousness: “If oneadvances confidently in thedirection of his dreams, andendeavors to live the lifewhich he has imagined, hewill meet with a success

unexpected in commonhours.”I can see clearly now that

this wisdom was operatingovertime in my life. It surewas unexpected and beyondanything I had even dared tocontemplate.Iwasadvancingconfidentlyinthedirectionofmy own personal dream andlivingthelifeIhadimaginedfor myself —and lovingevery minute of it. I let

success chase me, which ithas been doing ever since.TheonethingIamcertainofisthatIcancontrolwhatgoesinto my imagination, and Isimply have allowed anysuccessI’veenjoyedtocometome.At the point when three

TonightShow appearances infive days showed up, I hadalready resigned from a full-timepositionasaprofessorat

amajoruniversityinordertogointotheworldonmyownand speak to whoever wouldlisten. Truly the words ofThoreauresonatedwithmeasI followed my dream andallowed the universe tohandlethedetails.

I’m bicycling round andround the block, trying toavoidwalking into the chaos

inmyhouse.Lifeathomeinmy 15th year is filled withconfusion, and growingworsebytheday.My mother works as a

secretary for the ChryslerCorporationandishardputtomake enough money tosupport her three boys, sinceherhusbandhasnointerestindoingmuchofanythingotherthan drinking and makingviolent outbursts. She has

finallydecidedthatenoughisenough and filed papers fordivorce from Bill Drury—she’s going to bring somelong-desired peace andtranquility to our home, andalso change her last namebacktothesamenameasmyown.Mystepfather’sdrinkingis

getting way out of hand,erupting into the commonverbal onslaught used by

most drunks: aggressive,loud, fast, angry ranting. Hepicks on me for anything hecan find to beupsetwithmeabout—anything at all. Sonow I’m riding my bikewaitingforhimtogetintohisblack 1954 Chevrolet anddriveoff to thebar.Myhighschool guidance counselor’swords are fresh in my mindas I pedal around the block:“Iwantyourmother tocome

into school and talkwith theprincipal.Until then, you aresuspended.”Mr.Cutterispunishingme

because I refused to fill outstudent personnel forms inthe proper fashion. When Icametothelinethataskedforthe names of my parents, Iwas confused about what toinsert in that space. Should Iwrite in the name of mystepfather, or my own father

whom I’ve never seen? AndhowdoIexplainmymother’simpending name change? Ifeltviolated—Ididn’twanttoput anything in these formsthat would make my motherlookbad,andIdislikedbeingasked for personalinformationaboutmyfamily.So I wrote in big lettersacross the form: THAT’SMYBUSINESS.Asa result,Mr.Cuttersuspendedmeand

demanded that my motherlose a day’s work and takethree buses to have aconferencewiththeprincipal,Mr.IrwinWolf.For three days I cannot

participate in any schoolactivities; instead, I get to siton a bench in the principal’soffice. At least there’s aninteresting book on theparolees’ bench, placed therepresumably in the hope of

changing the waywardmalcontents who aresentencedtositinthisspot.I’m readmitted to school

after my mother explains tothe principal and Mr. CutterthatI’mtryingtoprotecther,andpromisesthatI’llcontainmy antipathy for filling outforms and treat theregistration process eachsemester with respect.Nothing is said to me about

what prompts my angertoward school regulations.Buried deep is the pain ofliving with “outrageousfortune” in the form ofalcoholism, along with theprospectofanother imminentfamilybreakupandthefearIhave of being sent back tofoster care and losing dailycontactwithmymotheronceagain.

It’safewmonthslater,andmy tenth-grade biologyteacherhas informedme thatI must make a scrapbook ofthe various leaves in theneighborhood and turn it inbefore the end of thesemester. I won’t get apassing grade and will haveto retake biology if I don’tcomply.

I am 15 years of age andnot taking school veryseriously.Themostimportantthingtomeatthistimeinmylifeismyjob,whichisprettymuch a full-time thing. Iwork as an assistantmanager/cashier/producemanager/butcher/whateverelse is needed at Stahl’smarket, a small independentstore that caters to the localpopulation.Igiveaportionof

myearningstomymother,asdomy twobrothers,whoarealso working very hard attheir jobs and flounderingwhenitcomestobeingstellarstudents.One of the girls in my

biology class, Mary JoMercurio, has offered to dotheleafcollectionforme,justsoIdon’thavetogothroughthe ignominy of failingbiology for no sensible

reason. I refuse—it’sbecomeamoral issue withme. I amnot a troublemaker in anysense of the word. But thereis something inside me thatreacts strongly, almostviolently,totheideaofdoingfrivolousbusyworktasks,anddoingthembecauseeveryoneelse simply goes along andnever questions the authorityfigures.I’m very frustrated with

my biology teacher’sintransigence on this matterof gathering and pastingleaves into a scrapbooksimply because everyone hasalways done it. I plead withhim—but to no avail. Hemaintains his stance of: Dothe leaf collection or fail thecourse,eventhoughyouhavehigh grades on all yourschoolwork and havedemonstrated that you know

thedifferencebetween leavesproduced by oak, elm, andevergreentrees.Myfrustrationgetsthebest

of me, and I speak outforcefully, “This is just sostupid.Ihaveafull-timejob,and I don’t have the time todo such a silly assignment.I’mnotgoingtodoit.”BackIgototheprincipal’s

office, to sit on delinquents’row. Imust once again have

my mother leave work andcome to a secondappointment with Mr. Wolf,so she can hear why myinsolencecannotandwillnotbetolerated.As I sit there, I see the

same book that caught myeyeafewmonthsbefore.ThebookisapaperbackeditionofWalden, by Henry DavidThoreau.The last time Iwashere I just thumbed through

the pages—now, as I sit onthe long bench awaiting myappointment with justice formy failure to be just likeeverybody else, I decide toreadtheentirething.Ilovethisman’swriting!I

become totally engrossed inThoreau’s stream-of-consciousness style as hedescribeshowitfelttoliveinthe wilderness and learnabout life by listening and

being content in nature. Myrefusal to participate in whatseems to me to be foolishconformity for sake ofconformityisstrengthenedbyreading Walden whileawaiting disciplinary action.Admittedly, I’m slightlyskepticalaboutthestanceI’mtaking, because followingthrough with it meansattending summer school andretakingbiology.

Icometoschooleverydayand head for the varnishedbench in the principal’soffice, where I continuereadingThoreau’s accountofhis time living in theMassachusetts wilderness. Ialso dream of livingpeacefully in nature andhavingnosillyrulesimposedupon me. I am lost in hiswords and all that he learnsfromthemysteriousforcesof

nature.Idecidethatthisman,writing one hundred or soyearsago,ismyhero.Ilearnthathewenttojailratherthanpay taxes to a governmentthat allowed slavery andparticipated in the horrors ofthe Mexican-American War.He is a rebel, urging againstfoolish laws and immoralbehaviortowardothers.I am so grateful for

whoeverleftthistreasureand

forallofthewisdompouringforth from this man, whothinkslikeIdo—somethingIhave never encounteredpreviouslyinmylife.When I finish reading

Walden,Ifindanessayinthebackofthebooktitled“CivilDisobedience.” I have onemore day left to sit on thebench in the principal’soffice,soIcommittoreadingthis essay. I am beyond

excited—I am flabbergasted!This man is writing directlytomyheart.Theentireessayis written around the centralidea that every person hasbotharightandanobligationto follow their conscience—especially when burdensomeand foolish rules are forcedupon them by governmentauthority.I feel as if I’ve found a

literary soul mate—a man I

canrespect.Thoreaulivedouthis ideas and was evenwillingtobejailedratherthanpay a poll tax in hishometown of Concord,Massachusetts. I make adecision that one day I willvisit Concord and immersemyselfinthesameworldthatproduces people who havesuch a revolutionary way ofthinking.I’m assuming that the

schoolofficials,whosuppliedthisbooktometoreadwhileinlimbo,wantedmetoapplytheprinciplesIwasreading.IamexcitedtoshareThoreau’sideas with Mr. Wolf intomorrow’s scheduledconferencewithmymother.Ifeel I’m not so weird sittinghere for the second timeawaiting my punishment forthe crime of believing inmyself, and being willing to

standupforwhatIbelieve.Ifeel good about this adviceregarding the importance ofobeying my own conscienceand practicing civildisobedience.My mother arrives,

obviously annoyed at havingto take time off work foranothermeetingattheschool.By this time I’ve lived withher for fiveyears, so shehasa pretty good idea that her

son Wayne is not like mostother kids when it comes toobeying silly rules and beingtold how to live his life. Shetrusts in my ability to makemy own decisions, largelybecausethat’swhatI’vedoneever since Iwas a very littleboy.In this second visit with

Mr. Wolf I show him whatI’ve been reading the pastweekwhileawaitingmyfate:

“Must the citizen ever for amoment, or in the leastdegree, resign his conscienceto the legislator? Why haseverymanaconsciencethen?Ithinkthatweshouldbemenfirst, and subjects afterward.…TheonlyobligationwhichIhavearighttoassumeistodo at any time what I thinkright.”Mymother,blessherheart,

backs up the position I’ve

taken, just as she did a fewmonths before when sheexplained why I’d taken theextreme position of refusingto fill out amyriad of formsthatmightmakeherlookbad.Iwillbeattendingsummer

school,but Iamunbowed—Iamsodeeplygrateful for thedays I was suspended fromschool,readingthewordsofamanwhoistobecomeoneofthemostinfluentialpeoplein

my life. I look forward totakingbiologyagaininjustafewweeks.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Theeventsdescribedaboveare the two most significantthings that happened to meduringmyentirefouryearsof

highschool.Ilookbackattheinner rage I felt over havingto fill out forms and revealfamilydiscordthatIpreferredtokeepprivate, andcannowsee the wealth of benefits Ireceived. That experiencesingularlyhelpedmebecomea better parent to my eightchildren whenever they ranafoul of any schoolregulations. I could thinkback to my encounters with

rules and regulations thatdidn’t seem to make muchsense to me, and haveempathy for my children’sfrustrations.Iunderstoodasavery young boy that toblindly follow rules justbecause they’re rules is tolose control over yourwholelife.Icannowseethatmyearly

encounters as an adolescentinhighschoolwiththosewho

attempted to get me toconform were placed beforeme so that Imightwrite andspeakaboutahigher formofconsciousness. Much later inlife, Ibegan to liveasamanwho respects the wisdom oftheTaoTeChing,writtenbyLao-tzuinthe5thcenturyB.C.I discovered the higher formof consciousness revealed inthe Tao. This philosophydeclares that when the

greatnessof theTao(God)ispresent, action arises fromone’s heart; and when thegreatness of the Tao is notpresent,actionarisesfromtherules—a sure sign that virtueisabsent.My early entanglements

withhavingtolivebyasetofrules,whichoften seemed sounnecessary,were the fodderthat allowedme towrite andspeak on the importance of

self-reliance. Had I been ayoungpersonwhosimplyfellintolineanddidwhathewastold without questioningauthorityorthereasonfortherules in the first place, I’dhave a very different-lookingrésumé today. Within methere’s something Icallmy Iam presence, which is myconnection to my Source ofbeing—theTao,Divinemind,God, Allah, Krishna, Christ

consciousness, it doesn’tmatter the name. This I ampresence is something thatspeaksveryloudlytome,anditalwayshas.Itneverletsmedown, although there aretimes when listening to itsinner pleadings forces me toface once again what appeartobetheslingsandarrowsofoutrageous fortune, but arereally the great lessons Iincarnatedtolearn.

The I am presence withinmeisexceedinglypersuasive,and it was already this waywhen I was a young boy. Ijust couldn’t be one of theherd,andwhenIsawherdlikebehavior I railedagainst it ina much more ego-involvedway than Ido today. Iwasabit too loud back then—drawing some unwantedattentiontomyselftobesure!I can see clearly today that

the inner provocations that Iexperienced in high schoolwere my earlier callings toteach others not to bevoluntarily victimized bygroupthinkmentality.ThesummerItookbiology

forthesecondtimeturnedoutto be another memorableexperienceofmyhighschoolyears. My new teacher, awoman in her 30s namedOliveFletcher,wasoneofthe

best teachers I ever had—anywhere. She took the timetogettoknowmeasayoungmanwhohadallthispotentialbut was filled to the brimwithconfusionandheartache.She tookmebowling—Iwasbowled over! Here was ateacher who cared andwanted to spend time talkingwith me, rather than at me.Mrs. Fletcher gotme to lookwithin and to treasurewhat I

foundthere.HadIgonealongwith my original biologyteacherandthrowntogetheraleaf collection, Imight neverhave had the opportunity toknowacompassionate,caringteacher whomodeled formethekindofpracticesI’dadoptwhen I became a teachermyself.The grandest irony of this

story is that 16 years later, Ihad just completed my

doctoral studies and wasgiven a position as a guestprofessor. I was teaching acourse in the College ofEducation that was arequirement for graduatestudentswhowere practicingteachers and would like tobecome schooladministrators. There on myroster sheet was a familiarname. The same man whogave me a failing grade in

biology was enrolled in thecourse that I was teaching!There are no accidents. Ienjoyed imagining that I’dsend him to Australia tocompletehisleafcollection—a course requirement. Inreality I nevermentioned theincident from high school,and I don’t think he evenrememberedit.I am ever so grateful for

whatever Divine intervention

was so moved as to place acopyofThoreau’sWalden inthe principal’s office when Iwas just 15 years of age. Ican’t explainwhy thisman’swords rang so true forme inmy earliest years in highschool, but it was thebeginning of a lifelong loveaffair with this 19th-centuryAmerican philosopher whoonly published two books inhislifetime.

Over the years, I’ve mademany visits to the homes ofboth Ralph Waldo EmersonandHenryDavid Thoreau inConcord, Massachusetts. Infact, I was so moved at theThoreauLyceumononevisitthatIpersuadedthecuratorofthemuseum,whichoncewasThoreau’sstudyandhome,toallowme to lie down on hisbedandsitat thedeskwherehe wrote the essay on civil

disobedience that so movedmeasateenager.From my perspective here

today, I can see quite clearlythat Emerson and Thoreauhave been angelic lookoutsfor me through most of myadult life—their words likebeacons of light in a cloudyworld.Ifirstbecameawareoftheir messages oftransformation and higherawareness when I was a

young boy sitting in theprincipal’soffice,but Iknewthen that something magicalwas being ushered into mylife.I had chills insideme as I

entered that conference withmy mother and Mr. Wolf,becauseIhadanally—anallythat the school officialsendorsed! Why else wouldthey leave thatbook there soconspicuously forme to read

atatimethatclearlycriedoutfor some kind of civildisobedience? I felt thepresenceofThoreauwithmethen, and he’s here with menow as I relate to you howpowerful the earlytranscendentalistswereinmyteenage life—and still aretoday.It seemsclear tome today

that thisgiantof independentthoughtwastherewithmeas

Iwasformingmemesofself-reliance during myadolescence. He was therewith me when I went to hishome,layinhisbed,satathisdesk, and meditated in hispersonal lair; and he wastherewithmeasIrecordedaPBSspecialinhishometown.He’swithmenowasIwrite,reminding me that we arenever alone and that we cancallinthespiritualessenceof

any teacher who has everbreathed a breath on thisplanet, and fulfill our owndestinywiththeirassistance.I see clearly that my

teenageresistancebecamethebasis for the unstoppableenergy I feel within me andthat itwasmywayofsayingYes!toacallingtobecomeaninternational teacher on self-reliance and higherawareness. The great Tao

(God) works in mysteriousways, and who’s to say thatThoreau himself didn’tintervene in my adolescentlifeandputmeonapaththatIcontinuetotravel….

I’mspeakingtoMrs.OliveFletcher, my former biologyteacher,whogavemeanAin

the same course I’dpreviously failed due to anirresistible force meeting animmovable object and myhaving to give in. I tell her,“I’m going to write my ownnovel thisyear. IknowIcanwrite,andIhaveanideaforabookthatIwanttotryout.”I’m fascinated by the idea

of extraordinaryconsciousness. In my mindit’s a level of awareness that

allows for instantaneousmanifestation, telepathiccommunication, self-healing,and extraordinary powers tocommunicate with angelicbeings. I envision a fictionalcharacterwhopossessestheseotherworldly qualities. He’sachieved Divine God-realizationandhasa jobasapaleontologist on anarcheologicaldig. Inamemybook The Anomalous

Compatriot, and everyeveningIsneakofftoaquietspotandletmyfantasiespourforth. My handwritten tomegrows, and I secretly stash itawayinbigbrownpaperbagsinthesmallatticofourhome.Ilovethesesubdued,hidden-away moments where Iescape into the fictionalcharacterizationsIcreate.I love reading and am

alwaysinthemiddleofanew

book. Most of my friendsdetest reading and neverconsiderwritingassomethingthey might do as anoccupation. Plainly, to theirwayofthinking,writingisfornerdsandsissies.In English class each

student has a manila folderfor book reports on theirreading during the semester.Themorereports, themoreastudent is thought of as a

burgeoning scholar. WhenI’mshortof cash Iwrite andsell book reports at 25 centsapiece to supplement myincome. If thegradereceivedislowerthanaB, Idon’taskfor payment. I work as awriter now and thus feelconfident that I have writingability —I’ve tested that outintherealworldofprofitandloss!Iwrite on any subject and

often think of my writing asautomatic writing. My handmovesacross thepage,but itisn’t actually me doing thewriting. It’s a kind ofconnection with an invisiblepartofmethatoccurswhenIsit down with purple pen inhand and allow the words toformonthepaperbeneathmymovingfingers.Ifeelmostathome when I have a writingassignment.Iloveessaytests,

knowing that my writingabilities will help me toovercome lapses I may haveon the material I am writingabout.Mywritingislikehavinga

friendwithmeat all times. IlovemyspacewhereIescapeeach day to bring mycharacters to life, though thestory is becoming lessimportant—it’s just theopportunity to sit in a sacred

space with a blank piece ofpaper staringbackatme thatI so enjoy. When I take thetime towrite onmy novel, Ithinktomyself,WritingisnotsomethingthatIdo.ItiswhatIam. I like the feelof it andsaying and remembering, Iam writing. What brings methe greatest sense ofaccomplishment is feelingalignedwithwhatIamontheplanet for in the first place.

That’swhatwritingistome.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

I still retreat frequently tomy writing space, as I havedone for well over 45 years,and I feel safe and closest tomySourceofbeingwhenI’msurrounded by personal

photos and memorabilia inwhat I refer to asmy sacredwritingspace.I was aware even in my

teenage years that writingwould play a big role in mylife. I came alive inside as IreadThoreauandEmersoninhighschool,andIhadsuchafeeling of completeness andofdoingwhatIwassenttodowhile writing my novel, aswell as a collection of

personal essays with topicslike, “AvoidingGroupthink,”“All Things Are Possible,”and “How to Really KnowGod,andLiveForever.”Thiswasahobbyasayoungmanthat I happily added to ascheduledfull-time jobandafull-time high schoolcurriculum.I knew as I wrote book-

report summaries for myfriendsforpaymentthatIhad

something special going on.When I wrote essays onsubjects that refused to quietdown in my thoughts, thefeedback I received was avariation on, “You shouldreally consider writing.” Ioften heard that I had awayofputtingthingsonpaperthatmadesense.As I went on to the Navy

and then to college, I mostenjoyedthatmywritinggave

me a kind of confirmationthat I didn’t need anythingoutside ofmyself in order tomake a living. I lovedknowing that I carriedwhatever tools I needed toultimately becomecompletely self-sufficient. Iwantedtonothavetogotoaworkplaceandbetoldwhattodo and how to think—Iwanted to listen to my innervoices and write what I

thought about in my ownway, and know that I couldearn a living without all oftheonerousrequirementsthatseemed to come with beinganemployee.Iwasalreadyanemployee,

many weeks working wellover 40 hours, and I didn’tfeel free. But when I wroteandpeoplepaidme,orwhenI finished a chapter in mybookandrealizedthatIcould

sell my novel and anythingelse Iwrote, I feltas if Ihadbeen invited to sit on God’slap and just say what Iwantedtosayandbepaidforitasmybonus!IcanseenowthatIwasdestinedtohavenobosses, no judges, noemployers,norules,onlymyowninnercallings.I look back on my early

writing times and the innerawareness that spoke loudly

tomeofthefreedomIwouldone day know. By followingmy instincts and my goodfeelings that always arosewhen I tookpen inhandanddeclaredmyselftobeawriter—even if no one else yetsharedinthesameopinion—Iwas following my soul’scalling.ItwasenoughformetoclaimitanddeclaremyselftobeanexpertonwhatIfeltsopassionateabout.

“Ihateyou somuch.Howcould you simplywalk awayfromyourchildrenandnever

makeaphonecalltoseeifweare okay? I want to smashyourfaceinIamsoangryatyou!”Atnighttimemyangerand

pain erupt in dreams of mescreaming at my father. Iawakenalmosteverymorningin a cold sweat after thesenightly encounters. I dreamthat I’m in a state of ragewhenIseehim,andIdemandanswers.ThismanI’venever

seen in waking life remainsdistant and disinterested,unbothered by anything Imightbesayingtohiminmydreamstate.Even though I have no

memory of this man, and Iknow the stories about hismistreatment of my motherand my grandparents, I’mperplexed by his continuedindifference toward the threechildren that he left some15

years ago. I’ve heard storiesof his stealing jewelry frommy grandmother, spendingtime in prison for theft, andrefusing to work to supporthis family—along with hisconstant womanizing,drinking,andsexualviolence.Most egregiously, he simplywalkedoutofourlives,nevermaking a phone call to seehow his three childrenmightbe doing ormaking good on

the paltry sum of money hewas supposed to provide forchild support. No, MelvinLyleDyersimplydisappearedandneveroncelookedback.I’m now living with my

brothers and our mother, asBill Drury has finallydeparted the roost. Jim andDave are not interested infinding and confronting ourfather, but I am. My nightlydreams reveal a young man

deeply conflicted by hisfather’sabandonment.Itrytoget my mother to describehim, but she refuses—excepttosaythathewasanabsoluteasshole, a fast-talking conman, stealing moneywherever he went, andrefusing to take on theresponsibilitiesoffatherhood.She recalls one job he had:selling brooms and brushesdoor-to-door for an agency

for the blind. When heneglected to turn in themoney he collected, he wasfired.Although my mother has

nothingpositive to say aboutthis man who’s my father, Iwant to know him. Myindignation and rage insistthatIconfronthimandasktohear his side of the story. Ithink about him every day,imagining that I’ll

accidentallyrunintohimandhave a long conversationaboutwhatmotivated him toleave a beautifulwoman andthreelittleboysundertheageof five. Iwant toknow if heeven knew me or had anyfeelings of love for this littleboywho is fast growing intomanhood.I attempt to locate him so

that we can talk. I makephonecallstorelativesofhis

andpickupafewcluesastohis whereabouts (someplacein the Deep South), but Inever make contact. I havethisfantasythatIamgoingtofinallymeet thismanwhosomysteriously walked out ofmylife,andthatwearegoingto resolve these internalissues I have concerningbeingabandoned.Iaskquestionsincessantly,

andIcanseethatmymother

is very threatened by myinquisitiveness about myfather.Mybrothersdon’taskand simply don’t want toknow anymore. Maybe myoldest brother, Jim,remembers some of ourfather’s abusive actionstowardourmotherandusandthat explains his disinterest.Perhaps he simply wants toputitallbehindhim.My mother has so much

obvious hatred toward himthatmyquestionsareusuallymet with, “He was no good,and you are better off notknowing him.” I stoppursuing my curiosity abouthim with her, but my soullongstoknowmore:totalktohim, to hear his viewpointsand explanations, to maybeeven find out that he reallydid love me even though hechose to stay away. I often

think that maybe he made anoble choice to stay away,knowing in his heart that hispresenceinmylifewouldnotbe in my own best interest,and that his departure was aselfless rather than a selfishchoice.Atanyrate,theabsenceof

afatherinmylifeishugeforme as a teenager. I amcurious;Iwantdesperatelytofindhim.AndthebitternessI

feel grows into a furor thatmanifests in the frenzieddreams of violence I expresstoward him inmy slumber. Imake a vow to myself that,even though everyone in myimmediate family feels that Ishould just drop the matterandbegrateful that this loserof aman is out ofmy life, Iamgoing tochasehimdownandonedaytalktohimman-to-man to get the answers I

desire. I am not satisfied tojust “let it go,” as thosearoundmeareurging.Iwanttomeethim.Iwanttohearitfromhimdirectly.IwanthimtoknowthatIexistand,yes,Iso very much want him toloveme.On Valentine’s Day 1956,

our telephone rings on ourparty lineatTUxedo1-5942.An aunt I’ve never met oreven heard of is calling.Her

name is Audrey, and I learnthat she is my father’s half-sister. She tells me that mygrandmother Norah MabelWilhelm died that morning,andthatmytwobrothersandI have been asked to bepallbearers at this woman’sfuneral. I didn’t know myfather’s mother had beenalive, I’ve never even heardher name mentioned, but Iinstantlysayyes.

My decision is not basedonmydesiretopaytributetoa grandmother I never knew—my heart is racing at theprospectoffinallybeingableto meet my father. Surelyhe’llbethereatthefuneralofhisownmother,andwon’tbeable to hide from me anylonger.I am a few weeks shy of

turning 16 and have mylearner’s permit, which

allows me to drive ifaccompanied by an olderlicensed driver. Jim, also apallbearerdesignee,agreestolet me drive his car over tothe west side of Detroit to ahome filled with strangers. Iam here for one reason andonereasononly:Iwanttoseethis man who is my father.Buthe isn’t there.There is afuneral service at a church,but no Melvin Lyle Dyer.

Thenwemakeashort trip toa cemetery, where I helpcarry the coffin of a womanwho is my grandmother, themotherofmyfather,thoughastranger to me. No MelvinLyleDyeratthecemetery.We all return to the west-

side home, the residence ofmy deceased grandmother.I’mburstingwithexcitement,certain that my long-absentfather will surface. As we

reenterthishomeforabuffetdinner,atruckpullsuptothehouse and delivers a fewpaltry flowers with a note.WeareallinformedthatLyleisdownsouth inAlabamaorMississippi and unable to beat this final commemorationofhismother’slife.I am crestfallen. Once

again my father comes upmissing. An assortment ofcousinsandauntsthatIdidn’t

know I was related to makeexcuses forLyle.He’s afraidto show up, I’m told—probably because he’s afraidthatmymotherwillhavehimthrownbackinjailforoveradecade of unpaid court-ordered child-supportpayments.I wonder what I’m doing

hereatthismemorialservice,and I urge my brothers toleave.Yet beforewe can get

away, a cousin namedDorothy says that my fatherhadseveralwivesafterheleftmymother,includingayounggirl he picked up hitchhikingin a place calledBloomingrose,WestVirginia;and before that a womannamed Juanita, a nurse whonowlivesinSandusky,Ohio.I take note, say good-bye tothese unknown relatives, andrealizefortheumpteenthtime

that this man has no interestingetting toknowmeormybrothers. Even his ownmother’s funeral is notenoughofa lure tohavehimmake an appearance in mylife.Iamnowmoredetermined

than ever that I am going tohave that face-to-facemeetingwithmyfather,andIhaveafairlygoodideaaboutwhere he might be living. I

remain uncertainwhy I’m soobsessed with finding thisman who obviously wantsnothing todowithmeormybrothers—but I am full ofresolve.After I turn 16, I purchase

a 1950 Plymouth with $200I’ve saved. I make plans todrivedowntoBooneCounty,West Virginia, and pay asurprisevisittomyfatherandthe young hitchhiker I’d

heard he’d married. Assummer-vacation timearrives, my boss at Stahl’smarket, where I have beenworking for threeyears, asksme to work full-time allsummerasassistantmanager,whichincludesclosingupthestore and handling the day’sreceipts. This opportunity,coupled with the expense ofowning and insuring a car,andmydesire tobewithmy

new girlfriend, lead me topostpone my trip. I decideinsteadtolookfortheex-wifenamed Juanita in Sandusky,Ohio.I drive three hours to

Sandusky and meet myfather’s ex-wife, who worksinalocalhospitalandspeaksfirmly and without anyhesitation.“Yourfatherwasabad man,” she says bluntly.“Everything your mom told

you about him is true, andeven more. He refused towork and support ourmarriage; he was always introuble with the law; he hadno sense of right andwrong;hedrankexcessivelyandwasmean and vicious when hewas drunk, which wasfrequent. I recommend thatyou abandon your desire tomeethim.He’saphony,andyou are way better off

withouthiminyourlife.”Juanita Dyer spends the

entire day with me, and themost disappointing part of itis her direct response to myquestion, “Did he ever sayanything to you about histhree boys that he haddeserted, and did he evermention his youngest son,Wayne?” She looks at mewith the caring eyes of awomanwhoworksasanurse

inahospital,seeingtragediesdayinanddayout.“No,”sheresponds.“Ididn’tevenknowthathehadanychildren,eventhough we were married forseveralyears.”Such heartbreak… I have

a father who doesn’t evenmention his own children tohiswife?Whatkindofamanis this? Doesn’t he loveanybody?Howcould I be sodramatically different in

everywayfromthemanwhois my biological father? Myheart is full of love for somany people in my life: mymother,brothers,friends,andespeciallythedowntrodden—and even my father. I leaveSandusky determined tosquelchmyinterestinfindingorunderstandingMelvinLyleDyer.IreturntoDetroitandpour

myselfintomylifeasalocal

grocery-store assistantmanager, earning a goodlivingandhelpingmymotherout financially. I have runinto a myriad of obstaclesattempting to locate thismanwho’sontherun,wholeavesheartbreak wherever hetemporarily settles—but theyearning to know him neversubsides. The bad dreamscontinueforyears.Twenty years will pass

before I’m able to recognizehimasmygreatestteacher.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

As much as I wanted myfather to show up and lovemewhenIwasayoungboy,InowvaluehisabsenceasoneofthegreatestgiftsI’vebeen

granted. His waywardnessand abandonment ofmewastrulypartofmycominghereto teach self-reliance, whichis theonegreat themeofmylife. I have been doingprecisely this since I was achild, and it has dominatedmyentirelife’swork.It’s so clear that there are

no mistakes in this universe.Thestarsareallinalignment.The sun is the exactdistance

fromEarth,tothemillimeter,to create and sustain life.There is a precision to thisuniverse, whether lookingthrough a telescope or amicroscope, that defiesintellectualcomprehension.Itis all perfect down to thetiniest subatomicparticle andoutward to the most distantcelestial body. Includedwithinthisprecisionisallthatcomesourwayaswell, even

though an understanding ofthe why is frequently notapparent.Ineededtobeinaposition

of relying upon myself if Iwastofulfillmyownpurposeandliveoutmydharmatobea spiritual teacher of self-reliance. My years spent infoster homes provided mewith the opportunity to learnthis firsthand. I had to relyupon myself—there was no

onetheretodoitforme.My relationship to my

father was to be the singlemost significant relationshipof my life. My wanting himto show up for me on mytimetable, when I thought Ineeded him so desperately,was my own ego at work.Everything shows up inDivinetime.Wegetwhatweneed on the schedule of aforce much larger than

ourselves.Thisinvisibleforcemovesthepiecesaroundinitsownway, in itsown time, toharmonize with the perfectprecision that defines everycubicinchofspaceandtime.It might seem far-fetched

tosome,butIbelievethatmylife without the benefit of afather was perfect in everyway.FromthisvantagepointIseethatmybooks, lectures,films, and recordings came

about becausemy fatherwasabsent frommy life.My egowanted him, but my spiritknew that I had a far greaterpurposetofulfill.Thoseyears that I spent in

agony over why and how aman could be so insensitive,so cruel, so distant, alwaysendedupleavingmenootheroptionotherthantogowithinand resolve the issues formyself, or to turn to a new

kindofDivinelovepracticedonly by great spiritualmasters and God himself—alove awash in forgiveness.Everything I needed toremain on course in my lifewas being provided—thoughthechildIwascouldn’tknowitatthetime.Today, from the

perspective of looking backover my life, I can see thateverything was absolutely

perfect.Withoutmyknowingit I was in some kind oftrainingrightfromtheget-go.Perhaps my father agreed tocomeintothisworldfromtheworld of Spirit and live hisownlifeinsuchawaythatitwould require his youngestsontolearnhowtolivealifeofself-relianceasatoddler,ateenager, and then a youngadult.Being given the

opportunity to send love andforgiveness to my father forall of his perverse,mercurialbehavior perhaps was atraining stage for helpingmillions of people transformtheir own liveswith a visionaligned with a God-realizedperspective.Ifeelmyfather’spresence frequently, andwheneverIsensehimnear,itis like a soft mist of infiniteloveratherthanthestormsof

fierce rage and angst thatpreviously typified mythoughtsofthisman.Yes, he was my greatest

teacher.IknowwithcertaintyGod works in mysteriousways—but not in accidentalways. Indeed, it is, andalways has been, perfect ineveryway.Iamsograteful.

In 1958 the possibility ofbeing drafted into the Armyand serving as a foot soldier

is one of the most appallingscenarios I can imagine formyself. Being a factoryworker in one of theautomotive companies inDetroit,whichmany18-year-olds from my neighborhoodhave done after completinghigh school, also has verylow appeal for me. So I’veoptedtosignupfortheNavy,asmyoldestbrother,Jim,didtwoyearsago.HereIamtwo

weeks later in Great Lakes,Illinois, feeling sick to mystomach as I wonder, WhathaveIdonetomyself?Inmybunkbedearlyinthe

morning, I take stock of mynewlife.LastnightIcountedhundreds of cockroachescrawling over clothing,bedding, and sleeping bodies—had I chosen to, I couldhave counted to infinity.Theplace is overrun with this

verminwholiveinthecracksuntil the lights go out, andthen come out in swarms,feastingoncrumbsandlivingouttheirnocturnaldestinies.Igag at the thought of themslithering over my face, butthe cockroaches are a minorproblem.I’ve lived in many places

andlearnedearlyinmylifetonotjudgemycircumstances.Ihave no allergies, no foods I

won’teat,andnoaversionstobodily functions. It’snot thatI’m having difficultyadjusting to living in closequarters with hundreds ofmen in the cramped quartersof the barracks of Company417hereat theNavalStationGreat Lakes. Thecockroaches and smellybathroomaromasarenothingcompared towhat’s expectedof me as a full-time active-

duty member of the armedforces,wheretherulesrule.Therulesare thatIamnot

toeverthinkformyself.Iamtoobeyanyordergiventomeby any superior and neverquestion that order.Disobedience has seriousconsequences, includingbeing put in confinement.There’s a chain of commandoperating at all times, and Iam to accept my role as the

lowest of the low—doingwhatI’mtoldtodo,andwhateveryoneelse is toldtodoaswell.Thereisnoindividualityhere. I am to simply say,“Yes,sir!”andobey.I am toldwhat time to go

to sleep, when to awaken,what and when to eat, andwhat to wear, which is thesameaswhateveryoneelseiswearing. My hair is all cutoff, my shoes must be spit

shined, andmy facemust beclean shaven and inspectedseveral times a day by asuperior who barks into myfacethatI’mapunyrunt—towhichIamtorespond,“Yes,sir!” or incur his feignedwrathandbegivensomekindofabsurdpunishment.Although I don’t at the

present time think in theseterms,Ibelieveonsomelevelthatthiscan’tpossiblybethe

place for someone who hasincarnated into this earthlydomaintoteachself-reliance.There is no escaping this

militarymind-set. Iambeingtaught that there is no self,and that Iwill rely uponmysuperiors and their rules foranyidentificationthatImightrequire. Iwillwear the sameuniform for the next fouryears, and I will eitherconform or go AWOL, the

penalty for which is a longterm in the brig and anundesirable discharge. Ichoose to accept this fate,knowingthatIamsomethingmuchmorethanabody—andwhatevertheydecidetodotomybody,Ihavetheoptionofbeing in a state of peacewithin. I can live with therules.I make the choice to be

obedient, and I can even

acknowledgetheneedforthisarrangement in anorganization designed toengage in warfare. Doingwhat you’re told withoutthinking or asking questionsis necessarywhen destroyingan enemy is the overallobjective. I decide that I’llcomplywith the rules on theoutside, but I will neveraccedeontheinside.Iwilldothese four years honorably,

butwithinmyself Iwillhaveno enemies. I will remainconstant,convincedthatIama man of peace, treasuringand respecting everyone’sindividuality.Iamatpeacewiththisnew

regimented way of living,trusting in my ability to beself-reliant and still functionwithin the militaryestablishment. I abhor thesilly regulations and

inspections, and I knowmyself well enough to becertain that I’ll ultimatelyfigure out a way to avoidthem without anyoneknowingwhatIamupto.Myinner world is secure, and Iwill make a fun game ofgettingaroundtheinsanityofthiswayoflife.I am generally perplexed

by what I see in my fellowyoung sailors. Whenever

given a few moments ofleisure, I notice that thesegrown men are happilyperusing comic books—Superman, CaptainMarvel, Batman and Robin,Archie. Most of them havereading levels and interestsquitedifferentfrommine,yetthese are the people I livewithdayandnight.On our first liberty, we

havetheopportunitytospend

aweekendinChicago,withadeadline to be back at thebase by 10:00 P.M. Sunday.Wearing my uniform, I gointo the city by train andspend my time walkingaround. I talk tomanyof themerchantswhoareanxioustoreapaprofitfromthesenewlyreleased young men havingtheir first tasteof freedom intwomonths.The city teemswith tattoo

parlors, bars, prostitutes, andcheap souvenirs,which I seemy colleagues exuberantlypartaking of with their newfreedom. I return to the baseatGreatLakes early, and thebarracksbegin to fillupwithseveral hundred severelyinebriated sailors. Three outof four of my fellow sailorshave had their bodies inkedwith large permanent tattoos,and all are swearing and

hurling racial slurs in theirstates of out-of-controldrunkenness and vomiting.Does anyone read books? Iwonder.Arethesereallytobemy friends and comrades forthenextfouryearsofmylife?I know it’s impossible for

metopermanentlydefacemybody with symbols of theU.S.Navy,oranythingelse.Ihave long despised drunkenbehavior, and now I am

surroundedbyit.Ihavebeenwriting my own novel, andnowIamencased inaworldwhere comic books,profanity, and prejudiceabound. Idespiseviolenceofanykind,andnowIambeingprepared to be an instrumentof killing, to wear a gun onguard duty, to take pride inexterminating assignedenemies. I become muchmore introspective and

solitary.What the hell am I doing

here? I ask myself over andover.Thisisn’twhatI’mherein the world to do. I see thereason for the existence of amilitary, but this is not myrole.Iamafishoutofwater.I want to be a person whoworks toward creating aworld where guns andbattleships and hatreds andenemiesareextinct.

I’m perplexed because Imadethischoicesowillingly.It seemed like precisely theright thing to do when Igraduatedfromhighschool.Ihadno idea that thismilitarylifestyle was designed tostifleallformsofindependentthinking.I think back to all of the

times I was in conflict withauthority figures who werepersistentlypushingmeintoa

groupthink mentality. I thinkof a quote by E. E.Cummings that I memorizedin high school English class:“To be nobody-but-yourself—in a world which is doingits best, night and day, tomake you everybody else—means to fight the hardestbattlewhichanyhumanbeingcan fight; and never stopfighting.” And here I am,trapped in an organization I

freely joined that’sorganizedaround the principle ofmaking everyone just likeeveryoneelse.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

During my adjustmentperiod of becomingaccustomed to the stringent

requirements of military life,I felt as if I had made thebiggestmistakeofmy life insigning on for a four-yeartourofactiveduty.Fromthisvantage point of viewing itfrom a distance, it is alluncloudedandcrystalcleartome. While making thedecision to join the armedforcesat theageof18, Icanremember feeling that I wasin some mysterious way

being guided by an invisiblehand. Iknewbeforehand thatthis type of regimentedlifestyle was going to beanathema to me, largelybecause I had alwayschampioned the right tofreelymakemy own choiceswithout anyone telling mehow to live and what to do.Yet there I was, talking to aNavy recruiter in downtownDetroit and signing an

agreement to enlist in a fewshort weeks. It was as if Iabsolutely had to go throughwith this crazy impulse eventhoughIalsoknewthatitwasgoing to be a monumentalconflictforme.What I know for sure is

that in order to understandsomething intellectually, onemust study it, analyze it,cogitate on it, examine whatothers have said about it,

reviewformulasaboutit,andultimately come to aconclusion and take an examonit—gettingapassinggradeafter all of this cerebralmaneuvering.But in order tocometoknowandunderstandsomething spiritually, onemust experience it—there isnootherway.I could write in endless

detailaboutwhatanavocadotastes like, comparing its

flavor to other foods andultimately offering you awritten discourse on thistopic. Yet the only way youcan know the sensation ofeating an avocado is toexperience it. As you eat ityou become onewith it, andyou know, beyond anypossibility of conveying theexperience of it to anyoneelse. I knew that I dislikedbeing told how to live my

life. I knew that I rebelledagainst authority dictating tome,butinordertoreallyhavethis brought home to mespiritually —where it wouldmake a huge impact on meand sendme in the directionof teaching self-reliance andself-actualizationasalifetimeassignment—I had toexperienceitfirsthand.I have often cited the idea

that the storms of our lives,

the low points, the difficulttimes, are things to begrateful for. My brotherDavid lived through over 50years of alcoholism, acompulsive addiction tonicotine, merciless shynessand self-doubt, and anatheistic view of life. Andthen when he was 68, adiagnosis of Parkinson’sdisease that he was told wasincurableandwouldleadtoa

life as an invalid turnedeverythingaround.Mybrotherdecidedtoquit

drinking and smoking, hebegan writing every day, helost his timid personalitytraits, and began to speak inpublicbeforelargeaudiences.He found God andvolunteered to serve otherswhowere less fortunate, andhe published his book. Heattributes all of these

turnarounds in his life to hisdiagnosis of Parkinson’s —hisgreatestteacher.I can see clearly now that

in order forme to get firmlyon the path that I signed upfor in this incarnation, I hadtoexperienceand trulyknowwhat itwasthatIdidn’t like.Those years in the militarywhereIwasexpectedtofitinand become just likeeveryone else offered me a

firsthand opportunity toexperiencewhat Idislikedsoadamantly, and then to seekout and live from aperspective of knowing whatI had to do, when thatregimentedtimewasoverforme.Iamsogratefulforthoseearlyexperiences.My intense dislike for all

things authoritarianpropelledme to be just as fervent inliving and teaching what I

loveandbelievein.Fromthisperspective, I know thatgratitude needs to beexpressed for all of it, eventhe stuff that seemed soinsufferableatthetime.Therewas a reason for my beingpushed in that direction, andeverydayI’mgrateful.Inthepresent day, with mydiagnosis of leukemia, I’mable towelcome it andknowthat it will bring me to a

higher place—just as mymilitaryexperiencesdidmorethan50yearsago.

Bootcampbehindme,I’min Bainbridge, Maryland,attending school for six

monthstobecomearadiomanand cryptographer. School isarduous, with daily classesfromearlymorninguntil latein the evening, and requiresnightly study. Mornings arespent learning Morse code,converting the dash-dotsounds into letters, and wehave exams every other day.Myclassesalsoincludestudyin the areas ofcommunications, electronics,

physics, learning to operatethe latest equipment,encoding and decoding, andmastering typing. MysubconsciousmindislearninghowtorespondautomaticallywhenIhearthesoundsinmyheadphones.I am totally committed to

pursuing this six-monthacademic adventure withexcellence,andI’mremindedthat when I choose to apply

myself I can literally masterany discipline. Back in highschool, when I loved asubjectIinvariablyreceivedagrade of A. When I wasuninterested, I’d simplywithdraw, unattached towhether I got a passing orfailing grade. Here inradioman school I am onedetermined young sailor; Istrive to not only pass thecourse, but to do so with

distinction. At graduation, Iamatthetopofmyclass.My best friend at

Bainbridge is a 19-year-oldyoung man named RayDudley from Chicago. Westudy together, we bond likebrothers, and basically webecome inseparable. Whenwe leave the base to go toBaltimore or Washington,D.C., for a weekend, wefrequentlydosotogether.

Ray and I are returning tothe base after a weekend inD.C. It’s 10 P.M. on aSundaynightandwearedueback on base at Bainbridgebefore midnight. We decideto stop in the little town ofHavre de Grace, Maryland,andhaveadishof fried rice,aswehaven’teatenallday.Itis an inexpensive meal fortwo hungry sailors in theuniform of the United States

Navybefore the ten-milecabridetothebase.I’m startled when I hear,

“Sorry, boys, we can’t serveyou in this restaurant.” I askthewaitresswhy that is—therestaurant is open untilmidnight,andtherearelotsofreturning servicemen eating.She looks sheepishly at meand simply shrugs hershoulders and points at mybest friend, a U.S. Navy

serviceman serving hiscountry as a member of thearmed forces … and then ithits me squarely in the face,as if someone just punchedmewith a vicious blow.Rayis an African American, andinthislittletowninMarylandthey don’t serve people whodonothavewhiteskin.I ask to speak to a

manager,butnooneofhigherauthority appears. The

waitressdoesn’twanttohaveanunpleasantscene,butIamoutragedandembarrassedformyfriend.Rayhaslivedwiththis kind of prejudice all ofhis lifeandmotions tome toleave quietly to avoid anypossibility of a seriousconflict.I have never experienced

the horror of racial prejudicelike this. I am perplexed,deeply saddened, and sohurt

formy friend.Butmore thanthis, I am outraged at theinsanity of refusing to serveanother human being who iswearing the uniform of thearmed forces of his country,andwilling to go towar anddie so that theopportunity tolive and breathe freely ispreserved for everyone—even the owners ofrestaurants, and thewaitresseswhoworkthere.

I apologize to Ray as wehead back to our barracks attheBainbridgeNavalBase. Ivow tomyself to never, everprejudgeanyoneon thebasisof their appearance. I amshaken to my core. I amchanged forever. I willdedicatemylifetoriddingtheworld of such moronicthinking. Every day for theremainder of my time atBainbridge, I am obsessed

withwhat I, asoneman,cando to eradicate this kind ofsimpleminded behavior. It ismy life’s mission. I amcommitted to being a manwhojudgesnoone.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

That Sunday night in

Havre de Grace still standsout as one of the mostinfluential evenings of mylife,eventhoughitwasmorethan 50 years ago. Thatmoment of looking into myfriendRay’s eyes and seeingthe pain that prejudice cancause inspiredme tomake acommitment to abolishprejudgment from my ownway of being, and toincorporatethisloveforallof

humanity as a cornerstone ofmylife’swork.From that night on, I

became fully aware of myown propensity for labelingpeople on the basis of anyexternal factors, and I beganto traverse a path wherein Iwasabletoseetheunfoldingof Spirit in every person Iencountered. In manyrespects, that experience as a19-year-old sailor was

Divinely orchestrated. I hadto be there as a witness andan unwilling participant inorder to have the horror ofthiskindofbehaviorbroughthometome.That hapless waitress was

only reacting due to inbredconditioning that had beenimposeduponherbyculturalcircumstances when she wasachild.Shesawmistreatmentof peoplewith dark skin and

accepteditasthethingtodo.She was also an employeewhowasjust“doingwhatI’mtoldtodo—it’smyjob.”Thismentality has been thedriving force behind endlessheinous acts over thecenturies. In order to replacethese habits with behaviorthat is compassionate ratherthan prejudiced, people mustexamine how theirsubconscious minds have

been programmed and thenbegin to change thesehabitualwaysofbeing.Backin1959Ibegantodo

precisely that. I had heardplenty ofnigger/spic/kike/dago/Polacktalk as I was growing up inthe 1940s and ’50s, andthough I have nomemory ofever using such language inmy lifetime, I know that Iwitnessed it regularly and it

didn’t arouse any sense ofoutrage within me. Myexperience with Ray Dudleyturnedme around. I began aslow transformation ofexpressing my disdain forsuch language withoutmaking a scene. I began toreadbooksthatdealtwiththesubject of prejudice andhatred, and I railed againstpolicies of theNavywhereinsegregation was an

established norm. As I lookback on two of the mostconsequential themes of mywriting and of my adultdevelopment, they bothharken back to that painfulnightinMaryland.Thefirstofthesethemesis

teaching people how to havea mind of their own,independent of what theyhave been taught to believe.IfIknowit iswrongandnot

in harmony with the Divinelove espoused by our mostreveredspiritualmasters,thenregardless of what I havebeen taught, Imust think formyselfandcomealwaysfromaplaceoflove.Ifwearetoldthat God is love, then weshouldn’t just say it in ourplace of worship during aceremonial weekly religiousservice.Wemustliveit.Thesecondthemeinvolves

the subconscious mindwherein adult habits areingrained.Iwroteofmytimein radio school learningMorse code. I practiced andpracticeduntil itwentfromaconscious-mind activity to apermanent place in mysubconscioushabitualmind.Ihaven’t used Morse code inover half a century—andeverybitoftheprogrammingcontinuestobepresentinmy

being.Icanstillspelloutanyword or sentenceinstantaneously in my mindusingthedotsanddashesthatwere placed there severaldecadesago.Similarly,weallhaveother

ideas that we call memes,which drive our behaviortoday.Eventhoughtheymaynot serve us, they are stillthere operating, just like myunconscious tapping out of

the Morse code today. Thatwaitress in the restaurant inHavre deGrace in 1959wasactingoutbothofthethemes.Shewas doingwhat shewastold to do, even though herbody language was saying, Idon’t really feel this way—I’m just doing my job; andshe was also acting out of ahost of memes that she hadnevertakentheopportunitytocorrect and then eradicate

completely from hersubconsciousmind.Icanstill see thatwaitress

and my young African-American friendRayDudleyin my mind as I write thesewords. I believe they wereboth sent into my life thatSunday night to help me tonot only see the light but toteach from a more illuminedperspective.

It’sthemiddleofwinterin1959;Ihavebeentemporarilyassigned to a brief tour of

duty at Naval Air StationPatuxent River by LexingtonPark, Maryland. I decide toput on my uniform andhitchhike home to Detroit tovisit my mother, andespecially my girlfriend,Linda,whoismatriculatingattheUniversityofMichiganinAnnArbor.Itisadistanceofapproximately590miles,andit usually takes 12 to 14hours. Being in uniform

generallymeansthatsomeonewill stop and giveme a rideregardless of where I mightbestranded.I’vemade this trip several

times, and I’mconfident thatI can get home by Saturdaymorning,have a full dayandahalfathome,andthenhitchback to the base in order tomake curfew at midnight onSunday. It isa longhaulanda lot of time hitchhiking on

the road,butwellworth it toa homesick, lovelorn sailorwho is just beginning tobecome accustomed to beingaway from home for longperiodsoftime.I set out on my weekend

jaunt and catch a ride all theway to Washington, D.C.Several connections later Iarrive at the Breezewoodentrance to the PennsylvaniaTurnpike. By now it’s close

to midnight and thetemperature has droppeddramatically. In the bittercoldImanagetocatcharideheading westbound, but thedriver informs me that he’sonly going as far as Butler,Pennsylvania. He doesn’twant to drop me off at theexitinthemiddleofthenightbecause I’d be in gravedangeroffreezingtodeath—it’swell below zero, and the

winds are blowing fiercely.I’mwearingadarkblueNavypeacoat, and standing in thedarkunabletobeseenbythedrivers heading west on theturnpike could be disastrous.Thisfriendlydriverinsistsondroppingmeoffatoneoftheservice-plaza restaurant stopsontheturnpikejustbeforehisexit a few miles ahead. Iagree.Iheadintotherestaurantat

around 3 A.M., get a cup ofhot chocolate, and then headouttotrymyluckatcatchinga westbound vehicle—in themiddle of the night, in themiddle of what feels likenowhere, in the midst of thecoldest weather I have everexperienced.Onmyway outto the ramp in the freezingdarkness,Ipassanothersailorwalking back to therestaurant. He has had no

luck in securing a ride andtellsme, “It’s bitter cold outthere,buddy.Iwouldn’tstandthere too long; you couldeasily get frostbite if you’renotcareful.”I acknowledge him, wish

himwell,andheadouttotheturnpike. I stand there for 15or 20 minutes—no luck.Almost frozen stiff, I decideto head back to warm up.When I enter the restaurant

there’sonlyonepersonintheplace:thesailorwhospoketome a few moments earlier,warning me not to stay outthere too long. Imagine mysurprise when I realize thissailorismybrother!JimisstationedinNorfolk,

Virginia.He toohaddecidedto hitchhike home to see ourmother and his fiancée,Marilyn, for theweekend;hetoo had been dropped off at

thesameexactspot.IhadnoideathatJim’ssubmarinewaseveninport.Ihadn’thadanycontact with my brother inmonths, since hiswhereaboutson the subwereconsidered classifiedinformation.Myownbrotherhadspokentomeandwarnedmetobecarefulwithoutevenknowing that it was me.Togetherwestandinshockeddisbelief at the mysterious

forces that were at play inorder to have this scenebe areality.We meet the driver of an

18-wheelerwho’s gassing upand tellhimof the incredible“coincidence” that’s justtranspired.Thissynchronisticevent that brought Jim andme together in themiddle ofnowhere under theseimpossible conditions soimpacts the truck driver that

he drives us, out of hisway,right to our front door at20217 Moross Road inDetroit early on Saturdaymorning.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

I cannot begin to tell youhow many times Jim and I

have shared the above storyinthepast50-plusyears,andthe conclusion is the alwayssame: it’s just one of thosebizarre coincidences thatshow up and defy a rationalexplanation. This event wasdeeplymeaningful to the 19-year-old sailor I was. Itintroducedmetotheworldofsynchronicity, quantumphysics, and the idea thatthere are no accidents in a

world governed by a Divineintelligence.TodayIlookbackatallof

the events that had to cometogether perfectly for mybrother and me to have thatencounterinthemiddleofthenightsomanyyearsago,andIamnolongersurprised.Mylife has been crammed fullwith these kinds ofhappenings—butthiswasthefirstbigonethatreallycaught

myattentionandchangedtheway I looked at thingsforever.Icanseeclearly that Ihad

to rid myself of all doubtsabout the possibility of allthings coming together inDivine order and in Divinetime. My writing andspeaking have beendominatedby thisgrand ideaof synchronicity, which is aterm coined by Carl Jung to

explain what he called“meaningful coincidences.”The synchronistic incidentthat brought this to Jung’sattention occurred during asessionwithaclientwhowasrelatingadream.Ashisclientponderedthesignificanceofabeetleinthedream,theybothheard a noise—which turnedout to be a beetle on thewindow attracting theirattention. I now see that this

synchronistic event with mybrother, which goes waybeyond logical thought anddefies the incredible oddsagainst such a thingtranspiring by chance, wasneeded so that I could openmyself to the possibility thatall things are connected andon purpose. I personallyneeded to be liberated frommyownexcessiverationalismatthattimeinmylife.

Inordertoeventuallywriteandspeakabout theworldofSpiritIneededtoknowattheyoungageof19thatthereareno accidents or coincidencesin a universe that is trulycreated and guided byinvisible forces that eluderational explanation. I nowseethatwehavenoideahowanything gets created in thisphysical universe and thateverything originates in

something called Spirit,which no one can define orcome close to explaining—including our greatestscientificminds.There is every reason to

believe there is intelligencebehindlife.AsMaxPlanck,agreat scientific mind whoreceived a Nobel Prize inPhysics, noted: “All matteroriginates and exists only byvirtueofaforcewhichbrings

the particle of an atom tovibrationandholds thismostminute solar system of theatom together. We mustassume behind this force theexistence of a conscious andintelligentmind.Thismindisthematrixofallmatter.”Thisbeing so, then all of thatintelligence is innate in eachcreation of that intelligence,which means it is ineverything and everyone and

itisdirectingtheentireplay.This intelligence is so

stupendously mysterious thatitisabletocreateworldsandgalaxiessovastas tostupefyeven the most open-mindedimaginations.An intelligencethat can keep the entireuniverse in perfect balanceand create a rose fromscratch,anintelligencethatisinallthings—“Thespiritthatgiveslife,”asJesussaid.This

invisible intelligence can anddoes create miracles everysecondofeveryday.Bringingtwo brothers together in themiddle of the PennsylvaniaTurnpike is a minorachievement compared tocreatinglifefromnothingandassembling an infinitenumberofheavenlybodiestocompriseanentireuniverse.Icannot conceive of a watchwithoutawatchmaker,soitis

impossible for me to believethis universe exists withoutan intelligence that is thematrix of all matter—acreator.When I look back at this

experience of synchronicitythat occurred in 1959, itappearsclearlytometohaveopened my eyes to thepossibilityofaDivinedesignthat contributes clues to ourdestiny. I felt then that both

Jimand Iwere involved in acollaborationwith fate, and Ibegan considering mycontribution consciously. Iwanted to alignmy life withthis miraculous invisibleenergy. I began choosing amind-setthatwasawarethatIwas muchmore than a merehuman form—that I wasSpirit itself—that the lifeinside me was truly Divine.As I stepped back and

observed from this place oftotal belief in my ownmagnificence and myconnection to this grandinvisibleSpirit, Ibegantobea co-creator of more andmoresynchronisticevents.This experience was the

first thatIcanrememberthatstartled me into seeing thatlifewasn’texclusivelyfactualand physical. I was and stillamconvincedthataneventof

this nature is not anaccidental happenstance.From that day forward Ibegantothinkinnewways.Idid not share this newlyawakened awareness withanyone at the time. But Iknew that I was involved insomething much bigger thanjust going through themotionsoflifeasitwasbeinghandedtome.Ibegan tohear the silence

thatseemedtogentlymurmurabout my inner life and ofseemingly miraculoushappenings. There was, itseemed clear to me, asynchronistic tie-in toeveryoneandeverything—allof life was interconnected. Ithought of the drivers whodropped Jim and me off atthat turnpike rest stop and Ibegantoseethemasapartofthedramaofmylife,andme

as a part of theirs. This wasmy opening to an awarenessof the Divine force movingthroughourlives.From my perspective of

looking back at this event somanyyearslater,Iseeclearlythat I was beginning toliberate myself from thechronological cause-and-effectwayIhadbeentrainedto think. I was beginning tocultivate a mind that’s truly

open to everything andattached to nothing. It seemsthat the 19-year-old mewelcomed discovering thistheme that eventually wouldpermeate his life’s work—surrender and know that it isall just theway it’ssupposedtobe.Albert Einstein was right:

“There are only twoways tolive your life. One is asthough nothing is a miracle.

The other is as thougheverything is a miracle.” OrasBuddhasaid,“Ifwecouldsee the miracle of a singleflowerclearly,ourwhole lifewould change.” Thismiraculousevent allowedmeto see clearly and begin co-creating my own life, andteachothershowtoco-createtheir lives aswell.As I lookbacknowIgivethanksforallof the participants who

collaborated to bring aboutthis wondrous awakening inme.

It is the summer of 1960and I am a communicationsspecialist aboard the largest

ship in the world, the USSRanger.We’rehomeportedinAlameda, California,followingasix-monthtourofnaval bases and hot spots inthe western Pacific—including Japan,HongKong,thePhilippines,andHawaii—and now we’re back in thecontinentalUnitedStates.All of a sudden, this

announcement booms overthe loudspeakerson the ship:

“Youwill report to the flightdeckandstandinaformationthat spells out ‘Hi Ike’ asPresident Eisenhower fliesoverourshipinahelicopter.”I’m in a state of outrage

overthisorder togatherwithseveral thousand of mycolleagues and participate inthis absurd spectacle so thatone man can look down andsee thismessage, spelled outbyagroupofsailorswearing

white hats. Noway can I beone of a group acting like aflock of geese doing whatthey’ve been told to do, forno sensible reason that I cangrasp.I detest thismentality, and

find such inane activitiesprofoundly insulting and anaffront tomydignity. I amapetty officer third class—askilled professional withmonumental responsibilities.

I am totally unwilling to beherded into a group to standin thehot sundotting the“i”in“HiIke”inordertomakeapolitical statement for theRepublican party during thiselectionyear.It’s a constant struggle for

me to maintain my ownsingularity and still functionwithin an organization thatdoes everything it can tosuppress any thoughts of

individuality. The name ofthe game is groupthink. Therules are: do as you are toldand ask no questions; forgetyour pride, your ego, yourdesiretohaveamindofyourown; obey all orders, andsuppress any thoughts ofdisputing offensive orders. Iknow I have less than twoyears toserveandthenIwillbe free of this mentality. Iwant anhonorabledischarge.

I want to go to college andbecome a teacher. I want tomake it through the rest ofmy enlistment avoiding anyconfrontations overmy innerpride. But—and this is a bigbut—I simply cannot allowmyself to participate in thischarade.ForthepasttwoyearsI’ve

successfully avoidedmost ofthe military exercises thatcause umbrage to my soul.

I’ve learned how to be inother places legally whenthose mortifying inspectionsare called, and I’ve spokenaboutittonoone.Iknownotto make waves and drawattention to myself—I call itbeingquietlyeffective.Iknowwhatisanoutragetomysoul,and I don’t need to make afederalcaseaboutit.Idespiseinspections, so I find outwhen they’re scheduled and

get myself assigned to dosomething else while theytake place. When I’m told Imust carry a gun and standguardduty,Igetapermissionslip to be elsewhere. I detestguns and instruments ofdeath.Idon’twanttomakeaspeech about it; I simplydon’twant tohave thesevilekilling devices onmy personatanytime.I’mpleasedwithmyself for figuring out how

tostaywithinthesystemandstill eschew the parts of thesystem that so violate myownpersonalinnerstandards.As 2,000 enlisted sailors

head to the flight deck to betold how to stand in theformation that spells out “HiIke,” I head in the oppositedirection—down, down,down into the lower decks,where I can sit in solitudeuntil the madness above me

subsides.Thereare toomanypeopleforanyonetomissme;no onewill ever know that Iam missing. Nor will theyever know how muchcontemptthisprovokesinme.I just can’t figure outwhy

people who feel just asstrongly about this as I dosimply go along and allowthemselves tobeused in thismanner.On theotherhand, Ireason, if everyone handles

these kinds of situations as Ido, then it would beimpossible forme to do as Ido—so in many ways I’mgratefulforthosewhojustgoalong and conform. It allowsme to slip out of sightunnoticedandstillmaintainashred of dignity withoutexplaining myself to peoplewhochoosetoconform.Imeditatequietlyandread

anovelthat’scurrentlyonthe

bestseller list.Iamimmersedin the story of Atticus Finchfighting the system andbattlingprejudice.ThisismythirdreadingofHarperLee’sTo Kill a Mockingbird,thoughitwasreleasedonlyafewmonthsago.Thisisnotabookyou readonceand thenputaway.Atticus Finch is an

individual of toweringintegrity, a heroic Southern

lawyer in Alabama whostands up forwhat is right. Iam enthralled as he tells hisdaughter,Scout,thathecouldnever hold his head up infront of his children again ifhe didn’t take this case. Heexplains that he must take iteven though everyone thinkshe is wrong. As I reread ToKill a Mockingbird belowdecks, I’m pleased withmyself for not going along

with the herd of sailorsabove. I feel encouragedabout my choice to listen tothatstillvoicewithinmethatsays, You don’t have to bejust like everybody else …thereisanotherway.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Icanstillseemyselfsittingin an isolated boiler roomnine decks below the flightdeck reading Harper Lee’sbook.There’sthe20-year-oldme, awed by a fictionalcharacterdefyingthepressuretoact just likeeveryoneelse,and listening instead to thatimplacable voice within himbeckoning to him to followhis heart to be the person hewasdestinedtobe.

Thethemeofthat“HiIke”storythreadsitselfthroughallof the items on my résuméover the past 40 years. I feelthat the persistent, insistentinner calling to resistconformity was Divinelydesigned to display my lifepurpose to me. I’ve neverknown a person who, aftertalkingtothemforanhourorso,didn’tfeelthattheyhadaDivinely inspired mission. I

felt it profoundly throughoutmylife.AndIknownowthatthe experience I had withHarperLee’sPulitzerPrize—winning novel and myclamoringtoescapethesceneunfolding on the flight deckof my ship was a signalmoment in my life. It is asclear to me today, some 50-plus years later, as it waswhen I returned to mysleeping quarters after

everyonewasdismissedfromtheir ludicrousassignmentuptop.Ithinkoftenofthesewords

of St. Paul: “Do not beconformed to this world, butbe transformed by therenewal of your mind”(Romans12:2).AndthegreatSufiteachingthatinstructsus“To be in theworld, but notof it.”Ihavewrittenoftenofthe idea that we are not our

body, but rather infinitebeingswhokeepoccupyinganew body every moment ofevery day we live. As Iescaped the inanerequirementsthatthemilitaryplacedonmybody,apartofmeknewthatItoowasinthisworldasabody,butIwasnotof this corporeal world ofform. I was going beyondform—being transformedrightthereonboardmyship.

I can see that those strongimpulses to be quietlyeffective and avoid activitiesthat seemed preposterous tome were early trainingexercises for teaching meself-sufficiency.Atthispoint,I’m deeply grateful thatHarper Lee’s To Kill aMockingbird showed upwhen it did, and for thedecision by the powers thatbe to conduct that “Hi Ike”

ceremony!Myconsciousnessneeded those incidents toinspire me to start writingessaysthateventuallybecamebooksthatencouragemillionsofpeoplearoundtheworldtohave the courage to listen totheirowninnercallings.About a decade ago,when

my son turned 13 years ofage,Iwrotehimaletteraboutwhat it meant to reach thisageandbecomeaman, as is

taught in many spiritualtraditions. I ended by givinghimthissagewisdom:“Ifyoufollowtheherd,you’llendupstepping in shit.” The shit Irefertoislivingwithyourselfwhen you ignore what youknowtoberightandtrueandinstead follow the “offal”instructionsofotherswhoareafraid to leave the herd andwant you to be just likeeverybodyelse.

I have been assigned to apostontheislandofGuaminthe South Pacific for the last

18months ofmy enlistment.I’ve been promoted to pettyofficer second class and amsupervisor at the navalcommunications center nearthecityofAgana.I’ve been reading daily

editorials and stories in theGuam Daily News about adiscriminatory policy on thenavalbase.Civiliansworkingin the retail stores have theprivilegeofshoppingatthese

outlets and thus are able totake advantage of the sizablediscounts offered for allmilitary personnel on activeduty—unless you are acivilian employee whohappens to be of Guamaniandescent.Thenthisprivilegeisnot for you. If your skin isdark and you are aGuamanian, then you areexcluded. Once again thiskind of discrimination

surfacesinmylife.Thistimeit’s sanctioned by the U.S.Navy—the military serviceforwhomIworkaswell.One Saturday morning, I

notice this ad on the backpageofthepaper:

Thisisaninvitationtospeak your mind. A$75.00firstprizeforthewinning letter on thepolicy of the U.S.

Navy’sbanon shoppingat the Navy Exchangefor civilian employeeswho are of Guamaniandescent.I know that if I enter this

contestIwillwintheprize—itwillbemyfirstpaymentforsomething I’ve been doingdaily for the past severalyears. I have an extensivecollection of essays that Ihave beenwriting on a wide

varietyoftopics.Writing essays is more

than a hobby—it’s become apassion. I discover topicseverywhere. Behavior that Icouldneverinabillionyearsparticipate in myself catchesmyattention—forexample,anews clip of people wearingsilly hats and chanting acandidate’s name at apolitical convention, jumpingto their feet at an applause

line,demandsanessayontheinclination of average peopleto behave foolishly whenthey’re with others who doso.I feel it is so important to

trust in your ownindividuality and live from aperspective of beingextraordinary rather thanordinary. I’vewritten severalhundred essays, without anyideawhattodowiththem,or

even why I write them. It issimply my passion, and thatinner calling is workingovertimeinmeasIfinishoutmy enlistment here on thisislandintheSouthPacific.I send inmy entry for the

letter-writing contest thatvery evening. Two weekslater I receive a phone callfrom the newspaper advisingme that I submitted thewinning entry. I had

obviously taken the positionof supporting the localGuamanian civilians andrailing against the Navypolicy of excluding peoplefromspecialprivilegesonthebasis of their national originand skin color. I receive$75.00, and my pictureappears on the front page oftheGuamDaily News inmyNavy uniform holding myprize.Andthenallhellbreaks

loose.I receive dozens of angry

phone calls, including onedeaththreat.Itseemsthatthecivilians who are mostlyrelatives and dependents ofarmed forces active-dutypersonnel are very upset atthe idea that Guamaniancivilians would be given thesame entitlements that theyenjoy. Racial prejudice isevidenced by the epithets

directedatme for supportingthese “savages” and “non-Americans.”I am in shock. My letter

simplystoodupfortheequalrights the Constitutionguarantees, as well as forsimple fair-mindedness.Whyshould anyone have specialbenefits that are denied tootherssimplybecauseoftheirplaceofbirth?Ifanyciviliansare to be granted these

advantages, then all civiliansshould be. It seems so clearandsimpletome.I am called before the

Commander of the NavalForces Mariana Islands andtold that I violated theUniform Code of MilitaryJustice, which I’m informedrequires me to submit myopinions to my superiors forapprovalbeforemaking thempublic.BecauseIwentahead

onmyownandexpressedanopinion that contrasted withexisting Navy policy, andbecause I was photographedin uniform accepting moneyfor writing that opinion, Icould be considered for apossiblecourt-martial.Icouldbe reduced in rank andpossibly given a less-than-honorabledischarge from thearmed forces. All this for asimple letter expressing an

opinion that just seemed soobvioustome.Ihaveacoupleofweeksto

stew over this before theCommander of the NavalForcesmakesadecision,soIimmediately spring intoaction. I write letters to theeditors of The Detroit Newsand the Detroit Free Press,two newspapers that Idelivereddoor-to-doorwhenIturned ten, in which I detail

what is taking place here onGuam. I alsowrite a lengthyletter to the President of theUnited States, John F.Kennedy, spelling out thediscriminatory policy that isinplacehereonGuam. I tellhim how I am beingthreatened for expressingviews that he spoke soeloquently about in hisinaugural addressayearago.Imakecopiesoftheseletters,

butIdonotmailanyofthem.I am summoned by a

young ensign who is anassistanttotheadmiralwhoistheCommanderof theNavalForces here in the MarianaIslands.Hebeginstogivemea lecture on what couldhappen to me, and tells methat I have committed agrievous violation and ambeingconsideredforaseriousreprimand and possible

furtherretribution.I am polite, but firmly

resolute. I totallybelieve thatthe Navy is way out of lineandpracticingdiscrimination,something that theCommander in Chief hasvowed to eliminate in ourcountry, and I assume thismeans the armed forces aswell. I tell this officer that Iamnot afraid of their threats—andalthoughIdonotwant

to jeopardize my upcomingdischarge date, and Idefinitely do not wish to becourt-martialedforwinningaletter-writing contest on whythis kind of bias is improperand even illegal, I will notbackdown.I show him the copies of

the letters I havewritten andtellhimsoftlybutfirmlythatthis could become a hugeeyesore, not only for

Commander of the NavalForces but for the entireU.SNavy—whichupuntilonlyayear or so before was stillpracticing segregationpolicies on their ships at seaand their bases abroad, and Iwas awitness to thisoutragethroughout my enlistment. Itell him if I am to be court-martialed, then I willdefinitely be sending theseletters when the proceedings

commence.This is all being said in a

very civil and friendlyenvironment. I’m convincedthere’s absolutely no intentby my superiors to take thismatter to a court-martial. Ibelieve I’m being bulliedbecause of the large numberof complaints they’vereceived about an enlistedsailorwhohadthetemeritytospeak out publicly about

long-establishedNavypolicy.I leave the ensign’s office

and never hear another wordabout the matter, though thethreatening phone calls andletterscontinuetoshowupatmylivingquarters.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Although Iwas just inmyearly 20s, I was beingdirected to be a person whocouldmakeadifference,whocould stand up to authorityforwhat I believe in, and doit fearlessly. I recall myoutrageatthewayaminoritygroup of people was beingtreatedunfairly, and Iwas tolearn as a result of my owninterventioninthematterthatyesindeed,onepersonwitha

conscience who wasunwilling to be intimidatedcould bring about change;and yes,when Iwas back inDetroitasacollegefreshman,I received a letter from afriend telling me that thediscriminatory policy towardthe Guamanian civilians hadbeenrevokedandthey’dbeengrantedthesameprivilegesasall of the other civilianemployees. This was a

monumental experience formy own development. Itstands out even today, 50years later, as one of theparamount lessons I was tolearn. After all, it did shapemy entire writing andspeakingcareer.Somehow the universe

conspired to place me onGuamforthefinal18monthsofmynavalcareer.Itwasonthat island that I felt an

overwhelmingknowingthatIcouldnotonlybeawriter,butIcouldearnalivingdoingso.WhenImailedinmyentrytotheGuamDaily News, I hadnotashredofdoubttheprizemoney was mine. I felt aninvisible Source of energywith me as I composed myresponse to the Navy’smisinformed policy ofmaltreatment toward aminority group. When I was

notifiedofmyprize,Isaidtomyself, “I can do anythingwith the power of the pen. Icannotonlychangepolicies,I can impact people’s liveswith my writing.” That littleconteston thefaraway islandservedasalinchpinformetoengage in writing in a bigway.Throughoutmywritingand

speaking career, I have beentellingaudiences toaboveall

else trust in themselves andneverallowanyforceoutsideof them to take them awayfrom what they feel to betheir truth. Standing there inthat admiral’s outer officeand presenting my case tothatyoungnavalofficerwasakeyroleIhadtoplay.ItwasasifmySourceofbeingwassayingtome,“Hereisaforkin the road. Which way doyouwishforyourlifetogo?”

Thiswasn’t something Iwasdoing to make a point; thiswas to be a tipping point forme, and there was no waythatIcouldretreatandgiveintofear.This experience

contributed to launching meinto a writing career. I feelthatyoungensignwasplacedthere as aguide for all that Iwasdestinedtotakeoninthefuture. I watched his face as

he smiled atmy lack of fearover his plans for dealingwith me in a harsh militarymanner. I knew that he wasanally,andIfeltcertain thathewoulddowhatIrequestedand make this silly thingdisappear.At the end of my military

enlistment, I was given theopportunity to write for anewspaper and be paid to doso, as well as to test my

resolve. I was given theopportunity to experience thepower of fearlessness andunwillingness to compromisevalues,andbeinstrumentalinoverturning an immoralpolicy. I oftengive thanks toall of the individuals whoalignedtobringthisallaboutand launchme into theworkthat Ihavebeendoing for somanyyears.ThepersonattheGuam Daily News who

decided to run this contest;the forces that determined Iwas to be assigned to thisisolated place; the peoplewho called threatening me,thereby intensifying myresolve; the young ensign;andonandontheygo.From this perspective, I

can see clearly that I wasdestined to open thatnewspaper on that SaturdaymorningonGuamandaccept

the challenge of the letter-writing contest. I am sograteful foreverymomentofthatexperience,which taughtmeDon’t ever give up, trustinyourself,knowthatyoucanchangetheworld,befearless,reach out and serve thosewho are in need. And don’tever let anyone restrict youfrom what you feel deepwithin you, especially whenthey attempt to intimidate

Excessive sitting whileworking at thecommunications equipment

combined with the tropicalhumidityhascausedaseveresoreness and some swellingto develop at the base ofmyspine. It’s diagnosed as apilonidal cyst, which iscommon in young men (infact, this diagnosis is mostprevalent in males under theage of 24). According to thenaval doctor I see onGuam,they have an entire ward ofyoung men suffering from

thisaffliction.I report to the hospital in

Agana, where I’m assignedforthethreedayspriortotheminorsurgicalprocedure thatwillbeperformedonme.Myduties are to assist with thetreatment of the other youngmen who have had theirsurgeries: I will help cleansewounds, change bandages,and help the impaired sailorswithsitzbaths.

On the first morning, I’massigned to work with ayoung sailor who had hissurgery the day before. Hestands before me and dropshisgown,andIseeasightI’llnever forget. He’s been cutdown both sides of hisbuttocks, and raw meat isexposed at the base of hisspine. I am told to dry andcleanthewoundafterhelpinghim with his sitz bath, and

thenapplyanointmenttothisbareoozingfleshfollowedbyabandage.Thereareatleastadozenormoremen there, allof whom have had thissurgery in the past fewdays,andthosewhoarehealingareassisting those who areimmobilizedandinquiteabitofpain.I cringe at the sight of all

of these wounds and at howmuch flesh has been cut

away, leaving permanentimpairments to their bodies.All I have is a soreness andsome swelling, and I’mlookingatwhatappearstometo be an assembly line ofradical surgical proceduresthat will leave permanentdamageifIgothroughittwodayshence.Imakeadecisionright there on the spot thatthis is not for me. I’m notgoingtolettheseknife-happy

youngdoctorsgo toworkonmyass.I leave the pilonidal-cyst

ward and make anappointment with the headnurse. I inform her that myswelling has disappeared andIhavenopain,soIwon’tbeneeding their surgicalintervention now or ever. Iseethedoctorandtellhimthesame story. He insists I stayone more night to see if my

sudden miraculous healingholdsupthenextdayafteranexamination. Istay thenight,and all that night I visualizemyselfashealed.Thethoughtofbeingcut insuchadrasticway motivates me to go towork on my very first self-healingadventure.ThenextmorningItellthe

nurseandmedicalteamthatIam healed—I have nosymptoms whatsoever. I

refuse to allow them toexaminemeanyfurther,andIalsospurn theirefforts togetme to sign a surgicalpermission form. I amreleased, put on a bus, andsent back to the NavalCommunications Station forduty.Allthewaybackonthebus my ass still hurts, but Iam noticing a considerablediminishing of the symptomsthatgotme to thatmadhouse

inthefirstplace.For thenextseveralweeks

I take my own sitz baths atthebarracks, and I practice akind of visualizationtechniquethatIreadaboutinarecentlypublishedbookthatI borrowed from the library.The title is Psycho-Cybernetics, by a medicaldoctor named MaxwellMaltz,and itspremise is thatthe mind-body connection is

the core of successful self-healing.Heurgeshisplastic-surgery patients to pursue apositive outcome throughintense visualization, andemphasizes that an attitudeadjustment can createmiraculoushealings.I diligently practice the

principles that Dr. Maltzelaborates in Psycho-Cybernetics.Withinfourdaysmy pilonidal cyst disappears

and I’m symptom-free, withno need for any furthermedicaltreatment.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

I cannot begin to tell youhow many times I’veexpressedmygratitudetothepilonidalcyst thatshowedup

onmy coccyx back in 1961,and for the threeguyswhoseassesIhadtotreatduringmyone day at the naval hospitalin Guam. This was myintroductiontothepowerthatthemind can play in healingall manner of medicaldiagnoses. Dr. Max Maltz’sbook became a bible for meduringthatcrisis.I think back to how I

literally healed myself by

intense visualization, and Ican see that all of thepeopleinvolved in my life duringthat experience on Guamwereindeedsomeofmymostsignificantteachers.Afterthatcrisis I resolved to use mymind to visualize myself ashealthy and disease-free, andtostayawayfromthemedicalmindset except in the mostdireofcircumstances.I can see clearly that I

needed to have thatfrightening experience in thehospital in order to discoverthewondrousandmysteriouspowers that are inherent inour consciousness. As Iwatched many of my youngfriends go off for theirsurgical fix, I talked to themabout what I’d learned fromDr. Maltz. “Change yourimage of yourself,” I’d tellthem.“Youcanhealyourself!

Honestly, I did it by seeingmyselfasalreadyhealed.Tryit.” But mostly they refusedtolistenbecauseoftheimagethey carried around ofthemselves as unskilled andinept when it came to theirownhealingabilities.I can see clearly that the

experience I described at thenaval hospital when I was a21-year-old sailor wasabsolutely necessary in order

that I might ultimatelybecome a teacher of thepower of mind-bodymedicine. Once it was fullyembedded inme, I spent thebetter part of 50 years usingthese techniques of self-healingthroughvisualization.I encouragedmanypeople tochange their self-conceptsand begin to see themselvesas the miraculous Divinebeingstheytrulyare.Clearly,

Iwasdestined tobelieveandteachthatwithGod,allthingsarepossible.I’ve shared stages all over

the world with masterfulmedically trained physicianswho join me in teaching themind-body connection.Gradually the field of mind-body medicine has takenhold, and more people arereceptive to relying on theirhealing abilities before

pursuing drugs, surgery, andother invasive procedures.Forme, this fascinating fieldof inquiry began back thereon Guam where I had aDivinely inspired epiphanywhile staring at the bloodiedrear end of a postoperativeyoung sailor, and made adecision that there had to beanotherway.I give thanks for that

epiphany,aswell as forMax

Maltz publishing his classicPsycho-Cybernetics atpreciselytherighttimeinmylife.Over50years laterafteradiagnosisofleukemia,Istilluse the techniques I learnedbackthereonGuamin1961,and I believe and teach thepower of the mind to healanything that we place intoour imagination with a God-realized alignment. This is alesson I have stressed in the

raising of my eight childrenaswell.Looking back, I can see

clearlywhyIhadtohavethatterrifying experience at thattime, and today it reaffirmswhat I know to be true:everything that shows up inourlivesdoessoforareason,though it sometimes takes20/20hindsighttoviewitthisway.

Itisthespringof1961,andIamabouttoboardamilitarypropplanetocrossthePacificOcean. My uncle BillVollick, a schoolteacher inHayward, California, isseeing me off after a two-week leave,which I’ve spentwithhimandhisfamily.During thepast twoweeks

with my uncle (who was aradioman on board adestroyer in the PacificduringthehellaciousyearsofWorld War II), I’ve enjoyedaccompanying him andobserving his teaching style.He is the most popularteacher inhis schoolbecausehe makes the subject mattercome alive. I love watchinghim teach and seeing theaffection his students

demonstratetowardhim.Iaminawe.He is fun,smart,anddeeply committed to hiswork, as well as all of hisyoungstudents.We spend evenings

together quizzing each otheronallmannerofsubjects.Webanter back and forth, and Iattempttostumphimandhiswife, Barbara, with quizzesthatI’veconcocted.Ilovetheintellectual and philosophical

back-and-forth that takesplace every evening. I lovethe atmosphere of being inthe company of well-read,stimulating people. And Ilovemyuncle,who isby farthe most influential man inmy lifetime. For me, he’s arole model, an intellectual—yes,evenaquasi-father.Before boarding, Imake a

promise to myself. I say outloud,“I’mgoingtospendthe

next 18 months on Guampreparing myself to attendcollege and become ateacher.”I am alive inside with

anticipationandexcitement.Iwant to teach. Iwill teach. Iwillgotocollegeandgetthecredentialsnecessarytomakethis dreama reality.There isno doubt. I have found mycalling, andmy uncle Bill ismyinspiration.

IhaveayearandahalfonGuam to prepare myself forwhatIwillbedoingwhenmydischarge date arrives onSeptember 4, 1962. Eighteenmonthstofigureoutawaytoget admitted to a university,which could be a majorchallenge since my highschool transcript is not onethat is predictive of beingready for collegematriculation. I commit

myself to figuring out awayto be able to pay the tuitionand textbook expenses, aswell as convince theuniversity that they shouldoverlook my high schoolrecords and take a risk andadmit me as a full-timestudent.Idecideonmyfirstdayon

the island that I’ll save 90percent of my salary for theremainder of my time in the

Navy, and live on the other10 percent. All of my mealsarepaidfor,Ihavenorenttopay or clothes to buy, and Idonotdrinkalcoholorsmokecigarettes.Iamdeterminedtohave savedenoughmoney tocover all of my tuitionexpenses for four years ofuniversitystudy,plusbeableto purchase a usedautomobile at my discharge.I’mcertain I’llbeable toget

a part-time job when I entercollege.Ireceivemyfirstpaycheck

and take the shuttle into thetown of Agana, open asavings account, and depositallbut10percentofmypay.I am thrilled—I’m on myway!Iseemyselfasacollegestudent,andIknowthatIwillabsolutely not be deterredfromthiscommitment.Eachmonthforthenext16

months I resolutely gothrough this ritual, watchingmy bank account grow andhavingagreattimeprovingtomyself that I’m capable ofamassingwealth even on thepaltry salary of an enlistedman in the Navy. I watchwith interest as many of myfellow sailors squander theirmoney, getting drunk, livingbeyond their means, andbarely making it from

paychecktopaycheck.Thisisnotmyway—I’minmyownseparatereality.Iamlivingina very different world fromall of the people I amworking with at the NavalCommunications Center onGuam. I am living in thevisionIhaveformyself.The small library on the

base provides me with asource of books to borrowandreadduringmyfreetime.

I read avidly, jotting downwordsthatIcannotdefine.Atnight before going to sleep Ilookup thedefinitionsof thewords and write it all out inmy vocabulary-improvementfile. I am tenacious in thisactivity,andthefileisgettingthick. I frequently spendevenings perusing thisgrowing list of worddefinitions, and notice thatthe new words begin

appearing in my essays andthelettersIwritehome.Iamsoundingmoreandmorelikea person who is educatedbeyondhighschool.Ispendagreatdealoftime

atthelibraryanddecidethatIwill read a minimum of 500books during my time onGuam and maintain abibliography, which growsrapidly. I ravenously readeverything the library stocks

—my sleeping space in thebarracks soon becomesoverloaded with all of thebooksI’mreading.Isaynothingtoanyofmy

friends about my intentions.They seeme as a bookwormand a private sort ofintellectual.I’mmerelyactingonmyinnervisiontopreparemyself foruniversity study. Isee myself as a teacher, acollege professor, and I am

acting on that inner pictureeveryday.I read books on every

subject imaginable,preparingfor the entrance exam to theuniversity that coincidentallybears my name—WayneStateUniversity—at home inDetroit. I particularly enjoyreading about people whohave gone way beyond justbeingordinary.Greatwriters,poets, philosophers,

scientists, inventors,musicians, athletes—nothingis off-limits. The idea ofliving at extraordinary levelsand transcending “normal” ismostappealingtome.A great deal of my free

timeisspentwriting,andI’veamasseda largecollectionofessays on a variety ofsubjects. These essays seemto just write themselvesthroughme,andIfeelthepen

rushing across the pages asthe excitement within mewells up at the idea ofbecoming a writer myself. Ishare my essays and mygrowing vocabulary list withno one—this is my ownpersonaladventure.Iseemtohavefiguredoutawaytogetout of the present moment,and I actually feel as if I’mliving the life I’m imaginingsolucidlyinmymind.Iama

writer.Iamaneducatedman.Iamateacher.Finally,severalofmyclose

friends become interested inwhat my daily reading andwriting are all about. Idescribe some of the ideaspercolating insideofme,andI mention William Blake,Emily Dickinson, Plato,Friedrich Nietzsche, HenryDavidThoreau,RalphWaldoEmerson,andThomasWolfe,

among many others. I talkabout these great thinkers’livesandwhattheyconveyintheir writing. I speak ofexistentialism,transcendentalism, and otherstrange-sounding isms to mysmall group of friends. Asthey begin seeing me as anexpertinthesesubjectareas,Ido nothing to disabuse themof their faith inme. I am anexpertbecauseI’mwillingto

speak as an expert aboutmyinterest in these famousexperts!At my friends’ request, I

arrange to conduct a smallgroup lecture. A half-dozenguysshowup,andwehaveadiscussion that I lead onAlbert Camus, a Frenchauthor and philosopher whohad recently died. We talkabout “The Myth ofSisyphus” and the idea

Camuspresentsthat“allgreatdeeds and all great thoughtshave a ridiculous beginning.Greatworksareoftenbornona street corner or in arestaurant’s revolving door.”We discuss the greatnesslatentinallofus.Tomysurprise,myfriends

want more. The followingweek 12 people show up,includinganofficerwhoisn’tsupposed to fraternize with

the enlisted ranks. I’m theresident philosopher at thenavalbase—simply,itseems,becauseofmywillingness tolive fearlessly and losemyself in works that areavailable to everyone at thelibrary on the base. I lovethese evening sessionswherewe can talk about ideas thatinspire me to my owngreatness.As the time of my

dischargegrowsnearer, I getacquaintedwiththeeducationofficer at the navalcommunications center. Hewrites a letter to theadmissions department atWayneStaterequestingthatIbe allowed to take theentranceexaminationhereonGuam and have itadministered and proctoredby him at the educationoffice.

After several months ofwrangling and (before cellphones or computers!)international phone calls, thearrangements are made andI’m scheduled for a full-dayexamination. At the end ofthedayof testingI feelquiteconfident that I did well.Virtually all of thevocabulary questions arewords that have appeared inmy massive vocabulary-

improvementfolder.A month later I receive a

response from the WayneStateadmissionsofficerthatIhave spoken andcorresponded with over thepast sixmonthsor so. Ihavedoneexceedinglywellontheentranceexam—however,myhighschooltranscriptsarenotindicative of success at theuniversity level. Theconclusion is that I should

attend a community collegeand then apply for a transferupon completion of a two-year curriculum. This isn’ttheresponseIenvisioned.I speak to the education

officer,who sends a glowingtestimonial to the admissionsofficedetailingtheworkI’vebeen doing.He describes thestudy groups I’ve beenleadingandteaching,andmycommitment to higher

education. I make anotherinternational call and pleadwith the same admissionsofficial who has beenhandling my case. After agreat deal of discussion andnegotiations, I receive atelegram informing me thatthey are going to make anexception because I am aveteran who has become agiganticpainintheass.Theyare going to admit me on a

provisional basis andreevaluatemystatusafter thefirst three quarters of theacademicyear.I am admitted—I am

ecstatic!

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Looking back I can see

clearly that the 18 months Ispent on Guam just prior tomy enrolling as a full-timecollege student wereincredibly instrumental in thelife’s work that was to beaheadofme.Therewassomethingatthe

controlsofmylifethatlandedme in Northern California,whereIspentmanyweekendsandleavetimeatthehomeofBillandBarbaraVollick.My

time spentwithmymother’syoungest brother wasDivinely arranged—of that Iam now certain. These weremy introductory lessons inthe power of the idea ofintention. I didn’t want tobecome a teacher until Iobserved Bill in action, andfrom that day I was able todeclareitasapresentfactandto live from this innermind-set.

It was this intention ofmyself as a teacher, inspiredbyBill,thatallowedmetogoforwardanddeclaremyselfasa teacher when I arrived onGuam. For me, it was areality, nudging me to applyfor university enrollment anddemanding I actually teachclasses on base. Intentionprovided the impetus toorganize my entire lifearoundanideaIimplantedin

myconsciousnesswhenIwasa20-year-oldsailorwithonlya high school diploma.Afterthousands of public lectureson all manner of subjectscovered in the 41 books I’vewritten, I still see those fourwordsoftheintentionImadebackin1961imprintedonmyinnerscreen:Iamateacher.Theuniversalmindappears

to have known that I had tobe so imprinted, and I am in

awe of its magical power inme now and always.Teaching people to act as ifwhat they desire to manifestis already a present fact hasbeen a major theme of mylife’s work.When I held theideaofbeingateacherinmyimagination, the only thing Icould do was act upon thatintention. I am deeplygrateful for the powers thatbroughtBill andme together

atthatcrucialtimeinmylife.We were destined to belifelong friends. I am alsoappreciativeof the fact that Iwas able to repay thisbeautiful man for what heunknowingly offered mewhen I was a young sailorgoing to an island in thePacific where I wouldundergo a colossaltransformationandshift fromthedirectionmylifehadbeen

taking.While on Guam I

persistently anddeterminedlyacted from the inneraffirmationofIamateacher.Mybimonthlytriptothebankto save 90 percent of mysalary emerged from thatintention. By the time I leftthe Navy I had amassed allthefundingthatIwouldneedto attend college. I was ableto purchase a previously

owned Studebaker Lark,which lasted until Icompleted my master’sdegree.Butmore than that, Iadopted a philosophy towardmoneyandsavingthatputmeonthepathofmakingmyselffinancially independent for alifetime. Somehow theuniverse was teaching mehow to live and fulfill myowndharmawithoutallowingmyself to become burdened

by debt, a lesson that hasservedtokeepmeonpurposerather than figuring out howto resolve indebtedness thatwould have distracted mefrom my mission here, thistimearound.BackthereonGuamIwas

beingnudgedbytheuniversalmind, which advises thatwisdom is unrelated to one’spotential personal greatness.Becoming an expert means

being unafraid to declareyourselfone,and thenactonthat inner declaration. Theseearly lectures and studygroups on existentialism andphilosophy were the preludetoacareerofbeingwillingtostandbeforepeopleandspeakcommonsensebecauseitwaswhat I knew to be true deepwithin me. I was beingdirectedbyan invisible forceback there in 1961 as I

steadfastly pursued myintention to live up to myinner affirmation of I am ateacher. I refused to acceptany response other than,Congratulations! You areadmittedtoouruniversity.I can’t define that inner

sparkthatwouldn’tallowmeto give up, but I know forcertainthatitisapieceoftheDivine—a spiritual drillsergeant refusing to relent

evenwheneverythingaroundmewas saying, “Give up onit, Wayne!” That innermotivator kept pushing andhaspushedmethroughoutmylife, not because I’m special,butbecauseittakesitsordersfrom the intention that is inmy imagination. Thattaskmaster acts on what webelieve is already a presentfact.Consequently,there’snogivinguponadestinythatis

andmustbefulfilled.When I arrived at the

university inSeptember1962to enroll as a freshman, Iwenttotheadmissionsofficeand looked up the officialwho’d been so kind inbending the rules so that Imight be admitted as a full-time student. I’d oftenthought about the courage ofthat gentleman to make anexception and allow me to

attend theuniversity.He toldmethathewassimplyactingon a hunch. An invisiblesignal if you will—indeed,thesameinvisibleenergythatwaspushingmybuttonsbackthereonGuamtonotgiveupwas pushing his buttons tooverlook the rules. After myfirst academic quarter myprovisional status wasremoved, and there were noasterisks next to my name

anymore.ThenonMay4,1970—the

sameday as the horror showat Kent State University inOhio, where four studentswere killed (and ninewounded) byNationalGuardtroops who’d fired livebullets into the crowd ofyoung students who wereprotesting the fiasco inVietnam—I passedmy finalexams and became Dr.

Wayne Dyer, adjunct facultymemberatmyalmamater.Ineight years I had gone fromfreshmantoprofessor.With gratitude for all that

had transpired, I was ablefour decades later to pledgeone million dollars to ascholarship fund for“unqualified” students toenter the university in thememory of the admissionsofficer who had done the

sameforme.WhatdoIknowfor sure? There are noaccidents in an infiniteuniverse inwhichSpirit is atthe helm of all decisionmaking.WhenIreceivedmyorders

to depart from my ship, theUSS Ranger, I’d only beenaboardforalittleoverayear.It was unheard of to betransferred after such a shorttour of duty, especially since

Iwasashort-timer,meaningIonly had 18 months left ofmy military obligation.Clearly it seems the invisiblehand of destiny was at work—I was fated to spend thatlastyearandahalfonGuam,where I came face-to-facewith my future, which insome mysterious way hadalreadybeenplayedout.AllIhad to dowas listen, get outof theway,andallowmyself

tocatchup.In a universe where

everything is happening atonce, there’s no past orfuture, and everything existssimultaneously.Ididn’tknowitatthetime,butIwaslivingwhat Lao-tzu expressed sosuccinctly: “You are notdoing anything, you are justbeing done.” A big handfiguratively reached downand plucked me off of the

ship and put me down onGuam, where I was alignedwithallthatIneededtofulfilladharmathatIhadsignedupfor,longbeforeIappearedonthis planet in 1940. Had Istayed aboard the USSRanger, I would have livedout another dharma, and youwouldn’t be reading thisbook.Icanseeveryclearlythatit

is and was and will be all

perfect. As Rumi said, “Sellyourcleverness,andpurchasebewilderment.” I ambewildered and awestruck bytheperfectionofmyspendingfour of my developmentalyears in a militaryorganization that representedthe exact opposite of all I’vetaughtandstrivedtobecome.Divine perfection alsoplunkedmedownonaSouthPacific island where I could

fostermyreadinessforanewwayofbeing.Ihavecometoknow,from

a much clearer perspective,thattherearenowrongroadsto anywhere. I continue tolook back with awe andastonishmentattheperfectionofitall.

I ama22-year-oldveteranattending college classes forthefirsttime,anditfeelslike

thehappiesttimeofmylife.Ilovewalkingbetweenclasseson campus, looking at all ofthe buildings in the heart ofthecitywhereIgrewup.Thisis a great honor forme afterspending the previous fouryearsonboardashiporinthebarracks at the militaryinstallation. I am beyondecstatic. I love attendinglectures and can’t imaginewanting to cut any classes. I

arrive early every morningandspendagreatdealoftimeinthehugelibrary…aswellaslookingforaparkingspaceevery day! But I have nocomplaints.ThethingIfeelthemostis

pride.I’veneverhadtheideaof attendinghigher educationimprinted on myconsciousness by my family—thatwasn’t anexpectation.It was my own personal

choice to take this route atthistimeinmylife.I have a close to full-time

job working as a cashier forthe Kroger Company retailgrocery chain. I’m gratefulfor the opportunity to workevenings, study late at night,and attend school during theday.My tuition is fully paidandI’veaccumulatedenoughin my savings to cover myschool expenses until I

graduate.It is my second academic

quarter at Wayne StateUniversity. Although theseschool quarters only last for11 weeks, a great deal ispacked into them. Theprevious quarter I receivedabove-average grades in allfour of the courses Icompleted, which includedEnglish 101, AmericanLiterature; where I loved

discovering TheodoreDreiser, William Faulkner,Ernest Hemingway, MarkTwain, and F. ScottFitzgerald. Now I’m takingEnglish 102, which is acompositionclass.IfeelthatIwill have no problemswhatsoever—after all, I’m awriter! I’ve been writingsince I was a preteen, I’vecompletedanovel,andIhavea file full of essays I’ve

written.This glow of eagerly

anticipating having mywriting legitimized by acollege professor teaching atamajoruniversityisdimmeddramatically, however, whenthe young graduate fellowassigned to teach thisfreshman English courseannounces: “Everything youwrite must be submittedaccording toAPA style.You

will lose points for any andallinconsistencies;andifyoueverusethewordinteresting,you will receive a failinggrade on your paper.” Theweekly essays required forthiscoursemustbefootnotedand supported by somethingsomeone else has alreadywritten.He’snotinterestedinwhat

students inthisclassthinkorwrite? Students are to be

guided by a manual that’sdesigned to make everybodywrite and sound just likeeverybody else? Nocreativity,noopinions?Ifindit almost impossible tobelieve, but it seems to methat Joachim Ries, who’steaching this class, isobsessed with ThePublication Manual of theAmerican PsychologicalAssociation. Every paper

mustmeettheexactstandardslaid out in the manual.Grammar, punctuation,bibliography citations …everything must adhere to acertain format, and noopinions are to be expressedbystudents.Myfirstpaper,whichisan

interpretation of a poem,receives a failing grade. Redscratchmarks throughout thepaperpointtomymistakesas

Mr. Ries sees them—improper annotation,punctuation, and footnotes—and I’ve had the audacity tointerpret the meaning of thispoem inaway thatMr.Riesfindsincorrect.Iamincensed.Idespisethe

idea of having everything Iwrite criticized and rejectedfor what seem to meirrelevancies. I write to thepoem’s author, who is a

professoratasmalluniversityin Wisconsin, and include acopy of my paper, whichdetails my personalinterpretation of what hewanted to convey in hispoem.Itooamapoet.Iwrotemanypoemsduringmyyearson Guam, and am deeplyinterested in the works ofRumi and Hafiz, two Sufipoets from Persia whosewords bring a soothing elixir

tomysoul.I receive a warm letter

from the professor of poetrycongratulating me for myinterpretation. He loves thepaperandistouchedbywhatI got from his poem. Thisman was thrilled to write tome—poets obviously do notreceiveverymuchmail!I take my response from

the poet to Mr. Ries, who’sobviouslyveryupsetwithme,

this inexperienced collegefreshman who dared toquestionhimandhisgradingsystem. I’ve not ingratiatedmyself tomy instructor,whosees me as insolent andrefuses to even considerchangingmygrade.The weeks go by, and for

our final exam, we’reassigned a term researchpaperduethelastweekofthequarter.Iwriteapaperonthe

1956 Hungarian RevolutionandtherolethatJánosKádár,a Communist sympathizer,playedinthatconflict.Thisisof particular interest to mebecause when it happened, Iwasa16-year-oldhighschoolstudent trying to follow thisevent as best I could. I’mproudof thispaperand thinkit isverywellwritten—andIfollowAPAstyletotheletter.Mr.Ries is stillupsetover

myattemptstohavemygradeimproved on my first paper.He’sagraduateassistantwhotakesumbrageattheideathatone of his freshman studentswould take exception to anyof his pronouncements orgrading procedures. Now hetells me that my 57-pageresearch paper on the role ofJános Kádár in the recentHungarian revolution is notmy original writing. I must

have plagiarized, in hisopinion, even though he hasno evidence of such atransgression He gives me aD on the paper—and whenmy final grade arrives in themailaweeklater,IfindthatIhave a D for the course aswell. A passing grade, but aless-than-satisfactorygrade.I ambeyondangry. I have

plagiarized nothing. I havebeen writing papers and a

novel for over six years. I’mbeing punished for what Iconsider a high quality ofwriting.Imake several attempts to

meet with Mr. Ries in thenextquarter.Herefuses.Iaskthe department head to hearmy case. He listensattentively. I show him myresearch paper and theaccusation of possibleplagiarism, and he informs

me that there is nothing hecando.He’snotinapositionto overturn the grades that astaffmember gives, and tellsme that I can retake thecourse and have the Dsupersededbymysubsequentgrade.I think back to my leaf-

collection fiasco andremember having to retakebiology and how I let mypride inconvenience me, just

to prove that I was right. Idecide to drop it. The Dstands as my onlyunsatisfactory grade over aneight-year time period fromwhenIwasafreshmantothecompletionofmydoctorate.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

My days as a collegestudent, especially thoseearliest days, taught me apowerful lesson that haspermeated my writing andspeaking throughout my life.I’ve spoken often of themetaphor of the wake of aboat—that the wake isnothing more than the trailthat is left behind, and it hasno power in the present. Itdoesnotandcannotdrivethe

boat. It is a trail that has noinfluence on the boatwhatsoever.Attending and excelling in

those university classestaught me more than thesubjects I studied. Walkingabout the campus, I becameaware that my past did nothavetodictatemyfuture.TheenthusiasmIwas feelingandthe success I was having inthe university setting were

certainly unanticipated basedonmypast.Usingtheboatasasymbolofmylife,thewakeof that boat was not thedrivingforceofmy life. Inolonger needed a personalhistory;mypastwasjustthat—past—no longer a factorfor me. I was doing wellregardless of what my highschool record indicated—regardless of the facts ofmybackgroundandupbringing.I

neededtoknowthisfirsthandfrom experience, andsomehow I was led to thisrealization.From my first day on

campus I never lookedbackward, and understoodthatIcouldbeanythingIputmy attention on—thatanything I could place intomy imagination I couldachieve. But I had toexperience this truth before I

could teach it—and you cantrustmeonthis,everydayasI walked that campus in anexhilarated state of awe, Iwas seeing that the wake ofmy life was indeed nothingmore than a trail that I hadleft behind. I was now incharge of the direction mylife was to take. Myexperience with Mr. Ries inEnglish 102 is now seen byme as another one of those

great learning experiencesthat showed up disguised asan embarrassing and anger-producingevent.ApartofmeseemedtothinkIwasbackinthemilitary,beingtoldnottothink formyself, just do as Iwas told andwrite accordingtoamanual.APA style is basically the

uniform code of militaryjustice for college studentsthat says:Write according to

a code devised by theAmerican PsychologicalAssociation. Don’t becreative; don’t think outsideofthebox;writeapaperthatlooks just like every otherpaper ever submitted to acollegeprofessor.Writingbythesedictatesresultsinbooksorpapers that remainunread.Citingsourcesandfootnotingeverything creates dreary,researched, data-based

writing that doesn’t comealive for the reader. Bookswritten in this style are readmostly by other academics,and contribute primarily toenlarging the vast supply ofunreadmanuscripts gatheringdustonlibraryshelves.I wanted my writing to

excite readers—to inspirethem. I wanted readers towantmore, not feel that theycan’t wait to finish! Being

forced to write in such anoncreativestyle,fittingintoapreestablished format,gaveme a valuable experience. Ittaughtmewhat Ididn’twantformyself—itallowedme toexperience what I definitelydid not want to be. Idiscovered right there inEnglish 102 with Mr.JoachimRiesthatIwantedtowriteforalargeaudience,nota pedantic, erudite collection

ofacademics.I felt thepainofhaving to

stifle my own creativity inordertopleaseandfit intoapreordained style of writing.Yes, I succumbed and wentalong, but in doing so, Iwasmotivated to do this writingthing the way my heartdescribed it to me. I wentthrough the motions, but myimaginationwasstokedeveryday bymy desire towrite in

theexactoppositewaythanIwasbeingforced towrite fora college requirement by arigid graduate student. Itseemed that this man hadopted to drink all of theinstitutional Kool-Aid, andthat busywork had capturedhissoul.From a distance I can see

clearly that my episode withthe Wisconsin professor andpoet was a product of my

living almost exclusivelyfrom my ego at that time. Iwanted so desperately toprove that I was right, eventhoughallofmyeffortswereobviously self-sabotaging.Rather than coming from aplace of understanding andlove,Ichosetoputallofmyefforts into making mycollegeteacherwrong.Thisisthe action of an ego-dominated fool! It is akin to

talkingrudelytoauniformedpolice officer when stoppedfor a traffic violation,regardless of whether youfeel you are in the right ornot. I was so outraged thatthis man would find myinterpretationofapoemtobewrong that I reacted bystriking out at him and evenattempting to embarrass himby giving him proof of mysuperiority.

IcanseeclearlynowthatIneeded to have a series ofthese kinds of misfortunesthroughout my life. I finallygotthemessagethathasbeena central theme in my life’swork: When you have achoice to be right or to bekind,alwayspickkind.Livingfrom your highest spiritualsenseistheessenceofwhatitmeans to be a self-actualizedperson.

IwasviewingMr.JoachimRiesasanenemywhomIhadto overwhelm, even if theonlyresultwouldbeaPyrrhicvictory.IntheNavyIlearnedtobequietly effective, and ithad always worked for me.At Wayne State I was busyfighting a losing battleagainst the system. What Iknow today is to treateveryone with love andkindness, even when they’re

behaving in ways that Idislike. Ihad to learnhowtoallowmyhighestinnerselftobecome the dominantinfluenceinmylife.Theonlyway that I could get thislesson was to have my egotamed.I must admit that it made

me feel great to prove tomyself and Mr. Ries that Iwas right on thismatter.Butbeingrightshouldhavetaken

a backseat to being kind andkeepingmy eye onwhatmyreal goals were for thatEnglish class. Those goalsinvolvedcompletingtheclasswith a good grade, removingone more obstacle from mylarger goal of actualizingmyI am presence, which hadalready declared that I am ateacher!With these kinds ofsetbacksIwasbeinggroomedto teach about the absurdity

of relying upon the ego andwhatatrulyill-fatedchoiceitistodoso.And now I can give my

honest assessment regardingthatoneDgrade thatseemedtobeaspeckofpoisononmyotherwise illustrious-lookingcollege transcript. I can seeclearly that I totallydeservedthat unsatisfactory grade. Icreated it, and take fullresponsibility for it. I egged

this man on. I saw him as acompetitorandathreattomyself-image as a competentwriter.Iputhiminapositionwhere he was going to doanythinghecould to retaliateagainst my superciliousattitude.Yes, I earned thatD—and

even though it is now half acentury later, the presenceofthat scarlet letter on mycollege transcript is an

enduring reminder to alwaysmake the choice to comefromkindnessandlove.If the Wayne Dyer in his

70sweretotalktotheWayneDyer in his 20s, he wouldremindhimof thegreat truththat he had been teachingthroughout his professionalcareer: Live so as to bedetachedfromoutcome.Doitall because it resonates withyour highest self and

responds to your beseechinginner voice—not because ofrewardsthatmightcomeyourway. That D grade on atranscript is totally irrelevantto a highly functioningperson. I’d advise that 22-year-oldversionofmyself tobecontentwithknowing thathe’dwrittenagreatpaperandtake pleasure in the feelingthat comes with the joy ofwriting and expressing

yourself.ThisisalessonthatI have had to learn the hardway.We live in a world that

places an inordinate amountof pressure on definingsuccessinexternalterms.I’vespent many years in aprofession where so manychase after success in theseego-definedterms:Howmuchmoney do I make? Whatposition is my book on the

bestseller list,andhowmanyweekshas itbeen there?DidI receiveapromotion?Did Iget the job I sought? Whatdid thereviewers thinkofmybook, and how many copiesdid I sell? These andhundreds more ego-driventhoughts are typical ofauthors who fixate onexternal indices of success.Over the 50 years I’ve beenimmersed in this business,

I’velearnedtoletgoofthem.Mypreoccupationwiththat

unsatisfactory blackmark onmy transcript was a greatlearning experience as I lookback.Taming theego,whichdefines itself on the basis ofits reputation and what itaccomplishes and owns, hasbeenoneofthetoplessonsofmy life. The fact that myexperience as a 22-year-oldcollege freshman in an

English composition classstands out indicates theimportance thatattempting tocurb the demands of the egohasplayedinmylife.I can see clearly now that

the grade of D shrinks insignificancefromthedistanceof a 50-year observationtower. The fact that I couldinterpret a poem andunderstand it as the poet soindicated, and that I had the

energyandthewillingnesstoinvest myself in writing adetailed scholarly researchpaper that was thought tohave been plagiarizedbecause it was so wellwritten, far superseded thetrivial mark on a transcriptthathasabsolutelynothingtodo with who I am or what Ihave accomplished in thislifetime.I needed to learn this

lessonwell.Detachmentfromoutcome was my ultimateobjective, and this earlyexperience was one of thenecessary episodes I neededinordertobringthismessagehome clearly so that I couldultimately become a teacherofself-actualization.

I am driving myStudebaker Lark home fromtheuniversityaftera fullday

of classes. I am nearing theend of my sophomore yearafterhavingattendedsummerschool. Iwant to graduate assoon as possible to get onwith my teaching ambitions,so I’m taking additionalcourseseachquarterandplantoattendschoolfull-timeonayear-roundbasistomakethisideaareality.It is Friday afternoon,

November 22, 1963. I am

approaching the Edsel FordExpressway (I-94) on CraneStreet and am just on theentrance ramp when I hearthisshockingnewsonthecarradio: “We interrupt thisprogramtoannouncethat thePresidentoftheUnitedStateshasbeenshotinDallasafewmoments ago. It is expectedthatitisfatal.”Ipulloveron theentrance

ramp and sit in stunned

silence. Tears are rollingdown my cheeks. I feel asthough a bullet has tornthrough me and left me tooshattered to drive. I can’tcatchmybreath. I am takingthe news blaring over theradiovery,verypersonally. Iloved this President dearly.Hespokesoeloquentlyofthemany injustices that hewanted to see corrected. Hestood for eliminating the

horror shows of segregationthat so impacted me while Iserved my four years ofactive duty. He exuded hopeforabetterworld,andhewaswilling to take on the forcesthatwanted tokeep thesameold prejudices and hatred inplace. I marveled at thecourage he showed in hiscampaign when he promisedexecutive, moral, andlegislative leadership to

combat racial discriminationandschoolsegregation.OnlyafewmonthsbeforeI

watched with pride as theAlabama National Guard, atPresident Kennedy’s orders,providedforthesafetyoftwoblack students to enter abuilding at the University ofAlabama and register. Iwatched as Alabama’sGovernor George Wallacestepped aside, and a whole

new era of equality wasusheredin.On June 11, 1963, I heard

President Kennedy give thisspeechontelevision:

The heart of thequestion is whether allAmericans are to beaffordedequalrightsandequal opportunities,whetherwearegoing totreat our fellow

Americansaswewanttobe treated. If anAmerican, because hisskin is dark, cannot eatlunch in a restaurantopen to thepublic, if hecannot send his childrentothebestpublicschoolavailable, if he cannotvote for the publicofficials who willrepresent him, if, inshort, he cannot enjoy

the full and free lifewhich all of us want,then who among uswouldbecontenttohavethe color of his skinchangedandstandinhisplace?

That speech marked aturning point for our country—the beginning of the drivefor passage of what becametheCivilRightsActof1964.

I sit in my car on theentrancerampto thefreewayremembering how those twoyoung African-Americanstudents looked as theywenttoregisterforclasses.Irecallmy friend RayDudley beingdeniedaseatatarestaurantinHavredeGracewhiledressedin the uniform of the UnitedStatesNavyonlyafewyearsago, and I am saddened forthe loss of those hopes that

thePresidentoffered.I read of JFK’s heroism

during World War II in thebook PT 109 by RobertDonovan,andhowhisactionssaved the crew after his shiphad been cut in half by aJapanese torpedo. I devouredKennedy’s own book,ProfilesinCourage,inwhichhe focused on the careers ofeight senators in the U.S.Congress who had shown

great courage in the face ofconstituent pressures. I hadsuchhighhopesfor thiskindofcouragetobeappliedtosomany social issues in ourdeeply divided country. Irecalled the fear that grippedthe nation during the Cubanmissile crisis and how thisyoung, courageous Presidentstood up to the SovietPremier Nikita Khrushchevandavertedanucleardisaster.

Ibelievedinthisman.Ifeltclose to him. I’dwritten himduringmyinvolvementintheincident on Guam where theindignity of prejudice wasraising its ugly face in mylife. JFK was the man Ithoughtwouldrightthismessifhewasinformedofit.I slowly begin to pick up

speed and enter the freeway,heading east to my homewhere I’m living with my

mother, until my upcomingmarriagenextyear.Later I’m working at

Kroger’sgrocerystoreontheevening shift from four tillnine. Everyone checking outatmycashregisterisinshock—veryfewareabletospeak.Ilookintoawoman’seyesasI hand her her change andwhenoureyesmeet,webothbreak down in tears. Thesilencepermeateseverything.

No one can speak withouttearingup. I am impactedbythis tragedy in a way totallyforeign to me. It feels as ifmylifeisgoingtomakeabigshift as a resultof theeventsofthisday.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

I’ve included this historicincidentbecauseitinfluencedthe direction of my personaland professional life. Thatday in November 1963 didinitiateahugeshiftformeinmany ways. Up until then,virtuallyeverythinginmylifethatwasimpactingmyfuturewasofapersonalnature.Myexperiences in foster homesor an orphanage, in highschool,andintheNavywere

my “Wayne Dyer moments”of awakening to a newdirection and a newconsciousnessinmypersonallife. The assassination ofPresidentKennedydidn’tjustkill a man I admiredtremendously; it killedsomethinginmeaswell.I began then and there to

think about a plan for a lifethat would have a historicaland global effect. It was no

longer just about myimpending career as ateacher. I began to think interms of how I could impactthe consciousness of theentire planet. I saw myselffrom that day forward as aman with a voice ofcompassion for a highergood. I didn’t know how orevenwhatmy rolemight be,but I knew that one personwithaconsciencecouldmake

a difference and I was thatperson. Why not? I thoughtlikeJFKdidlongbeforeIhadever heard of this man. ItingledasI thoughtofgivinga voice to these ideas andhaving that voice heardaround theworld. I began toseemyself as a world leader—not a political leader—butapersonwhowas filledwithcompassionforeveryone,anda person whom others were

willingtolistento.As I look back on the

assassination of PresidentKennedy,now50yearslater,Icanseethathewasdestinedtogiveuphis life inorder tohave his own dharmafulfilled.TheCivilRightsActwasnotheadedforpassagein1963. The likelihood of JFKbeingreelectedwasshrinkingbecause the South wasrebelling at his

uncompromising view onracial intolerance and voterrights. Filibusters bySouthern senators werealmost assured. But whenJFK died and the nationmourned this great man, theentire mood of the countryshifted. Under the newPresident,whowas reelectedin a landslide in 1964, thewinds of change began toblowmuchmorerobustly.

Politicians who vowed“segregation forever” beganto shift under thepressureofa more enlightened andawakened population, andactuallyvotedforequalrightsand moving toward a GreatSociety. I believe that thereare no accidents in thisspiritually ordained universe.The death of PresidentKennedy thatdayopened thedoor to long-overdue civil

rights, voter rights, healthcarefortheelderly,improvedschools, and an awarenessthatequalrightswerenotjustwords to be spoken, butactions to be taken by all ofus. This was the only waythat the consciousness of ourcountrycouldshift.Iwasalsocaughtupinthis

new awareness.A rising tideraises all boats, and I feltmetaphorically raised by this

tragic event. I, like so manyothers, marched for civilrights and protested aloomingwar in Vietnam. Asa teacher in the inner city ofDetroit, and later as aspokesman for ending worldhunger through the HungerProject, I sought changes toour unjust and unnecessaryattitudes.My life as a writerand speaker focused onelevating people from

thinking of themselves asordinary and limited, totrusting in a new awarenessthatwithineveryoneresidesano-limit person who canaccomplish anything theyplacetheirattentionupon.PresidentKennedy’svision

for a country populated bycitizenswhowanttogiveandto serve more than take andreceive, is a vision that Ishareaswell.Thathehad to

die in order to move theentirecountry inanewmorecompassionate direction is apart of the perfection of ouruniverse. It can be arguedinterminably,butneverthelessitisso.Hediddie,andweallbecame better people as aresult. And I too began myjourneytowardbeingabetterperson, andacareercenteredon service and compassionand love for everyone. My

life might have had adifferent emphasis anddirection had the events inDallasthatdaynotoccurred.

I’m in my senior year ofcollege.I’veattendedcloseto100 lectures in these four

academic years, never oncecutting a class. I amcommitted to this full-timestudent regimen, and sohappy,proud,andluckytobehere in the first place thatvoluntarily missing even oneclass is never even aconsideration.While I love the

atmosphere of this universitybuilt right in themiddle of ateeming,largeinnercity,Iam

flabbergasted by whatappearstometobeapathyonthe part of the teachingfaculty. It is rare to findprofessors genuinely excitedabout their subject matter orinterested in inspiring thestudents. I notice how muchdisinterest is omnipresent insomanyoftheclassesItake.Thoughts like these streamthrough my consciousnessrepeatedly: It seems to me

that all of these professorsare just going through themotionsofdoingtheirjob.Somuch boredom—so littleexcitement for what they areteaching.I think back to my uncle

Bill Vollick, who was myinspiration for wanting tobecome a teacher. Hisclassroomwas a joy becauseof the laughter andexcitement he inspired. Bill

loved his students, and heloved his subject matter. Hewas living out his owndharma and everyone washaving a good time.The keyword here is love. I think,That’s what seems to bemissing in these classes.Everyone is going throughthe motions; there’s no lovehere. The students dutifullytakenotesonitemsthatmightappear on the midterm or

final examination. Otherwisethey’re so obviously blaséabout this entire businesseuphemistically calledhighereducation. The teachersaren’t teaching—they’representing material andsimply going through themotions themselves. They’redoingajob,showingupmostof the time, although oftencutting classes themselves,and seemingly oblivious to

the ennui that permeates theentireclassroom.I notice this lack of

enthusiasm on the part ofalmost everyone involved inwhat seems like a game thatis being played out. I watchand ask myself, Can’t theysee that no one is excitedabout what they’re saying?Theyhaveacaptiveaudience—thestudentshavetobehereand can’t leave until class is

dismissed. Why aren’t theprofessors making thissubject matter and this classcomealive?I imagine myself having

thedistinctprivilegeofbeingin front of the class as ateacherwiththissamecaptiveaudience. I play this fantasyout inmymind almost dailywhen I’m inaclassroomfullof students who are beingbathed in a lukewarm

learning environment. Iimagine myself making theroom come alive andpresenting the material in acompelling fashion. I seemyself teaching students tobemotivatedandinspiredandlearn the curriculum even ifthey think the material isunimportant.ThisisafantasythatIexperienceeveryday.I watch the teachers with

somedisdain,thesamewayI

did a fewyears back in highschool. I actually feel sorryfor them because they seemso trapped in living out theirroutine day after day, yearafter year. In high schooltherewereseveralteachersatthe end of their careers whojust put in their time untilretirement. I see some of thesame thing at the universityand wonder, Where is theirpride? How can they be in

frontofaclassandnotwanttoentertaintheirstudentsandget them excited aboutlearningthissubject?I vow to myself that this

will never be me. I lovemakingpeoplelaugh,andthememorable teachers I’ve hadall had this wondrous abilityto infuse their teaching withhumor. Ipromisemyself thatwhen I speak in front of agroup—any group—the

audience is going to lovebeingthere.Iwillnotjustgothrough the motions and domy job in order to receive apaycheck every twoweeks. Iwill keep the love alive—theloveforwhatIteach,thelovefor my students, but mostsignificantly, the love I haveformyself.I’mdeterminedtohonor who I am and neverbecome a teacher doing myjob in a listless charade of

indifference. That’s ablasphemous image that IwouldabhorwereItosubjectmyselftosuchignominy.Each day, in classroom

after classroom, I’mcaptivated by my ownimaginative ruminations onhow I would make thismaterial come alive. I’mmotivated by an intensedesire to bring excitement,fun, and humor to the

experienceoflearning.UltimatelyIamassignedto

PershingHighSchool, in theDetroit public-school system,to do my student teaching. Iam to teach honorseconomics to a group of 35graduating seniors, and mysupervising teacher is Mr.ZigmundBoytor.Ihavebeentruly blessed—Zig Boytor isamaster teacher, amanwhoembodies all that I aspire to

become. He is loved by hisstudentsandconsideredtobethebest teacher in theschoolbyhisprincipal.After the first two weeks,

Zig givesme free rein; I amthe sole teacher for theremainder of the semester.Economics can be anincredibly dreary subject, orat least it was for me in thetwocoursesIwasenrolledinasanundergraduate.Butnow

I have an opportunity to putintopracticewhatIhavebeenimagining over the previousfour years sitting in somanyhumdrumclassrooms.Iaminheaven!I love this semester more

thananyupuntilthispoint.Ilove this class, I love thestudents, and I even grow tolove economics! I’m thrilledwhen the class presents mewithaleatherbriefcaseanda

beautiful card expressingtheir enthusiasm for thecourse and for me—theteacher! I am profoundlytouched. Iamenthused. Iama teacher, and I am on myway to being an orator aswell.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

While I was sitting in anendlessarrayofclasseswhereapathy seemed to rule, bothonthepartoftheprofessoraswell as the students, I didn’trealizethatthiswasmyearlytraining ground for being apublic speaker. As I lookback,Icanclearlyseemyselfsitting in the classroomincredulous at the dullnessthat seemed so unnecessary.Why,Iwouldwonder,doesn’t

the instructor make thisexciting?Isn’titobvioushowtedious this is to everyone intheroom?NowIknow,fromadistance, that Ihad tohavethese feelings of frustration.They were awakeningsomethinginmethatcouldn’tbe silenced and ignored. Iwasdestined for a role as anoratorinmylife.Ineeded toget readyback

then, and the surest way to

preparemewastoprovidemewith a forum inwhich I hadto participate in somethingthat was distasteful to me.Once again, it is that oldtheme of having toexperiencewhatIdidn’twantto be, in order to truly knowwhat it was that I wanted todo. This, like everyexperience ofmy life, was abountifulblessingindisguise.Those inner musings I was

hearing and feeling weremywake-upcalls.When I talked to my

classmates about thesefeelings, they looked at mewith bewildered expressions.Tothem,thiswasthesystem;boring lectures are part ofwhat college is. Little did Iknowthatmyinternaloutragewasavoicefromtheuniversesaying to me, “Observe thiscarefully, feel the pain, and

makeacommitmentbasedonwhatyouare feeling to learnfrom this and become abrilliant, entertaining,compellingspeaker.”Having spoken in public

forums for almost fourdecades, to audiences payingtheir hard-earned money toattend, I feel blessed to havehad the opportunity to be inclasses in high school andcollege that provoked those

inner voices saying, “Payattention and make acommitment to make yourmessages come alive. Beenthusiastic and watch youraudience for clues to see iftheyarepayingattentionandenjoying themselves; ifthey’renot,thenchangewhatyouaredoingonthespot.”OvertheyearsI’vewritten

and spoken often of theimportance of passion in

one’s undertakings. To beapathetictomemeanstohavelostconnectiontomySource.Apersonstanding in frontofan audience withoutenthusiasm for his subjectand his actions isdisconnected from his spirit;that is, the God within. Infact, the rootmeaning of thewordenthusiasm is “theGodwithin.”Throughout decades of

speaking before large groupsof people I’ve learned thatwhen I surrender and allowmyself to be guided by aDivine Source, everythingseems to fall into place.While I’m being introducedasaspeakerabouttotakethemicrophone,Irepeat thislinefromACourseinMiracles tomyself: “If you knew whowalkedbesideyouatalltimeson this path that you have

chosen, you could neverexperience fear or doubtagain.” This has been myremindertoholdtheimageofmy alignment with thecreative Source of theuniverse and speak from mypassion.Whatwashappeningto me in those passionlessclassrooms was that I wasbeingproddedbymyspirittostayinrapportwithmyinnersenseofaweandappreciation

for all that I am—and indoing so, I could become aspeaker that people wouldwanttohear.I can remember as an

undergraduate studentthinking that I would like toexcel at whatever Iundertook, particularly inwriting and speaking. I’dheard that writers weregenerally not great speakers,andthatthosewhoexcelledat

oratory were generally notgreat at expressingthemselves on paper. I’velearned over the years thatgreatness is really a functionof what I choose to believeaboutmyselfandmyabilities.I know that I have thecapability of excelling atanythingIchoose.There isnothingwritten in

stone that says if I am aprofessional research expert

that I must therefore lackcompetence at speakingbeforeanaudience.Itookuptennis at the age of 31 anddecided on the first day Iplayed that I loved thisgameand could become a highlyskilled player if I put in thetime. And I did, for over 35years. Similarly, inundergraduate school I knewthat my ability to reach anylevel of prominence was

unrestricted. Iwould livemypassion, loving what I did,andtherewasnothingtoholdme back except my ownbeliefsinmylimitations.I can see one thing quite

clearly as I look back atmyself in those classroomsobserving the monotony allabout me. From thisperspective I understand thatevery experience of my life,regardless of how I chose to

process it at the time, hadsomethingextremelyvaluabletoteachme.Therearelessonsin everymoment, and I nowknowforsurethatthereisnosuchthingasanuninterestingsubject or an ordinarymoment. There are onlydisinterestedpeople.Ilearnedby example many years agonot to be one of thosedisinterested people. I feelthattobeboredisaninsultto

one’s highest self, which isbydefinitiontheGodwithin.

The year is 1968; I ammarried and have a year-oldbaby girl named Tracy, who

was born in themidst of theriots that decimated a largeportionof thecityofDetroit.I’m also in the doctoralprogram at Wayne StateUniversity after completingmymaster’sdegreetwoyearsago.Since I have both

bachelor’s and master’sdegrees from Wayne State,oneoftherequirementsofmyPh.D.programistocomplete

several semesters at theUniversity of Michigan togivemesomediversityinmyoveralleducationaltraining.Iam currently enrolled in asummer-school course herecalled “The Psychology ofPerception,” inwhich there’sa heavy emphasis on theadvantage of using hypnosisinthetreatmentofperceptualimpairments.Iusedaformofself-hypnosis to quit a

smoking habit that I pickedup in undergraduate school,and I’m looking forward toreceivinghypnosisinstructionandpracticumexperience.The professor of this

course, a highly energizedand very competent scholar,did a group hypnosis on usyesterday. Iwas in a stateofbliss—my mind was in anenhanced state, and I feltpeaceful. I was totally aware

of everything taking placeand did not sense that I hadgiven up control, yet I foundmyself following hissuggestions willingly, doingeverythingthatwassuggestedto me without questioninganything. I felt as if I didn’thave to dowhat Iwas beingtold to do, but I did itanyway.Todaywearetowitnessan

experiment in mind-body

control.Awomaninherearly40s has agreed to be thestudent who will undergo ahypnosisexperimentwithourprofessorastheexperimenter.Heplacesherinachairatthefront of the classroom andputs her in a hypnotic-liketrance. He then explains thatthehumanbodycannotmakea clear distinction betweenextremely hot and extremelycoldtemperatures.Hetellsus

—along with the hypnotizedwoman, who looks totallynormalandunaffectedbyanyhypnotic suggestion—that ablindfolded person touchedbyasuper-coldinstrumentorared-hotinstrumentgenerallycannot tell which kind oftouch they’ve received. Heexplainsthatextremehotandcoldcanfeelidentical.We are all attentive as the

professor continues

explaining the psychology ofperception and that thenervoussystemsimplyreacts.Hot and cold are merelyperceptual variationsdepending upon the makeupofthepersonbeingtouched.He blindfolds the woman

and proceeds to touch herwith an ice-cold metalinstrument and a blown-outmatch still hot to the touch.First cold. Then hot. Then a

variety of mixed-up trials.The woman is about 75percent accurate in herguesses as the experimentunfolds.Thenhetakesoffherblindfold and discusses theresultswiththeclass.The woman is still in a

hypnotic state. He tells herthat he is going to show herwhich extreme-temperatureutensilheisgoingtouseandinstructshertosimplysayhot

or cold quickly as she istouched. He shows her afrozenutensilandthenared-hot pin that he says he willtouch to her inner arm, andshe is to say out loud howeachtouchimpactsher.He places the blindfold

overhereyesagainandtakesout the ice-cold metal pick.Very softly he says, “This isthe cold one; tell me how itfeels.”Shesaysitiscoldand

isabitstartled.Thenhetakesthe red-hot pin and places itnear her face so that she canfeel theheat,andsays,“Iamgoingtotouchyourinnerarmonly slightly, and Iwantyoutell me your immediatereaction.” After the pin isplaced close to her face, sheis convinced that he’s aboutto touch herwith the red-hotobject. The professor sets itonaglassashtrayonhisdesk,

and instead touchesher innerarm with the eraser on theend of a pencil he’s takenfrom his shirt pocket. Thewomanisstartledandaslightblister forms on her arm—even though she was onlytouched by a room-temperaturepencileraser.A stunned classmate says,

“Did you see that? It’sunbelievable. I can’t believethat she did that with her

mind.Iamflabbergasted.”Myeyesarewideopen,as

is my mouth, as I observefirsthand the astonishingpower of the mind over thebody. By her belief andnothing more, this womanwas able to produce a blisteronherarm!Theprofessorexplainsthat

much of our perceptualactivity is controlled by thebeliefswehold.Hedescribes

the placebo effect, whereinexperiments are done withsugar pills that arthritissufferers believe are arthritismedicine—andthesugarpillsalleviatethearthritis!Just as I had experienced

withmypilonidalcystwhenIwas in the Navy, I’m againseeingthewayourbeliefscanbekeytohealing.Evenmorethan this, I am wondering ifoutside influences or

culturally entrained ideasmightbeirrelevantinthefaceof this infinitely powerfulmind of ours. Perhaps, Iponder, we can convinceourselvesofourownabilitiestomanifestanything.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

That summer day in 1968wasatippingpointinmylife.It tippedmeover theedgeofonerealitythatIhadbelievedinfor28yearsandlandedmein a place of unimaginedpotentiality.Though it was a relatively

new field of inquiry, I haddonequiteabitofreadingonthe mind-body connection,particularly in the field ofmedicine. However, my

intellectual inquiry hadn’tprepared me for what Iwitnessedintheclassroomatthe University of Michiganthat day. I can see clearlynowthatIneededtobethereto have this new awarenessfirmly implanted in both myconscious and subconsciousmind. It is one thing to readabout something; it is quiteanother to experience itdirectly.

If this is possible, Iwondered that day in class,then what else is the mindcapable of achieving thatmost people believe to beimpossible?ThisoneincidentattheUniversityofMichiganthatsummerdayin1968wasthebirthplaceofmyteachingabout something I came tocall “no-limit living” a fewyearsdowntheroad.Butwaybeyond my becoming a

teacher who passionatelywrote and spoke on thissubject of being unlimited—because of the limitlesspower of our minds toimagine anything and thenmake it a reality—was theimpact this experience withtheblisterand theeraserwastohaveonmepersonally.Imade upmymind that I

was capable of creatinganything that I put into my

imagination and kept thereenthusiastically. I decidedthat I didn’t have to havecolds, or fatigue, or financialshortages, and for the mostpart I was able to manifestpretty much everything Iimagined. It was as if alightbulb went off inside mewhenIsawtheshocked lookon the face of the womanwhen she observed what herstrong belief had

accomplished.Ireasonedthatif she could believe sostronglyinsomethingthatshecouldcreateablisterwiththatbelief, then there was noreason I couldn’t begin totrain my mind to believe inall manner of staggeringaccomplishments.As a result of that one

episode of hypnosis, I laterincorporatedthisconceptintomy public lectures. I

encouraged people tocultivate a way of believingthat could overcome theconditioned belief in theirlimitations.I have always felt that a

majorhandofdestinyplacedmeinthatclassroomin1968.As I sit here writing today,morethan40yearssincethatdemonstration in the earlyyears ofmy doctoral studies,Ihavesuchaclearpictureof

allthattranspiredthatday,asif it happened only thismorning. This was life-changing for me because Iknew that that could verywell have been me creatingtheblisterwithmyownmind.LittledidIknowasIwalkedinto that classroom that daythat the class was to providemewithanimagethatwouldpersonally and professionallyaffectmylifefromthenon.

This image was so strongthatitimpactedme;allofmychildren, who were raised tohaveamindthatwasopentoallpossibilities;andmymanystudents and millions ofreaders, in 47 languagesaround the globe. Oneseemingly innocuousclassroom demonstrationrippled out into infinity,influencing countless otherstotrustinthemselvesandthe

power of the mind to makeanythinghappen.I reasoned at the time that

ifenoughpeopleaccessedthepotentialofno-limitthinking,the entire course of humanbehavior could be changedforthebetter.Whynot?Thisinvisiblemind of ours seemsto affect everything in thephysicaluniverse,sowhynotdreambigandworktowardaworld where massive

numbers of us truly do thinkand act in this new way? Iknow this sounds a bitgrandiose, but that’s whatwas going through my mindthat day when I left class achanged and idealistic youngdoctoralstudent.Yes,Iseeclearlyfromthis

vantagepointthatthebodyistheservantofthemind.Ihadheardit,readit,andpaidverylittle attention to this

phenomenal idea until Iexperienceditrightinfrontofme. Even events in our livesthat appear to be mundanecan, ifwe arewilling to payattention and be astonished,impactourlivesandthelivesof others. The blister-and-eraser event was to be amonumental experience,influencing all that I was tocreate in the years ahead.From that day forward I

began to becomemuchmoreawareofhowIwasusingmythoughts.Because I had witnessed

firsthand the power of athought to create a physicalmanifestation, I couldn’t getthe ideaout ofmymind thateverythoughtIhadcontaineda kind of enormous potentialfor change. I rememberwalking to my car after thatclass, thinking that I would

one daywrite an entire bookon this subject … notknowing then that thedemonstrationIhadjustbeena party to would launch meintowritingasmalllibraryonthe amazing power of ourmind. The image of thewoman in the classroomnever left me. Almost half acentury later, it still shinesbrightlyonmyinnerscreen.

AsIpursuemyPh.D.,I’memployed as a guidancecounselor at Mercy High

School in Farmington,Michigan. I love this schoolwhere some 1,000 girls arematriculated in a college-preparatorycurriculumrunbythereligiousSistersofMercy.I love my job, which is toprovide counseling andguidance services forapproximately300studentsingradesninethroughtwelve.It is the Wednesday after

Labor Day, 1968. In the

auditorium last night I spoketo the parents and presentedthe school’s plans for theacademic year. Theopportunity to give a speechand entertain the audiencemade for a compellingevening, and I am still on ahighfromit.Nancy Armstrong, one of

my students, tells me, “Mymom heard you speak lastnight, and she wants me to

givethisbooktoyouasagiftof appreciation. She told metotellyouthatshelovedyourspeechtotheparents.”Nancyexplains that hermother is amember of the Book-of-the-MonthClubandreceivedthislarge volume as a bonus forpurchasing a certain numberof books. Mrs. Armstrongdoesn’t thinkshe’llever readit—and because of thecontent of my talk the

previous night, she’s certainI’ll enjoy having it for mypersonallibrary.The book is titled The

WorldofPsychology,VolumeII, Identity and Motivation,edited by G. B. Levitas; itwas published in 1963 byGeorge Braziller. It is acompendium of 41 essayswritten by a diversecollection of authors,including Plato, William

Butler Yeats, FriedrichNietzsche, Aldous Huxley,Margaret Mead, Carl Jung,and many other prominentcontributors. The mix isexciting—poets,psychologists, literaryluminaries, and philosophers.It is right up my alley, as Ithoroughly enjoy readingpoetry, essays, commentary,and the like. In my amateurway I’ve dabbled in these

formsofwritingsinceIwasakid.I callMrs. Armstrong and

thank her for her thoughtfulgift.ThenIrealizeIhavefourhoursfreebeforeIneedtobeon campus at Wayne State.I’m meeting there with mydoctoral advisor,Dr.Mildred“Millie”Peters,todiscussmyplan of work for theremaining two and a halfyears ofmy doctoral studies.

I’ve already decided on thedirection I want to take. Isimply need Dr. Peters tookaymyplan,whichoutlinesall of my upcoming coursework, my practicum andinternship requirements, andmy doctoral dissertationtheme. I’m interested inCarlRogers’s client-centeredtherapy and B. F. Skinner’swork on behaviorism andhave decided to pursue areas

ofresearchthatfocusontheirmodalities.I pick up the compendium

that Nancy gave to me thismorning. I flip to Part VII,“The Whole Man,” and seethat there are offerings byJohn Stuart Mill, RalphWaldo Emerson, RobertBrowning, and C. E.Montague.Butoneespeciallycatches my eye: “Self-Actualizing People,” by

Abraham Maslow. I aminexplicably drawn to thearticle, which is 28 pageslong, and will require acouple of hours to readthoroughly. I turn off thephone after deciding that Imust read this before my 7P.M.meetingwithDr.Peters.AsIread,Ihavethestrangestsensationthatmylifeisabouttomakearadicalshift.Theessaydescribespeople

whomDr.Maslowcalls“self-actualized.”He defines theserare and unique people thisway:

What a man can be,he must be. This needwe may call self-actualization.…Itrefersto the desire for self-fulfillment, namely, tothe tendency for him tobecome actualized in

whatheispotentially.

Maslow describes theinnate inner calling of thesekinds of people to becomeeverything that they arecapable of becoming, andhowdifficult to impossible itisforthemtostiflethisdrive.As I readon,hedescribes indetail the specificcharacteristics of self-actualizers, who are

dramatically different fromaverage people. Maslowsuggests that they are oftenlabeled as selfish orunconventionaland,seemstome to say, that their actionsand attitudes should beexalted and commendedrather than suppressed andsquelched.Maslownotesthattheself-

actualizedpersonhasastrongdesire for privacy;

vehemently resistsenculturation, but always hasa freshness of appreciation;and has a genuine desire tohelp the human race. Yet“whenitcomesdowntoit,incertain basic ways he is likean alien in a strange land.Very few really understandhim,howevermuchtheymaylikehim.”I am enthralled—

highlightingalmost theentire

article. I feel that I amreading about qualities I’vealways felt deep withinmyself, but have often beencriticized for. I am sofascinated by what I’mreadingI feelas thoughIamin the midst of an oceanicmystical experience. This isit.ThisisthedirectionIwantmyadvancedstudiestotake.As I read the conclusion I

knowthatItoomustbewhat

I can be, and marvel at thecoincidence of receiving thisgift just before finalizingmyplans with my doctoraladvisor. Yet, on some otherlevel I know that Nancybringing this book from hermother is somehowconnected to the necessity ofmyreadingthisessaytoday.Ireread Dr. Maslow’sconclusion again and again.AndIknowInolongerwant

tofocusonwhatIwassosureofbeforereadingthisessay.Iam absolutely certain aboutwhatIwanttostudynow.I make a copy of the last

paragraph to take to mymeetingwithDr.Peters.

In this, as in otherways,healthypeopleareso different fromaverageones,notonlyindegree but in kind as

well, that they generatetwo very different kindsof psychology. Itbecomesmoreandmoreclear that the study ofcrippled, stunted,immature and unhealthyspecimenscanyieldonlyacripplepsychologyanda cripple philosophy.The study of self-actualizing people mustbe the basis for a more

universal science ofpsychology.

My heart is beating fast; IfeelasifIamabouttoenteranewphaseofmylife.IshowDr. Peters my plan of workalltypedupandreadyforhersignature, and then I tell heraboutwhatIhavejustread.Iam bursting with enthusiasmaboutthisideaoffocusingonthe highest-functioning

people and drawingconclusions about who wecan become, based not onaverage people but onextraordinary self-actualizingpeople.Iwant towriteaboutwhat

I have just digested. I see somany of my own atypicalpersonality traits andinclinations in Maslow’sdescriptionofself-actualizingpeople. I’ve always been

independent of the goodopinions of others, followedmy own predilections, andbeenoutsideoftheboxinmythinking for as long as I canremember. I love the idea ofhavinghighstandardsthatarenotbasedonwhattheculturedictates, but on what I feelwithinmyselftobepossible.IaskDr.Peters,oneofthe

most self-actualized people Ihave ever been blessed to

know—awomanwhoearneda Ph.D. when very fewwomanwereevenconsideredfor such elevated scholarlystatus, a womanwho alwaysencouragedme to followmyown instincts regardless ofwhat the system seemed todictate—if I can change thisplan of work sitting on herdesk and pursue this area ofself-actualization in mydoctoral studies. Without

hesitation, she says yes. Wetear up the old plan and Ibeginawholenewchapterinmylife.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

The laborers of fate wereworking overtime thatSeptemberdayin1968.Ihad

given that talk to the parentsbecause the school principalwas feeling sick and askedmetofillinforheratthelastminute. Had that notoccurred,myentirelifemighthave looked very differentthanitdoesfromthisvantagepoint almost five decadeslater.When Nancy handed me

that compendium of greatspiritualmasters’ teachings, I

felt inexplicably drawn to it.When school let out aroundtwoo’clock,Isatatmydeskdebating whether to headdowntotheuniversitylibraryor go over my doctoral planofworkonemoretimeinmyoffice.Thatblackbooksittingon my desk seemed to havean energy all its own, urgingme:Pickmeupandreadme;I have something veryimportant to say to you.

When I came across Dr.Maslow’s article on self-actualizingpeople,itspoketomeaswell:Readmeanddoitrightnow.I can see clearly now that

these kinds of almostdesperate callings are thework of something biggerthan myself, but to which Iam passionately connected. Ihave come to trust in thesemessages and synchronistic

collaborationswithfate.At the time it was all

happening I simply wentalong with how I was beingsteered without giving it toomuch thought. Today I amconfident that on some levelNancy Armstrong, hermother, my school principal,the person who made theBook-of-the-Month Clubbonus decision, and manyotherswere,insomemystical

fashion that eludes myintellectual understanding,participants in showing memypath.Ibelieveinit.Itrustit,andnowfromthisvantagepoint,Iammuchmoreabletotap into it while it is takingplace.Itnolongertakesyearsforme tohave this insight—everything and everyone areconnected to each other andto the Tao or the universalone mind from which all

thingsoriginateandreturn.After that fateful meeting

with my beautiful advisor,Dr. Peters, she actuallycreated an entirely newcurriculum in the doctoralprograminorderthatImightfulfill what I felt burning sohotly within me. Shedesignedthenewprogramformany incoming doctoralstudents, and at least 12people signed on. Iwas able

to be part of an internshipdoctoralprogramthatfocusedon using small group-counseling therapy sessionsto train people who wereinclined toward embracingthe tenets of Maslow’sgroundbreakingworkonself-actualization. I would nolonger simply check offrequirements for a doctoraldegree; I had a focus thatfilledmewithpassion.

Abraham Maslow becamea towering figure inmy life.Hewastheinspirationformeto lookatpsychology froma180-degree-turnaboutposition.Ratherthanstudyingwhat was weak, infirm, orlimitedinclientsandmakeanassessment based onovercomingailments,Ibeganlooking for the highestqualities of self-actualizationandencouragingclients—and

ultimately readers andlisteners—to seek their owninnategreatnessandaspiretothese pinnacles. I reasonedthat if some among us couldbe self-actualized, then socould I and anyone elsewhounderstood that it waspossible. This became amajor focus of myprofessional life and thecompass I set for myself tolive the principles that

Maslow delineated in hiswriting.Dr. Maslow spent his

lifetime researching whatconstituted positive mentalhealth.Most psychology thatI studied before myintroduction to his writingconcerned abnormality andillness;inmydoctoralstudiesand virtually all of mywriting, the idea of self-actualization and humanistic

psychology became thecentral focus. I was destinedto spread this idea of eachperson having the ability tocultivate his or her ownmagnificence.Throughout my life I felt

that I had something uniquewithin me —when I readMaslow’sessayIknewthatIhad to make this the focalpoint of my doctoral studiesand beyond. I can remember

feeling familiarwithwhathedescribed as thecharacteristics of self-actualizing people. Later,whenIwaswritingTheSky’sthe Limit, I devoted entirechapterstoelaboratingontheideas that were inspired bythis mentor of mine whospoke to me through hislectures and particularly hiswriting.AndIwroteWhatDoYou Really Want for Your

Children? as a guide forparents who want to raiseself-actualized children to behumanistically orientedadults.Allbasedonwhatthismantaughtme.Dr.Maslowdiedofaheart

attack on June 8, 1970. Ireceived my final degree onthe same day, and wouldfromthenonbeknownasDr.WayneDyer.It’sasifhehadpassedthebatonontomeand

said,“I’veexplainedthisideaof self-actualization to theacademic world; now youtake thebatonand teach it tothemasses.”Manybooksandthousands

oflectureslater,Icanstillseeme receiving The World ofPsychology, Volume II fromNancyArmstrong’smomandthen lettingmyselfbeguidedby those forces that arealways at work in all of our

lives at all times. That bookcontinuestobeatreasure—itisonmydesknearbyas Isitandwritesome45yearslater.Thiscollectionofprofound

observations by some of thescholars most beloved andrevered by me was theinspiration for a similar kindofbookthatIproducedinthe1990s called Wisdom of theAges.Iwrote60essaysbasedupon the offerings of 60

distinguished scholars overthepast25centuriesandhowtheir teachings could impactthe reader today. Many ofthose erudite people werecontributors to the book thatcontained that essay on self-actualization by AbrahamMaslow.Wisdomof theAgesalsobecameaPBStelevisionspecial that aired throughoutthecountry inprime timeformanyyearsandwaswatched

by millions of people. Allbecause of the events thattranspired in my office backintheyearof1968.It is so clear to me today

thateverything—everyevent,andeveryperson—isinsomeinexplicable way connected.There is no time; 1968 and2018areallone,eventhoughour body-mind sees them asseparatedby50years.Weareallconnectedtoeveryoneand

everything in the universe.What I do affects everyone,and all of my thoughts anddeedsarenotonlylistenedtobythegreatTaobutmakeanimpact independent of timeconstraints. I can’t begin togive a literal or linearexplanationforhowandwhythe events described in thissection transpired, but fromthis vantage point I can seeclearlythatnotonlymylife’s

journey but the lives ofmillions of people wereimpacted bymy reading thatessay by Dr. Maslow thatSeptemberafternoon.Today, anytime I feel

compelledtodosomething—something that I experiencepassionately—Ipayattention.When I recognize that it is acallingfrommysoul,Iknowfor certain that this issomethingthatImustdo.Itis

Godcallingmeinawaythatisuniquelyandbewilderinglymysterious. It is that callingthat I pay attention to thatpushesmeeverydaytowritethesevignettes.I am connected to you,

dear reader—thoughwemayhave no physical linkage,there’s an energy flowingbetween the two of us.Neither of us knows howmind-altering it may be, or

how far-reaching its extent. Iknowthis forcertainas Iseemoreandmoreclearly.

It is the final year of mydoctoral studies. For myinternship practicum, I’m

leading beginning doctoralstudents in group counselingwhile simultaneously doingresearchforthepublicationofmydoctoraldissertation.Dr. John Vriend, a

relatively new facultymember atWayneState, is amember of my doctoralcommittee. He received hisowndoctorateatNYU,wherehe was involved in anapproach to counseling and

therapy called rationalemotivetherapy(RET)taughtbyAlbertEllis,who’swrittenmany books and conductsworkshopsandtrainingattheAlbert Ellis Institute on East65thStreetinNewYorkCity.Johnhandsmeabookand

says,“Iwantyoutoreadthisvery slowly and verycarefully. It will alter yourviewsonhow tohelppeoplein a new and enlightening

way.”WhatJohngivesmeisA Guide to Rational Living,one of more than 75 booksthat Dr. Ellis has written forthepublic.AsIreadthesmallbookit

speakstomelikenothingelsehas in my training, coursework, and personal reading,in terms of how to assistclients in attaining theirhighest self.This is the sameself that Dr. Maslow wrote

about so poignantly andconvincingly. What attractsme is that Dr. Ellis isproviding the specifics forteachingpeoplehowtoattainthe pinnacle of Maslow’shierarchy of needs: self-actualization.The essence of RET is a

basic understanding thatunrealistic and irrationalbeliefs causemost emotionalproblems. The job of the

therapist is to help the clientstrive to change irrationalbeliefs, challenge self-defeating thinking, andactivelypromoterationalself-talk. The core unrealisticbeliefsthatmostpeoplecarryfrom childhood intoadulthood that causeemotional disturbancesinclude: (1) I must performwelltobeapprovedofbyanysignificant others in my life;

(2) I must be treated fairly,and if not, then it is acatastrophe and I simplycould not bear it; and (3)Conditions must go my way,and if they don’t, then it ishorrible and I will bedistressedandunabletobearit.I devour this book and its

central theme: We areresponsible for the way wefeel, and have within us the

capacity to change the waywe view the events in ourlives. In simple,commonsense language Dr.Ellis is offering therapeutictoolsthatprovetoclientsandtherapists that it isunnecessary to beemotionally disturbed orupset. He repeatedlyemphasizes that I must dowell,Youmust treatmewell,andTheworldmustbewhatI

want it to be are neuroticideasthathelumpsunderthecategoryof“musterbation.”I’m completely taken by

the simplicity and logic thatDr.Ellis teaches.Ireplaythetaped recordings of himconducting therapy sessionswithpeoplesufferingfromallmanner of serious emotionaldisturbance and begin to usethese techniques with manyof my own clients at the

university and at the highschool. The results areastounding.I’d been attempting to do

counseling that involvesclient-centered therapy, apsychoanalyticmethodwhereI’m essentially a reflectivelistener. So far I’ve feltfrustrationformyclients(andmyself as well). But as Ibegin to be interactive andpresent an alternative to my

clients, positive changes takeplacealmostimmediately.I feel happier and am able

toactually talkmyselfoutofsome lifelong thinkingpatterns that aren’t servingme. I take thisbookwithmewherever I go and I read itover and over, studying thelogic and seeing that mostemotional upsets are causedbyasetofinsanebeliefs,thatwhen changed result in a

disappearance of theunsettledness. I’m fascinatedby how Dr. Ellis weaves inthe teachings of Dr.Maslowon self-actualization, Buddhaand Lao-tzu and all of theEastern philosophers, andEpictetus and MarcusAureliusfromancientRomantimes. This little book is themost powerfully influentialbookIhavelookedinto.Dr.Vriend,whointroduced

it to me, is not only on mydoctoral committee and astaff member in myprofessional studies, he’sbecoming a close friend aswell.Hegivesmeguidance—but even more, gives mepermission to enter intofriendly disputes with myclients over the nature ofwhat disturbs them, and tofearlessly show them howtheir thinking is really the

cause of their emotionalturmoil. So I tell them,“Changeyourthinking:attackthe logic that supports yourcontinued annoyance andbasically change yourphilosophy, and you willimprove everything aboutyour life. By changing theway you process any and alleventsastheycropupinyourlife, you can live a happy,fulfilled life devoid of

emotionaldisorder.”I take notes on this new

way of helping people andespeciallymyself.Ibringthisapproach to my teaching, tomy counseling, and to mytraining sessions at theuniversity inmy internship. Idrink it in—I live it. I writenotes tomyselfaboutabookIwouldlovetowriteonedaythat combines self-actualization, rational

emotive therapy, and theancient Eastern and Westernphilosophies that I’ve beenstudying for over a decadenow. Iamgratefuleverydayto Dr. John Vriend, whobroughtthisamazingbooktome and insisted that I read itslowlyandcarefully.Iamnowveryclearonthe

path my future counseling,teaching, and writing willtake.Butmore than that, I’m

thrilledthatIhaveanewtoolformyownlife.Neveragainwill I blame anyone for anyemotional upset that Iexperience. Blame is gonefrommylife.IknowthatifIchangethewayIprocessanyevent—andIalwayshavethispower, even as a young boy—then I can get myselfrightedalmostimmediately.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

AGuidetoRationalLivingwasplaced intomyhandsbya man who went from beingmy mentor and colleague tomyclosestfriend,amanwhowas sent to me at preciselythe right time in my life.Many years later John toldme that he felt inexplicably

compelledtointroducemetothe idea of rational emotivetherapywhileIwasoneofhisdoctoralstudents.He’dhadavisionthat itwouldinfluencemyfuturewritingwhenI leftthe familiar territory ofWayne State and embarkedon my own professionalcalling.I carried Albert Ellis’s

favorite quote from MarcusAurelius in my wallet for

many years and have usedthis idea inmy speaking andwritingforover40years:“Ifyou are distressed byanything external, the pain isnotdueto thethingitselfbutto your own estimate of it;and this you have the powertorevokeatanytime.”Thisisquite a departure from whatbehavioral andpsychoanalytical schoolstaught, which was that our

disturbances can be traced tocultural and familial factors,that we are often powerlessovertheseexternalinfluencesand thus must learn to adaptandwork through theseearlytraumas.Iwassodrawntothiskind

of thinking—that we areresponsible for how weprocess any external event—it’s what I intuitively knewway back in grade school

when I urged my friends tonotbefooledbyadulteffortsto manipulate thememotionally.NowIhadbeenintroduced to a process andan interactive methodologyfor helping others opt fortheir own greatness. Icurrently had threeastounding sets of ideaspercolating within me: Thegreat ancient philosophicalteachings of the East and

West; the concept of self-actualization and living atextraordinary levels and thereality of creating miracles;and a methodology forinterpreting all of this in apractical way, for anyone tobring about any desiredchanges and overcome anyandallingrainedobstacles.I began to think about

writing a book in the futurethat would incorporate all of

these modalities and stillappeal to themasses. I couldsee that this was more thanThe Power of PositiveThinking byNormanVincentPeale,whichI’dalreadyread.I felt I had a way ofpresenting commonsenseideasthatanyonewhowantedto could use to change self-defeating attitudes and livefrom their own greatness.They only needed to be

willing to change the waythey think, andconceptualizethemselves as able toactualizetheirgreatness.As I look back on the

people and events that wereinstrumental in shaping mythinking, two people standout.OneisAbrahamMaslowandhisradicalideathattherearepeople amonguswhodoreach exalted states ofawareness and live exciting

lives impacting the worldthey live in and the peoplearound them. When I readMaslow, I wanted to be oneof those venerable souls thathe called self-actualized.However, Maslow believedasaresultofhisresearchthatthis lofty perch atop thehierarchy of needs pyramidwas limited to a select few.Albert Ellis’s rationalemotive therapy closed the

gap that existed in myconsciousness about whocouldbecomeself-actualized.After readingand studying

AGuidetoRationalLiving,Iwasconvincedthatthisnoblecallingwasavailabletoall.Itbecame increasingly clear tome that we simply need tojust get out of our own wayand overcome theconditioning we’ve becomeaccustomedtobelieveishow

our lives are supposed to be.Then we can reprogram ourself-conceptsand live fromanew perspective. Once weeliminate the erroneousthoughts, it’s a joy to beginchoosing our own greatness,ourinherentbirthright, ifyouwill. I look back with deepgratitude and respect for allthat I learned from the workof Dr. Ellis just as I waslaunching myself into the

world of publishing andspeaking.Although Inever emulated

his harsh and often crudetherapeutic style, I wasproudly influenced by Dr.Ellis’s logic and all that hehad to teach aboutovercoming emotionalroadblocks to a self-actualized life. I feel aguardian angel whispered inJohn Vriend’s ear to place

thatlife-changingbookinmyhands some 45 years ago.Since that time I have nevertaken lightly any book thatseems to just showup inmylife—particularly if I feelsome kind of special energyassociated with the book atthetime.God works in mysterious

ways,andwhatseemslikeaninsignificant coincidence canbe the impetus for a

monumental shift as a resultof what appears to be aninconsequentialactofgiving.Fromthisvantagepoint,IcanseethatJohn’sgifttomewasone of those magical life-alteringmoments.

I am inmy final academicquarter of my doctoralstudies.Theyearis1970,and

Iamonscheduletocompleteall of the multitudinousrequirements for my degree.My dissertation is almostcomplete,andIwilldefendinMay—just90orsodaysfromnow.I am in an advanced

seminar on case studydiagnosis and review, whichis a required course forcompletion of my degree.There are six students in this

seminar, which meets everyThursdayeveningfromsevento ten. Our professor is themostfamousmanoncampus,and it is trulyanhonor tobesitting with him. I’ve takentwocourseswithhimalreadyandfoundhimtobethemostmemorable professor of myeight years of higher-educationstudy.Iconsidermyself fortunate

to be in this seminar, as it is

the most sought-after one atthe university. Admission isby lottery because there areseveral hundred applicantsand it’s only offered once ayear. I’m almost certain thatmy advisor, Dr. MildredPeters, a close friend of thisprofessor, had something todowith the fact that Iwas aluckylotterywinner.Eachweekwepresentcase

studies to the people in the

seminarroomsittingaroundalargetable.Thestudentsoffertheir thoughts and diagnosticassessments, and theprofessor then gives hisappraisal. We all take notesfuriouslyashespeaks;wearein awe of this man with aninternational reputation forhis erudition and diagnosticbrilliance.The man of letters who

teaches this seminar is Dr.

Fritz Redl, known as the“father of modernpsychoeducation.” He’spublished many books, thebest known of which areChildren Who Hate andControlsfromWithin.Dr. Redl was born in

Klaus, Austria, in 1902 andearned his doctorate at theUniversity of Vienna,studying with Anna Freudand August Eichorn. He left

Austria in the late 1930sbecause of the Nazioccupation and theirtreatment of scholars whenthey occupied a country. Heis also known for his workwith delinquent boys and forteaching that love andaffection are absoluterequirements in the treatmentrelationship. To that end, hetakes us to visit PioneerHouse, which he founded in

Detroit as a residentialtreatment center forpsychosocially lost youngboys.I have grown to love this

man in so many ways. Heoozes compassion, andalways entertains and useshumor in his presentations.I’vedevouredhiswritingandfeel I have a very specialrelationship with him. He’staken me under his wing—

frequently inviting me tomeet alone with him anddiscuss some of the cases Iampresentingintheseminar.Here in this weekly

seminar, the true genius ofthe man is displayed everyThursday evening. I so lovemy time with this greatteacherwhobringsincredibleinsighttoeverycasestudywepresent at the seminar. Hespeaks with reverence of the

work of Abraham Maslowandencouragesmetothinkofevery single person as aDivinebeingcapableof self-actualization if treated withlove and affection, even ifthey don’t deserve it.Throughout the entiresemester, Fritz Redlrepeatedly emphasizes this:eveniftheydon’tdeserveit.Dr. Redl is a highly

unpredictable man, well-

known for his unusual senseof humor. His classes andseminars are always fun andentertaining but also lacedwith his commitment to loveandaffectionastwoessentialcomponentsofthetherapeuticrelationship.At the midpoint of the

academic quarter, we findthese words written on theblackboard:Thisisyourmidtermexam.

You have 30 minutes towrite. Your answers willdetermine whether youremain in this advancedseminar.He looks at the six of us,

allsittingtherewithouropenbluebooks,dutifullyreadytowrite for 30minutes, and hehands us a paragraph thatreads:

A self-actualizedman

arrives at a dinner partyin which everyone isdressed in rather formalattire. Evening dressesand suits and ties arewornbyeveryone.Heiswearing a pair ofdungarees, tennis shoes,aT-shirt, and a baseballcap.Whatdoeshedo?

Dr. Redl looks at us, tellsus that he will return in 30

minutes,and leaves theroomabruptly.The six of us cast curious

glances at each other, andwith puzzled looks on ourfaces begin to write. Afterprecisely 30 minutes, ourprofessor returns to the roomand asks each person to readaloud what they’ve written.We all say pretty much thesame thing, trying to soundscholarlyandregurgitateback

what we learned about thisidea of self-actualization:Hewouldn’t bring it up, hewouldn’t explain himself,he’d simply act as if nothingwere bothering him. Hewouldengageinconversationand be himself even thoughhewasn’tdressedthesameaseveryone else. He wouldn’tjudge the situation or feeluncomfortable about itbecause he never judges

others or himself byappearances.Hewouldn’tbebothered by the fact that hestood out, he wouldn’tapologize or excuse himself.All of our blue books prettymuch convey these kinds ofresponses to the midtermquestion.AfterDr.Redlhaslistened

toeachofus,hepicksuphisbriefcase and slams it downon the seminar table in

feigned indignation andoutrageatouranswers.“Youhave all failed this course.You haven’t yet learned athing.Allyouhad todowastowrite threewords on yourpaper.”He takeshis chalk inhis hand, turns around to theblackboard, and writes inlarge letters: HEWOULDN’T NOTICE. Hethen leaves the roomfor fiveminutes while we sit there

smiling sheepishly andstaringateachother.Dr. Redl returns to the

room, sits down, andannounces that there’s reallyno midterm in this seminar!We spend the next couple ofhours discussing the hugedistinctionthatexistsbetweenpeople who are classified asaverage and those who areself-actualized.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

It has been well over 40years since I took thatseminar, and I’ve neverforgotten the lesson in thosethree words that Fritz Redlwrote on the blackboard thatThursday evening. Hewouldn’t notice. They havestuckwithmeandinfluenced

me in a multitude of ways.Thosewordspenetratedmeatthe time, and after all theseyears I can clearly see howthey’ve permeated mywriting, my teaching, and,yes,mysoul.Self-actualizing people see

the unfolding of God ineveryone that they meet.Theygobeyondappearances.They are friendly withanyone and everyone

regardlessofclass,education,political belief, race, orreligious affiliation. AsMaslow pointed out, “As amatter of fact, it often seemsas if theyarenotevenawareof these differences, whichare for theaveragepersonsoobviousandimportant.”When I left the university

and was driving home thatnight, I made a commitmenttomyself that thiswasgoing

tobemywayforlife.Iwoulddo all that I could to abolishany judgments I made basedupon appearances. Dr. Redlalways emphasized thequality of love, acceptance,and affection for all, in boththe therapeutic relationshipandourownlives.Heusedtosay to us that therapy is forbetter or for worse—and ifwe as supposed helperswereoperating at lower spiritual

levels than our clients, wewould not only be incapableof helping them, but theywould leave their counselingsessions worse off than theywerebefore.After that experience of

what I called “my fakemidterm,” I realized that Ilearned more from that littleexercise than I ever couldhave from my reading orresearch.Thiswasasignature

momentforme,orwhatFritzwould have called a “peakexperience.” At the highschool where I wasemployed, I took pride inbeingtheonefacultymemberwho had no judgmentstoward any of the students.Thenerds,thetroublemakers,andtheundisciplinedwereaswelcome inmy office as theshining stars who alwayslooked, smelled, and

performed in an aura of rosyexcellence—I stoppednoticing any differencesbetween them. The samething held true in all of myinteractions. I had alwaysprided myself on beingnonjudgmental and free ofprejudice, but now I realizedthat I’d noticed appearancesinabigway.Throughout my academic

years I encountered somuch

going through the motionsbehavior on the part offaculty and my fellowstudents that Iwasmotivatedtobedifferent—insomewaythat could be defined bymyself as better. MeetingFritz Redl, this internationalspiritual superstar fromAustria, was a kind of peakexperienceinareverseway.Iwas enamored of this man’strue charisma. I loved his

lectures so much that IactuallyattendedthemwhenIwasn’t registered for theclasses. I was learning fromhim just by being in hispresence. His high energywas infectious. He made mewanttobeabettertherapist,abetter teacher, and mostsignificantly, a better humanbeing. This was a man whocared, especially for theunderdog. He spent much of

his time reaching out to thedisadvantagedand thosewhohadbeenlabeleddelinquents.Dr. Fritz Redl’s lessons to

meareevidentthroughoutallof my writing, beginning ayear later in 1971, with thepublication of my firsttextbook.Hewasmasterfulinfrontofagroup,whetheritbe1,000 students in his largelecture-hall classes or with agroup of six doctoral

students, or even in aprivateconversationinhisoffice.Helovedhiswork.He lovedhissubject matter, and he trulyloved those who had morethantwostrikesagainstthem.He saw the potentialgreatness in everyone andalways looked past the outerand peered in to that innerspace where the spirit is atplay. He was a giant of ahumanbeing,amanIwanted

to emulate in somanyways.He taught me one of thegreatestlessonsofmylife:tosee the unfolding of God ineveryone and when it comesto external appearances, tobe a humanistic teacherwhowouldn’tevennotice.I am ever so grateful for

this man’s presence in mylife,and for theway I seesomuchmoreclearlybecauseofhim. Rest in peace, my

belovedteacher.

Itis1971.ForthepastfouryearsI’veenjoyedworkingasacounselorinafantastichigh

school, where I occasionallytake on the role of actingprincipal. My salary issatisfactory, and I canincrease my income bydirecting thedriver-educationprogram on evenings andweekends.All of my doctoral-degree

requirements are completed,and I could easily stay inDetroit with a terrific careeraheadofme.IfIremainhere

Icouldeventuallyheadupthecounseling department, havea business on the side thatpays more than my full-timejob, and have the addedpleasure of being an adjunctprofessor at Wayne StateUniversity on a part-timebasis. I’ve been teachinggraduate courses at WayneStateonceaweek,andIlovethefeelingofbeingProfessorDyer.OnlyashorttimeagoI

was a freshman, wanderingaround the campus trying tofigure out the confoundingregistration procedures at auniversity with over 45,000students, and now I’maccorded the title ofprofessor, with all of theprestige that accompaniessucha loftyposition (at leastitfeelsloftytome).I’ve been teaching at

WayneStatepart-timeforthe

past four academic quarters,and I have a wonderfulrelationship with the head ofthe department. MyevaluationsaregreatandI’veapplied for a full-timeposition, but there is noopening at this time.However, I am underconsideration for aprofessorial appointment at alargeuniversityinWisconsin.A gentleman named Bob

Doyle has also justtelephoned to tell me, “Youhavebeenoffereda full-timeteaching position as anassistant professor at St.John’s University. Are youwillingtomovetoNewYorkCity?”IknowforcertainthatIwant to teachat thecollegelevel, which means I amfaced with an opportunity,and a major life decision.AcceptingthisofferfromDr.

Doyle,whoisthedepartmenthead of educationalcounseling at St. John’s,representsquiteastruggleforme.Detroit is the only place

I’ve ever known, other thanmyfouryearsspenttravelingtheworldintheNavy.ThisistheonlyplaceI’veevercalledhome. I am married with adaughter who is four yearsold,andmytwobrothersand

mymotheralsolivehere.Mywife isn’t enthusiastic aboutuprooting herself from herown family andmoving to adistant city. She works as adental assistant, makes goodmoney, and she too has onlyknown Detroit as her homeforthe31yearsofherlife.IknowI’mbeingcalledto

a new phase in my life thatI’ve been working towardsince deciding on this

academic path, but there’s apart ofme thatwants to staywhere I am and work in thesetting that is so familiar tome. I wrestle with thisdilemma every day. I amconsideringmovingtoaplacewhere I know no one, for aconsiderably lower salarythan I’m earning now, topursueadreamthateveryoneelsefeelsisafoolishchoice.Iam in a quandary day and

night, and I only have a fewmore days to decide or theofferwillnotbethere.The job market is very

tight at this point in time.There are very few openingsat universities forprofessorships anywhere inthecountry.Nooneishiring,and here I have two offerssittinginmylapafterjustoneinterview with both of thesemajor schools. I feelblessed,

but I live with innerpandemoniumeveryday.I’ma mess because of myindecision and doubt. Theeasiest thing to do would beto tell myself, Forget aboutchanging locations; it’s toostressful, and besides, youhave everything going yourway inDetroit. Sowhymessit up by uprooting yourselfand your family to pursue adream that is simply too

difficulttoimplement?TheseconddilemmaIface

concerns which of the twoprofessorships I should take,if in fact I’mbold enough tofinally conclude that I amgoing to dislodge my familyand do this thing that iscausingme somuch stress. Iammuchmore familiar withthe Midwest, and Wisconsinis much closer to home thanfaraway New York City. I

present this dilemma to myprincipal at the high school,andsheaddsmoreanxietytothe situation by offering togive me a considerable raisein salary if I’ll considerstaying in my presentposition. Now I have todecideifIamgoingtotakeauniversity professorship, andwhichcityI’mgoingtogoto—or should I just take thissizable increase in pay and

forget about all of this otherfoolishness, and finally settledown once and for all? Thetime is drawing near. I mustmakeadecisiontomorrow.I go to a semiprivate

cubicle in the universitylibrarythatIusealmostdailythroughout my years ofgraduate study. I am able toaccess a quiet place withinmyself andmeditate for overan hour.When I’m suddenly

startled back to ordinaryawareness,I’mdirectedbyaninner voice to go across thestreetandtalktoDr.MildredPeters. She was with me alltheway throughmy doctoralstudies, rearranged thedoctoral-program curriculumfor me four years ago, andwaslikeaparentaswellasaguideforme.IgoseeMillieandexplain

to herwhat is going on. She

hears me in her beautiful,soulfulwayandasksme twoquestions that resolve all ofmy dilemmas right on thespot:“Willyoubeabletolivewith yourself,Wayne, if youdon’t take on the one thatrepresents the biggestchallenge? It’s what you’vealways done. This is yourcalling—why are you at warwithyourhighestself?”I realize that the only

reason I am in a quandary isbecause I’ve allowed fear tooccupy my inner world. Inmy heart I have alwaysknownandaffirmedthatIama teacher. I love being aprofessor. I’ve known fromthe time I went for my firstinterview with Bob Doyle atthe American Personnel andGuidance Association(APGA)NationalConventioninthespringthatthiswasmy

destiny. I knew I would beoffered the professorshipeven before my interview,and if any doubt existed, itwas gone after our firstmeetingtogether.Thiswasadonedeal—but

in my mind I’d begun todisasterizeaboutthepotentialconsequences of leavingbehind what was so familiartome.I’dwrittenanessayonsomethingIcalled“TheFear

of the Unknown,” and nowhere Iam livingout that fearinstead of trusting in theloving feeling I experiencewhen I picture myself as acollege professor in the BigApple.When Millie reminds me

that I love the idea ofchallenge, I realize that isprecisely what New Yorkrepresents to me. I hear thewords of the popular song

withinme: “If I canmake itthere,I’llmakeitanywhere.”Itisanecstaticfeeling—NewYorkisthegreatestchallengeIcouldundertake.It’stheBigApple, and I am going tomakeitthere!I call my wife from

Millie’sphoneandaskher ifshe iswilling to do thiswithme. She is reluctant butagrees, knowing that it issomethingthatImustdo.

Two months later we’reliving in NewYork. I am inthebiggestcityinthecountryteaching master’s-degreestudents in thedepartmentofeducational guidance andcounseling during thesummer session. I’m thrilledtohavemyownoffice,afullschedule of classes, and myown parking space! LeavingtheonlylifeI’veeverknownbehind me has been one of

the challenges of my life. Ihave wandered into theunknown, and I’m thrilled tohave finally mustered up thecourage to leave the familiarbehind.Iremembermygrandfather

working in the same factory,living on the same street, foranentire life. Icouldsenseadeep feeling within him thathe was unfulfilled. I recallworkingasaresourceteacher

in Detroit and having aconversation with a friendwhotoldmethatheonlyhad13moreyears toworkat theschool and he would receivehis gold watch and hisretirement benefits. I recallthe sick feeling Ihadwhen Icontemplated doing the samethingfor13yearsjustsothatIcouldretireincomfort.IamsopleasedthatIhave

madethisgiganticshiftinmy

life. It isall so foreign tome—thetraffic,thecustoms,theaccents, the rush, rush, rushof it all—but I am at peaceandknowIcanmakeithere.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

As I look back on thosedays when I felt so much

inner tension over not beingable to make the decision toleave the familiar and headinto the unknown, I can seeclearly that there wassomething very powerfulworking within me thatsimplycouldnotbeignored.Icameherewithmusictoplay,and the ideaofgetting to theendofmylifeanddyingwiththat music still reverberatingwithin me was more than I

could bear. I trust in theseinnerfeelingsandbelievethattheyinvolveakindofDivineguidance, which in thisinstance sent me to Dr.Peters.Millieknewpreciselywhat

tosaytomeatthattime,justassheishereguidingmeasIwrite these words. I feel herpresence almost every day,smiling at me even thoughshe left this material world

many years ago. She knewthatIhadabigdharmatoliveout;infact,sheoftentoldmethatIhadgreatnesswithinmeandwas destined to be a bigvoice for transformation inour world. She is truly anangel now, someone I speaktowhen I have big decisionstomake,andIknowthatshewas an earthbound angel formethroughoutallofmyyearsas a doctoral student back in

the1960s.I can see clearly now that

thereareguardianangelswhoshowupinourlivesatcrucialtimes. From this vantagepointitisobvioustome,eventhough it wasn’t at the time,that Dr. Mildred Peters wassent tomebycelestial forcesthat knew I would need aguidinglightinordertomakethebigdecisionsofmylife.Irecall so many times when I

thought about giving up onmy lofty ideas and Milliewouldjustshowupandsteerme in the right direction thatmydestinydemanded.On that day in 1971 Iwas

in such inner turmoil aboutwheretogoandhowtomakeit all happen. This woman,whoIswearhadtheabilitytolook into the future, tookaway all of my reservationswithherpenetratinggazeand

setme straight.Theoutcomeof that decision to dateincludes 41 published books,10 public television specials,over a thousand publiclectures, and hundreds andhundreds of recordedprograms,whichhavehelpedmillions of people improvetheir lives. I can see it allfromhere, as IhaveavisionofMillie smiling atme rightnow, that I was blessed to

havenotonlyanexceedinglycompetent professionaladvisor, but one who was tobewithmeforall the restofmydays.Something that I know

today that I wasn’t aware of40 years ago is the learninggained from A Course inMiracles.ACIMteachesustomake decisions by askingourselves, “Am I doing thisfromfearorlove?”Whenwe

are in fear, there is no roomfor love,andwhenweare inlove, there is no room forfear.WhenIremovedthefearfrommyinnerworld, I feltadeepsenseofpeace. Inotherwords, I was able to comefrom love. Sans fear, I wasable to look at New YorkCity as a great adventurerather than something todread.Fear is a mental exercise

that’s a habitual responselodged in the subconsciousmind from early childhoodthatariseswhenweanticipatethe unknown. I know frommy perspective today thatlove iswhat’s leftwhen I letgooffear.Ihaveappliedthiswisdom from ACIM inmaking major decisionsthroughout my life. When apush-pull comes up thatinvolves indecision and

doubt, I remind myself thatthe anxiety is an emotionalresponse, and therefore itmust be coming from eitherlove or fear—and since loveis not stressful, it must be afear that is at play. I thensimply go to a loving placewithin, and the indecision isresolved. I find that if I letmyselfgetquietandmeditateon the issue, the lovingguidance shows up, and for

methatlovingguidanceoftentakes the form of someonewho has been a heavenlypresenceformeinmylife.It is obvious from a

distance where I can seeclearlynowthatIhadtogotoNYC. Had I gone toWisconsin or stayed inDetroit, my life, and yourspossibly aswell,would havelooked different than it doestoday. It was conquering the

fearthatallowedmetofollowmydreamwhenthosementalobstaclessurfaced.I liveby theancientadage

that I trulyunderstand today,“Fear knocked on the door;love answered, and no onewas there.” As one mygreatest teachers, RalphWaldo Emerson, onceobserved, “Theycanconquerwho believe they can” and“He has not learned the

lesson of life who does notevery day surmount a fear.”On thatday, I learnedoneofthegreatlessonsoflife.

I am a full-time professorteaching graduate students atSt. John’sUniversity.This is

my second year, and I stilllove being in this academicworld. I’m free to teach mycourses as I choose. I teachmostly schoolteachers whoare interested in becomingschool counselors; I alsosupervise fiveor sixdoctoralstudents as their advisor anddirect their research towardtheir doctoral dissertations. Ihave a private counselingpractice as well. However, a

greatdealofmytimeisspentwriting articles forprofessionaljournals.My department head, Dr.

Bob Doyle, has told me, “Inorder to receive a promotionand ultimately tenure, youmust demonstrate youracademic proficiency bypublishing in professionaljournals and textbooks.” It is1973, and I’m part of asystemknownas “publishor

perish.” If I don’t havepublicationcredits Iwill losemyjob,andprofessionaljobsareinveryshortsupply.I’m doing the kind of

writingIabhorredwhenIwasacollegefreshmanwritinginAPAstyleinordertopleaseagraduate teachingassistant inEnglish 102. I want to writefor the masses—I want topublish my own books onliving a self-actualized life,

and I have a million ideasrunning throughmymindonwhat would make a popularbest-selling book. Iparticularly am attracted towriting a handbook thatinvites people who seethemselves as ordinary tocreate a new vision forthemselves. I want toencouragereaderstodiscovertheir potential for living atextraordinary levels of

awareness.Dr.MaslowwroteaboutthispotentialinTowarda Psychology of Being,publishedaboutadecadeago—abookthat’salwaysinmybriefcase.Evenso,Idutifullysend in articles to manyjournals and compile animpressive résumé ofprofessionalwriting.I apply for a promotion to

associate professor aftercompletingmyfirstacademic

year. I am rejected foradvancement but encouragedby the committee whoconsiders such requests tocontinue in the same vein. Iam frustrated with this kindof activity in my life. I lovemy teaching responsibilitiesand am popular with thestudents.Iputagreatdealoflove and effort into myteaching activity, and I lovebeinginfrontofaclassroom.

I practice the vow I made adecade agowhen I sat in onso many monotonouslectures.Idoall thatIcantomake my classroom comealive. I use humor andanecdotes, and I demonstratethe kind of counseling Iwouldliketoseemygraduatestudents practice. I bring intapes of prominent therapistsand generally make myclassroom an exciting place

to be. My class size isapproximately 30 students,butit’snotunusualtohaveasmany as 60 people show up,since my class attracts manyguestsinvitedbymygraduatestudents.I begin to tape-record my

lectures. In the back of mymindIknowthatthematerialI teach and the methods Iemploy will appeal to ageneral audience as well as

theschoolteachersdesiringtobecomehelpingprofessionalsin the field of counseling. Iwanttohavearecordofthesepopular lectures for mypersonal usewhen I’m readytowriteforotherthanstodgylettered periodicals—hopefullyinthenearfuture.I complete my second

academic year, and this timethe promotion committeedecidesthatI’mworthyofthe

title of associate professor. Ihavenowco-authoredabookwithmycolleagueinDetroit,Dr.JohnVriend.Thebookiswrittenbythetwoofusandaseries of other professionalsand is titled CounselingEffectively in Groups. I amnow a published author, andthis publication credit allowsme to be called “associateprofessor of counselingpsychology.”

The following year Iwriteanother textbook with John,published by AGPA Press.TheAmerican Personnel andGuidance Association is theprofessional association forscholars and professionals inthis field, a prestigiousorganization within theacademic community. Thisbook is titled CounselingTechniques thatWork, and itwillbewellreceivedinthatit

is a required textbook inclasses in graduate schoolsthroughoutthecountry.I’m busy writing a third

textbook that I’ve agreed toco-authorwithJohnVriend.Iwrite furiously every freemoment that Ihaveandsendthe original manuscriptchapterbychapter tohimforediting—butIcannotgethimto respond. John has becomemore and more preoccupied

with his drinking. When Itelephone him to discuss themanuscript, he’s frequentlyincoherent and talking thekind of inebriated talk that Irecall so vividly from thedays of living with mystepfathermanyyearsago.I write the entire book,

titled Group Counseling forPersonal Mastery, but Icannot get the man whomI’veagreed toco-authorwith

to cooperate on what Iconsider a sensible schedule.I decide that I don’t want tobeinapositionofdependingupon someone else for thecompletion of my writinganymore.Iamaloneactandwillnolongerpartnerupwithanyone.I abandon the idea of

publishing this book at thistimeandbegintofocusallofmymental energyonwriting

my own book. Not for theacademiccommunity,but forthe general public. I’ve readDale Carnegie, NapoleonHill, and Norman VincentPealeandfeelthatIcanofferabookthatgoesbeyondtheirinspirationandadvice. I loveand admire all of these menandwhattheyhaveoffered—I see them as pioneers in afascinating club that I intendtojoin.

I’ve written threetextbooks, the last one asyetunpublished, but I know itwill be one day.Approximately 25 articlesI’vewrittenhaveappearedinprofessional journals, and Ico-produced a 12-cassettetape series titled Counselingfor Personal Mastery. I feelthat this legofmy journey isnowcomplete,andmyvisionischanging.

Theacademicworld,whilestimulating and rewarding,more and more is becominginsufficient. I love theclassroom and the students,but the politics of universitylife leaves me cold.Committee meetings, officepolitics, pressures to gaintenure, administrativedemands that seem trivial,andamountainofpaperworkandnotices inmy in-box are

all squelching my creativejuices. I’m through withwriting that has a limitedaudience and is being donefor status and promotionrather than self-fulfillment. Iam feeling stifled in manyareasoflifeandIrealizethatI need to get away from thisenvironmenttemporarily.I know this is a fabulous

job that many would givealmostanythingtohave,butI

feelcalledtoanewchapterinmylife.Iknowthesigns,andIalsoknowthatIcan’tignorethemwithoutpayingaheavyprice. I remember reading aquestion that’s tuggingatmyconscience now: Have youlived 75 years, or have youlivedoneyear75times?Iaminthethroesofashift

that I cannot and will notignore. I do not want to dothesamethingoverandover,

compiling a résumé ofrepetition.Ineedtoexpand.Ineed to call the shots. Iespecially need to be free ofthestale,insipidrequirementsthat are imposed uponme asarequisitefortheprivilegeofbeing employed as auniversityprofessor.

ICanSeeClearly

As I look back upon myyearsasacollegeprofessor,Iknownowhowimportantitisto avoid the pitfall ofevaluating success andhappiness on the basis ofoutermeasures.I had everything going for

me inmyearly tomid-30s. Ihad a job wherein I wasalmost certainly going to be

granted tenure, which meansaguaranteedjobforlife,inaprofession where suchsecurity is a rarecommodity.Ihadgreatevaluationsbyallof my students and mysupervisors at the university.Thedeanfrequentlyremindedme how much I was valuedand appreciated for therecognition Iwasbringing totheuniversity. Ihadamassedan enviable publishing

résumé, with future textbookcontracts sitting on my deskawaitingmy signature. I hadthe coziest workingarrangement one could askfor.Iwasonlyrequiredtobeon campus twodays aweek,had a great relationship withmy colleagues, and had athrivingtherapypractice.Thiswasaplumofajobto

be sure, yet there wassomethingburninginsideme,

demanding my full-timeattention. My outer worldlooked great, but my innerworld, where I do all of myliving, felt incomplete andrestless.I was reminded of Leo

Tolstoy’s eponymouscharacter in his famous storyTheDeathof Ivan Ilyich. Onhis deathbed, Ivan Ilyichlooks into the eyes of hiswife, thewomanhedespised

because she had made somany of the arrangements ofhis life without consultinghimandwhathefelt.Andheasks, “What ifmywhole lifehasbeenwrong?”That scene sent shivers

through me. I couldn’timagine living out my lifewriting for academia, co-authoring with a man whoseheart wasn’t in it, andteaching courses in the same

classrooms and attending thesame college curriculummeetings for a lifetime. Mylife truly would have been“wrong,” as Ivan Ilyichfeared on his deathbed. Ididn’t know it then, but thatwasmyhighestself,tryingtoget my attention in an efforttogetmetolivefearlessly.

Wayne State Universityoffers a graduate program incounseling psychology to

eligible military personneland their dependents inGermany. Rather than havethe students come to theuniversity, this ongoingprogrambringstheuniversitytothestudents.IamaskedifIwould consider teaching inthisoverseasprogramfortwoacademic quarters, and I sayyes. It is the spring of 1974and I am on a leave ofabsence from St. John’s

UniversityinthedividedcityofBerlin.This is my first time in

Europe, and I’m thoroughlyenjoying the freedom I feelfrom all of the disquietingrequirements associated withmy university position backinNewYork.Iamteachingafull academic load in Berlin,and I love this job and thisadventureinaverybigway.Germany has always

fascinated me. My mother’stwobrotherswerebothintheSecondWorldWar:MyuncleStuart—whom I lived withduringmyeighthyear, alongwith his four children—hadbeen a Nazi prisoner of warfor two years.My uncle Bill—myinspirationforgoingonto college and becoming ateacher—had served in thePacificonaNavydestroyer.Ihave heard the horror stories

oftheHolocaustandseenthefilmsofthedeathcamps,andI have always found itincomprehensible that suchevil could have ever takenplace, particularly duringmyown lifetime. Perhaps inancienttimes,butnotwhileIwas a little boy in anorphanage does it seempossible there could havebeen camps erected for thepurpose of exterminating an

entire population of people,just because of religious andculturaldifferences.I struggle with how this

country of civilized peopleallowedsuchamalignancytorun rampant among them.Everywhere I go I talk withGermanpeople,andIaskthesamequestion:“Itwasonlyafew years ago—how couldthis happen?” No one willtalk about it. There’s a

collective shame evident inall of the men and womenwholivedthroughit.I decide to learn more

about this. I’m incredulousand obsessed with how suchunprincipled behavior couldinfect an entire population.What were they thinking?Whyweren’ttheyabletoendthis madness before itreached such epicproportions?Thisisevidence

of the groupthink mentalitythatIsoabhorandhavebeenbattling on a small personalscale, and of howmonstrousitcanbecome.IpurchaseWilliamShirer’s

history of Nazi Germany,titledTheRiseandFalloftheThird Reich, which was firstpublished in 1960. I read thewholebookinafewdaysandamevenmoredistressedthanbefore. It seems that the

course of human history hasmadeblindobediencetorulesthe highest virtue of theGerman mind. I notice iteverywhere. It appears thateverybodydoeswhattheyaretold—no one questionssupposedauthority.Ifthereisa rule, you obey it withoutquestion. I see thisautomaticsubmissiveness everywhere.No one in Germany everseemstoquestionanything.

My teaching scheduleallows me time to travel, somy wife and I spendweekends visiting placeswithinabrieftrainrideofourlocation. We go to Bavaria,Denmark, Sweden, Norway,Austria,France,Holland,andSwitzerland. I find thedifferences betweenEast andWest Germany to be stark,andIcannotgettheimagesofthe Holocaust out of my

mind. The trampling of allevidence of individuality,whensufficientlysuppressed,brings about the madness ofethnic cleansing and makesgenocide an accepted fact. Iam beyond obsessed. I havetoseethisformyself.Imakeadecisionto takethetraintoMunichandvisitDachau.Upon arrival I tell a cab

driver that my wife and Iwishtogototheformerdeath

campthat’sbeenpreservedasareminderofwhattookplaceonly29yearsagoso that theworldmightneverforget.Thecabdriver,amanof55orso,refusestotakeustothecamp.He obviously took part insome way in those horrorsduringhis20s,andhisshameis sogreat thathechooses tolose a fare rather than visitthisplace.Another cab takes us to

Dachau—the firstconcentrationcampopenedinGermany. Built in 1933 forpoliticalprisoners,itwaslaterturned into a crematoriumand mass-murder facility forthe evil visions of the Naziparty. Rather than thinkingfor themselves, the Germanpeople did what they weretoldtodoonascaleso largethat it took millions of themtocarryoutthesinisterorders

of a madman and his loyalhenchmen.As we walk through the

grounds of Dachau I amoverwhelmed by sadness anddespair. I feel thepainof thehatred that was carried outright here—yes, here, in theovens and gas chambers,human beings wereslaughtereddayafterday,formany years, all within sightof a thriving city a few

kilometers away. This is theultimate result of peoplebeing brainwashed to vilifyothers who think or worshipor act in ways unlike themajority.I sense the air is getting

more and more difficult forme to breathe. I feel asthough I am going to vomit.The fear and desperation isstill here in these oldbarracks, and shower stalls,

and ovens—even in thepavement I’m walking on. Ifeel as if I am here for areason.The inner disruption is

more than a normal reactiontosuchahorrorshow.IknowI am changed forever. I wasconceivedonthedaythatthiswar began—the first ofSeptember1939,whenHitlerinvaded Poland. I was bornnine months later, on the

tenthofMay1940.IfeelthatinsomemysteriouswayIwasintendedhere,andIcan’tgetthis idea out of my mind. Iwas called to thisgodforsakenplacethatisnowa Holocaust memorialmuseum, and it is leaving alastingimpressiononme.Aweek later I takea train

to Amsterdam and visit thehomewhere Anne Frank hidinthesecretannex,andwrote

herfamousdiarythatbecamea worldwide phenomenonwhen the insanity of WorldWarIIwasbroughttoaclose.Iwalkupthestairsandagainfeel the pain that stillemanates from the banister,the floor, the entire building—as if this shameful energyhasn’t dispersed. It’s stillright here in the home that’snowamuseuminmemoryofthe Otto and Edith Frank

family, as well as thecountless victims who wereslaughtered during the sameyears I was a little boygrowingup safely in a fosterhome across the ocean. Idon’t just look at the photosand read the mementos; Iconnectwiththefearofthosewho lived right here. Again,the air is thick, I can’tbreathe, I have to exit to getsome fresh air. Somehow I

amconnectedtoallofthis.IthappenedwhileIwasalive.I don’t understand my

passionate desire to knowabout all of this. It is waymore than a curiosity. I’m inthis setting and compelled tovisit other horrendous placeswhere atrocities wereperformed with the willingaid of an entire populationwho had been brainwashedbyacompellingspeakerwho

spewed evil and hatred andconvincedavastcollectionofpeople that it was their dutytobehaveinthesemalevolentways,eventhoughitviolatedtheir own original nature.They voluntarily letthemselves violate their owninner sense of love towardtheir fellow humans. Howcould this possibly havehappened? It isunimaginablethat this took place in my

lifetime.Iamshaken.Ifeelacallingtospeakout—towritein a way that such a thingcould never ever again cometopass.I leave Germany to do a

teaching assignment inKaramursel,which is locatedin northwestern Turkey ontheBayofIzmitontheSeaofMarmara. I cannot shake theimages I’ve seen, and I’mdeeply impacted by my

experience of living in aGermanythatalittlelessthan30yearsagowasatwarwiththeworld.During the long bus ride

fromIstanbultoKaramurselIfeel as if I’m beingtransported back to biblicaltimes. I see animals beingslaughtered in the centralmarkets of the villages, allmanner of carts carryinggoods, and the locals driving

old American cars or ridingbicycles. It is a far cry fromGermany. I teach at an AirForce base for a ten-weekquarter, and I’m enthusedabout the university beingbrought to our servicemenabroad. The students areappreciative, and I’m proudto be a faculty member herein this isolatedplace.My tenweeksgobyquickly.My wife and I are

scheduled to leave Turkeyand return to the UnitedStates in July, when I am toreturn to teach at St. John’sUniversity as a newlypromotedassociateprofessor.I’m uncertain aboutcontinuingtobeemployedona full-time basis, but I’veagreed to stay at theuniversity for the upcomingfall semester beginning inSeptember.

LivinginaMuslimcountryhas been enlightening inmanyways.Ilovethepeoplehere. I love being close tonature and swimming everyday in the Marmara Sea.Living in Berlin; thenGlyfada, Greece, for a shorttime; and then Turkey hasbeen mind-stretching.However, I am anxious toreturnhome.MywifeandIarriveatthe

Istanbul airport undercircumstances that are newfor us. There are tanks,military soldiers armed withrifles, and weapons of manydescriptionsonthewaytotheairport andwithin the airportitself.ItisJuly18,1974,andthere’s talk of war, and ofclosing the airport, which isjammed with peopleattempting to leave thecountry.

When I check in for ourflightI’minformedthattherewillbenocommercialflightsin or out of Istanbul for theforeseeable future. I’m toldthat we might be stuck herefor an indefinite period oftime. People are panicked—the airport is congested withfrustrated, angry, scaredpeople. War talk isomnipresent. Turkey ispreparing to invade northern

Cyprus,andGreeceisgirdingforamilitaryresponse.I walk through the airport

withadifferentmentalvisionthan everyone else, who allseem to be in various stagesoffearandpanic.Iseemyselfflying out of here thismorning. It is an intentionthat is affixed with SuperGlueinmyimagination—thisimagewillnotleaveme.I see some Americans

standinginalinepreparingtoboard a military transportplane going to Ramstein AirBase in Germany. I alsonotice a Turkish man whoseems to be somewhat incharge of the boardingprocedures. In this hecticenvironment he approachespeople and asks themquestions. Everyone heapproaches shakes their headandleaves.

Iapproachthisman,andheasks me where I’m going. Iexplain that I’mscheduled tofly to London, but my flighthasbeencanceled.ItellhimIhave amilitary ticket,with arather high-ranking GS(generalservice)rating,sinceI was a professor at an airbase in Karamursel. He saysthat my ticket is no goodanymore,but if Iwant togetoutofTurkeyhecanarrange

it on this flight heading toGermany and I can figure itoutfromthere.Thereareonlytwoseats leftonthismilitarytransport—for $2,000 cash,he will get my wife and meon this flight and out ofTurkey, which is about toeruptintowar.I see this Turkish man as

an angel sent tome to fulfillmy intention to get backhometoday.Igivehimallthe

cash I have, which is aboutwhat I’ve earned for myteaching stint at Karamursel.I’m about $200 short, but heaccepts it andmywife and Iboard the last flight out ofIstanbul.She is staringatmewithhermouthagape—afewmoments before she waspanicked about being stuckinterminably in a war-torncountry, and now we’reflying toGermany on aU.S.

military flight that I hadmanaged to somehow getaboard by bribing a localTurkish man in the midst ofthechaos.WelandatRamstein,geta

commercial flight out ofFrankfurt,andarebackintheUnited States on July 20,1974—the same day theTurkish military invasion ofCyprus is launched inresponse to a Greek military

junta—backed coup inCyprus. I sing the praises ofthe power that exists inmaking miracles happenwhen one is steadfastlyholdingontoanintention.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

The time I spent teaching

abroadprovidedmewith lifeexperiences that wereinstrumental in all that Iwasto create for the next fourdecades. I spent a great dealofmy earlier life, right frommy first memories, rebellingagainst authority figures andinstitutions that weredirecting me to think and bejust like everybody else. Itseems as if I was born withthis kind of recalcitrant

reaction toward thementalityof groupthink. Living inGermany allowed me to seefirsthand, on an experientiallevel, how dangerous suchthinking can be, and how itcan lead to the ultimatehuman degradation ofgenocide.Every day I asked the

difficult questions of anyonewho lived through thosegruesome years of World

WarII.Ineededtohearfromthe former soldiers, thehousewives, those who werechildren—I had to hear itfrom them. “Did you know?Whatdidyou think about it?Did you ever considerdisobeying odious orders?”The answers were almostalways the same: “We wereunawareofit…weweretoofrightened to object … it’sjust the way things were …

wedidwhatweweretold.”Iknew in my heart thatvirtually everyone had tocooperate in some way,because the grisly actionswere so widespread andinvolvedmillionsofpeople.When I left Germany I

knew I’d been changedforever. I had to be in thisplace at this time in order tohave my consciousnessimprinted. I would have to

write and speak about theimportance of self-relianceand the self—but not thehuman self, a higher self. Iknew that what Thoreau hadimpressed upon me back inhigh school on the necessityof civil disobedience wouldnowhavetoseepthroughintoall of my future writing.These vile acts came aboutthrough erroneous zones ofmental picturing that had to

be changed. I could writeabout this with much morepassion than had ever beforebeenapartofmywritingandspeaking.I look back now and can

see the perfection in all ofthis. I incarnated on the daythathorrificwarbegan.Iwasobsessed with learning thetruth ofwhat theNaziswereable to accomplish while Iwas a child living in an

orphanage. I had made myinnervowtoteachself ratherthan group reliance. All ofthese influences were a partof the dharma that was mydestiny. I left Germanydetermined, even though Ididn’tknowwhenorhow,toteach people to rely on theirownoriginalnature,which iscomprised of love, kindness,gentleness, and above all,servicetoothers.

In both Amsterdam andDachau I experiencedfirsthand that energy iseternal. In those resurrectedsites, open to the public sothatweshouldneverforget,Ifeltsomeofthepain,sadness,and fear that thosewhowerebeing so mistreated werefeeling. Ihaveneverdoubtedthis.FromthisvantagepointIcan see clearly that I wasbreathing in the actual

pheromones of fear while inAmsterdam, Dachau, andothersuchplaces.Ihaveseenhow animals who are beingled into slaughterhouseswhere other animals havedied in fear react the sameway, as they sense thatenergy and emit pheromonesof fear themselves. It’s allenergy.Igaveupeatingmeatfrom slaughtered animalsyearsago,becausewhenIate

that meat, I was alsoconsumingfear.IchoosetodoallthatIcan

personally to be surroundedby and encapsulated by loverather than fear. My futurewriting was to focus onovercoming fear and anawareness of the permanentnature of energy and how itimpacts all of us. I was tolecture andwrite on the ideaof all of us being connected

inSpirit—that’sthenatureofouruniverse.I was so profoundly

influenced by my visits andconversations in Germany.Walking through those vilesites I could actually feel inmy gut and my heart aconnection to theseunfortunate souls. I feltpossessed by somethingethereal as I traveled aboutEuropein1974.IknowIwas

sent theretoawakenmysouland inspire me to teachpeoplehowtoovercometheirerroneousthinkingpatterns.As I relive my experience

in Turkey as war wasbreakingoutovertheCypriotissue,Irecallhowsignificantthat day was to become forme. I had an image in mymind of escaping from thecountry that particularmorning—itwassorealthatI

acted on it as if it alreadyweremy reality. Itwasnotawish;itwasanintention.Andbecause I had used myimagination insuchawayasto exclude any and allthoughts of it not workingout,Idiscoveredthepowerofintention experientially, longbefore I was ever to writeaboutitmanyyearslater.Imusthave told that story

hundredsof timesabouthow

powerful a picture in yourmindcanbe,especiallywhenyou act as if the picture isalready a reality.Rather thanlookforreasonstoverifywhythis was an impossiblesituation at the Istanbulairport, I acted on an innerpicture. Once again I hadbeenexposed to the idea thatwas to become a motto forme inmywriting,and inmylife: “There is nothing more

powerful than an ideawhosetimehascome.”My leaving Turkey that

dayinJuly1974wasalreadyanideawhosetimehadcomein my mind, and the powercamefrommywillingness toactonlyonthatidea.Thishasbeenacentralthemeinallofmy writing, and I obviouslyhad toexperience it firsthandin order to have it imprintedso vividly on my

consciousness.

It’s August 1974, and I’min New York teaching asummer-school session at St.

John’s University. It is ashortened semester, withclassesmeeting twiceweeklyinordertomakeitequivalenttoanormalsemester.I speakwithmy colleague

Dr.ShirleyGriggs,whoisthedirector of a federal grantdesigned to determine ifSouthern colleges anduniversitiesareincompliancewith the Civil Rights Act of1964. She tells me that I

couldearnsomeextramoneyif I were to go to theMississippi University forWomen in Columbus,Mississippi; spend two dayssitting in on classes,interviewing students andfaculty;andwriteupareportat the end of the trip. I havejust returned from Europe,where it cost me $1,800 tobribe my way home fromTurkey, and I’m pleased to

have an opportunity tomakesome extra money, so Iaccept.Four years ago, I heard

fromacousinonmyfather’sside namedDorothyPhillips,whosaid,“Wayne,I’veheardthat you have spent a lot ofenergyintryingtomeetyourfather. I’m just calling to tellyou that he died in 1964 inNew Orleans and his bodywas shipped to Biloxi,

Mississippi,forburial.That’sallIknow.”Although my father had

died and I’d stopped mysearchforhim,mydreamsofmeeting him, and the rage Ifeel in these dreams, stillpersist. Now I have anopportunity to go toMississippi on business, andI’m excited about thepossibility of going to hisgraveandevenreviewingthe

deathcertificatetoseeifIamlistedasasurvivingson.I’venever seen this man, ofcourse, nor do I know if heever acknowledged that hehad three boys,myself beingtheyoungest.I take the assignment

offered by Shirley, and amlooking forward to actuallyvisitingmyfather’sgraveandperhapscreatingsomeclosureon this subject, which has

perplexed me since I was ayoungboy.The summer session ends

onWednesday, August 28. IflytoColumbus,Mississippi,onThursdayanddoallofmyrequired visitations andinterviews that evening andthe next morning. When Ifinish, I go to the only car-rental place on campus andrent a 1974 Dodge Coronet.I’mgoingtodrivethe200or

so miles to Biloxi, spend aday or two there, return thecar to the New Orleansairport,andflyhomeSundayevening.InoticethattheDodgehas

that new-car smell, and I seethat it has never been rentedbefore. The odometer reads000.000.8 miles—a brand-new car delivered today tothis location at the college.As I settle in behind the

wheel,Ireachfortheseatbeltand discover that it ismissing. I get out of the car,takeouttheentirebenchseat,and see the belt attached tothefloorboardofthecarwithmasking tape, the buckleencased in plastic wrappingandarubberbandaroundit.Irip off the tape and theplastic, and find a businesscardtuckedinsidethebuckle.It reads: CANDLELIGHT

INN—BILOXI,MISSISSIPPI, with a seriesofarrowsleadingtotheinn.Imomentarily think it’s oddthatthisisinabrand-newcarand I’m actually headed toBiloxi.ThenIputthecardinmy shirt pocket and startmytrip.I arrive on the outskirts of

Biloxiat4:50P.M.onFriday,August 30, and pull into thefirst gas station I see. I look

in the phone directoryhanging on a chain in thephoneboothandcallthethreecemeteries listed in theyellow pages. After a busysignal for the first numberandnoanswerforthesecondnumber, the third listing isanswered by an elderlysounding Southerngentleman. I inquire if aMelvin Lyle Dyer, who diedten years ago in 1964,might

be buried at this cemetery.The man is gone from thephone for a full tenminutes,andjustasI’mabouttohangup,hesays,“Yes,yourfatherisburiedhere.”My heart is pounding

throughmychest. I feelas ifI’mfinallygoing tohavemyvisit with my father, eventhough it is in less-than-idealcircumstances. I ask thegentleman fordirections, and

he informsme that thisplaceisn’t a real cemetery butsomewhere that indigentpeople are frequently buried… on the grounds of theCandlelight Inn! Stunned, Ipull the card out ofmy shirtpocket—I’m three blocksaway and there’s a mapembossedonthecard.Shaking,Idrivetothelittle

shack, where the gentlemanshows me my father’s death

certificate. It has been filedaway in a battered cardboardCoca-Cola box for ten years.The certificate is stained andmusty, and I notewith somedegreeofsatisfactionthatmyname and the names of mytwobrothers are listed as hissurviving sons.He did knowthat he had a son namedWayne. I wonder who put itthere and what he ever saidto anyone aboutmy brothers

andme.Theelderlymandirectsme

to a grassy knoll above adrivewaywithachainacrossit.HesaysIcanstaythereaslong as I like and asks that Iput thechainbackupwhenIdrive out. I parkmy car andwalk to the grave marker onthe ground that reads:MELVIN LYLE DYER1914–1964.That’s it.This ishowwemeet.

I stand there with tearsrolling down my face. I amstillfilledwithrage,thinking,I should piss on this graveandleave.ButIdon’t.Ihavesearched for this man eversince I knew I had a father.For the first seven or eightyears of my life, I didn’tknow what the concept offather even meant. So manyquestions run through mymind now, and I am

overcome by the emotion Ifeel as I stand next to thismetalplateontheground.During the next two and

halfhoursIconversewithmyfather. I cry out loud,oblivioustomysurroundings.And I talk out loud,demanding answers from agrave. As the hours pass Ibegin to feel a deep senseofrelief, and I become veryquiet. The calmness is

overwhelming. I am almostcertainthatmyfather isrighttherewithme.Iamnolongertalkingtoagravestonebutamsomehow in the presence ofsomething that I cannotexplain.Finally, I wipe away my

tears and say my good-byes.As I walk toward the rentalcarandhave thechain inmyhand to block the driveway,I’m overtaken by an

indescribableforceandreturnquicklytothegravesite,asifI am being propelled to goback.Iagainspeaktomyfather,

onlythistimeIsaysomethingvery different: “I somehowfeel as if I were sent heretoday and that you hadsomething to do with it. Idon’tknowwhatyourroleis,orevenifyouhaveone,butIam certain that the time has

come to abandon this angerandhatredthatIhavecarriedaround so painfully for solong.Iwantyoutoknowthatasofthismoment,rightnow,all of that is gone. I forgiveyou.“I don’t know what

motivatedyoutorunyourlifeasyoudid.Iamsurethatyoumust have felt many forlornmoments knowing that youhadthreechildrenyouwould

never see. Whatever it wasthat was going on inside ofyou,IwantyoutoknowthatI can no longer think hatefulthoughts about you. When Ithink of you now, it will bewith compassion and love. Iam letting go of all thisdisorder that is inside me. Iknow in my heart that youwere simply doing what youknew how to do given theconditions of your life at the

time. Even though I have nomemory of ever having seenyou, and even though it wasmyfondestdreamtosomedaymeet you face-to-face andhear your side, I will not letthose thoughts ever hold meback from also feeling theloveIhaveforyou.”Istandat this lonelygrave

marker in southernMississippi, and I saywhat Inowfeel:“Isendyoulove…

I send you love… from thismomenton,Isendyoulove.”In thispure-bonesmoment

I experience feelingforgiveness for themanwhowas my biological father, aswell as for the child I hadbeen who wanted to knowandlovehim.Ifeelakindofpeace and cleansing that isentirely new for me. I walkback toward my car, put thechainupacrossthedriveway,

andfeelabrand-newsenseoflightness.The elderly Southern

gentleman had given me thename of the man whodeliveredmyfather’sbodytothis cemetery for indigents. Ilookhimupanddiscoverthatthis was my father’s closestfriend. He works as aprojectionist at a Biloximovie theater. On Saturday,August 31, I go there—The

Ten Commandments isplayingatthematinee.I walk up the back stairs

andknockon thedoorof theprojection booth. I spend theafternoonwith thismanwhotells me about the man whowas my father. I learn verylittle except that he hadmentioned his three boys onoccasion,butitwasveryrare.I hear again about hisalcoholism and wandering

nature. I don’t even care toknow any more details. Iwalk out of the theater anddrivetowardtheNewOrleansairport.Iamachangedman.Ihave

justparticipated inamiracle.I no longer hatemy father. Iknow I was sent here to dothisforgivenessthing,butI’mnotsurewhy.Ijustknowthatsomethingverymysterious isat work here. Something

bigger than I am is movingthe pieces around, and itconspiredtolandmehere.IarrivehomeinNewYork

on Sunday, September 1. Ihave over two weeks beforeI’mduebackattheuniversityfor the fall semester. Igatherup all my recordings of mylectures from the past threeyears, along with the notesthat I kept during the time Iwas in Europe earlier this

year. I make a flightreservation for tomorrow,LaborDay,toflydowntoFt.Lauderdale, Florida. I amgoing somewhere that issunny, warm, and on theocean towritemybook—thething that has beendominating my inner worldneedstoescapeandbeborn.At the Ft. Lauderdale

airport I rent a car for twoweeks and drive to the

Spindrift Motel, across thestreet from the AtlanticOcean.Iholeupinmyroom,listen to the tapes, and takecopious notes. I decide I’mthrough with all of thismental and physicalpreparation—I’m ready towrite, and begin a writingbinge. I stay in that motelroom writing every nightuntil the sun comes up. OnSeptember 15, I fly back to

New York to begin the fallsemester.I’ve written an entire

manuscript using the sameformula that has beenworkingsowellformeinmyprivate therapy practice.Twelve chapters describe arational, commonsenseapproach designed to assistanyone to reach the top ofMaslow’s pyramid: self-actualization. First, identify

the thinking that is causingany kind of disturbance.Second, label the behaviorsthe client is demonstrating.Third, establish thepsychological reward systemfor maintaining thesebehaviors. Fourth, focus onalternatives by designingspecific strategies foreliminating those self-defeating ways of being. Nofancy psychological system;

just plain old common sensewith specific techniques forchange. This has workedwonders in my counselingpractice, and I’m certain mybookwillbewellreceived.Afterspendingafewhours

in a spirit of forgiveness forsomething that immobilizedme for my whole life, itappears that what I’veagonized over for years hastaken flight in just two

weeks’ time. The writingseems to be effortlesslyguided,andIhavecompletedahandwrittenmanuscript.Notitle. No publisher. Only aninner knowing that thosemomentsatmyfather’sgravehave infusedmewithaspiritthat I’ve never experiencedbefore.I Can See Clearly Now

Today, if asked what is themostsignificantexperienceof

my life, I respond with theevents ofAugust 30, 1974—being at my father’s gravesite in Biloxi, Mississippi,forgivingandlovinghim,andcleansing my soul of thetoxicity that living withinternalragehadbrought.I’m in awe of the

synchronicities that cametogether to bring me to thatgrave site. I have no cleverintellectual explanation for

the presence of that businesscard in that brand-new rentalcar. I cannot give a rationalaccount of why a cousin I’dnever known called me fouryearsearlier,whyDr.ShirleyGriggs offered me thattemporary assignment, orwhy Iwascalledback to thecemeteryplotanddirected tosend love where internalviolence had previouslyresided. I take Rumi’s

poignant advice. I ambewildered by it all. Yet Iknow that something muchmore powerful was at playthan a series of merecoincidences.From a clearer perspective

lookingbackat itall, IknowthatGod’sfingerprintsareallover this scenario. I nowrealize that I was a mess inthosedays.Iwasworkingbutfeeling unfulfilled. My

writing was stunted and forthe first time, unrewardingemotionally. I had terribleeating and drinking habits,was overweight, and was inan unsatisfactory marriage. Iwas an angry man in manyways, and I was havingfrequentnightmaresaboutmyfather. I would awaken in acoldsweathavingmethimina bar in the nightmare, and Iwasalwaysinafistfightwith

him,strikingoutinangeranddemanding answers from aghost who kept disappearingfrom view inmy slumberingvision. I knew that I hadbigger things to accomplishand yet I felt trapped by thecircumstances ofmy life andunable to free myself fromtheseself-imposedsnares.After my return from

Biloxi, my life took on anentirely new flavor. My

writingattheSpindriftMotelwas pure joy. I would writeall night, often frustrated inthe morning when I’d seesheet after sheet of paper onthefloor—mywritingreveriehad been so hypnotic that Ineglected to number thepages.Within a few weeks of

returning to New York Ibegan an exercise regimenthat continues to this day. I

got myself in top physicalshape and began an eight-mile-a-dayrunningstreakthatlasted for29years—with theexception of one day. Ichanged my dietary habits,and took on an entirely newattitude.The book I wrote in 14

days after I dispelled theangstfrommysoulultimatelybecame the number-one-selling book of the decade,

andithasnowbeenpublishedin 47 languages around theglobe, with total salessomewhere shy of 100million copies worldwide. Itis called Your ErroneousZones, and it speaks of thefoolish errors in our thinkingandhowto livea life freeofemotional turmoil bychanging our habitualthinking habits. This was abook that I was destined to

write.A lifetime ofDivinelyinspiredexperiencespreparedme for the task, yet I wasbeing throttled by inner self-sabotagingragethathadtobeexcavated.Iwas directed toBiloxi to

understand firsthand theincredible power offorgiveness. This idea is atthe core of spiritual teachingand yet is one of the mostignored principles. Jesus

reminds us in Luke 6:27,“But I tellyouwhohearme:love your enemies, do goodto thosewhohate you.”Andin Luke 6:28, “Bless thosewhocurseyou,prayforthosewhomistreatyou.”Theseareonlytwoofhundredsofsuchbiblical admonitions. I canseeclearlynowthereisgreatpower in truly living thisway.WhenIwasabletoforgive

and send love where hatredpreviously dominated,everything inmy life shifted.The right words were there,the right people began toshow up, the circumstancesmagically appeared, allscarcity dissolved,my healthreturned, my energy wasreignited,andmylifebecameflooded with abundance—allbecause of a profoundmoment of forgiveness that

was orchestrated by forcesbeyond my human ability toexplain. It was as if theuniversal Divine mind, God,or the Tao, if you will, sawthat I was stuck in aquicksandthatwasdestroyingme—and it coalesced thenecessary events in order togive me a giant branch tograb ahold of, and removemyself once and for all fromthe deadly pit that was

snuffingoutmylifeforces.From this vantage point I

cansee thatGod is love,andforgiveness is a tool that’savailable to get us back to aGod-realized life. I hadalways known that I had towrite my own way on thesubjectsthatwereprecioustome.YetIwasunabletobreakfree of so many bonds thatwereholdingmeback.Ihadalife thatwouldhavebeen the

envy of most people, yetinside I was teeming withdiscontent.WhileIwasinthemidstof

the events of that summer in1974,Isensedthatsomethingwas being awakened withinme. I couldn’t see themystical hand of Divineintervention at work—thiswasonlyavailabletomeasaclearer vision years after Iwas able to see from a

distancewhatIwasbeingledto do. In fact, many yearslater, I helped to write andproduce a movie version oftheessenceofthatexperiencein Biloxi, titledMy GreatestTeacher. I gave it this ironictitle because I believe todaythat it was my father, thisman I’ve never known, whotaught me the great lessonoffered to us by St.Augustine: “Forgiveness is

theremissionofsins.Foritisby this that what has beenlost, andwas found, is savedfrombeing lost again.”AfterBiloxi Ihaveneverbeen lostagain.I have written whole

chapters on the power offorgiveness,andtoldthestoryof my coming to know myfather to audiences all overthe world. I have counseledthousands of people in

person,on themedia,andonmy own radio show; and Icreated the movie I justreferredto.OnceIwasfoundand sawhow it offeredme aU-turn inmy life away frompain towardself-actualizationand God-realization, I wasneverlostagain.Perhaps my favorite quote

on forgiveness is fromMarkTwain: “Forgiveness is thefragrance that the violet

sheds, on the heel that hascrushed it.” Indeed we sendlove in response to hate andbecomespiritualalchemists.Ididn’t forgive my father justfor his sake; I did it for myown and his as well. This Ican now see with a muchclearervisiontoday.

At the end of the fallsemester in 1974, I amcompleting teaching two

courses at St. John’sUniversity on counselingtechniques that work anddiagnostic skills. I’ve tapedall of these lectures over thepast three years and usedmuch of the material in thefirst draft of my self-helpbook written a few monthsago. That manuscript sits inmyofficeasIconsiderwhatIshould do about getting itpublished for the mass

market. I am an unknownpersonandpublishershaven’tbeeneagertotakeariskwithme, even though I’vewrittenthree textbooks and a gaggleof articles that have beenpublished in professionaljournals.I’ve made every effort to

keepmyeveningclassesbothinformative and entertaining.Ithinkbacktomydaysasanundergraduate student being

so perplexed by the inabilityof the vast majority ofprofessors to make thematerial come alive, to keepthe audience entertained andon the edge of their seats. Ilove teaching and being infront of an audience—Iespecially enjoy making myclassroom fun, injectinghumor as frequently aspossible.Five students in my

Tuesday- andThursday-nightlectures approach me,encouragingme tomake thismaterial available to a muchwider and less academicallyorientedaudience:“Dr.Dyer,would you please consideroffering a series of lecturesavailabletothepublicsimilarto what you’re teaching hereattheuniversity?”These students are

completing their master’s-

degree program, and oftenthey bring their friends andfamily to sit in on mylectures. They all live on theNorth Shore of Long Islandand tell me they canguarantee a good turnout if Iconsidertheirrequest.Itturnsoutthatoneofthesestudents,Linda, works in PortWashington at the EducationAssistance Center (EAC) asanadministratorand tellsme

thatthebuildingisneverusedpast six o’clock on Mondayevenings. She’ll make theEAC available at no cost ifI’mwilling to teach a courseopentothepublic.Iagree,andcomeupwitha

coursetitleforthisfour-weeknight-school offering:“Living a Self-ActualizedLife.” Linda plants a briefstory in thePortWashingtonNews inviting the public to

four lectures on fourconsecutive Mondayevenings beginning inFebruary1975.Iamgoingtobe giving a lecture to thepublicforthefirsttime.Totalcost for the course is $20.This is my first stipend forpublicspeaking.I arrive on Monday

evening at seven o’clock forthe first presentation to seethat25studentsare sitting in

the classroom! I end upwith$500 in extra money, whichis a huge amount of cashduringasomewhatdepressedeconomy.I deliver the four lectures

on topics such as“Overcoming Guilt andWorry,”“FarewelltoAnger,”and “Breaking Free from thePast.” These are all chaptertitles in my completelywritten, but as yet

unpublished, manuscriptthat’s sitting in my office attheuniversity.At the end of the fourth

presentation, the studentspetition me to extend theclasses for four more weeks—they are loving theseMonday-nightlecturesanddonot want them to end. Theyalsotellmethatmanyoftheirfriends are interested insigning up. So, on the first

MondayinMarch,Iarrivetoteachmy next class and findthat the room is crowded tooverflowing.Sixtypeoplearejammed into the classroom,all with $20 bills in theirhands. My Monday-nightlecture series is ahugehit inthe northern Long Islandcommunities.Within a year I have to

leave the EAC because ofspace limitations, and I

decide to rent the auditoriumat Schreiber High School onCampus Drive in PortWashington. The place ispacked every Monday nightfor the next year and a half,and when my book ispublished the followingMarch, 1,200 people will bein attendance. I now earnmoremoneyfrommylectureseries than I make as a full-time professor at the

university.MyMonday-night lectures

in Port Washington are ahuge community event, withpeople attending from allover the New Yorkmetropolitan area. It isn’tlong before I receive a letterinthemailfromaMr.ArthurPine, who is a literary agentinNewYorkCity,tellingmehis wife, Harriett, is a closefriend of someone who’s

been attending my lectures.Harriett’s friend raves aboutthe content and presentationstyle of the professor who isoffering these classes to thecommunity, and hassuggested that Artie contactme to see if Imightwant towriteabookusingtheformatof these lectures for thegeneralpopulation.Ipickupthetelephoneand

callArtie,whohasahomein

Port Washington. I tell himthat I have a completedmanuscript that I’ve beenstaringatforoversixmonths,wondering what I needed todo in order to make contactwithapublisher.Artielistensto me describe the book andhow I want to keep it ineveryday commonsenselanguage for the generalpublic.Helovestheideaandinvites me to meet with him

in his Manhattan office thefollowingweek.I take the subway into the

city with my completedmanuscript in my hand, andspend a delightful afternoontellingArtie all ofmy ideas.He says he cannot promiseme anything since I’m anunknown commodity, andthis would really be a firstbook since my previousbooks were written for a

different market. Artie isskeptical, but he’s taken bymy enthusiasm and loves theravereviewshe’sheardfromhiswife’s friendswhoattendthe Monday-night publiclectures in his hometown ofPort Washington. He sayshe’ll call me if he’s able togetmeanappointmentwithapublishing house in NewYork.I leaveknowing that Iwill

soonhavemyownbookdeal.Ijustknowit.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

I now see that Linda andher four friends approachingmeaboutoffering a seriesofpaid lectures to thecommunity were angels sent

into my life on a Divinelyappointed mission. At thetime I simply sawa funnewadventure—from a distancewith a clearer vision, I seehowthisexperiencelaunchedme in an entirely newdirection. This was my firststep in the direction ofmorethorough self-reliance in mylife. I soon learned that Icouldstayintheprofessionofteaching, which I utterly

loved, and not have what Iconsidered restrictions, suchas answering toadministratorsorthelowpaythat came with the teachingoccupation. I could teach onany subject of my choosingon my own terms, and Idiscovered that this could bea lucrative way to make alivingaswell.For decades now I’ve

encouraged everyone to

believe that making a goodliving at what you love is apossibility. If you stay onpurposeandarecommittedtofollowing your bliss, theuniversal one mind willcooperate with you inbringing this to fruition. Therightpeoplewillshowup,theobstacleswillbesweptaway,the necessary circumstanceswillmaterialize,andguidancewill be there. As the ancient

Buddhistproverbremindsus,“When the student is ready,the teacher will appear.”Likewise,whentheteacherisready, the students willappear! The key here is thewordready.Had I decided almost 40

years ago that I couldn’t dosuch a thing, it probablywouldn’t work out, thatpeople wouldn’t show up, itwas toomuch trouble, or the

amount of money I wouldmakewastoosmall,Isimplywould not have been ready.Those five students and theavailability of the EACwereteachers being sent to me. Itwas my readiness to see theopportunity and seize it thatpropelledme in the directionofsaying“Yes,I’llgoforit.”Had I not said yes to thissuggestion, my entire lifewould have unfolded in an

entirely new way. I mighthave remained a collegeprofessor for the next 30years, because I would nothave seen firsthand that IcouldstillteachanddowhatIlove,and earn a grand livingatit.Iwouldn’thavemetthemanwhowas to becomemyliterary agent, guiding meintotheworldofpublishing.WhatInowknowfromthis

vantagepoint is that teachers

are omnipresent in everymoment of our lives. Theseteachers don’t always showupaspeople;sometimestheyarriveaswhatappearstobeacoincidental coalescence ofevents, or an unexpectedletter in a mailbox, or aninterview on television. Ihavelearnedovertheseyearsnot to look for the teachers,butrathertokeepmyselfinastateof readiness and to stay

in a state of gratitude for allofit.I mentioned earlier the

quote of Thoreau’s thatindicates if you follow yourdreams, “Youwillmeetwitha success unexpected incommon hours.” I interpretthistomeanthatsuccesswillin factchaseafteryou ifyoustay alignedwith the highestvision you have for yourself.This alignment process is

key. Stay connected to yourcreativeSourceandyougainthe power of that Source,becauseyouandGodareone.By taking advantage of thatdoor opening at the EACbackin1974,Iopenedadoorinto a grand ballroom ofunlimited potentialities thatwould have otherwise beenunseen.IthinkbacktotheMonday

nights when I was teaching

myowncourseanditremindsmeof theclassesIofferedtomy fellow sailors on GuamwhenIwas21yearsold.Thepure joy I felt when I wasfollowing my own innercalling, and aligning withGod, moved me away fromhaving to let my life beguided by what othersthoughtbestforme.I’ve often quoted the

enigmatic writer Virginia

Woolf whenever any of myeight children appear to bequestioningwhat direction totake in their lives: “Arrangewhatever pieces come yourway.” Such great advice.Take thepieces thatshowupfor you, and arrange them insuch a way so that you livefearlessly, and the oneuniversal Divine mind willhandle all of the details foryou.

Thatwondroushandoffatethat knewwhat I had signedupforinthisincarnationwasdirecting things for me backin 1974–75. It sent me toEuropetohelpmedefinemymission,and itgotmeoutofTurkey safely in order that Imight see the power thatmyintentions had foraccomplishing anything. ItsentmetoBiloxitoridmeofthose inner impediments to

my own greatness, and itbrought into my life theawareness of my ownpotential for beingindependent as well as thepeoplewhowouldguide anddirectme.In 1974 I was looking at

twodoors togo through:onethat ensured my stagnation,andanotherthatopenedmetovistas beyond even my ownwildest imaginings. And the

fall of 1975was to offermeone more opportunity toarrange the pieces that werecoming at me fast andfuriously.

I have just completed myfourth year of teaching at St.John’s University in the

spring of 1975. I’ve alsosigned an agreement to haveArtie Pine represent me inexchange for him receiving15percentofwhateverIearnas a published writer. He’susedaconnectionhehaswiththe T.Y. Crowell publishinghouse, and I have theopportunity to present mycompleted manuscript to asenior editor there and see ifthey’reinterestedinmybook.

AsArtie says, “Go there andsellhimontheideaofhavingthempublishyourbook.”I arrive at my designated

appointment in the heart ofManhattan and am told by asecretary towait in the outeroffice.Anhour goes by, andI’m finally escorted into theofficeofMr.PaulFargis.Heapologizes profusely forkeeping me waiting andbegins the interview by

asking me about mymanuscript and what myplansforpublicationare.Somethingisjustnotright,

though. I’ve had a privatetherapy practice on LongIsland for over four years,doing one-on-one counselingfivedaysaweekatmyhomeoffice, seeing asmany as 30clients a week. As a resultI’vebecomeadeptat sensingwhen a person is deeply

troubled,andI’mfeelingthatnow in this interview. Paulexudesanxietyandstress—helooks as if he’s been up allnight and is attempting tomaskhistruefeelingsandgetthisinterviewoverwith,eventhough it had been arrangedbyArtieseveralweeksago.I immediately shift into a

therapymode, asking if he’dlike to tell me what’s goingon as Imay be able to help.

Paul opens up about apersonal issue he’s dealingwith, and we spend the nextthree hours talking about it.When we’ve finished, heonce again apologizes to measweshakehandsanddepart.I leave with my manuscriptunder my arm—the subjectnever came up after the firstfew moments of ourintroduction.Ireturnhomeonthesubway.

When Artie calls, anxiousto know how the meeting atT.Y.Crowellwent, I brieflytellhimwhathappened.Heisfurious ina friendlywayandupsetwithwhatheseesasmynaïveté.Hecan’tbelieve thatI let this once-in-a-lifetimeopportunity slip away. Artiehad wrangled this meetingthrough a connection in thecompany, and didn’t thinkhe’d be able to get another

appointmentforme.Thiswasmy golden opportunity and Ihadn’t taken properadvantageofit.Yetat teno’clock thenext

morning,Artiecalls fromhisManhattan office, besidehimselfwithexcitement.PaulFargis has just told Artie, “Idon’t care what is in thatbook of Dr. Dyer’s—I wanttosignhimupasmyauthor.”He offers an advance that’s

almost equivalent to myentire yearly teaching salaryat the university. I amoverjoyed. I have a bookcontract with Funk &Wagnalls, a subsidiary of T.Y. Crowell—and I justdoubledmyincomeaswell!

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Unbeknownst tome at thetime, I was presented withone of the truly greatopportunities that had evercome my way. I had thechoice of letting ego takeover and conduct that firstmeeting with a New Yorkpublisher. My ego wouldhave ignored the obviousstrainthatPaulwasunderandproceeded full-steam aheadwith its goals. I would have

attempted to sell this editoron all of the reasonswhy heshould consider publishingmy book, which would havebeenego’schoice.Theegoisall about winning, anddrawingasmuchattention tooneselfasispossible.I’ve learned through the

yearsthattheinnermantraofthe ego is always somevariation of,What’s in it forme?Takecareofme—I’mthe

most important person in theworld.Withthiskindofinnerdialogue going on nonstop,the ego dominates mostinteractions—with less-than-satisfyingoutcomes.Icanseefrom this vantage point andwith a clearer vision that weare continuously being givenchancesfortamingthisaspectofourselves.The other choice I had in

Paul’s office on that day in

1975 was a wonderfulopportunity to tame my egoby putting it on the backburner. The choice I waspresented with that day wastoignorethepromptingofmyego and listen to the innermantra of my higher self.Thismantra asksHowmay Iserve? rather than focusingonWhat’s in it forme? Thiswas a major lesson for me,notjustthatday,butforallof

my future writing andteaching.Ouroriginalnatureislove,

kindness, gentleness, andservicetoothers.ThisiswhatGod looks and acts like—never asking for anything,always serving by providingfresh air, water, food, floraand fauna. All given freely.Whenwe ignoreouregoandlisten to our highest self, wealign with our Source of

being,God,andconsequentlyacquire the power of ourSourceaswell.When we come from an

attitudeofHowmayIserve?asIwasunconsciouslydoinginPaul’soffice, theuniversalSource seems to recognizeitselfinthatenergy,andasksright back,Howmay I serveyou? This is what washappeningtome—mysimpleactofreachingouttoanother

fellow human being in needbroughtawholenewworldofunlimited abundance intomylifewithoutmeevenknowingit.Several hugely successful

best-selling books came outof that publishing contract,and my life was directedtoward a dramaticallydifferent path than I’d beenon. Taming ego’s incessantdemands for attention and

self-serving has been a verybig theme inmywriting,myspeaking, and especially inmyownpersonallife.I feel a Divine hand was

dealttomeduringthosedaysin 1975.One fatefulmeetingandthereIwas,a35-year-oldunknown professor, usheredinto an office with aninvisible force whispering,Take your pick—listen toyour ego asking, “What’s in

it for me?” or the voice ofyour higher self asking,“How may I serve?” Thiswas truly one of the greatlessons I had to learn, and Iam so grateful that mypreviously seldom-heardhigherselfwasabletodrownout the usually victoriousproddingofmyego.I can see clearly that

taming this loud swaggeringme has been a lifelong

challenge, and that day inPaul’s office was anopportunity to begin thatjourney.Iamforevergratefulfor all of those participantswho joinedwithme tobeginthatodyssey.

Duringthefallsemesterof1975, my plate is overfull. Ihave a multitude of

assignments on variouscommittees at St. John’sUniversity, a full teachingload, several doctoralstudentstoadvise,andafull-time counseling practice.Monday nights have growninto an event, with hundredsofpeopleattendingtheclassIconduct in Port Washingtonon living a self-actualizedlife. And Your ErroneousZones is scheduled for

publication in just a fewmonths, so I’m in the firstediting stages for the book. Ilove working with PaulFargis—he’s highly skilledandoffersmeagreatdealofguidanceintheeditingphasesofthefirstbookI’veauthoredalone.Myprivatetherapypractice

has grown so large that I nolongeracceptnewclients.Onmy days away from the

university I’m frequentlyscheduled with therapyappointments from 7:30 A.M.untilwellpast9:00P.M.Withpapers to grade, dissertationsto supervise, committees tosit in on, and many studentstoadvise,Ifeelsuccessful—butsquashed.Prior to my evening

classes, my days at theuniversityarebeyondchaotic.My office teems with

students needing to see menow with a legion ofconcerns, and my secretary,Mary, buzzesme continuallytospeakwithsomeonewho’sonthephone.In a couple of hours I’m

scheduled to be in front of afull classroom of students,along with many uninvitedguestswhowant to sit in onmy lectures. I hear Maryasking several of my

colleagues who are alsoholding office hours, “Hasanybody seen Dr. Dyer?There must be one hundredpeoplewhowant to see him,andI’velookedeverywhere!”In the midst of this

pandemonium—when thetentacles of bedlam seem tobe coming atme from everydirection threatening to pullme apart—I escape. I walkdown the back stairs of

Marillac Hall, step outside,andtakeadeepbreath.Iwalkalong Utopia Parkway for afew moments and enter thepark, where I go to anisolated spot behind a clumpof trees and sit on a hugeboulder.Five minutes away, my

office is overflowing withpeople, all of whom want apieceofme.IsmileinwardlyattheenigmaI’mliving,asI

close my eyes and listen tothe sounds of nature. I feelthesunonmyface,andbaskinthehealingenergyitseemstobringtomyanxiety-riddenstomach.Ihearthesoundsofbirds, crickets, dogs in thepark, and the wind as itmoves the branches andleaves above me. I open myeyes slowly, appreciating thebrilliant colors dancingthrough the trees as the

magnificence of the autumntransformationplaysitselfoutright beforeme—all done soeffortlessly.I spend barely 15 minutes

in this spot I cherish,enjoying a brief escape fromthe chaotic energy of myoffice, and I’m ready toreturn. Refreshed, I walkback to theuniversity feelinglike a new person. Theheaviness is gone—I feel as

thoughabsolutelynothingcanget to me. I know I’mwalking back to turmoil, butitnolongerfeels turbulent tome.Iwalkupthebackstairs,enterthethirdfloorthroughaseldom-used door, and strollinto the outer office space,feelingtotallypeaceful.Thestudentswaitingtosee

me look different than theydid when, unnoticed, Ideparted 20 minutes ago. I

welcomeeachof themtomyoffice and agreeably helpresolve their concerns overgrades, papers, and otheruniversity requirements thatseemtothemtobeimpingingon their desire to completetheir degrees. My colleagueswho need my attention nolonger feel as if they’reintruding;Icancalmlyhandleall the phone calls now. Thenexttwohoursgobyquickly,

and Idispensewithahostofdetails in a relatively stress-freefashion.I think ofmy little area in

the park asmy serenity spot,makingitahabittovisittherealmosteverydayinthemidstofthechaosthatcharacterizesmy office hours. I treasuremy time in this tranquilenclave and the peacefulnessI access there, content andenvious of the creatures that

don’t seem to have to be inassigned places. I especiallyenvythebirdsflyingaboveitall, soaring in the wind,oblivioustoallthatischaoticon the earth below. But Irealize that I’ve discoveredthatIhaveaplaceoffreedomwithinmeaswell. Icansoaraboveitallandlookdownatthe tumult with a clearervision, just by accessing myown eagle-in-flight

imaginings.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

NowasI lookbackon thesignificance of my serenityspot, I see the important rolethis little escape place in theparkprovidedformebackin1975. This was before my

true immersion into theblissful world of meditation,yet I feel that Iwas in somemysteriouswayguidedtothatspot near St. John’s tointroduce me to the idea ofsilence as an antidote tostress.Ithasbeenalmostfourdecades since I sat on theparkboulder,yet I can see itperfectlyas I sitherewritingtoday. I can see, smell, hear,andactuallyfeelthatserenity

spot I retreated to all thoseyearsago.Meditation was to become

an extremely importantactivity in my life—I wasdestined to become deeplyinvolvedinthisancientartofcentering. Eastern teacherswouldshowmehowtoteachothers to practice Japa, anancient form of meditationusingthemantraof thenameofGodtoreachexaltedstates

of inner awareness. I was tobe exposed to the magic ofbeing a practitioner ofTranscendental Meditation,and to be instructed in thispractice by some of theworld’s renowned authoritieson quieting the mind. I wasalso destined to create myown version of meditationand to write a book givingspecific guidance on how tomake meditation a daily

practice in one’s life. All ofthis was ahead of me—wayaheadofme.Yet I see clearly now the

workofaDivineintelligencethatwasprivytomydestiny,which was obviouslyobscured to me at the time.Divine intelligence was atwork in the days I wasprodded to leave my officeand walk to the park. I lookback at the bewildering

energythaturgedmetogotothat spot on emotionallystormy days as a powerfulexperience directing thecourse of my life. Myserenity spot, where I drankin the enchanting lovelinessthatwasbeingofferedtome,seemed at the time a greatway to put aside the anxietyand letoffa little steam.ButfromadistanceIviewitasasignaltomeonthatparticular

day to make a U-turn awayfrom a life filled withunnecessarypressure.I’ve often quoted the

French philosopher, scientist,and mathematician BlaisePascal,who said, “Allman’stroubles derive from notbeing able to sit quietly in aroom alone.” Though I’dthoughtfully considered hiswords many times, theydidn’t truly sink in until I

experienced my troublesdissolving as I sat quietly inmyownserenityspotalone.Iwas given the opportunity toknow the truth of thesesentiments from firsthandexperience, and I remaineternallygrateful towhateverDivine hand propelled metoward that sacred spot,whereIretreatedoften.Iwasbeing given my introductorylessons on achieving inner

peace in circumstances thatdrive others tomadness, andlearning to become a teacherof this wisdom forgenerationsofnewmeditatorsandyogapractitioners.Oneofthegreattruthsthat

I’ve been blessed to receiveand teach came severaldecades after my serenity-spotsojourns.Ithasbecomeatrademark of mine and isimprintedonallmynotepads.

It says simply, When youchange the way you look atthings, the thingsyou lookatchange.WhenIwasinvolvedin so many activities andattempting to find clarity inthe midst of turmoil thatdefined my life, my escapesbroughtthistruthhometomeinabigway.After spending a brief

amountoftimeinnature,freefromhumandistractions, and

beinginasilentinnerspace,Iwas able to go back to thathelter-skelter office andchange the way I looked atthings.Andsureenough—thethings I looked at changed!My students were youngpeople in need, not peoplewhowere causingme stress.My colleagues were friendlyco-workers,not thesourceofmorethingstodo.Thephonecalls were no longer

interruptions, but simply partofthejobthatI’dvolunteeredto do. The whole placeseemed to be an excitingenterprise with bustlingenergy, rather than a mind-numbingenergydrain.Today, when I read that

observation about changingthewayyou lookat things, Ifrequently go back in mymind to those peacefulretreatsintheparkadjacentto

the university. This was myinauguration intobecomingateacher of the powerful ideathat a few quiet moments innature can bring about aradical shift in the mostdisagreeable ofcircumstances. And sureenough, I was about toembark on a new career ofteaching others how to livefrom a place of peace andchange the way they look at

things.

I have completed my fallsemesterofresponsibilitiesatSt. John’s University and

been working almost full-time editing and rewritingYour Erroneous Zones. PaulFargis, my editor at T. Y.Crowell publishing house inNewYork, has just told me,“Yourbookwillbepublishedin March, and we were ableto get it serialized in anational publication.Congratulations!”Mybookisdevelopinginto

a guide for cutting through a

lifetime of emotional redtape. I’ve written it notbecause of my advancededucationaltraining,butmorein spite of it. I’m confidentabout what truly works inhelpingpeopletobringaboutpermanent change becauseI’ve worked with so manypeopleofallage-groupsandawide variety of backgroundsandculturalinfluences.Inthepastfouryearsinmy

private practice, I’ve helpedhundredsofclientslearnhowto manage their lives inhealthier, more productiveways. They’ve come to meseeking to overcomeemotional problems, andthey’vesucceededmostoftenwith a commonsenseapproach.IfeelIcanbemostuseful to readers of YourErroneous Zones if I caneschew the more

psychological route that’softenthebasisfortrainingmydoctoral students. I want tokeep thisbookas simpleanddown-to-earth as I possiblycan. I have a great deal offaithintheinnategreatnessofeveryone.I hear Buckminster Fuller

give a lecture wherein hemakes this statement:“Everyone is born a genius,but the process of living de-

geniuses them,” and I can’tget this ideaoutofmymind.Iwantpeopletotrustintheirown magnificence. Myexperience doing therapywithclientsandmyexposureto Dr. Maslow haveconvinced me that everyoneis a genius. In everycounseling session I believeI’m sitting across from agenius who’s unfortunatelyallowed him- or herself to

become de-geniused! Mybook is about implementingthese ideaswithout all of theexcuse-making thattheoretical psychologicalapproachesprovide.I discuss my clients’

problems, as they see them,very briefly. Most of myattention is on helping themthink differently aboutthemselves and their lives. Iam calling this book Your

ErroneousZonesbecause it’sabout teaching people totranscend errors in theirthinking. So many peopledon’t believe they havechoices; they feel that theirproblems have been imposeduponthembyexternalfactorsover which they have zerocontrol.Iseethisasanerror.I repeatedly offer my clientstools that will facilitate theirdiscovering that they are the

sumtotalofallofthechoicesthey make. They resist atfirst,wanting toblame,andIpoint out this is a choice. Itell them that to do so is notjust crazy, it is an error inthinking—that is theirerroneouszone.Changeyourthinking,take

responsibility for everythinginyourlife,andconqueryourerroneousthinking. Ipracticea kind of softened rational

emotive therapy, and I seecolossal changes beingmadeby my clients in a relativelyshort number of sessions.AbrahamMaslow andAlbertEllishavebeengreatteachers—their work impacts me inmy private practice, in mywriting, and in my personallife.I insist upon keeping my

message direct and simplethroughout the editing

process of my originalmanuscriptthatwaswrittenayearago.Itiscommonsense,more than pedanticpsychological theory, whichbeen most useful in myhelping people to vanquishthe errors in their thinkingthat have caused emotionaldisturbance and unfulfilledlives. I resist efforts by mypublisher to professionalizemymanuscript with an APA

style of writing, or to useendless references toestablishedresearch.Fast-forward to March

1976. I receive a hardcovercopy of Your ErroneousZonesbyhanddeliveryatmyoffice at St. John’sUniversity. I am thrilledbeyondmyabilitytodescribethis feeling. My heart raceswith excitement as Icontemplate what’s been

accomplished: The visit tomy father’s grave inMississippi. The hundreds oflectures and counselingsession I’ve recorded. TheimpactofDr.MaslowandDr.Ellis on my life. I amdeterminedthatI’llbeabletomakeahuge impactwith themessages contained in thepagesofmybook.Ireminisceaboutallofthe

hours of writing, beginning

when I was much younger,and leading up to thismoment sitting alone in myoffice holding a book thatfeelslikethegreatesttreasureI could ever imagine. I carryitwithmetomyclasses,butItell no one about it. This istoo precious—too gratifyingformetoshareityet.IrecallPaulFargis’swords

regarding my book beingserialized in a national

publication.Sureenough, thefirst of six installments ofYour Erroneous Zones soonappears in The NationalEnquirer, a magazine thatspecializesincelebritygossipand is sold in grocery storesthroughout the country. I’mtold that this weeklyperiodical reaches in excessof three million readers—inall of the articles that I’vewritten for professional

journals, I’ve reached a tinyfractionofthatnumber.Ifeelthatthisisahugeaudienceofreaders who will benefit farmore than the readers ofprofessionaljournals.I begin receiving a great

deal of mail from people allover the country, asking mefor advice, and also tellingme that my book is helpingthem with problems they’rehaving in their families and

love relationships. Thisnational attention is all verynew territory for me, and Ibegintoanswertheletters.Myphoneattheuniversity

is also busier than ever withcalls as a result of thepopularityofYourErroneousZones. One of these calls isfrom an administrator fromSt. John’s admonishing mefor sullying the reputation oftheuniversitybyappearingin

such a disreputablepublication.I’mtoldthatasarising star, with publishedtextbooksandjournalarticles,I shouldn’t allow thisserialization to continue.Advancement in my careercould be jeopardized, asmight any consideration formyacquiringtenure—awordIgrowtodespise.At theageof 35, the idea of staying inthesameplacefor therestof

mylife,doingthesamething,is an exceedinglyunappetizingthought.NotonlydoIrefusetoput

a halt to the serialization ofYourErroneousZones,Ilookforward with pride to eachnew installment ofmy book,which is being read bymillions of people. I feelstrongly that many of thesereaderswilldiscoverways toalter their lives in positive

waysbylearningtoovercometheirself-defeating,erroneousthoughts. I choose to ignorecriticalremarks,andIpaynoattention to empty politicalthreatsdirectedmywayfromadministrativehigher-ups.My colleagues give me a

bit of good-natured ribbingabout the serialization in this“gossip rag,” but I don’tmind. I’m happy knowingthat I’mmaking a difference

to some people in need, andthat a book I wrote is beingreadbyanaudiencesomuchlarger than the very smallnumber of people who readacademicscholarlyjournals.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

AsIlookbackatthetimeI

was in theprocessofputtingtogetherthefinalpackageformy first solo book, Iremember how strong thepressure was to produce abook that would stand up toany hint of scholarlycriticism. Your ErroneousZones is filled withsuggestions for the reader tohandlethatverykindofthingthemselves. To becomeindependent of the good

opinionofothersandbe freefromtheneedforapproval ispreciselywhatIwasteaching—this was one of the mostcommon kinds of neuroticdisorders that I had beenhelping clients overcome foryears, and now I was therecipient of such efforts byothers to secure approval ofmybook.My publisher wanted this

book to lookmore scholarly,

with case studies andannotated references. I recallthinkingbacktoMr.JoachimRies and his insistence onhavingmewriteaccordingtoa dry, unreadable,uninteresting style in acollege freshman class, andhow I resisted those effortsthen, even at the expense ofreceiving an unsatisfactoryfinal grade. I was adamantthat I wasn’t going to allow

externalforces,andstandardswrittenbyacademictypes, todictatetomeeveragain.PaulFargissupportedmeonthis,Ithink largely because he hadseen firsthand that themethods I was writing aboutwereeffectiveinhelpinghimpersonally.This inner calling to resist

theeffortsofotherstodictateto me how I should be as aperson and particularly as a

writerhasplayedabigpartinmydevelopmentasaspeakerand author. Every time Ithought of giving in andshifting from thecommonsense style of YourErroneous Zones to a more“professionally acceptable”format,Iheardavoiceinsideofmesaying,Youknowwhatworks; you want to helppeople change for the better,not lookgood toa collection

of scholarly strangers. Staythe course—keep it simple,talk straight to the reader. Itworks in your counselingoffice,itwillworkhere.Froma distance with a clearervision, I see this as Divineguidance, as an invisibleintelligence that kept me onthepaththatIknewwasrightfor me. It’s about beingmyself, and recognizing thatno one can do that forme. I

washearingthislessonloudlybecause I needed toexperience it directly so Icouldteachit.Ihadreadmostoftheself-

helpliteraturethatwasextantin1975,andIdidnotwanttowrite another Dale Carnegieor Norman Vincent Pealebook. I wanted to create myown genre, using a methodthathadbeeneffectiveforsomanyclientswhocametome

forprofessional counseling. Iknew in my soul that whenpeople stop thinkingerroneouslyandbegintotaketotal responsibility foreverything in their lives, truepermanentchangeispossible.I was living proof of it, andthisexperienceofholdingmyground and not conformingandwritinglikeeveryoneelseallowedme tohave thebookIwanted to write. It hadmy

nameon it, and itwas goingto reflect what I believed nomatterwhat.I look back at the minor

furor that was created at theuniversity over the fact thatmybookwasbeingserializedinasupermarkettabloidandIcanseenowhowimportantitwas for me to once againrefusetobeswayedfrommyown firm stance on thismatter.Ihadaffirmedbackat

the age of 20 while in theNavy that I am a teacher. Ididn’t put any restrictions onthisdeclaration.InmymindIwas a teacher, and the morepeopleIcouldreachwithmymessage of self-empowerment, the moreeffectiveateacherIwouldbe.Tomethelogicwassimpleatthe time: Write for anacademic audience andprofessional recognition, and

you’ll reach maybe a fewhundredpeople.Writeforthewidestpossibleaudience inatabloid and reachmillions ofpeople, all of whom willbenefit the most from myteaching. This was a no-brainer.Mymissionwastoreachas

manypeopleaspossible,soIwas in heaven with theserialization of my book. Iwas not after prestige. I

wantedtoteachandIwantedpeople to purchasemy book,becauseIknewinmyheartofhearts that my time in theworld of academia wasgrowingshorterandshorter.Ifelt that this was a luckybreak offered to me by auniversalSource thatknewithadmuchbiggerplansformethan I could envision at thattime.I felt that Your Erroneous

Zones was one way ofreaching everyone, and Iwanted everyone in thisworldtogetthemessagethatBuckminsterFullerexpressedinthesewords:

Never forget that youareoneofakind.Neverforget that if thereweren’tanyneedforyouinallyouruniquenesstobe on this earth, you

wouldn’t be here in thefirst place. And neverforget, no matter howoverwhelming life’schallengesandproblemsseem to be, that oneperson can make adifference in the world.In fact, it is alwaysbecause of one personthat all changes thatmatterintheworldcomeabout. So be that one

person.

Iwanted to teachothers toembrace thisawareness tobethat one person. More thanthat, though, I felt a deepyearning within me to trulybe that one person myself,and I knew inside that Icouldn’t be that self-actualized person if I wasafraid of what anyone elsemightthinkofme.

It is April 1976, and I’mrenting a house on KimeAvenue in West Babylon,

New York. I’m continuingwith my busy privatepractice, along with myprofessional teaching dutiesat St. John’s. I am also 100percent determined that I’llbring the message of YourErroneous Zones to theworld.I’ve purchased 2,000

copies, which representapproximately one-third ofthe entire first printing,

directlyfromthepublisher.Afew blocks from my homeI’ve noticed a radio station’scall letters on the building:WBAB. I have no ideawhatkind of a format this stationbroadcasts, so I walk overoneFridayafternoonandgivethe receptionist a copy ofYour Erroneous Zones. I tellher I’ve just published thisbook, I live a couple ofblocks away, and if they’re

ever interested ininterviewing a local author,I’dbedelightedtobeaguestontheirstation.The next day I receive a

callfromthestationmanager,who had seenmy book withmy phone number on thereceptionist’s desk. I aminvited to be on the air thatsame day, as a guest they’dscheduled had suddenlycanceled. I immediately

accept.That Saturday morning I

spendadelightfulhourbeinginterviewed by a local discjockey. It’s my firstappearanceonanymediaandI’m hooked. We take a fewphone calls, and I talk off-the-cuff about mycommonsense approach tocreating a joyful life. Thephones light up—allincoming lines are full, and

every caller wants to knowwheretheycanbuythebook.I give the address of a localbookstore in Huntington,which I drive to as soon astheradioshowends.Iaskthemanagertotaketenbooksonconsignment from me, sincethebookhasn’tbeenshippedfrom my publisher yet. Themanager agrees—and I amnow a writer, and adistributor as well! Within

threedays,thisstorehassoldthe ten books. I alert mypublisher to make sure thatthestoresonLongIslandarefullystocked,sinceI’llbeonWBABregularlynow.I’ve discovered my own

marketing scheme: I canvoluntarily visit small radiostations, do interviews, andgenerate interest inmybook.Mypublisher isnotnearlyasexcited about the marketing

and promotion of YourErroneousZonesasIam,butI am bubbling over withenthusiasm.AftermyWBABinterview I can see myselfdoing precisely the samething, not just here on LongIsland, but all over thecountry as well. Thepossibilities seem to meunlimited.Ifeelmyselfbeingpulled in a new direction. Iwill have to extricate myself

from so many of theobligationsIhavetoclientsinmy growing practice andparticularly myresponsibilities as anassociate professor at theuniversity.On Monday, April 5, I

arrive at Schreiber HighSchoolinPortWashingtontogivemyweekly lecture. Theaudience has been briefedthat my book will be

available for sale after thetalk, and my wife and Iunload 500 copies from ourcar. The place is jam-packed—more than 1,200 peoplehave shown up, and we sellall 500 copies almostimmediately. I am beyondflabbergasted! There’ssomething very excitinghappening—I know I am ontosomethingphenomenal.Thewords I am a teacher

flash acrossmy inner screen.I can do this on my own. Ican take total responsibilityfor all aspects of thisenterprise. I can become myown bookstore if need be. Ican market myself if themarketing division is not onboard. I can distribute myown book. And mostsignificantly, I can create theenthusiasm in potentialbuyers—not by selling my

book,butbylovingwhatI’msaying and selling that love.If they likewhat I’m saying,and if they like me, theperson speaking, they willautomatically want topurchasewhatIhavewritten.Someone who regularly

attends the Monday-nightlectures in Port Washingtonhas recommended me as apotentialguesttothehostsofanall-nightcall-inradioshow

at station WMCA. CandyJones,thefamousWorldWarII model married to radiopersonalityLongJohnNebel,telephones me and asks,“Would you be willing tocometo theradiostationandstay for the entire all-nightbroadcast?” Of course I sayyes.I arrive at 11:30 P.M., and

Candy, Long John, and Ibecome involved in a high-

energy discussion. We takephone calls, and I begin togive advice on the air to allmeasure of humanity in theNewYorkmetropolitanarea.Truck drivers, insomniacs,lonely widows, unhingedlate-night fanatics—thephones go crazy. Before Ileaveforhomeat6:00A.M.,I’maskedtocomebackagainthefollowingweek.BothLongJohnNebeland

Candy Jones give YourErroneous Zones anenormousamountofpublicityand are doing outrightcommercials telling all oftheir listeners to go out andbuy this important book, andto demand that their localbookstoresstockit.Ireturnthefollowingweek

to co-host the show withLong John, as Candy isotherwise occupied. Long

Johnhasbeendiagnosedwithadvancedprostate cancer andhe’sobviouslyinagreatdealofpain, sittingona speciallydesigned pillow to alleviatesome of the discomfort. Heleaves me alone at themicrophone, along with theperson who answers andscreensthecalls.I am thrilled to be on one

of the largest stations in thelargest city in the U.S., with

five hours of time to takecallsandtellpeopleaboutmyrecently published book.When I leave, the phoneshave been ringing all nightand I’m told that myappearances on WMCA aregarnering exceptionally highratings.Ibecomearegularonthe Long John and CandyJones radio show, and everytime I appear,my books sellout in all of the New York

metropolitanbookstores.I find myself being asked

toappearonawidevarietyofradiostationsasaguest.Theappearances are alwaysunplanned and spontaneous.However, despite the innerglow of excitement I feel atbeing able to reach so manypeople and to see my booksales climbing, I also feelmyself being pulled in onemoredirection.Stayingupall

nightandtalkingontheradioisonething—butthenhavingtoseeclientsallday,orshowupat theuniversity refreshedand ready to meet withstudents, attend committeemeetings, and teach a fullloadofgraduateclassesisnota prescription for a long andhealthylife.It is now May, and Your

Erroneous Zones has beenout for two months. I have

been unable to transfer myenthusiasm for the book tothe powers that be at T. Y.Crowell, although Paul isextremelysupportiveofallofmy efforts to get it therecognition thatheand I feelit so richly deserves. I havemy sights set on doing anationaltour,eventhoughit’sbeen made clear to me thatthe publisher does not havethe funding for such an

undertaking.Your Erroneous Zones has

been designated as a “list”book.Thatdesignationmeansit’s scheduled to be on thespring list of new releases,and if it sells out the firstprinting of approximately6,000books,itwillbevieweda success…and thatwillbethe endof the story as far asthe publisher is concerned. Ihave a very different vision,

which means that I’mdesignated a highlymotivated,excitablefirst-timeauthor, naïve andinexperienced in theways ofbig-time New Yorkpublishing.I know what I am

compelledtodo,andIcannotentertain any other vision. Iinformallofmyclientsinmyprivate therapy practice thatI’ll be closingmypractice at

the end of themonth, as I’munabletocontinueatthepaceI’vebeenkeeping.My clients are

disappointed; however, theyknew when they began withme that my practice wasn’tabout purchasing a friend. Ibelieve in short-termcounseling with an emphasison coming up with practicalsolutions to self-sabotagingthinking and behavior. My

attitude is, Come to mycounselingsessionsandleavewith new skills. We are notgoing to spendendlesshoursgoing over early childhoodtraumas.Thisisnotmyway.It can be very valuable toengage in long-termpsychoanalysis, just not withme.On May 30 I close my

practice, and am free of theneedtobeinaspecificplace

severaldaysaweek.I’mableto breathe easier—but I stillhavemoretiestoseverbeforeIcandowhatIfeeliscallingme with unabatedexuberance.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Opportunities to fulfill

one’s own dharma areomnipresent when there’s aninner picture of one’sintentionfirmlyplantedintheimagination. I look back atmy actions in 1976 as YourErroneous Zones was justbeingpublished,andIcanseeclearlyhow theuniversewasaligning me with the peopleand the circumstances Ineeded in order to allow meto continue in the direction I

was headed—even though Ihad no idea of what thedestination might look like.I’ve learned to practice thiskind of awareness in evenroutine activities like findinga parking place. Parkingplaces appear more oftenwhenmyinnerintentionisonfindingaplacetopark,ratherthan there are never anyparking places around hereatthistime.

The inner vision that saysyes to life and is open to allpossibilities impels you tolook about with a moreintense vision, to anticipatethings working out, and tojump on even the slightestomen that indicates you’rebeing guided. This is allabout alignment, which I’vewritten about extensively inthe years since YourErroneous Zones was first

published.Ididn’tknowitatthe time,butbyholding firmto an inner picture, I wasaligningmyself with the oneDivinemind—ofwhichI’mafragment—and allowing thisgreat Tao to offer upexperiences in the physicalworld thatmatchedup tomyownDivinedestiny.OnceIbegantopaycloser

attention, I could see themagical synchronicities

manifesting. At that time Iattributed it to good luck orbizarre coincidence. Now Ican see more clearly and Iknow better. I must havewalkedbythatWBABsignathousand times before Ilooked at it with new, moreawakened eyes. The teacherwasalways right there,but ittook my new alignment tonow view it as a goldenopportunity.

I was guided to knock onthat door, and there was aninvisible connection betweenmyself, the receptionist, thestation manager, the guestwhocanceled,thepeoplewhowere involved in that guestneeding to cancel, the discjockey, and on and on intoinfinity. The same holds trueforallof thepeopleinvolvedin bringing me to stationWMCA and everything else

thatistakingplaceinmyliferightupuntilthismoment.Thekeytomyseeingmore

clearly is alignment. Bymaintaining a burning desirewith an image that’s like aninnerflamethatisimpervioustoanydistractions,Ibegantolook outward at everycircumstance as an omen. Itwasn’t luck that pushed methen;itwasmywillingnesstohold on to an inner vision

untilitbecameanintention—and then to humbly followmy instincts and say yes toevery break that came along.By being active and fearless,Iwasallowingdoors toopenthat would have remainedlocked or, worse yet,unnoticed.I now realize that I donot

want to ignore even theslightest internal passingthoughtregardinganideaI’m

pursuing. The thoughts arecommunications from theDivinemindwhereall thingsoriginate—evenourthoughts.IseethattheburningdesireIwas experiencing within mewasnotatallaboutbecomingwealthy or famous or evensellingalotofbooks.Itwasaknowingwithin that thiswasmy calling. I had to answerthat calling or else I wouldhave become dead inside,

wondering why I felt sounfulfilled. As I said yes tothis calling, I knew what todo. IknewIhad toclosemypracticeandfreemyselfup.IknewthatIcouldbeeffectiveon the media because I wasgiven all of thoseopportunitiestogoontheair.Every time I said yes toanother interview, or tostaying up all night, anotherdoorjustseemedtomagically

openwith new vistas formetoexplore.In theTaoTeChing,Lao-

tzu speaks about theimportanceofthinkingsmall,not big: “A journey of athousandmilesbeginswithasingle step.” Had I beenthinking big back then, Iwould have passed over thattiny little WBAB radiostation two blocks from myhome.Yetasimpleknockon

the door of a station withmaybe ten watts ofbroadcasting power led to somuch more. What I seeclearly is that a baby stepleadstothesecondstep.Iwasbeingurgedtotakelittlestepsbyaforceintheuniversethatdirects everything andeveryone.Great thingsbeganwithasinglestep.I’ve always loved the film

Coal Miner’s Daughter, the

story of Loretta Lynn, thecountry singer from ButcherHollow,Kentucky, becomingalegend.Shewentfromradiostation to radio stationtirelessly hawking herrecordings in hopes of justgettingoneplayedontheair.And I love my friend JoeGirard’s well-known quote,whichIhavelivedbymyself:“The elevator to success isout of order. You’ll have to

usethestairs…onestepatatime.”I am grateful for having

had the inner knowing to bewillingtotakethatfirststep.

I’ve just completed thespring semester at St. John’sUniversity, and I am

contemplatingwhat todo forthe summer of 1976 andbeyond.Ihaveeitherattendedcollege or taught universitycourses every summer since1962.I’vebeenofferedafullslate of classes to teachbeginning next week, and Imust give a decision withinthenextfewdays.I’m driving westbound on

the Long Island Expressway(LIE), heading toward the

university to turn in somefinal grades for my graduatestudentswhohavebeeninaninternship that I’vesupervised the past semester.I’ve been making regularappearances on a variety ofNew York—area radiostations, and the sales ofmybookhavetaperedoffbutarestill quite steady. Suddenly Iamovercomewithemotion.Irecall the trepidation I

experienced just five yearsago as I was struggling withthe decision to leave DetroitandcometotheBigApple.IseeDr.Peters’scalmfaceasIreminisceaboutheradvicetomeatthattime.HereIamagain,havingto

decide between two choices—one that offers safety andsecurity, and the other, theunknown. I’ve written achapter in Your Erroneous

Zones titled “Exploring theUnknown” that includesRobert Frost’s poem “TheRoadNotTaken.”Last nighton the radiowith Long JohnNebel, I quoted the last linesofFrost’spoem:

Tworoadsdivergedinawood,andI—Itooktheonelesstraveledby,Andthathasmadeallthedifference.

Suddenly, withoutwarning, clarity comes overme in a way that I haven’texperienced since I talked toMilliePetersback in1971 inDetroit.IamoverwhelmedbythelucidityIfeel.There’snoconflict. I pull over onto theshoulderoftheLIEwithtearsrunningdownmyface.Ihavethe distinct feeling that I’vebeen enveloped by a lovingguidingspirit.

This is what Dr. Maslowcalled a peak experience, aterm describing an ecstaticstate that’s especially joyousand has an ineffablemystical/spiritual essence.These are the moments,according toMaslow, lastingfrom seconds to minutesduring which we feel thehighest levels of happiness,harmony, and possibility. Heonce called these

“supernatural episodes ofenhanced consciousness.” Iam in this supernatural stateright now, right here on theLong Island Expressway. Ihavebeendirectedtotaketheroad less traveled by, and Iknowwhat I amgoing to do—no,what Iabsolutelymustdo.I don’t call my wife or

daughter; I seek no advice.I’ve seen the light on this

matter and I need not obsessover it another day, not evenanother hour. I see with acapitalS. It isalreadyadonedeal.Ieasemywaybackontothe expressway, pull intomyparking space next toMarillac Hall, and go to thesecond floor and tell thedean’s secretary that IwouldliketospeakwithDeanSarahFasenmyer.Iassureherthatitwon’t take more than a few

moments. I excitedly tell thedean that I’m resigning fromthe university effective theendofthissemester,whichisthreedaysfromnow.She asks me to perhaps

takethesummeroffandgainsome clarity on this matter.“Pleasereconsider,”shesays.“Youhavethepotentialforagreat future here. You are arising star and beingassociatedwiththeuniversity

will be extremelyadvantageousforyou.”I agree that this is a risky

moveinaveryuncertaintimeand I’ll lose the benefits thatcome with a professorship—medical retirement, IRAcontributions, and jobsecurity. I listen attentively,butIhavealreadypeeredintomyfutureandseen itnowasif it already were a presentfact. I tell the dean that I

know the risks and haveweighed them carefully, andI’m terminating myemployment. I am alivewithexcitement.I leave the dean’s office

andwalkuptheoneflightofstairs tomy office. I callmywife and daughter, and theyare both filled withenthusiasticjubilationforme.Itellmydepartmenthead,Dr.BobDoyle,andhe’sshocked

—but also supportive. Hetells me how crazy it is togive up somuch security fora dream that might not panout. He reminds me of thepotential financialconsequences, with noguaranteed income and nobenefits, especially since Ihave a family to consider. Icannot be dissuaded. I thinkbacktothatsupernaturalpeakexperience of pure

exhilaration that swept overme just an hour ago, whilesittinginmycarasthousandsofcommutersdrovebymeontheirwayhomeor towork. Iam no longer a commuter; Iam on my own finally.Everything that I do fromhere on in will be on myterms.Mycolleaguescongratulate

me, and my secretary sobs,tellingmehowmuchshehas

loved working for me thesepastfiveyears.Icleanoutmydesk,submitmyfinalgrades,and walk down the threeflights of stairs and head tomyserenityspotafewblocksaway.Igointoadeepmeditative

state of silence. I ask fornothing. No help … noguidance…nothing. I spendthe last 30 minutes of mycareer as a professor at St.

John’sUniversitysittingatopa boulder, listening to thebirds and the wind rustlingthroughthebranches.Iamina state of awe. I give thanksforwhateveritwasthatcameover me a couple of hoursago, and gave me suchluminous grace and clarity. Iam for the very first time inmylife,attheageof36,self-employed,andIamflyingbythe seat of my pants,

bewildered by thepossibilities.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

The quantum moment Iexperienced on the LongIsland Expressway, and thesubsequent actions that wereinitiated almost

instantaneously, retain theirvividness to this day. I havewritten about these quantummoments as being the kindsofpeakexperiencesthathavethe potential to shiftawarenessintoahigherstate,where conscious contact ismade with our highest selfand we are propelled into anew directioninstantaneously. Theseepiphanies and sudden

insights have been the topicof much of my writingbecause I have come to seethem as visitation from ahigher realm. I wrote earlierof my experience at myfather’sgraveasoneofthesequantum moments, or whatDr. Maslow called almostsupernatural moments ofinsight that are often life-transforming.There are four

characteristics of thesequantum moments that I’vedescribed in my movie andbook titled The Shift. First,they are always surprising.Themomentofinsightinmycar on my way to work justseemed to come out of theblue. Second, they are vivid.Even today, so many yearslater,IknowpreciselywhatIwas wearing that day, and Ican tell you the color of the

interior of my OldsmobileCutlass. I can still see theconstruction markers on theexpressway, the cars goingby,andIcansmellthefumesfrom the endless stream ofvehicles. Third, quantummoments are alwaysbenevolent. I can recall howcompletely blissful I felt asthat angelic cloud waftedover me. My skin hadgooseflesh, or what my

daughter calls “the tinglies.”Fourth, they are enduring.Need I say more—nearly 40years later I recall this eventasifithappenedanhourago.Something indefinable

showed up for me that Juneday in 1976 and assisted mein making an uncomfortableshift in my life. It hashappened on severaloccasionswhen Iwas on theedge about what direction to

takeinmylife.Itrustinthesepeak-experience momentsandnotonlyrelyupon them,but invite them into my life.The more I’ve becomeconfident in what my life’spurpose is about, the moreI’ve been able to access thiskind of vivid, emotionallycharged energy. Clearlymoments such as the one Iexperiencedonthedayofmyresignation from the

university are components ofliving a more self-actualizedlife.As individuals begin to

alignwiththeiroriginalintentand live a life on purpose,they invite in their highestguidance. I have come toknow that the only way toaccess the assistance of theascended masters is tobecomelikethemsothattheycan recognize themselves. It

does no good to pray forguidance and help if we’relivinganego-centeredlife.At thatmoment inmy life

all I wanted to do was tosharethemagicIwasfeelingby touching the lives of somany people through radiocall-in shows and the mail Iwas receiving from all overthe country from theserializationofmybook in anational periodical. I wasn’t

egodriven—yetIhadnoideathat I might be receivingsome kind of inexplicablespiritual counsel from theheavens. I was aligning withthe one Divine mind that’sresponsibleforallofcreationbecause I was focused onservingratherthanreceiving.I can see that I was just

beginning to live from thenew awareness by becomingmore like those who live to

serve in Divine love. Theyseethemselvesinthatenergy,andcanandwillguideustoamoreGod-realizedpath.From this perspective of

looking back, I feel that Ihave been in some kind ofascended-master trainingprogram.Ihad togo throughthelongperiodoftimeinthegrip of my own false self—that is, my ego—but when Iwas able to dismantle ego’s

hold on me, I could feel thedifferencewithinme.Iforgotaboutmyself and focused onreaching out and serving justbecause it feltgood todoso,with no consideration for thematerial benefit that mightarrivetome.Resigning from a secure

position of professor, andtakingtheroadnotonly“lesstraveled”but“nevertraveled”byme,was inaugurated by a

spiritual visitation that I’mstillunabletofullyexplain.Ididnotknowat the time thatYour Erroneous Zones wasthe first of 41 books that I’dwrite over the next 38 years,or that I was destined toimpactthelivesofmillionsofpeopleallovertheplanet.I’mcertain that the one Divinemind,thegreatTao,God—orwhateverlabelweplaceuponit—was fully aware of the

dharmathatI’dsignedupfor,andagreedtocarryout,anditmust have known that Icouldn’t do it from thecomfort and safety of aprofessorship at a majoruniversityinNYC.InthesixthchapterofYour

ErroneousZonesIstatedthat“only the insecure strive forsecurity,” and I opened thatchapter with this quote fromAlbert Einstein: “The most

beautiful thing we canexperience is themysterious.It is the true sourceof all artand science.” I was about toembarkonajourneytoteachtheseideastothosewhowerestriving for the always-elusive security. I am certainthat the ascended hostswatching over me andguiding my path were awareof this major insecurity andknew that it was imperative

thatIgetonapathofwalkingmy talk rather than merelytalkingit.

I am on the phone with avice president at mypublishing house, T. Y.

Crowell, toaskhowwellmybook is selling. Afterchecking, he says, “Whenyour book sells out of itsoriginalfirstprinting,wewillbemovingon to the summerlist.Youshouldconsider thisa success for a first-timeauthor.”I feel thatYour Erroneous

Zones will basically die onthe vine before it is evergivenanopportunitytoripen,

and I become a giganticnuisance to all of thepowersthat be at my publisher’sheadquarters. I talk to thepublicitypeople,andtheytellme that there is no budgetallowance for promotion ofmybook.I talk to thepeopleatmarketing,andtheytellmethereisnomarketingplanformybook. Imakecalls to thepeople responsible fordistributing my book to the

bookstores, and no onereturns my calls. Everythingfeelsasifitisatastandstill.I’m in themidst of a kind

ofgridlockthatisverynewtome. Everything is too big—too many departments notcommunicating, and thenblaming each other forinefficiency. I’m anxious tomake something happenthat’s in accord with myvision for myself and this

book.However, I seem toberunning into roadblocks witheveryone I encounter. Idecidetotakemattersintomyown hands. I figure if theysell out of the first printingwhile thebook is still on thespringlist,theywillbeforcedtogotoasecondprinting.With one phone call, I

become a bookstore: WayneDyer Books, West Babylon,New York. I call as a

bookstoreownerandorderallthe remaining copies of thefirstprintingtobesenttomystore (my garage). Two dayslater, I call the same vicepresident and ask him toplease check on the status ofmy book. He is exasperatedwithme, since Ihavebeenapersistentpaintohimatleasttwice weekly since YourErroneous Zones waspublishedthreemonthsagoin

March.TheVPcheckshis records

to give me the on-handinventory report, expecting ittobethesameasitwaswhenwelastspokeafewdaysago.He comes back and tells methatthebookmustbegainingmomentumbecausetheentireprinting has been sold on anon-return basis. I ask whathe’s going to do about that,and he presses the button to

order another printing. Thistime it’s considerablysmaller, though: perhaps2,500books.I now have over 4,000

books in my garage; oneweeklater,Ibuyuptheentireremaining second printing aswell. My publisher is beingforced to go back for a thirdprinting, and now they arebeginning to take notice.Meanwhile, I continue to do

radio shows and sell mybooksatmyMonday-eveninglecturesinPortWashington.I begin to visit as many

bookstores as I can in theNewYorkmetropolitanarea.I take copies of YourErroneous Zones and askthem to stock the title onconsignment. ThenwheneverI appear on a local radioshow,Imentionthenamesofthe stores that are stocking

my book. I do commercialannouncements for the bookwhenever I take a call on atalk-radioshow,andItellthelistening audience preciselywhere the books are beingsold, which makes thebookstore people very happyindeed.Afterareturnvisit tothe various stores that haveagreed to sellmy book, I nolongerhavetoplaytheroleofdistributor and money

collector, as they’re nowpurchasing Your ErroneousZones through normalchannels.I have become my own

bookstore, I have my ownmarketing plan in operation,and I take care of thedistribution and delivery aswell.PaulFargis,whoisalsocaught in the hugebureaucracy of New Yorkpublishing, is aware of what

I’mdoing, and talking tomeabout writing a follow-upbook.Thisfeelsprematuretome—I’m only in thebeginning stages of myefforts to share the messageof Your Erroneous Zoneswiththeworld.ItellPaulthatI’llwrite a secondbooknextyear.I’mnowpreparingmyown

publicity plan, as I’ve talkedto theheadofpublicity atT.

Y. Crowell and she too is abit rankled by my continualpestering.Iamperceivedasabrand-newauthorwhoclearlydoesn’t understand howNewYork publishing works, aswellassomeonewhodoesn’treally know his place. I askabouthowtomake thisbookavailable to the entirecountry.Iamtoldthatthereisonly one way to reacheveryone in the country via

themedia,andthatistomakeappearancesonthenationallysyndicatedshowssuchasTheTonight Show, The PhilDonahue Show, the Todayshow,andsoforth.A young woman named

Donna Gould who works inthe publicity department isassigned tome.Donna lovesthe book and she lovesworkingwithme,butshetoois hamstrung by the fact that

nomoney has been allocatedfor publicity for YourErroneous Zones. I cannottravel, because there is notravelallowance.Andnooneonthesenationalshowsistheleast bit interested in puttingan unknown psychologist ontheir show, especially with afirst book. Donna is youngand fullofenergy,but she ispowerless to override thesystemthatsheworksin.

Iwritealong,impassionedletter to the director ofpublicity informingher that Iknow of a second way toreach everyone in Americavia the media, and that is togo to them directly—myself.I don’twant any financing; Iwill paymyown expenses. Iwill tour this country on myown. Iwill go to the smallermarkets with my books intow, and I will distribute,

market, and deliver just asI’ve been doing successfullyinthetristateareaforthepastseveralmonths.My publisher has never

come across an author quitelike me. They try todiscourageme,but that innerflameistrulyaburningdesire—it tells me to forget aboutall of the resistance Iencounter, and to listen andfollow the inner callings that

willnotbesilenced.Imustdothis thing on my own. I amthrough fighting andcomplaining about thebureaucratic snares; I amgoing to do this thing myway, and I know I’ll beguided all the way. I amburstingwithenthusiasm.Donna Gould agrees to

work with me from home—she is an angel. She tellsmethat if I show up in a

medium-size city such asColumbus, Ohio, she willmake the calls to see whatnewspapersandTVandradioshows she can book. I willpay whatever I can for herservices,butsheisessentiallydoing this because shebelieves in me and themessageIhavetooffer.It is the middle of June

1976.Mydaughter,Tracy, iseight years old; I talk to her

about going on a wondrousadventure to visit cities alloverthecountry,north,south,east, and west. She is game.Mywifeisgame.Itisn’tlongbefore the car is packed andloaded with books fordistribution,andmywifeandI take Tracy and her friendRobin on a cross-countryadventure.Iamgoingtovisitasmany

places as I can that are

willingtohavemeasamediaguest,withDonnamakingthearrangements for interviewswhenever possible. My planis to do several radio showsand announce on the air thatmy book is available atspecific bookstores that I’vescoutedoutinadvance.Afterthe show I head to thesestores. Often it is my wifewho has called inquiringabout buying the book this

fascinating author on theradioisdiscussing.Theyhavealready received severalrequests and are willing totake the books onconsignmentwhenIarriveatthebookstorewithadozenorsobooks.My days are filled with

driving, checking into hotels,and going from station tostation after finding theirlocation on awell-usedmap.

It isnormalformetostayinacity forseveraldaysand todo 12 to 14 interviews in aday—often staying up allnight doing late-night call-inradio. Donna is unbelievablyefficient.ThemoreinterviewsI do, the more the wordbeginstospreadthatIcandocompellinginterviews.Ihavebecome a media therapist,and there’s no shortage ofradiostations thatarewilling

tohavemeasaguestontheirtalkshows.We head across the

country, with me doing alargenumberofinterviewsinevery city we stop in. Thebook is beginning to benoticed by my publisher, asorders from all of myinterviews across the countryare starting to pour in on apretty regular basis. YourErroneous Zones goes to a

fourth printing, and Donnafinally manages to getpermission to work with mefrom her office at T. Y.Crowell during the day. Thepublicitydepartmenthasbeengiven some money for mybook.AndthenIreceivethatfateful call from HowardPapushatTheTonightShow.In September my agent,

Artie Pine, and my editor,PaulFargis,tellmethatYour

Erroneous Zones will bemakingitsfirstappearanceontheNewYorkTimesbestsellerlistthefollowingSunday.Forme, this is the equivalent ofbeing an actor and beingawardedanOscar.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

From thisvantagepointoflooking back at myfrustration with my NewYorkpublisher,Icanseenowwhat a great blessing theygaveme in the form of theirindifference. I was given thewonderfulopportunitytotakemy life into my own hands,and as a result Iwould haveabsolutely no one to blamewhen things didn’t go theway I wanted them to go. I

had been practicing thislessonmyentirelife,buthereit was presented to me in averybigway.When I was told that my

book was essentially headedtoward oblivion if I allowedother people to be in chargeofthisentireoperation,Ihadachoice. I could say,“Okay,I guess this is the way thatbig-time New Yorkpublishing operates. I’m just

alittlecoginabigwheel,andI’lltakewhatevertheydecideisthewaythingsaregoingtobe.” I had experienced amodicum of success, and Icould say thank you and justletitallfadeaway.My second choice was to

refuse to allow anyone’sopinion to get in the way ofwhat I had placed in myimagination,and to take totalresponsibilityforeverysingle

aspect of this journey I wasundertaking. In the letter Iwrote to the director ofpublicity I included a veryspecial quotation that I havealways loved: “WhenAlexander the Great visitedthe greatest spiritual teacherof his time, Diogenes, andaskedifhecoulddoanythingfor the famed teacher,Diogenesreplied,‘Onlystandoutofmylight.’”

I was not asking T. Y.Crowelltopayforanyofmyexpenses, nor even to offermeanyassistanceinbookinginterviews.All Iwantedwassome assurance that theywouldn’t become an obstacleby being recalcitrant andholdingbackbookproductionand deliveries because I wasflying outside of the flightpatternthattheyhadfiledfortheirauthors.

I had an inner convictionaboutwhatIintendedtodo.Iknew that I couldnot simplystandbyandallowallofmydreams to be wiped awaybecause others, who weremore experienced, felt thatthey knew better—knew theway. I asked them to pleasestand out ofmy light and letme be guided by my ownvision.I also used another of my

all-timefavoriteobservations,by the German scholarFriedrich Nietzsche, in myletter:“Youhaveyourway.Ihavemyway.Asfortherightway,thecorrectway,andtheonly way, it does not exist,there is no ‘The way’ to doanything.”What I see clearly today

regarding those interactions Ihad with my publisher overhow Your Erroneous Zones

was to be marketed,distributed, and publicized isthat Iwas offered a first-ratechance to begin my newwriting career by trusting inmy own self first andforemost. A great learningexperience was beingpresentedtome.At the time I was a bit

frustrated that I wasn’tgetting the cooperation that Idesired, but I never for a

moment even consideredabandoning the “this is myway” inner vision that wasburning brightly within myimagination. Rather thanmaking a big issue about allof this, or even blaming thesystemfornotbeingmyally,IwentstraighttothepictureIhad planted in my mind anddecided to make this entirethinga joyful, funenterprise.Iwas having the time ofmy

life in the New York areamakingallofthiscomealive,and I saw no reasonwhatsoever that it wouldn’twork in every corner of thecountry (and the world aswell) if I keptmyvisionandfollowed my innerpromptings.I didn’t have all of the

answers on how one shoulddo the legwork in order tomake a book a big success,

but I did know what I hadlearned from my immersionin the self-actualizationresearch of AbrahamMaslow,andaftercounselingwith hundreds of clients—itwas imperative for me toremain independent of thegood and bad opinions ofothers. As my friend MayaAngelou once observed, “Abird doesn’t sing because ithas an answer, it sings

becauseithasasong.”What is clear to me today

is that I must ignore theopinionsandadviceofotherswhen they interfere with myown inner knowing. It isenoughformetoknowthatIhave a song, and by God, Iintendtosingit.

My world has changeddramaticallysinceImadethedecision to go it alone as a

self-employed writer. It is1977, and I have spent thepastyearworkingfull-timetopromote Your ErroneousZones.Every three weeks or so I

fly out to theWest Coast tobe on The Tonight ShowStarring Johnny Carson,which has created a nationalaudience for my book. Myfriend Howard Papush lovesmy commonsense approach

and the stories I tell, and hecontinues to book me in the“author’s spot” at the end ofthe 90-minute show.Generally I appear onMonday nights, with suchdiverse guest hosts as BillCosby,BobNewhart,VincentPrice, Joan Rivers, DonRickles,andothercelebrities.The audience reactions andratings are alwaysupwhen Icomeon,andIfeelblessedto

havetheopportunityfortheseregularappearances.Withthisnationalexposure

I’m now being beckoned bythetelevisionshowsthatonlya few months ago wereuninterested in aschoolteacher named WayneDyer. Recently I’ve been onThe PhilDonahue Show, theToday show, The MervGriffin Show, The MikeDouglas Show, and Good

Morning America, amongothers.I’vebeentravelingthecountry on a book tourfinanced by my publisher,and doing guest spots onlocally produced shows incities all across the UnitedStatesandCanada.I’ve always loved being

before an audience andoffering entertaining as wellas compelling andeducational talks, so I’m

thrilled to also have manyspeaking engagements. I’mbeing paid fees beyond mywildest dreams—for a two-hour speech, I earn theequivalent of three months’salary as a universityprofessor. My agent, ArtiePine,isbookingmyspeechesnow, and there are morerequestscominginthanIcanmanage. I travel throughoutNorth America speaking

before large audiences atchurches, colleges, corporatemeetings, and publicseminars.As the demand formy services grows, Artiecontinues to raise myspeakingfee.Ifindithardtobelieve that people arewilling to pay thousands ofdollars to hear me say whatI’dbeensayingforalmostnopay only a few monthsbefore.

Your Erroneous Zones hasnow been in publication for14 months. Each week mypublisher has a display ad inTheNewYorkTimesshowinghowmanycopiesofthebookare in print. From that firstprintingofabout6,000,ithasshot up through four moreprintings to its present in-print total of 250,000! YourErroneousZoneshasbecomeaphenomenon.Ithasbecome

an international bestsellertranslated into severaldifferent languages to satisfythe demand for it in Europe,South America, Asia, andAustralia.On a joint conference call

with Artie Pine and PaulFargis,Iamtoldthattherearetwo pieces of news that aregoing to blowme away.Thefirst is that Your ErroneousZones will appear on The

NewYorkTimesbestsellerliston Mother’s Day, May 8,1977,asthenumberonebest-selling book in the country.The second is equallyexciting: Your ErroneousZoneshasbeenputupforbidat an auction with all of thepaperbackpublishinghouses.The bidding has exceededwelloveronemilliondollars,and Avon Books will bebringingthisbookoutastheir

numberoneleadbookforthefallofthisyear.I have just been informed

that I am the author of thenumber-one-selling book inthe country, and I have alsojustbecomeamillionaireasabonus! I am over the moonwith joy. I put the phonedown in my little rentedhouseonLongIslandandputmy head intomy hands, andtearsflowdownmyface.

I have been doing nothingbut followingmyownvisionand advancing confidently inthe direction of my owndream, and endeavoring tolive the life I have imagined.ItiswhatIreadonthewallofthe Thoreau Lyceum inConcord, Massachusetts,whenIvisitedandlayonthebed where Henry DavidThoreau slept back in the19th century. And this great

teacher ofmine, who guidedme through so manyroadblocks when I was backinhighschool,wassoright.Ihave met with a successtotally unexpected incommon hours. I amovercomewithemotion.IcallmymotherinDetroit

to give her the news. Shereceives my news with thesame sort of ecstatic shockthat I’mfeeling.Shereminds

me of the poem titled“Wayne,” which she wrotefor me back in 1970 when Ireceivedmy doctoral degree.Sherecitesitverbatim:

Amothercanbutguide…Thenstepaside—IknewIcouldnotsay,“Thisisthe

waythatyoushouldgo.”

ForIcouldnotforeseeWhatpathsmightbeckonyou

tounimaginedheightsthatImightneverknow.

Yet,alwaysinmyheartIrealized

Thatyouwouldtouchastar…

I’mnotsurprised!

She is sobbingwith joy assheplayfullyremindsmethatmy book is such a hugesuccess because she was theonewhotypedthemanuscript

before I gave it to thepublisher. This beautifulwoman—who sacrificed somuch to get her brokenfamily back together afterbeing abandoned by mybiologicalfather,whoworkedevery day of her lifewithoutcomplaint—isthemotherofamillionaire author, who’swrittenthemostpopularbookin America. Before hangingup she says, “My son the

doctor! I’m honestly notsurprised, Wayne. You werealways looking at the stars. Iloveyousomuch.”I hang up the phone and

say a profound prayer ofgratitude for this enormousblessing that has arrived inmylife.Ifeelhumbledbythefact that I have come fromsuchscarcebeginnings,andIpray for help in remainingunaffected in any egotistical

way by all of this externalbounty.Imakeacommitmentto make certain that my twobrothers and ourmother willnever be saddled with amortgagepayment.Fast-forward to the

summer,andYourErroneousZones is sitting atop thebestseller list in Australia,Holland, Sweden, andNorway.Iagreetovisitthesecountries to do a publicity

tour.I’m in Australia, and the

paperbackeditionofmybookis stacked high in everybookstore I visit. I’m doinganinterviewataradiostationwhen we are interrupted byan announcement that ElvisPresley has just been founddead, presumably of a drugoverdose. It is August 16,1977.Isayasilentprayerfor“the legend,” and his family,

as the station immediatelybeginsanElvismemorial.During my tour, Elvis’s

music is everywhere, onevery station. In virtuallyeverysubsequent interview, Iam asked to comment on hisdeath. I speak to theerroneous zone of addictionandamaskedtoreadthefinalchapter of Your ErroneousZones, which is titled“Portrait of a Person Who

HasEliminatedAllErroneousZones.” During this time Ibegin thinking about writinga second book about gettingout of victim habits that areself-sabotaging and canultimatelydestroyaperson.I spend twoweeks touring

everymajor city inAustraliadoing an endless array ofinterviews for newspapers,magazines, radio, andtelevision. It’s a grueling

schedule, nonstop 10 to 12hours a day, from Perth toAdelaide, Brisbane,Melbourne, and Sydney.When I leave the countryYour Erroneous Zones is thenumber one book in sales,and I have a series ofinvitations to return forspeaking engagements in thefuture.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

What stands out mostclearlytometodayasIrelivethose glorious moments ofachieving such exalted statusinthepublishingworldisthebiggest fear that I had insideof me. It concerned myabilitytohandlethefinancialuncertainty at the very

beginning of my decision toleave theuniversityandheadout on my own. I loved thefeeling of freedom that wasso nourishing to my soul;however,my headwas filledwith dread over moneyworries.I grew up in an era of

pretty severe poverty. Myparents weathered the GreatDepression and money wasalways a very big concern. I

was weaned on a shortagementality, and placed infoster homes largely becausethere simply wasn’t enoughmoney to take care of themost basic of needs. Mymother, who had threechildren by the time shewas24,worked first as a countergirl at a five-and-dime, andthenasasecretary.Myfather,whowasjailedforstealingonmore than one occasion, just

abandoned his fatherlyresponsibilities anddisappeared. I grew upworking from the time Iwasnineyearsofage.Moneywasa big issue everywhere Ilived. A lack of money andfear ofmonetary shortages—and remembrances of beinghungry and not havingenough food to eat—wereimprinted on mysubconscious mind rather

emphatically.Consequently, heading out

onmy ownwith a family tosupportattheageof36,withnoguaranteed income,was amonumental thing for me. Iloved the idea of being myown boss, but I dreaded thethought of not being able toprovide for my family andmyself. What feels muchclearer to me now as I lookbackonthisriskymoveisthe

importanceoffeelingthefear—acknowledging it ratherthan pretending it wasn’tthere—and then doing whatmy heart and soul weretellingmeIhadtodo.Itwasmy willingness to align mybodyand itsactionswithmyhighest self, which could nolongerhandlelivingalie.AsI traveled the country, andthen theworld, doingwhat Iknew was my Divine

purpose, everything began tofallintoplace.When that conference call

from Artie and Paulannounced my new fiscalstatus as a millionaire withunlimited earning capacity, Irealized a very importanttruth. It was spelled out byPatanjali some 2,300 or soyearsago.Thisgreatspiritualmaster offered the kind ofadvice thatspoke tomeback

there in 1977. He said,“When you are inspired bysome great purpose, someextraordinaryproject,allyourthoughts break their bonds,your mind transcendslimitations, yourconsciousness expands ineverydirection, andyou findyourself in a new, great, andwonderful world.” Then headded, “Dormant forces,faculties, and talents become

alive and you discoveryourself to be a greaterperson by far than you everdreamedyourselftobe.”I love this passage—

especially the part aboutdormant forces. These areforcesthatweoftenthinkaredeadand inaccessible,buthesaidtheycomealivetoassistus when we are inspired bysome great purpose andactinguponit.IrealizedIhad

a lot of worries and fearsabout money that I’d grownup with and lived with mywhole life, and that theydominated much of mythinking. What Patanjaliofferedwas true forme in abigway.AsIfollowedmydream—

stayed in-Spirit; that is,inspired—I made moremoneyinthefirstyearafterIgaveupmyemploymentthan

Ihadmadeintheprevious35years ofmy life. Somehow Isee it so clearly now: Whenwe stay on purpose andsteadfastly refuse to bediscouraged, accepting ourfears and doing it anyway,those seemingly dormantforces do come alive andshow us that we are greaterpeoplethanweeverdreamedourselves to be.We discoverthat we are one with our

Sourceofbeing,andasJesusputitsoperfectly,“WithGodallthingsarepossible.”Being with God means

living out one’s purpose andalways coming from a placeof love. I see so clearly nowthatmyresolve to followmyowninnermostcallingand todoitfromaninnermantraofHowmayIserve?ratherthanWhat’s in it for me? iswhatdissipatedmyworryingabout

financialcatastrophe.During all those years of

talking to people in themedia, the idea of becomingwealthywasthefurthestthingfrom my mind. My bookappearing on The New YorkTimes bestseller list was atotal surprise to me. Themoneythatbegantoshowupwas truly unexpected.Abraham Maslow’s self-actualization psychology had

taught me to stay detachedfrom outcome. He said itoften, that self-actualizingpeople do what they dobecause they are followingtheir heart, the call of theirsoul, not because of whatmight accrue to them. Myjourneywas to followwhat Ifelt so deeply inside myself.All of the largesse thatappearedwasamind-blowingyetpleasantshocktome.

This iswhat isclear tometoday:followyourheart,stayaligned with your Source ofbeing—love—and let theuniverse take care of thedetails.

I’ve accepted an invitationtodoabookpublicitytourinHolland, where something

unheard of has taken place.Willeke Alberti, a well-known singer/actress in theNetherlands, has apparentlyappeared on a nationaltelevision show informingeveryonewatching that she’sread a book that hascompletely turned her lifearound. That book is YourErroneous Zones, titled inDutch asNiet Morgen MaarNu, which means, “not

tomorrow,butnow.”Willekehas made an impassionedplea to viewers to read andapply the simplecommonsense advice offeredin what for her has been alife-changing book. The nextday the demand for NietMorgen Maar Nu is beyondanything theDutch publisherhaseverseen.I fly toAmsterdam,where

I speak with this fascinating

womanwhoisresponsibleformaking me an overnightsensation in Holland andBelgium. The bookstorescannot keep up with thedemand for my book. Iappear on talk shows, late-night entertainment shows,and a national game show;and I do interviews with ahost of magazines andnewspapers.Willeke tells me that she

was profoundly touched bythe words in Niet MorgenMaarNu, and she would bethrilled to endorse anythingthat I might produce in thefuture.I’vemadeafriendinacountry I’d never beforevisited, with a celebrity whospeaks a language that I donotgrasp,who’swillingtobeanambassadorforthekindofteaching I’m promoting in abook published across the

ocean inAmerica.This bookis selling in the hundreds ofthousands in a country thathas a total population of 14millionpeople.I return to the U.S. and

meetwithArtiePineandPaulFargisatT.Y.Crowelltotalkaboutideasformynextbook.Ever since I was preemptedfrom my radio interview inSydney last summer, I’vebeen thinking about the

untimely death of Elvis. Iwant to write aboutsomething that seems toimpact everyone I talk to inonewayoranother.I’veseenin my therapy practice thateven though people are ableto change their self-defeatingthinking patterns and correcttheir erroneous habitualthoughts, they still feelvictimized by so manyexternalfactorsthatappearto

themasinsolvable.I present Paul with an

outline detailing fresh andeven startlinglyunconventional methods forgetting rid of pressures andmanipulations that arecontinually being directed atalmost everyone. I want toteach people how to stopfeeling victimized in all oftheir interactions in life—tooperate from strength rather

than weakness when dealingwith family members,authority figures, and thedemons that live inside thatcontinually pull them awayfrom theirownwell-being. Itseems to me that Elvisallowed himself to be takenover by an entourage ofmanipulators who primarilyhadtheirownself-interestsatheart.Howdidhislifegetsoout of control? Why wasn’t

he able to resist themachinationsofhishandlers?Whowas there to guide himaway from self-sabotagingbehaviors?Iwant towriteabookthat

uses the same commonsenseapproach that captivated somany people around theworld in Your ErroneousZones.Iwanttoteachpeoplehow to avoid the victim trapthatclaimedthelifeofElvis,

andsystematicallyacts likeacreepingcancerinthelivesofcountlessmen andwomen. Icall this proposed bookPullingYourOwnStrings.I receive a nice advance

from my publisher that islimited due to some legalesein the original contract Isignedwith them.My agent,Artie Pine, unsuccessfullyattempts to get the publishertoofferasubstantialfinancial

advance that goes beyondwhat is called for in thecontract,duetotheenormousand unexpected success ofYour Erroneous Zones. Artieis adamant and wants to putpressure on the publisher. Itake a very different standandinsistthathebackoffandsimply honor what weoriginallyagreed towhenwewere thrilled to have a bookcontractatallonly18months

ago.I am more than content. I

don’tneedanymoremoney;InowownabeautifulhomeinFt. Lauderdale, Florida,where I’m a full-timeresident. I’m excited aboutwriting a second book andknowing that it will bepublished. I insist that Artieletgoofhisdemand thatmypublisher tearupouroriginalagreement. I want no

conflicts anywhere—no hardfeelings. This is not aboutmoney,andIdon’twantittobecomeanissue,notnow,notever.AsIbeginwritingmynew

book I recall reading aloudthe Declaration ofIndependencetoacivicsclassI was teaching at PershingHigh School in Detroit. Thisgroup of high school seniorsstudied the Declaration of

Independence one line at atimeandthendiscussedwhatwas being said and how itapplied to them in the 1960s—almost200yearslater.One particular line drew

themostdiscussion:

All experience hathshown that mankind aremore disposed to suffer,while evils aresufferable, than to right

themselves byabolishing the forms towhich they areaccustomed.

I decide before Iwrite thefirst word of Pulling YourOwnStrings that thiswill bethe display quote at thebeginning of the book, as itreveals the theme I want toaddress.I write daily for three

months, always focused onhelping the reader to “rightthemselves” by choosing tonot be a victimof anyone oranysystem,underanyandallcircumstances. When thehardcover edition of PullingYour Own Strings appears,I’m just as thrilled as I wastwo years ago when I heldYour Erroneous Zones andcoddled it like a newbornchild.

Iamonceagaincommittedto taking thismessage to theworld—but this time I don’thavetodobattlewithanyoneat the publishing house.Donna Gould has beenassigned to me as my full-timepublicist.Ielecttogoona cross-country book tour,onlythistimeIdon’thavetodrive or be concerned abouthotel reservations andkeeping within a very tight

budget. My airfares andhotelsareallhandledforme.Anything I want is given tomewithoutquestion.Pulling Your Own Strings

goes immediately to the topof The New York Timesbestseller list. I’m stillmaking frequent appearanceson The Tonight Show, andnowI’vebeeninvitedtodoataping on the daytime talkshowhostedbyDinahShore,

Dinah!InLosAngelesI’mgreeted

bythekindest,sweetest,mostgenerous person I have evermet in all of my encounterswith show-business people.Dinahasksmetodoaregularweekly appearance with heron her nationally syndicatedtelevision show, suggestingthat I present commonvictimizing situations andhave actors/actresses act out

various methods for dealingwith these kinds ofwidespread scenarios. I flyout once a month, and wetapefourshowsoneachvisitto be played weekly. In theprocess I establish afriendshipwithawomanwhopersonifies self-actualization,andthatisMs.DinahShore.I watch Dinah each week

displaying extraordinarykindness to everyone at the

studio.Theladywhoemptiesthe wastebaskets is affordedthe same dignity as thestarlets and well-knownpoliticians who come to thestudio. I am so impressed bythis multitalented superstarwho embraces everyonewithlove and kindness in herheart. I amhonored to be onher show as a regular guest,and I amevenmorehonoredto watch and learn from

someonewhoappearstohavetamed her ego. She is myfriendandagreatteacher…Iamsograteful.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

One of the greatdiscoveries of my life cameout of my experience in

HollandwithWillekeAlberti,perhaps the best-knownentertainmentcelebrityinthatbeautifulcountry.In theTaoTeChing,Lao-

tzu offers a paradoxicaltruismwhen he says that thegreatTao(God)doesnothingand leaves nothing undone.As I’ve contemplated thisironicstatementIcansee,yetnot explain, the wisdominherentinLao-tzu’swords.I

could look all day and nightfor a millennium, and mysenses could not experienceGod doing anything. I can’tsee, hear, smell, taste, ortouch God, yet something isat work, leaving nothingundone—and so it is when Ialign myself with the greatTao and live outmy dharmainthatalliance.There’s nothing I can do

about all of the people in

Europe,Asia,SouthAmerica,and everywhere else on theplanet, who I’d love to havehear my self-empoweringmessage. But it is gettingdone.IhavenoideawhofirstplacedacopyofNietMorgenMaar Nu in the hands ofWilleke Alberti, and what itwasthatinspiredhertospeakso passionately about it onnational television. I didnothing,andobviouslyitwas

supposed to happen, sonothingwasleftundone.Clearly there’san invisible

force in the universe thathandles everything. Noexceptions. This force is inmeanditisineverythingandeveryone else alive—itconnects us all.When I stayin harmony with this force,which is really pureunconditional love, it leavesnothing undone by doing

nothing. The Beatles had itright when they said “Let itbe.”Since that first initial visit

to Holland, the beautifulWillekeAlberti has done thesame thing over and overagainasmybookshavebeenpublished in Dutch. She is asoul mate, walking the samepath I walk, and it ismysteriously delightful tohold her hand aswe traverse

this path together, thoughdivided geographically andlinguistically as we are.Clearly this force that iswithin all of us works toassist each of us if we staytruetoourcalling.Willekeisone example of thousands ofsuch allies who arecommitted to the samepurpose of transforming ourplanet into a place ofDivinelove.Iambutamessengerin

this process. I don’t own thewords I write; I just allowthem to come through me,and thegreatTaohandlesallofthedetails.Looking back with a

clearer understanding, I cansee how the evolution ofPulling Your Own Stringswasanecessityforme.FrommyearliestrecollectionsIcanrecallthefrustrationandevendeep resentment over silly

rules imposed upon me bypeopletellingmethatIhadtodo things their way, whichgenerallymeant that Iwas tobe victimized. Inmy therapypractice I saw evidence ofthis in virtually everyone Iencountered. My desire towrite and speak about thesekinds of everyday victimtraps came from an innerawarenessthatitdoesn’thaveto be this way. One can

summonthecouragetostandup to those who attempt toreplaceone’sknowingwhat’sright,with theirwill, or theirpolicies,ortheirregulations.I can see now that I often

came from a place of egowithin myself when it cameto dealing with authorityfigures. And to be perfectlyhonest,Iallowedmyownegotoplayadominantroleinmylife at times in 1978, as the

spotlightofstardombegantoshineonmewithtwonationalbestsellers,a luminouscareeras a television personality,and being recognizedeverywhereIwent.My association with the

egoless Dinah Shore helpedme—I quickly saw the realtruththatIwasnobetterthananyoneelse.WithDinahasamodel, I easily made thechoice to stay humble and

kind in all of my dealingswithpeople,andtossoutanysupercilious attitudes thatmightbeforming.HereIwasevery week with amonumental superstar—awomanwhohada résuméofstardomthatwentonforever.Not only did she have manysuccessful television shows,she was a movie star andpopular recording artist,withover 40 albums to her credit

and a long list of hit songsdatingback to theyear Iwasborn. Dinah Shore was alsoan honorary member of theLPGA Hall of Fame and abeloved philanthropist, withfar too many awards toenumeratehere.AsI lookbacktodayIcan

see what a profound rolemodel she was for me. Shespokehighlyofeveryone,andnever allowed her celebrity

statustoinflateherego.HereI was, a newcomer to all ofthis prominence, and I wasbeginning to take on anattitude that was ego basedand unworthy of a personwhose mission is to serveothers. This newfoundstardom and recognitionneeded to be an irrelevantspin-offtomyownmission.Ican vividly recall watchingthis magnificent superstar of

a lady treat everyone withloveandrespect.I am so grateful for

Dinah’s presence in my life.Each week when I appearedas a guest on her televisionshow for almost two years, Iwasremindedtomaintainmyhumility,thinkfirstofothers,and always come from aplaceoflove.Throughouttheyears since Dinah’s passingin 1994, I have recalled her

loving countenance and hersensational smile, as well asher own radical sense ofhumility,andI’mremindedtoemulate those qualities shelivedsoauthentically.Thankyou, sweetDinah. I

wassoblessedtoknowyou.IknowIwasoneofalegionofmen in lovewithyou fromadistance. The final two linesofJohnKeats’sfamouspoem“Ode on a Grecian Urn”

alwaysremindmeofyou.

Beautyistruth,truthbeauty—thatisall

Yeknowonearth,andallyeneedtoknow.

Thank you, Dinah, forproviding me with a modelforstayinghumbleinthefaceof the many ego temptationsthat come with fame. Yourinnerbeautyismytruth!

It isMay8,1978,andI’mcatching a train into NewYorkCitytohavedinnerwith

Artie Pine. For the past yearor so I’ve been speaking atdifferent venues all over thecountry,includingbusinesses,colleges,publicseminars,andUnity and Science of Mindchurches.Artiehasuppedmyspeaking fee considerably,yettheaudiencesformytalkscontinuetogrowlarger.I take great pride in

speaking directly from myheart for hours at a time

without the benefit of apodium or any noteswhatsoever. I am somewhatof a frustrated comedian,using a great deal of myspeaking time to keep theaudiencelaughingasmuchaspossible. This is a naturalplace for me to be. I loveliving out my own personalaffirmation that I have beenusingfor18yearsnow: Iamateacher.

Four months ago I recitedthis old joke to Artie: Astudent asks his singinginstructor, “How do I get toCarnegieHall?”Histeacher’simmediate response is,“Practice, practice, practice.”I toldmyagenthow thrillingIthoughtitwouldbetospeakat Carnegie Hall, to standaloneon thatenormousstagewhere somany legends haveperformed and speak to a

sold-out audience. I said thatthiswasadreamofmine,butI knew it was really just afantasy.Tomy surprise, Artie told

methathehadafriendwho’sresponsibleforbookingtalentinto Carnegie Hall—if Ireallywantedtodothis,he’dinquire about the details andthe cost of renting such aprestigious venue for oneevening. I once said to

myself,If Icanmake ithere,I can make it anywhere. Ofcourse I want to do it! SoArtie called his friend, andthearrangementsweremade.I’llhavetopaytherentalfeeif the ticket sales areinsufficienttocoverthecosts.This is the Big Apple. Andthis is the biggest theater inthiscity.Now we are sitting at

Artie’sfavoriterestaurant,the

Russian Tea Room. I amabouttocrossoneitemoffofwhatI’lllatercallmy“bucketlist.” I have rented CarnegieHall for tonight, two daysbeforemy38thbirthday.Itellmy agent that I no longerwant him to put a notice inmy speaking contracts thatsays, No recording of Dr.Dyer’s talks may be made. Iexplain to him that thisviolatesmyownsenseofwhy

I do this work and travelaround theworld speaking. Iwant as many people aspossible to hear these talks.This is not aboutmymakingmoney—it’s to spread theword to aswide an audienceas possible. Iwant people torecord these messages, toreproduce my tapes, and tosend their recordingseverywhere.Artieobjects,feelingthatit

willcostmesomesalesoftherecorded programs; after all,he ismyagent and feels thatit is his job to protect mefinancially. But he agrees tostrikethisprovisionoutofmycontract for Carnegie Hall,and all future speakingengagements.We finishdinnerandwalk

the few blocks to CarnegieHall. I look at the marqueeandseemynameinlightson

this stupendous edifice thathashosted somanygiants inthe entertainment industry. Iwalk through the cavernousbackstageareatomydressingroom and sit down feelingastonished awe. I am chokedup and wondering if theenormityofthisoccasionwillrender me speechless whenthosecurtainsopenandIfacetheaudience.I do a 20-minute silent

meditation of gratitude, andwalk out to gaze out at thescene before me. The mainhall has enormously highceilings, and there arebalconies around this mostprestigious concert stage inthe U.S., which seats 2,804people on five levels. I can’tsee an empty seat in thehouse, but the moment Ibegin to speak, I lose all ofmyjitters.Ispeakfortwoand

a half hourswithout a break,and I am humbled by alengthy standing ovation.There was no announcementthat my lecture could not berecorded.At the beginning of this

year, Iwrote thesewords: “Ihave two major goals that Iintend to accomplish beforethe end of this year.” I’vecompleted my fantasy ofspeaking at Carnegie Hall,

which was one of the twogoals—and, as the old jokegoes, I got there by practice,practice,practice.Theseconditem for this year is to run afull marathon. Why? In partbecause of an experience Ihad a few years ago whileteaching a summer-schoolcourse at Wayne StateUniversity.A group of graduate

students was in front of the

class as part of anassignment, simulating acollege classroom. Thestudent taking the role ofprofessor had his belt pulleddown below his stomach,portraying an overweightprofessor with a protrudingbelly. I couldn’t understandwhy the entire class wasstifling their laughter andlooking sheepishly at me.Suddenly I had the shocking

awareness that this studentwas good-naturedlymimickingme. I realized forthe very first time that Iwasoverweight. How had thishappened to me? I had alaugh with the entire class,and when I returned home Irealized that this was one ofthemostsignificantmomentsofmylife.I made a decision on the

spot that I was going to get

myself into shape. I wentoutside with a pair of tennisshoesonmyfeetandtriedtorun around the block. Iwentabout 500 yards and waspanting and unable to catchmybreath.Mychesthurt,mylegs ached, and I walkedslowlybacktomyhome.Thenext evening I did the samething,andthistimeIwasableto run 600 yards beforecollapsinginexhaustion.

Iwasdeterminedtobeableto run a mile within fourdays.On day three Imade itpastahalfmile,andInoticedthat I wasn’t nearly asfatigued or winded as I hadbeen.Bytheendofthefourthday Iwas able to jog slowlyfor one entiremile. Iwas onmy way! I discovered howempowering it was to makethis kind of progress—I washooked.

I now have a runningregimen that I adhere tounwaveringly. Within twomonths of my first day oflong-distance running, I gotmyself up to eight miles aday. I have obsessively runevery single day since thatfirst shock at seeing myselfbeingportrayedasanout-of-shape professor with a girtharoundhismiddle.IdidthesamethingIdidto

get to Carnegie Hall—practice, practice, practice.For close to two years I’verun eight miles a day, neverevenconsideringtakingadayoff. No matter where I’vebeenintheworld,I’vefoundthehourandtheplacetorun.I really love this time

alone. I clear my head andfeel the joy that comes fromhavingthewindinmyface.Iam one with nature when I

run,andIamamazedatwhatmy body is now capable of.Myweight isdown toa trim170pounds,Ihaveverylittlebodyfat,andIfeelbetterthanIhaveinyears,sinceIwasonthe track teaminhighschoolover20yearsago.I have set my intention,

trained by running up to 18miles at a time, andcompleting80or sohoursoftraining per week. It is now

October 22, and I’m signeduptorunintheCityofLakesMarathon in Minneapolis,Minnesota. It is a coolOctobermorning,andIamatthestartinglinetorunall26.2miles.Itisanintentioninmyimagination, and there isabsolutely nothing that couldkeepmefromcompletingthismission.Running each day has

become my life, and this

marathon is to be thecrowning achievement. I amunconcerned about my time,my speed, or how I stack upwith the other 2,000 or sorunners here today. I amtotally confident that I willcomplete this race andaccomplishthatsecondgoalIset for myself back inJanuary.As I run I hear people

talking about the invisible

wall that runners hit,somewhere around the 22-milemark.ImoveonbecauseIdon’twantmyinnerpictureof myself happily andproudly crossing the finishline to be contaminated bytheir comments. I finish theentire26.2-milecourseinjustoverthreeandahalfhours—Iam ecstatic and give a silentthank-youtothatstudentwhounwittinglygavemeawake-

upcallwhenheportrayedmeasanoverweightprofessor.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Looking back I see howimportant those two itemsonmy bucket list were in thedevelopment of my life’swork that was to follow.

When I set that intention torun a complete marathonwithout stopping or walking,I had never run more thaneightmiles inmy life.Yet amarathon seemed to me thepinnacle of runningaccomplishments. Iremembered Maslow’swords: “Self-actualizersmustbewhattheycanbe.”Hewasspeaking about the burningdesire within to maximize

one’s potential as defined byoneself.Ihadallowedmyselftoget

out of shape duringmymid-30s. I’d given up intensephysical exercise about thetime I began teaching andconducting my privatetherapy practice. However, Idid not see myself the wayotherpeoplewereseeingme.The young man who wasimitating me in my own

classroom was one of thegreatestteacherstoevercrossmypath.TothisdayIcanseehimcavortingabouttheroomimpersonatinghisteacherasaman with a fat belly. Thatwasaquantummomentinmylife.Rather than viewing that

sceneasacriticismandbeingoffended, Isee thatallof theparticipants, and especiallythe prancing imitator, were

angelssenttoguideme.Theyvery likely saved my life. Iwas headed in a dangerousdirection at the time:overeating greasy food,drinking beer, beingsedentary, enduring acrumbling marriage, andemploying a type A kind oflifestyle because Iwas beingpulled in many differentdirections professionally andpersonally.

That young manimpersonatingme helped putme on a road to self-improvement in so manyways. Ibeganastretchof29years in which I ran aminimum of eight milesevery day, and also ran sixadditional marathons.Furthermore, I began to shiftmy dietary habits, and myweight went down by 30 orso pounds, and stayed in the

general vicinity of what Iweighed when I was in highschoolandhasremainedneartheretothisday.I also see so clearly today

thepowerinherentintheideaofanintentionthatIwasableto tap into—not a wish or ahope, but an intention tomanifest a new concept ofmyself. When I decided torunamarathon,Ialreadysawmyself triumphantly crossing

the finish line. As a result, Iactedontheideaasifitwerea completed fact. Thispromptedme togoouteveryday and challenge myself toliveuptotheideaIhadinmyimagination, since to me itwasalreadyafaitaccompli.Thepowerwithinmethat’s

inherent in an intention wassparked by mysteriousteachers disguised asannoying impersonators—

something I see now as avaluable lesson in that 1978experience. In fact, I’mconvinced that some of ourgreatest and most influentialteachersshowupinour livesdisguisedaspeopleweresentor even despise. After allthese years and the endlessmiles I’ve run, I’m thankfulfor theDivinemind that sentthat student to impersonateandportraymeonthatday.

My performance atCarnegie Hall was anothergreat teachingmoment. Ihadtoovercomeanyinnerdoubtsabout my ability to achievemyown levelofgreatness inthe world of professionalpublicspeaking.Myintentiontospeakonthepremierstagein the country made merealize just how powerful anidea that is planted in theimagination with intent can

be. I know today thateverythingthatevermanifestsinto physical reality beginswith a thought, and that athought lacedwith intent isavirtual guarantee that it willcome to pass. This was apersonal challenge forme—Iwanted to know that I couldpullthisthingoff.The conversation I had

with Artie at dinner justbefore my appearance at

Carnegie Hall, regardingpermission for the audienceto tape-record me, was amajorturningpointinmylifeaswell. Iwantedsomuch tolive up to Maslow’sdefinitionof a self-actualizedpersonasbeingsomeonewhois detached from outcome. Ididnotwantmoneytobethereason for how I conductedmy life. My purpose wasneveraboutmakingmoney;it

was always about teachingandreachingpeopleonanewlevel. I cringed insidewhenever an audience wastold they could not tape mypresentation. That recordingby an audience membermight interfere with someprojected sales of my audioprograms seemed entirelyirrelevant tome.Making thedeclaration that night putmeback in alignment with my

soul.Iwanteveryonetohearmy message, not just thosewhoareabletopay.In the samemanner,when

Artie would tell me thatcopies of my books werebeing pirated in foreigncountries and I wasn’treceiving any royalties, Irefused to go after thesepurloined editions. I wantpeople in China, and SouthAmerica,andEasternEurope,

and anywhere else wherepoverty is unchecked, to beabletoreadwhatI’vewritten.Theymightbeinspiredbyanauthorwhoonce lived in thesame kind of paralyzingscarcity but was able totranscendit.ThosetwointentionsthatI

set backonNewYear’sDay1978 were the buildingblocks for a lifetime ofwriting devoted to the

incredible power of intentionthatiseveryone’sbirthrightifthey choose to change thewaytheylookatthings.As Lao-tzu taught me

many years later, “If youcorrectyourmind,therestofyourlifewillfallintoplace.”I corrected my mind andbegan to see myself ascapable of accomplishinganythingIplacemyattentionon, and I learned that

sometimesourmostprofoundteachers show up for uswearing unexpecteddisguises.

I have been invited toparticipate in a weeklongconference in Vienna,

Austria, sponsored andproduced by the YoungPresidents’ Organization.YPOmembersareindividualswho meet certain agerequirements and areresponsible for the fulloperation of a qualifyingcorporation or division, andthey’re involved withorganizations throughout theworld.Iaccepttheinvitation,and two days after my

Carnegie Hall appearance,mywifeandIflytoVienna.YPO has gathered a

distinguished group ofpresentersforthisconference,andIamflatteredtobeoneofthem. It is an unremuneratedspeaking engagement,offeringawonderfulweek inand around Vienna, with theopportunity to be a facultymember with an impressivegroup of well-known

personalities—including thecurrentVice President of theUnited States, WalterMondale.Upon arrival I learn that I

am to be on a paneladdressing some 600 YPOmembers. When I hear whowill be co-presenting withme, I’m temporarilyspeechless. I will be sittingnext to, and considered acolleague of, Dr. Viktor

Frankl. Perhaps of all thepeople alive today, he is theone I most admire. I thinkbacktomydaysasadoctoralstudent, in which I tookcourses on logotherapy, akind of therapy that Dr.Frankl created out of hisexperiences as a HolocaustsurvivorinseveralNazideathcamps, including Auschwitzand Dachau. Four years agowhen I visited Dachau, I’d

seen thisheroofmine inmymind’s eyeduringmydayattheconcentrationcamp.I read Dr. Frankl’s classic

book Man’s Search forMeaning as both a master’sand doctoral student, and Imadeitrequiredreadinginallof the graduate-schoolcourses I taught atSt. John’sUniversity. I recall how hewrote that even in the mostabsurd, painful, and

dehumanized situation, lifehas potential meaning. Andhe had told the world that“everything can be takenfromamanbutonething:thelast of human freedoms—tochoose one’s attitude in anygivensetofcircumstances,tochooseone’sownway.”Here I am, invited to be a

presenter at this prestigiousconference because of thesuccess of a couple of

insignificant self-help books—andIamtosharethestagewith a man who wasimprisonedinaseriesofNazideath camps, survived to tellhis story, and then wrote aclassic text, which I studiedandusedwhenItaughtatSt.John’s.I feel so humbled, so

inadequate, so unbelievablyblessed to even meet thisgreat man, let alone be

considered a quasi-colleagueandco-presentertoagroupofyoung presidents here inVienna,thehometownofthislionhearted way-shower. Ifeel there must be a reasonfor this unexpectedopportunity for me to be onthe same panel with ViktorFrankl. When I pick up mycopy of Your ErroneousZones, I note that the firstwords of this book were

inspired by my reading ofMan’s Search for Meaning:“The essence of greatness istheabilitytochoosepersonalfulfillment in circumstanceswhere others choosemadness.”Tomorrow afternoon I’m

scheduled to appear onstagewith Dr. Frankl, whom I’vequoted hundreds of times inmy lectures. I visited thehorrific death camps where

theNazisincarceratedhimasa slave laborer, remindingmyself that in the midst ofthese terrible circumstancesthis neurologist andpsychiatrist, subjected toman’s lowest inhumanity toman,was able to findbeautyand meaning. I’ve writtenessays on the central idea ofhis logotherapy, which as hewrote, occurred in partwhilebeing shouted at and beaten

by guards with the butts oftheir rifles: “A thoughttransfixed me: for the firsttimeinmylifeIsawthetruthas it is set into song by somany poets, proclaimed asthefinalwisdombysomanythinkers.Thetruth—thatloveistheultimateandthehighestgoal to which man canaspire.”I meet Dr. Frankl just

before I go onstage to speak

tothisdistinguishedgroupofcorporate presidents. He iswarm,veryfunny,andspeakswithaheavyAustrianaccent.ItellhimhowmuchIadmirehis writing and that I hadbeenusingMan’sSearch forMeaning as required readingfor my graduate students. Ialso tell him that my twocurrent best-selling bookswereinspiredbyhimandmyteachers Dr. Fritz Redl and

Dr. Abraham Maslow. I amdelighted to learn that heknows Dr. Redl personally,and that he was associatedwith Dr. Maslow before hisdeath eight years ago. I ambeyond thrilled that he’saware of the German editionof Your Erroneous Zones,titledDerWunde Punkt, andhasreadit.In response to my

comments on surviving such

ghastly treatment in thevariousdeathcampswherehewas incarcerated for almostthree years, and then in hisriveting address to the raptthrong of attendees, ViktorFranklsays,“Whenwearenolonger able to change asituation, we are challengedto change ourselves.” Herelates being given a cup ofdirty water with a floatingfish head for protein as his

only food for the day, andfinding beauty in thisrepulsive offering by hiscaptors. He emphasizes thathe reminded himself tochoosetochangehimself.Hespeakseloquentlyofsomanyofhisfellowprisonersdying,not only from the horrifichygienic conditions, but alsofromgivinguponthemselvesandlosingasenseofpurposeormeaning.

When I speak to theaudience, I am obviouslyfeeling out of place next tothis teacher who is sitting atthesameconferencetableandhas lived and demonstratedhis mastery of what I havewrittenaboutsoamateurishlyby comparison. When thesession is over, I spend anhour or so talking to thisremarkable man. I am soimpressedbyhisgrandsense

of humor and the love thatseems to emanate from him,evenwhenhe talksabout theappalling treatment hereceived from his captors. Iknowthathiswifeperishedina concentration camp atBergen-Belsen and hismother was killed in the gaschambers of Auschwitz. Healso lost all members of hisimmediate family, other thanhissisterStella,whoescaped

being in a camp because shehadimmigratedtoAustralia.He gives me a piece of

advice to apply in my ownlife and in all of my futurewriting. He speaks clearly,sayingthatsufferingisapartof the human condition thatno one escapes in theirlifetime, and that it may bemore despairing for somethan others. However, hesays, looking directly at me,

“You must teach people tofind meaning in theirsuffering, and in so doingtheywillbeabletoturntheirpersonal tragedies intopersonal triumphs.” This, heexplains, is the essence oflogotherapy. “If your clientsor your readers cannot findmeaning, theywillultimatelyperish.”I leave Vienna a changed

man. I will write and speak

from the perspective thatDr.Franklofferedmehereatthisconference, and I vow tomyself to live a much moremeaning-centered life. I aminspired by my contact withthis great man, and purchaseanother copy of Man’sSearch for Meaning at theconference to reread on theplanehome.I open the book to see:

“We who lived in

concentration camps canremember the men whowalked through the hutscomforting others, givingaway their last piece ofbread.”AndthenIreadthesewords, a quote by NietzschethatIcommittomemoryasIcontemplate writing my nextbookandgivingmynexttalk:“Hewhohasawhytoliveforcan bear with almost anyhow.” I am committed to

teaching and living from aplaceofmeaning.Thehowtolive will play a secondaryrole, while the why to livewill bemuchmore dominantinmywork.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

The first time I

encountered the work ofViktorFranklwasinafilmedinterview that spoke to mysoul. I listenedwithmyears,but heard with my heart. AsDr. Frankl spoke about theimportance of meaning ineveryone’s life, I felt as if Iwere listening to a higherversionofmyselfbecausehiswordsechoedsomethingdeepwithinme.Ialwayswantedtoget beyondwhat appeared to

me to be the petty concernsand rules created by ourculture—trying to fit in andbejustlikeeveryoneelse.As I watched this

interview, Dr. Frankl spokeof concentration-campinmatesgivinguponlifeanddying,unabletofindanylife-sustainingbeauty in themosthorrific of circumstances.Meaning, he said, waseverything.Heurgedlisteners

to seek their own way ofexperiencing and trusting inanultimatemeaning that onemayormaynotcallGod.Henoted that in theconcentration camps, thosewhoheldontoavisionofthefuture were the onesthroughout this ordeal whoseemed to have a betterchance for survival.Whetherthe vision was a significanttask before them or a return

totheirlovedones,theyweremore likely to survive theirsuffering.The moment I saw Dr.

Frankl I felt a kind ofalignment with him that I’dnever felt toward any personof letters. Today, I have nodoubtatallthatsomekindofa connectionexistedbetweenus. It was no accident thatsome 15 years after firstdevouring Man’s Search for

Meaning,Iwasplacedonthesame panel with this man towhom I felt such a spiritualkinship.When I first read the

accounts of Dr. Frankl’smaltreatment at Auschwitz,Dachau, and Theresienstadtin Bohemia, the sufferingoverwhelmedthewordsIwasreading, and I knew I wouldone day visit those hideousplaces. In some mysterious

way I felt I would meet thisman who spoke sopersuasively about the innatecapacity humans have totranscendevilandtodiscovermeaning, when madnessscreamsoutfromeveryangle.I can see clearly now that Iwasdestinedtomeetthismanin person—somethinginvisible and indescribableconnected us. That meetingthat day in Vienna in May

1978 instituted a shift in mywritingandinmylife.At the time I was moving

away from traditionalpsychologyas the foundationof my own teaching andexploration. I loved thecommon-sense approach thatpermeated my first twobooks, and appreciated Dr.Frankl’spraiseformywritingsuccinctly and in languagethat anyone would

understand. But the essenceofmeaning in a larger sense—exploring an ultimatemeaning concerning ourconnection toahigherpowerwasstirringinme.WhenImetViktorFrankl,

something inside of merecognized him as if we hadmet before and knew eachother. However it was that Iwasplacedonthatpanelwithone of my heroes, I can see

fromthisperspective that theforcethatbroughtustogetherfor one afternoon causedmylifetochangeandmywritingtostartemphasizingconceptssuch as spirituality, higherconsciousness, Divine love,and most significantly—meaning. I can now seeclearly that I was beginningto explore the world beyondtheego.

It is the springof1980—anew decade. Both YourErroneousZones andPulling

YourOwn Strings have beenhugely successful. BothbookshavenowbeenonTheNewYorkTimesbestsellerlistforalmostfouryears.When T. Y. Crowell

accepted my originalmanuscript in 1975 they didsowithverylittleexpectationof how well it would sell.AfterthephenomenalsuccessofYourErroneousZones,myagent, Artie Pine, was

disappointed when thepublisher refused torenegotiate the originalcontract. I insisted we honorourcommitmentwithoutfuss,and now the two-book dealwith T. Y. Crowell has beencompleted.Artie has turned to Simon

&Schuster, a fixture inNewYork publishing. He’s justcalledtosay,“Ihavemadeadeal with a new publisher,

and they’re offering you anadvance that’s in line withwhat I believe you so richlydeserve.” When he tells mehe’s arranged a two-bookagreementwitha$1.5million—guaranteed advance, I amthrilled. I can’t even imaginebeing in such a fortuitousplace financially. I am morethanblessed.Every day that I’m not

traveling or doing publicity

forPullingYourOwnStringsI’mwritingthebookthatI’vebeenimaginingsincethetimeIspentinViennawithViktorFrankl. This new book forSimon & Schuster will betitledTheSky’stheLimit,andit will explain the specificsfor attaining the state thatAbrahamMaslowcalledself-actualization, which Idiscovered 12 years ago. Istill feel such a special

kinship to this man whopassedawayonthesamedaythat I received my doctoraldegreeinJune1970.Dr.Maslowfrequentlysaid

that the state of self-actualizationisachievedbyavery small number of peoplebecause most are stuckpursuing and satisfying thelower needs: physiological,safety, love and belonging,and esteem. He visualized

thoselowerneedsasthebaseof a pyramid he called “ahierarchyofneeds.”Theapexof this pyramid he describedas an exalted realm whereonly a few explored theirsense of purpose andmeaning.I differ from Dr. Maslow

dramatically on this point. Ifeel that self-actualization isthebirthrightofeveryperson.I see it asouroriginalnature

—damaged by the de-geniusing enculturationdescribed to me byBuckminster Fuller a fewyears ago. My meeting withDr. Frankl reinforced thisconcept,andIknowthatIamnot alone in this belief. Theidea is quite evident in John14:12,whereJesusproclaimsthatthosewhobelievewilldoeven greater things than hehasdone.

I’m writing The Sky’s theLimit inastylesimilar tomytwopreviousbooks,with thefocusonidentifyingthemostsalient features of whatMaslow called “exemplarypeople.” I’ve identified37ofthese personality traits andamwriting from the point ofview that we can, as ViktorFrankl so brilliantly stated,change ourselves and makenew choices in the face of

circumstances that cannot bealtered—this includes ourpast and our entire personalhistory. I am shifting awayfromwritingaboutthehow-toandintotheworldofmeaning— offering readers a way toaccess Frankl’s purpose, andthetopofMaslow’shierarchyof needs and self-actualization.MyneweditoratSimon&

Schuster is Michael Korda,

who’sworkedonanumberofbest-selling books and evenwritten a few himself.Michael flies down toFlorida, and we spend a daywalking the beach anddiscussing the promotionalplansforTheSky’stheLimit.Then I proudly turn in thismanuscript that’s dominatedmy life for the past severalmonths.Michael and I speak

frequently, and he tells methat the book is fine. It justneeds some additionaltailoring, so he’s hired anoutside editor to tweak themanuscript. This is a newexperience for me—in thepast I’ve done my ownediting based on what wasreturned to me withsuggestions. I trust in theprocessatthisnewpublishinghouse, though, which is

heavily invested in this bookwitha$1.5millionguaranteeagainstfutureroyalties.The months go by and I

hear nothing. I feel as if I’mback in the same boat that Iwas in with John Vriend adecade ago, waiting forsomeone else to do their jobin order for my book to becompleted.AftersixmonthsIcallMichaelKordaandinsistthat his outside editor send

mewhathehascompleted.Several weeks later, I

finally receive a package inthemailwith thefirsthalfofmy manuscript reworded bythis outside editor. I am inshock. I don’t recognize thebook that I turned in. Thispersonhastakenthelibertyofdeciding that my style ofwritingisnotuptopar.He’staken my ideas and simplywritten his own version, and

basically tossed aside myoriginal writing. His writingisn’t bad; it’s just not me. Idon’trecognizemyselfinanyofhisrewriting.Ihavedeliveredtwoofthe

biggest-selling books of the1970s in my own down-to-earth, commonsense style—andnow I am facedwith thesame sort of dilemma Iconfronted as a collegefreshman, being told towrite

using a more literary andcultured style that’s befittingthe trademark of Simon &Schuster. I tell Michael thatthis is unacceptable,regardless of how muchmoney they’ve offered me.Heassuresme that itwill allberesolvedamicably.Iwaitanothertwomonths,

and still no word from thisphantom editor, or ratherrewriter.IcallMichaelKorda

andgivehimmyultimatum:Iwant my original manuscriptreturned to me. I will lookoverwhathasbeenrewritten,and I will do all of the finalediting myself. The wholepackage arrives, and nothinghas been done at all since Ilast saw my carved-upmanuscripttwomonthsago.I go through the entire

book, leaving in some of thecorrectionsandrewrites,even

though I’m not happy withthe way it reads. I take thesecond half of the book,whichtheunknowneditorhasnot even gotten to afterhaving it for eight months,and I complete the editingprocessmyselfandturnit in.Iamnottotallysatisfiedwiththe final version that’s goingtoprint,butIallowitanywaybecause of the pressure tohave it in publication by the

endoftheyear.I amnot at all happywith

myselfforallowingmyselftobe cajoled into accepting anedited version of what Iconsidered a masterful pieceof writing. The behind-the-scenes editor hired to fixmymanuscript did a fine job.However, he’s includedexamples from his own lifeexperience and inserted themasifIhadwrittenthem.Now

I have a book out that is anexcellent book, but I am not100 percent in support of itbecause it has the feel ofsomeoneelse’swritinginthefirstfourchapters,yet it’sallattributed to me. I half lovethisbookandIhalf resent it.Thesecondhalfandappendixare recognizable to mebecause they are essentiallyuntouched, but the first halfhasadifferentflavorthatisa

bitrepellanttome.I poured myself body,

mind, and spirit into thewriting of this book, anddeliveredover700pagesthatI sweated over for almost ayear. It needed to be cut insize, but this is the first timesince college freshmanEnglishthatIhaveanoutsidepersontellingmetowriteinamoreacceptableliterarystyle.Ideciderighthere,rightnow,

that I will never again allowthis kind of rewriting to takeplace—notformoney,notforprestige,nottopleaseanyoneelse.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

The lesson for me in thehandlingoftheeditingofThe

Sky’stheLimitisallwrappedup in one sentence:Be waryof those who claim to knowbetter.Iwasnotinterestedinwinning any literary writingcontests,nordid Icareaboutfollowing anyone else’s styleof writing. I wanted to writeinsimpleanddirectlanguageso as to produce a book thatassisted readers in achievingtheir highest self-actualizedpotential.

Byallowingothervoicestodictate what my book wouldlook like as a finishedproduct, I now know forcertain that it had acontaminating effect on theenergy associated with TheSky’s theLimit.When I heldthe finished product in myhand, it felt very different tome than my previouslypublished books had. All oftheinterviewsIwentontodo

forthisbookdidnothavethesame electrifying attentionthat I gave to my earlierwriting.I can see clearly now that

whensomeoftheauthenticityof what I was creating wastarnished by the unwantedand unnecessary input ofphantom strangers, itimpacted everything aboutthe book. My zest forpromoting it was somewhat

diminished, albeit at asubconscious level. When Iopenedthebooktoanyoftheexcessively edited pages, Ihadafeelingofvexationwaftover me like an invisibleblack cloud. I’d say tomyself, I didn’t write it thisway, and yet it hasmy nameattachedtoit.Thededicationofthisbook

reads as follows: “To thememory of Abraham H.

Maslow—the originalpathfinder in the study ofman’s potential forgreatness.”Thiswastobemytribute tomymentor, aswellas my heart’s inspiration.SomehowI felt that Ihad letboth Dr. Maslow and Dr.Frankl down by caving in topressuresthatwereappliedtome because of the large sumof money paid to me. Theidea that I should capitulate

because I was highly paidstirred something distastefulwithinme.I can see clearly now that

this was an important lessonforme.Inthe35orsobooksthat have been publishedsince 1980, I have neverallowed anyone else’s inputtotrumpmyown.However,Ihave found a woman whobecamemypersonaleditorasa result of my experience

withTheSky’stheLimit.HadI not had this experience offeeling discredited, I wouldnot have had the desire tofind, train, and work inharmonywithmy friend andeditor, JoannaPyle, for thesepast 33 years. Today she isliketheotherhalfofmewhenit comes to my writing. Sheknows how I think and howtodotheprofessionalworkofline editing everymanuscript

I create. Out of thatunpleasant experience I wasabletoattracttomealiterarysoul mate who takes myscribbles andmakesme looklikeapolishedwriterwithouttheneedtointerjectwhatshemightprefer.Thiswasagreatlessonfor

me.Bewary—verywary—ofthosewhowouldstepintomylife and decide for me whatmy life’sworkought to look

like. I look back now andrealizethattheenergyaroundthis book was in somemysterious way stained bythe fact that I did not staywith my I am presence andinsistuponwhatIknewtobetrueinmyheart.It is now well over 30

years since The Sky’s theLimitwaspublished,anditisthe only book of mine thathas failed to earn back the

advanceagainst royalties thatwas paid at the time ofpublication.

It’s ten o’clock in themorning on October 15,1982. Iamin thesmall town

of Marathon, Greece, alongwith 1,500 people fromaround the world, to run theannual Athens ClassicMarathon. The race wassupposed to begin at seventhis morning, but because ofsomesnafus,we’rebeginningat ten. Thismeans thatwe’llbe running through Athens,some 26.2 miles fromMarathon, during the hottestpartof theday.Evenso, I’m

confident as we begin therace that thiswillbemybesttime. This is my fifthmarathon sincemy inauguralrunfouryearsago.Astherunprogressesabig

portion of the course goesuphill, and it’s getting hotterbytheminute.Bythe21-milemark, I’m at a point ofphysical exhaustion that I’veneverexperiencedbefore.I’mshaking and vomiting green

bile. Runners are droppingout all around me, beingpicked up and taken to first-aidstationsinambulances.Because of our late arrival

into Athens, we have to runon the lanemarkers betweenthe lines of cars. The fumesare the worst I’ve everencountered. Race officialsattempt to get me into anambulance;however,IcannotfathomtheideathatIflewall

the way to Greece toaccomplish something Idreamed about, and won’tfinish.As I lie on the side of the

road in sheer exhaustion intheheatoftheday,somethingcomesovermethatIcanonlydescribe as a miracle. Aninvisiblebeingwhocomestome in my dreams, andoccasionallywhenI’mawakeand in need of guidance, has

appeared.AllIcansayaboutheristhathereyesareradiantandseemtosmileatmewhenshe speaks.This supernaturalmetaphysical visitor speaksdirectlytomenowasIlieonthe street.She tellsme that Iamstrongandwillfinishthisrace, and that she will guidemealltheway.Inolongerfocusonwhat’s

wrong and what’s upsettingme—I forget the traffic, the

heat, my lost time whilevomiting on the ground, thefumes.My inner companion,this amazing woman who’smore than a figment of myimagination, is right thereholding my hands and usingher bright blue eyes toconvinceme that I ammuchmore than a body that isweary. I ama spirit, and thisspirit can do anythingbecause it isn’t restricted by

time and space and physicalform.Ihavefivemilestogo,yet I can now see myselfcrossing the finish line. Mylegs are no longer cramping,andmystomach isno longerqueasyfromdehydration.Myenergy is replenished, and Isuddenly feel very strong. Itisamiracle.I enter the old Olympic

stadiumanddoa final lap tocompletethe26.2miles.Iput

myhandsupand in jestyell,“We conquer.” Legend tellsus these were the words theancient runner Pheidippidesspoke as he ran from theplains of Marathon toannounce the Greek victoryover thePersians,whereuponhe supposedly dropped deadfromexhaustion.In that moment, with

intense excitement I realize Imust write about the inner

feminine companion whoseemstometoberesponsiblefor my victory. Upon myreturn to the States I meetwithArtie Pine and tell him,“I have a vision of a verywise woman who comes tome in my sleep. I want towrite a story about her andwhat she is constantly tellingme.”Artieishugelyskepticalon such matters as ghostlyvisitors and implores me to

think instead about writing abook that will capitalize onmy previous topics, successas a speaker, and televisionappearances.I explain to my wife that

I’m drawn to write about awoman who lives in myimagination, and that I’venamed her “Eykis” in honorof our daughter Skye, whowasbornjustoverayearago.Byreversingthelettersinour

daughter’snameandinsertingtheletteriforthehigherself,thenameEykisappeared.I inform Michael Korda,

my editor at Simon &Schuster, that I am going towrite a parable in the samevein as the fable JonathanLivingston Seagull, whichwaswrittenandpublished12years ago. I’m going to usemyinnerguide,Eykis,as theprotagonist of the story. She

will reside on a fictionalplanet that has a reality-onlybasis for living. This meansthere can be no erroneousthinking because the peopleonthisplanetarerestrictedintheir thinking by what is,ratherthanwhatthey’dlikeittobe.My agent, my publisher,

and almost everyone elseadvisemetogiveupthisideaof writing fiction and stick

with what I’ve beensuccessfulwithsofar:writingself-help books rooted inmypsychologicalandtherapeutictraining. But I’m hooked onthe idea of writing afictionalized account andcalling itGifts from Eykis. Iimagine that Eykis will visitour world, where erroneous-zonethinkingisrampant,andgiveusthesecretstolivingaself-actualized life from her

reality-onlybasedworldview.Ever since my experience

running the Greek marathon,I can’t shake the idea thatEykis isn’t just a figment ofmy imagination; she is aspiritual guide who canactually speak to me andguideme in timesof trouble.I rely on this invisibleguidance, and I feel herpresencemore andmore as Ianticipate writing a fable

baseduponherteachings.I was there on the ground

inAthens.Isawpeoplebeingcarriedawayindroves.Iwasabout to be one of thosedropouts since my body hadlostallofitsstrength.Irecallthe moment when Eykis’senergy enveloped me andallowed me toinstantaneously transcend thelimitations of my devitalizedand drained body. I ran the

last five miles of that racewith the help of someone orsomething that I couldn’texplain,butwasneverthelessvery real forme. I am goingtowrite this fable, and Iwillrely upon Eykis to guidemethroughthisnewenterprise.I’m scheduled to speak in

Honolulu for a nationalconventionnextmonth,andImake plans to spend timewriting this fictionalized

account on the beach atWaikiki. I gather up mywriting materials, and headout to Hawaii with the firmconviction thatwhen I returnhome I will have completedthefirstdraft.For the next twoweeks in

Honolulu,eachday Ihead toa favorite spot, insert mybackrest into the sand, takeoutmypadofpaperandpen,and write. The story unfolds

almost without effort. Eachdayofwriting feels tomeasifsomeoneelseismovingmypenacrossthepage,andIjustletitcome.Ihavenooutline,no idea of how this story isgoing to play out—I justwrite and write. I fill manypads of paper sitting on thebeach,watching the seagulls,the children, and simplyallowing.After twoweeksIpackup

and fly over to the island ofMaui.Mywifejoinsmehereforthefinaltwoweeksofmywriting sojourn, and bringsour daughter Skye, who isnow 15months old. I find ashady spoton thebeachand,using the same backrest,continuemydailywriting. InPart Three of Gifts FromEykis, the main characterleaves her “strange butwonderful”world and comes

to Earth to share her giftswith us on how to truly livefrom a self-actualizedperspective. The story flowseffortlessly, and I turn in themanuscript to Simon &Schuster. While they’re notthrilled with the idea of medoing a fiction book, mypublisher is extremelysupportive.Fast-forward to the release

of thebook in late1983. I’m

eager to tell the world aboutthe messages contained inGiftsfromEykis,andIgoonacampaigntohavethisbookstocked in every bookstore IcaninAmericaandCanada.Ipurchase books by thethousands and mail them atmyownexpense.Telling theworld about Eykis and hergifts becomes my full-timejob. I love taking this wholeproject into my own hands

again, just like I did withYour Erroneous Zones sevenyearsago. I’mnotconcernedwithbook salesor apositionon a bestseller list. I’mhaving the time of my lifespreading the word aboutsomethingIlove.Eykis speaks to me in my

imaginationallthetime.Ifeelher feminine energy aroundme, moving me quietly butfirmly into a more spiritual

approachtothislifeonEarth.I don’t speak much aboutEykis as a trueguiding spiritinmylife,butsheisveryrealforme.After purchasing tens of

thousands of copies of Giftsfrom Eykis and distributingthem to people all over theworld, I know that I will bemoving on in my writing. Isee the book as amajor filmin the future, and I give

thanksforEykis’spresenceinmy life. I’ve written andpublished my only fictionalstory, and I feel blessedbeyondmyabilitytodescribeit.While writing the final

chapter of Gifts from Eykis,our daughter Sommer isconceived on Maui. There’snot a shred of doubt withinme that Eykis is real. She ismoving me more and more

into a spiritual realm andinfusing me with her right-brainedYinenergy.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Myexperienceof lyingonthe ground in Athens whilerunningthemarathonin1982wasanotherquantummoment

—amajorturningpointinmylife.Thiswas the first time Iactually saw and felt thepresence of a supernaturalenergy,andallowedmyselftogo beyond my physical selfand be guided. It was as if Iwasnolongerconstrainedbythelimitationsofmyweariedbody. Eykis seemed to betaking over for me in thismomentofcrisis. I saycrisisbecause the idea of returning

home knowing that I hadn’taccomplished my goal ofrunning this marathon wasmorethanIcouldbear.IwaslivingwhatMaslowdescribedas being a person who mustbe what he can be. Quittingwas not an option, yet mybody was completelyenervated.I can see clearly now that

there’s much more to thiswhole idea of being human

than what is measurable byour physicalaccomplishments. I knowthere’s a reservoir of innerstrength that can be calledupon in crucial moments—and even more amazing,there’s Divine guidanceavailable to us if we arewilling to believe in it andallowittoworkwithus.Today I know that

everything in the universe is

connected to everything elseby invisible spiritual strings,ifyouwill.IknowthatIhavespiritualguidanceavailabletome,andthatitisalwaysthereif I choose to call upon it.Eykis is a personification ofthisDivineguidance.Shehasappeared tome on numerousoccasionsintheyearssinceIfirst put a name to mydisembodied spiritual friend.I have come to trust in the

availability of angelicassistanceandguidance.I recall the amazement I

felt as I ran into that ancientOlympic stadium. An hourbeforeIwassosickthatIwasbeing urged to get in anambulance—which almosttwo-thirdsof the runnershaddone because of the intenseheat, uphill running, andvehicle fumes thatcharacterized this race.Yet I

hadasecondwind,andIwasfeeling stronger at the endthan at any time during therace.The writing of Gifts from

Eykis was a magicalexperience for me—one ofmy earliest experiences withautomaticwriting.Every daywhile I sat on the beach inHonoluluandMaui,Ifeltthepresence of this Yin energythat I call Eykis. I felt

relaxed, peaceful, andconfident that everything Ineeded to say in this parablewould be there. It is what Inowcall“channeledwriting”:Iwas the instrument, and thewords just mysticallyappearedonthepadofpaper.My hand moved effortlesslyandveryfast.Icanrecallmyhandfeelingcrampedbecausethe ideas and words werecoming so rapidly. Each day

after writing for severalhours, I’d comment to mywife that something akin toreal magic was taking placewith me on the beach everyday.TodayIcanseeclearlythat

this was my introduction tothe idea that all writing isreally channeled from theworld of the invisible. AsJesussaid,“It’sthespiritthatgives life,” and words on a

page appearing out ofnowhere are a result of thedance of creation. I knownow that God writes all thebooks—that the words thatappear on the page are notownedbyanyone.Iknowforsure that the creative processissomethingthatIgetfromahigher realm, and that Eykissymbolized for me a way toalign with this energy that IcallGod,andwhenIamable

todoso,Ihavethesame“allthings are possible” abilitiesasdoestheCreator.When I was sending out

copies ofGifts fromEykis tothousands of peoplethroughout the country, Iincluded a letter that said,“Eykis is being made into amovie.” I didn’t say,“someday”; I said it as if itwere a completed fact. Thiswas my first foray into the

idea of living from the endand assuming the feeling ofthewishfulfilled,andstatingsomethinginpresent-momentterms as if it already were adone deal. Today there is infact a screenplay for GiftsfromEykis, and a director iseven assigned. The idea formakingthisbookintoafilm,whichwasonlyanideaatthetime, is now becoming aphysicalreality.

Eykis showed up first inmy dreams, and then in myquiet meditative moments,andfinallyasaguidingforcein my life at a time when Ineeded to experiencefirsthand the extraordinarypowers that can manifestwhen I feel most desperateand hopeless—if I’m willingto surrender and allow for amiracle. This is whathappened during my

experienceinGreecein1982.FromthatdayonIknew thatthere’s far more to myhumanity than what I detectthrough my senses and/orscientifically verifiable data.Eykis showed up for mewhenIbanishedalldoubtandallowed Divine assistance tocarrymetothefinishline.

Inthesummerof1985,mylife is increasingly full ofsharing theresponsibilitiesof

parenting children of variousages. I am 45 years old andthefatherofthreesmallgirls,as well as three olderchildren. My wife,Marcelene, and I have hadthree babies in the past fouryears; my daughter Tracy isnow 18; and we have twopreteenagers to raise. This isan awesome responsibilitythatontheonehandIthinkofas meeting my kids’ lower-

rung needs on Maslow’shierarchy—that is, to feed,clothe, and provide them asafeplacetogrow.Butontheother hand, I’m also here toassist theminachieving theirhighest needs in that littlecompartment at the top ofMaslow’s pyramid calledself-actualization.I’vebeenpollingaudiences

at numerous speakingengagements during the past

year asking, “What do youreally want for yourchildren?” The idea ofwriting a book aboutparenting behaviorsspecifically pointed towardraising no-limit children tobecome self-actualized adultshas become an intriguingsubject.Parentingistheplacewhere this transformationcouldtakeplace.It seems to me that many

parents are pushing theirchildren in the oppositedirection of the apex ofMaslow’s pyramid. Somanychildrenare taught to livebythedemandsof theirego—towinatallcosts,toaccumulateand own as much stuff aspossible, to define their livesonthebasisofhowtheystackuptoothers,tomakeasmuchmoneyaspossible,andtoputa monetary value on

everything they do. Theresults of these kinds ofpressures on children showup in personality disorders,obesity, physical illness,anxiety and stress, andemotionalinstability.My agent, Artie Pine, has

just arranged a contract fortwofuturebookswithanotherprestigious New Yorkpublishing house, WilliamMorrowandCompany.While

discussing this new contractwithmywifeandArtie,Itellthem, “I feel compelled towrite an extensive book onhow to raise children tobecome self-actualizedpeople.” I explore this ideafurtherbydescribingthatI’vediscovered that what parentssay they want for theirchildrenisoftenatoddswithhow they actually raise theirchildren.

I have thousands ofresponsestomyinquiriesinahugefilethat’sorganizedintoten categories concerningwhat parents say they wantfor theirchildren.Outof thisfile I decide to create aproposedbookoutline.WhenArtie and I present it to mynew publisher, they’reexcited and give me the go-ahead.ThistimeIeschewtheneed for a large advance for

mybook.Idon’twantmoneytobeinvolvedasIwrite;Idonot wish to have a repeat ofmy experience at Simon &Schuster.Iamtotallyintothewriting

of thisnewbook. Idecide totitleitusingthesameinquiryI gave to thousands ofattendees at my lecturesduring the past year or so:WhatDoYouReallyWantforYour Children? I am

fascinated by the responses Ihaveinmyfile.Noonesays,I want my children to bewealthy, to be better thananyone else, to win ateverything they do, to get agood job, to get the bestgrades, to get into the rightschools,tolookgoodtotheirpeers. Yet, this seems to behow they’re raising theirchildren.Iwriteforhoursandhours

everyday,andI’mconsciousof all that I say and do as aparent. Marcie and I havelong conversations aboutwhat we truly want for oursix children, and we oftenmodify our own parentinginterventions so that theymore clearly reflect what wewant for our kids. We’redetermined to put intopractice the idea of raisingchildren who feel purposeful

and live at their maximumlevel of happiness. I watchmysonanddaughtersastheygo about their daily routines,and I am in awe of themiraculous way that theyinteractwitheachother,withus,andwiththeirworld.Iwantmychildrentoenjoy

life, to value themselves, toberisktakers,tobecomeself-reliant, tobe free fromstressandanxiety, tohavepeaceful

lives, to celebrate theirpresent moments, toexperience a lifetime ofwellness, to be creative, andabove all to fulfill theirhighest needs and to feel asense of purpose. Thesequalities would make themself-actualized people—andthese will be the individualchaptertitlesforthismassivewriting undertaking that hascompletely taken over my

life.IwriteandIwatch—mychildrenandmywifearesuchwonderful teachers. They fillmy heart with joy and mymanuscript with ideas forhow to raise children to liveatthetopofthepyramid.Themanuscript isgrowing

every day. I can’t seem tostop writing, and once againI’m experiencing, withstunned amazement,automatic writing. Eykis is

with me every day of thisfabulous journey.Daily I tellmy wife about what I’mwriting and how fascinated Iam by the way thisinformation is coming tome.I have an angelic co-pilotwho’s steering this entireproject from a heavenlydistance. My writing hasneverbeeneasier.I have long contemplated

whatitwouldbeliketohave

children grow up in anenvironment in which theirtotal well-being wasemphasized exclusively, andthedemandsof the egowereset completely aside. Thisbook is dedicated to the ideathat I learned fromBuckminster Fuller: that weareallgeniuses—itislifethatde-geniuses us. My goal inwritingWhat Do You ReallyWantforYourChildren?isto

explain how parents cancreatealifeenvironmentthatdoesn’tde-geniuschildren.I recall how Dr. Maslow

stressedthatself-actualizationis a state of awareness that’sonlyavailabletoaselectfewpeople who might be calledgeniuses. These are thepeople he studied: AlbertEinstein, Jesus of Nazareth,Lao-tzu, and contemporaryleadersinotherfieldsaswell.

I am, with apologies to Dr.Maslow, taking the positionthatthismoreexaltedstateatthe top of the hierarchy ofneeds isn’t just available toemotionally advanced soulswho happened to win thelottery when they wereconceived. This peak of thepyramid is our naturalbirthright.Children who are

encouraged to become self-

actualized, and see itmodeled, will know that noone is superior to anyoneelse, and that these higherrealmsare thereforallofus.Itisaplacewherepeopleareindependent; comfortablebeing alone; reality-centered;and deeply acceptthemselves, others, and theworld. As parents, what wereallywantforourchildrenisto have them lead happy,

fulfilled lives … and this iswhatIamtotallyimmersedineveryday.I have been writing day

and night for almost a yearnow. The words come fastand furious, flowing freelylike water from a spigot thatcontinues to flow because ofabrokenpipeline.Ican’tplugthe leak—I’ve never knownsuch intensity inmywriting.Itcomes in themiddleof the

night, it comes in theafternoon,anditcomesintheevening as well. I’ve writtenover1,000pages. IknowI’llneed to cut this manuscriptsignificantly, but Iwill leavethattomyneweditor,Joanna,whoisnowworkingfull-timewithme.

ICanSeeClearly

Writing about raisingchildren to become no-limit,self-actualizedadultswas thenaturalprogression forme in1985. I was in the midst ofmaking a portentous shift inmy life, and consequently itwas being reflected in mywritingandspeaking.Iwasinthe early stagesof a spiritualawakening.Muchof thishad

to dowithmy newmarriageand the continuing presenceof more and more childrenarriving in our family—by1989,wehadfivenewbabieswho were all born in the1980s.ItwasnoaccidentthatIwas being directed towriteabout parenting as more andmore parentingresponsibilities were landinginmylap.Ihavebeenateacheronso

many different levels, fromelementary school throughgraduate school, and havealways known that the bestway to truly learn andunderstand something is toteach it. And so it was withparentingaswell.The essential lesson I

wanted to convey in writingthis parenting tome involvedself-reliance. I’ve said itthousands of times, “Parents

are not for leaning; they areto make leaningunnecessary.” This is themessage that I was alwaysattempting to express to myclientsincounselingsessions:Learn to rely upon yourself.Take total responsibility foreverything that comes intoyour life, and as Dr. ViktorFrankl has taught, youalwayshavea choice inhowyoureacttoanythingthatlife

offersyou.As my family was

growing, I can see clearlynow that these youngDivinebeingsweremyteachers.Yesindeed, when the student isready, the teachers willappear! There was also themystical aspect that I namedEykis directing the course ofmy life, as a man and as aprofessional teacher andwriter.

Here’s another interestingstory.Oneofmy first clientsatSt.John’sUniversityinmyearly years as a professor inthe 1970s was a womannamed Suzi Kaufman, themotherofayoungboynamedRaun who was diagnosedwithinfantileautism.Shewasalso the sister-in-law of myfirstdoctoralstudentadvisee,StevenKaufman.Duringthecourseofmany

of our counseling sessionstogether,Suzirelatedthatheryoung son was completelyunreachable. She and herhusband, Barry NeilKaufman, sparednoeffortorexpense in having Raunexamined by autism expertsaroundtheworld.Theanswerwas always the same: “It isincurable.He is unreachable.We don’t know why, andthere is nothing that can be

done.”SoSuziandBarrydevised

their own program fortreatingtheiryoungson.Theyhired students and trainedthem in a method theycreated, essentially tosurround Raun withunconditional love in acontained, safe environment.For24hoursaday,7daysaweek, for months on end,Raun was the recipient of

continuallovingresponses.Suzi described to me

Raun’s symptoms of rockingback and forth and beingdistant, almost as if he werein a waking coma. But aftermonthsoftheirownprogramfor reaching their son, onedayRaun’seyesblinked,andBarry said, “I looked at mysonwith new eyes.” In 1976Barrywentontowriteabooktitled Son-Rise, which

detailed the entire processtheydevelopedandhowtheywere ultimately able to seeRauncomebacktothemandleave his diagnosis of“incurable”behind.Thebookwas made into a televisionmovie starring JamesFarentinoseveralyearslater.Now fast-forward to 1985,

as I’m writing on parenting.Our daughter Serena hadbeenborninMay,andwithin

a year she had begun toexhibit some of the samesymptoms that Raun had. Iimmediately flashed back tomysessionswithSuziandallof the things she and herhusband did some 15 yearsearlier.I arranged a family

meeting with Marcie and allofourchildren,andIdetailedpreciselyhowweweregoingtodealwithSerena,allbased

on what I had learned 15yearsago.Wesurroundedherwith love: Marcie literallywore our infant next to herheart almost 24 hours a day.Serenawastoldoverandoverby her parents and siblingsthat she was loved—that shehadnothingtofearandifshewanted to rock back andforth, then she would be theworld-championrockerasfaras all of us were concerned.

Nojudgments,noanger,onlylove. It worked for theKaufmans back in the early1970s,anditworkedwithourSerena in a relatively shortperiodoftime.Again, there are no

accidents anywhere. Suziwalking into my office forcounseling sessions was tobenefit an unborn child ofmine some 15 years into thefuture, and she taught me

exactlywhattodoasaparentwithoutevenknowingit.AsI finishedwritingWhat

DoYouReallyWantforYourChildren? I began to includemany references to higherneeds, spiritual awakening,andGod.Thesetopicshadn’tappeared in any of myprevious four books. Thebirth of my children, mymarriage to a spirituallyawake woman, and my own

development as a teacherexamining these spiritualprinciples on a daily basiswereallpullingme in anewdirection. I was movingtoward the mystical, themysterious—the realm ofhigher and higherconsciousness. It’s clear tometodaythatIwasreceptiveto the influence of ascendedmasterswhowereinvitingmeto go beyond what I’d been

exploringandwritingabout.Seeing my baby doing

what had been described tome 15 years back, andknowingpreciselywhattodoand then successfullyimplementing it, gave me“the tinglies.” I knew that Iwasbeingdirectedbyaforcemuch bigger than I. I knewthatIwasabouttoembarkona whole new adventure thathadalmostnothingtodowith

whatIhadwrittenandspokenaboutupuntilthattime.All of the factors were

comingtogetheratonce:Thebirth of somany new babiesin my 40s; the felt presenceof a spiritual guide that Icalled Eykis; a wife whomodeled spiritual awarenessin her mothering practices;and most significantly, aninner calling that had metalking about God, miracles,

and spiritual awakening. Ideliberately left these out ofmy earlier writing, but theywere now calling me—in away that I couldn’t ignore. Ididn’thaveit;ithadme!

On October 9, 1987, mywife delivered our seventhchild, a boy whom we have

named Sands Jay Dyer. Ihave been on the road a lotthese past two years doingboth a hardcover and apaperback tour for myparentingbook,WhatDoYouReally Want for YourChildren? I feel that my lifeis taking on an entirely newpurposeanddirection,thoughI’munabletodefinepreciselywhatthatis.I receivemany requests to

speak at church services allacross the country, and havebeengivinga lotofspeechesin humanistically orientedmultidenominationalchurches for the past severalyears. It seems that themessages in my booksresonate with these churchmemberships, and thecongregations are eager toattendmyseminarsand talksat their Sunday-morning

services. At a Unity orReligiousScience church it’sjustaslikelythatasermonison the writing of RalphWaldo Emerson, AbrahamLincoln, Buddha, or Lao-tzuas on the direct teachings ofJesusChrist. TheseChristianchurches emphasizespirituality and a God-realized life, rather than themore traditional religiousdogma, and people from all

religious persuasions arealwayswelcome.I’m excited to be

consideredaspiritualteacher.This is new for me, since Ihave pretty much eschewedany specific religion. I seemyself as a global personwithout any interest inexcluding anyone. I amhonored to be giving“sermon-like” talks at churchservices,andtobeassociated

with the likes of Emerson,Thoreau, Leo Buscaglia,Neville, and othertranscendentalist teachers.The more I speak at thesespiritualgatherings, themoreIwanttowriteaboutpersonalandspiritualtransformation.IfeelasifIambeingpulledina new direction, and I’m notthe one doing the pulling.Something way bigger thanlittle me seems to be taking

overthereinsofmylife.I have now published five

books,allofwhichhavebeenextremely successful, andArtie Pine has some ideasabout capitalizing on thiscommercial success by mywriting two books that he’scertainwill be very lucrativeformeand formypublisher.He suggests I write a self-help book on using mycommonsenseprinciplestobe

more effective at makingmoney, and then a follow-upbook telling people how tohaveagreatsexlifeusingtheno-limitideasI’vepreviouslywritten about. Thanks to Dr.Ruth Westheimer’sappearances on radio andtelevision,anewageoffreer,franker talk about sex hasbeenusheredin.My agent and publisher

both feel that we’d have

runaway bestsellers if Iauthoredbooksonmoneyandsex, andall concernedwouldharvest a financial bonanza.As Artie tells me, “Yourpublisher is willing to do atwo-bookdeal thatwillmakeyou a fortune. I have giventhemtheideaforthesebooks.Just say theword, and Iwillfinalizethisdealforyou.”I listencarefully toArtie’s

proposalandimmediatelytell

himthatthere’snowaythatIam interested or willing toundertake such a proposal. Iexplain that the talks I’vebeen giving in spiritualgatherings for the past yearhave led to my fascinationwith the idea that individualsare capable of achieving akind of God-realization ifthey change the way theythink.WhatIwanttowriteisa book titled You’ll See It

When You Believe It, tocontrast with the morecommon phrase, “I’ll onlybelieveitwhenIseeit.”I reiterate tomyagent that

our beliefs as a peopledeterminewhatweeventuallysee.Iamexcitedbythisideaofwritingaspiritualguideforachievingone’sownpersonaltransformation. These ideashavebeengerminatingwithinme during this period of

becoming prominent as aspiritual teacher, without myconsciouslydoinganythingtobringitabout.Artie’s annoyance is

palpable on the phone. HeasksmewhattheitisthatI’mspeaking about when I say“You’ll see it when youbelieve it.” I try to tell himthat this is all about movinginto theworld of Spirit.Andthe it is anything that people

place their attention on intheir imagination,whichwillbecome observable in thephysicalrealmbecauseofthepower of the mind to createanythingitbelievesin.I elaborate that I have

sevenone-wordconceptsthatarenotreadilyunderstoodbythe average person. A God-realized state is accessiblewith a clear explanation ofthese concepts and how they

operateinlife.I’llmakeeachword/concept a chapter,withexamples for turning themfrom fuzzy concepts tosomething the reader canimmediatelyputintopractice.I read the seven words tohim: Transformation,Thought, Oneness,Abundance, Detachment,Synchronicity, andForgiveness.ThenIreadastatementby

President John QuincyAdams that I’ve beencarryingwithmefor thepastyearandusinginmostofmyspeeches, especially in thespiritually based churchpresentations:

JohnQuincyAdamsiswell but the house inwhich he lives at thepresenttimeisbecomingdilapidated.It’stottering

on its foundations.Timeand the seasons havenearly destroyed it. Itsroof is pretty well wornout. Its walls are muchshattered and tremblewitheverywind. I thinkJohnQuincyAdamswillhave to move out of itsoon. But he himself isquitewell,quitewell.

Artie is beside himself in

frustration with me andresponds in his wonderful,New York literary-agentstyle, “What the hell are youtalkingabout,Wayne?Ihaveno idea what you want towrite about. Let’s just takethe deal I’ve arranged foryou.You’dbeafooltoturnitdown—it’smoremoney thanyou’ve dreamed of in yourlife.”IsayI’msorry,butIcan’t

letmoneyorstatusoranyoneelsetellmewhattowriteandspeak about. I am not Dr.Ruth, and I don’t want topretend to be interested intelling people how to makemoney.I tellArtie thatIwillbe writing my next book onthe concept that believing isseeing, rather than the otherwayaround.WilliamMorrow agrees to

be the publisher formy next

book, but they offer noadvance against royalties.Both Artie andmy publishertell me over and over againthat the general public is notreally interested in readingbooks pertaining tospirituality and higherconsciousness. They tell methatI’mwastingmytimeandeffort, and there’s no chancethat a book with such aconfusing title and

amorphous concepts cansucceed in the big way thatmy previous booksperformed.I am undaunted. I know

what I want to write about,and I feel the presence ofsomethingDivinewhisperingtomethatI’vemadetherightchoice.

ICanSeeClearly

I look back and see quiteclearly that something wasinfluencing me to make amajorshiftinmywritingandspeaking—and in my life aswell. I’d written five best-selling books, all from apsychological perspective onhow to live amore fulfillingandself-reliantlife,yetitwasso easy forme to decline an

exceptionally lucrative offerto continue writing popularbooks in the self-help genrethat would appeal to a largeaudience.Iwasturningdownseveral million dollars ofguaranteed income forsomething that would nothave been particularlydifficult for me toaccomplish.Given the circumstances I

was facing in 1987, turning

down such awindfallwasn’tsomething that I would havepredicted.Ihadalargefamilyof seven children to providefor, including a brand-newbaby boy. Four of mychildren were under the ageof six, and I had olderchildren who were eitherattending private schools orheading off to college. As Ilook back onmy decision toturn away from that

outstanding offer, though, Icanstill feelhoweasy itwasforme.Ididn’thesitateforamomentoraskto talkitoverwith anyone. My “no, thankyou” came from a deepknowing within me that Icouldn’t go in the directionthat those ego temptationswereoffering.I am intrigued when I

compare the index of mypreceding books with the

index of You’ll See It WhenYou Believe It, which waswritten between November1987 and June 1989. In thislater book, God has 10citations,spiritualhas12,andhigher consciousness has 17.ExaminingthefivebooksI’dwritten previously, and mythree textbooks, reveals agrand total of one suchcitation in all their indexes.That single citation is for

spiritual needs referring toMaslow’s definition of self-actualization inmy parentingbook. I went from a singlereference to God, spiritual,and higher consciousness inall my previous books to 39injustthisonebook.What was it that was

pullingmeawayfromwritingpsychologically orientedbooks to a book rooted inspirituality, higher

consciousness, and mostdramatically, God? Thiswasn’tpartofanyplanIhadwhen I beganwriting for thegeneralreadingpublic.At this crucial time in my

life, there was somethinginfluencing me to stopthinking about making moremoney, or gaining morefame, or massaging my ego,and to instead let myselfgrow. I had eschewed using

any spiritual or higher-consciousness terms in myearlier writing because Ithought they smacked toomuch of religion andsupernatural forces. Iwantedto use the language ofcommon sense and the ideathat an individual did notneed that unverifiableDivineintervention to lead toa self-actualizedlife.By 1987 I was enveloped

in spiritual teachings. I wasreadingandquotingfromtheBhagavad Gita and the TaoTeChing,aswellastheNewTestament. I wascommunicatingwith spiritualministersalloverthecountryand giving Sunday-morninglectures to huge audiences innondenominational churchesregularly. Whereas before IwouldnotusethewordsGod,spiritual, or higher

consciousness inmywriting,now I was deeply engrossedin metaphysical rather thanpurelyphysicalteachings.Ihadobviouslygoneasfar

as Iwassupposed togowithmy earlier focus on rationalemotive therapy and self-actualizationprinciples.Ihada foundation rooted in thematerial world of thecorporeal; now I was beingcalled to look much more

closely at the invisibleworldof Spirit. I immersed myselfin studyingquantumphysics,great philosophers, andEasternandWesternspiritualwisdom. I was drawn toattend lectures and listen torecordings on the subjects ofoneness, transformation,synchronicity, anddetachment—all of whichbecame the focus of You’llSeeItWhenYouBelieveIt.

Everything seemed to bemoving very, very fast as Ibegan this shift into writingabout higher consciousnessand spirituality. God was nolonger a religious concept tome, and I was feeling closerandclosertoGodeveryday.Isensed that my days as apsychologist were essentiallyover,andIwas thrilled tobeconsidered a teacher ofspiritualprinciples.Ibeganto

refusespeakingrequestsfrombusinesses and schools, andbegan to speak almost full-time in churches throughoutAmerica and Canada. Mypublic speaking focused onattaining God-realization andbeing able to createmiraclesin everyday life. Conceptsthat I once rejected andcriticizedwerenowabigpartof my writing and speaking,and I knew that something

wasdirectingthisnewcourseinmylife.I put an enormous amount

of effort into the creation ofYou’ll See It When YouBelieveIt,whichwasthefirstof many books that I wasprivileged to create in thefield of spiritual nonfictionliterature.Iwantedtocreateabook that gave specificsuggestions on how to tapinto the invisible part of

ourselves, and how to applythe same principles thatgovern the universe to therunning of an individual life.My personal editor workedvery closely with me, and Iwas also blessed to have aworld-famouseditorwhohadonlyworkedonfictionbookspreviously work on the finaledit. Her name was JeanneBernkopf, and she was anangel sent to me to put the

finishing toucheson this,myinaugural book in this newfieldofinquiry.I did two national book

tours,andhundredsofpubliclectures—mostly in whatwere at the time called NewAge churches—across thecountry. The audiences wereso receptive that it’s clearnowthattherewassomethingmovingmetospeakandwriteabout spiritual awakening.

You’ll See It When YouBelieve It contained amessage about life that thegeneral public both in theU.S. and around the worldwanted to explore. Myapprenticeshipintheworldofself-help and psychologicallyorientedwritingandspeakingwas complete. I had been“pulled”toanewdirectionofteaching how to tap intosomething beyond the

body/mind and truly create aheavenonearth.Both Artie Pine and my

publisher were mistaken.You’ll See It When YouBelieve It proved without adoubt that there was anaudienceforbooksaboutGodand higher awareness in anon-religious format. Thebook debuted on The NewYorkTimesbestseller listandwaswellreceivedalloverthe

world.Ididn’tknowitatthetime,

butwith the benefit of beingabletolookback,IseethatIwas living the title of thatbook. I saw it all come tofruition because I firstbelieved it. Nothing coulddeter me from my vision—not even extraordinaryfinancialgain.ItissocleartomenowthatthehandofGodand a host of ascended

masters were gently butpersistently pulling metoward being a teacher ofspiritual truth.Miracleswereabout to unfold inmy life tohelpmestayalignedwiththisnewdirection.

It is February 14, 1989—the tenth anniversary of thedayMarceleneandImet.We

bothlovinglyandhumorouslyrecall that first meeting onValentine’s Day 1979.Someone had stuck a redValentineheartstickeronmyshirt, and the first words Ispoketomyfuturewifewerein response to her questionabout what was onmy shirt:“Ihaveaheartonforyou.”Ihaveacceptedamulticity

speaking tour of Australiathat includes in the lineup

John and Greg Rice, CathyLee Crosby, and my dearfriend and colleague OgMandino. My wife and twoyoungest children—Serena,three-and-a-half years old;andSands, 18monthsof age—have accompanied me onthis trip. We are currentlystayingintheHiltonHotelinBrisbane. I’m scheduled toappear onstage beforethousands of people

tomorrow, when I’ll keynotea large all-day seminar opentothepublic.I’m awakened by a noise.

The red numbers on thedigital clock next to the bedread4:05A.M., and I see thatmy wife is up and in theprocess of rearranging thefurniture and sleepingarrangements in our room.“It’s themiddle of the night.What in the world are you

doing?Areyouawakeorareyouwalkinginyoursleep?”Iask Marcelene. She isapparently sleepwalking,becauseshedoesn’trespond.Serena is asleep next to

me, andSands,who is still anursing baby, is in the samebedashismother.Marcie, ina walking coma, picks upSerenaandputsherinthebedwith our baby and climbsnext to me. She begins

making advances and isthoroughly determined tomakelovetome.Thelookonher face is unlike any I’veever seen, and I am in asemiconscious state ofshock/delight.My wife has been either

nursing or pregnant for theprevious eight years, andconsequently completelyhalted her menstrual cycle.She’s also had one ovary

removed, so conception hadseemed impossible. Despiteall of this, our youngestdaughter, Saje, is conceived.What awokemywife at thatprecise instant?What causedthis behavior by a womanwho is always in control?Whatforceisoperatinghere?Whoisinchargehere?

Afewmonthslater,I’minPhoenix on a book tour forYou’ll See It When YouBelieve It. I’m scheduled toappear on radio stationKTARwithPatMcMahon—I’ve visited his show onseveraloccasionsduringbooktours over the last decade,and he’s become a goodfriend. It turns out that thegueston the showbeforemeisanotherofmyheroes.

Mother Teresa is inPhoenix to support theopening of a newlyconstructed homeless shelter,whereshehadslept thenightbefore. Pat McMahon is anIrish Catholic, spiritual man,and he’s beside himself withexcitement anticipatinginterviewing this saintlywoman. He repeatedly asksherifthere’sanythinghecando for her: “Tell listeners

about your ashram inCalcutta?CanIhelpyouraisemoney for your mission?Anything?MotherTeresa,I’dliketodosomethingforyou,since you do somuch for somanypeople.”“Thereisonethingyoucan

doforme,”shefinallysaysinher broken English.“Tomorrow morning, get upat fourA.M.andgooutontothe streets of Phoenix. Find

someonewhobelievesthatheis alone, and convince himthathe’snot.”Iamdeeplytouchedbyher

words. They confirmeverything I’vewritten aboutin my book about oneness,andtheawarenessthatwearealways connected to ourSource of being—regardlessofwhatour senses tellus,orwhat the externalcircumstances seem to

indicate.Iamawarethat theenergy

of the entire studio hasshifted: People seem to beless hurried; the atmosphereis one of benevolence,whereas before this beautifuldiminutive woman entered itwas fast-paced and kinetic. Ifeel as if a warm shower isrunninginsideofme,whichIoften call “the tinglies.”AndI’m not the only one who

feels this way—Pat tells methat it was as if a wave ofunconditionallovesweptoverhimwhileshesatacrossfromhiminthestudio.I can’t see or touch the

loving energy that everyoneseemed to feel. But it isapparent to me that thisdevout woman, who hasdevoted her life to servingothers and living in Christconsciousness, has all by her

pint-sized self managed todramatically impact theenvironment around her, andeveryoneinitaswell.Ifeelsoblessedtosharein

this experience. It reinforcesthat there’s farmore towhatweperceive to be our realitythanwhatweexperiencewithour senses. This is notsomething that can beexplained,norisitsomethingthat I believe because I’m

seeing it. This is theexperience that I’m referringtointhetitleofthebookIamsoproud to have hadwrittenthrough me. You’ll See ItWhen You Believe It says itall.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

What happened onValentine’sDay in1989wasasmomentousanoccasionasany I have ever experienced.The odds against my wifegettingpregnantseemedtobestacked incredibly high.ThatMarciewasawakenedfromadeepsleepanddirectedinhersemiconscious state toparticipate at that instant inthe dance of creation wasbeyond reason to me. This

was the only time in our 20-plus years together that shebehaved in this fashion. Forme this was a confirmationthat something much biggerand beyond the materialworldwasatplay.Saje Eykis Dyer was born

on November 16, 1989, andobviously she played somekind of invisible role ingetting onto this physicalplaneofexistencewithmeas

her father andMarcie as hermother. Something beyondour explanation was at workthatmorning.My youngest daughter is

one of the most determinedyoung women I’ve everknown—ever! Thatdeterminationmusthavebeenworking overtime that earlymorninginBrisbane.Shehadto tap on her mother’sshoulder and somehow

awaken her from a deepsleep.Shehadtodirecthertomove the furniture andrearrange her future siblingsin order to activate thenecessary conditions for hertogetintothisworldfromherperch in the infinite realm.This was the only momentavailable to Saje to comefulfill her own dharma. Anyother moment, and heropening would vanish and a

different someone wouldshowup—or,morelikely,nosomeoneatall.OnMother’sDaythatyear,

I wrote a verse to my wifetitled “Brisbane,” whichcommemorates the incredibleevents that transpired thatmorning:

BrisbaneWhereGodwasrevealedtous.

Onlythetwoofusknowthe

magicandaweofthatpresence.

Againstimpossibleodds…

Ourconnectiontoeternityfurtherreinforced,strengthened.

Yettheparadoxalwayslingers…

Weareincontrol/wearenotincontrol,doomedtomake

choices.

AllIamcertainofisourloveimbeddedinforever.

The first two lines say itall. This was the momentwhen God’s presence wastruly revealed to Marcie andme.Icanseeclearlytodaythat

I was involved in a Divineinterventionas Iwatchedmywifemoveabout theroomina somnambulant state,

directedbya force that Ihadneverwitnessedupcloseandpersonal before. This was aturning point for me. Myfuturewritingwouldemanatefrom this firsthand knowingofthesacredthatIwitnessedin the conception andsubsequent birth of ourdaughter Saje. I knew fromthat moment on that theretruly are no accidents in thisworld. We think we are in

control, but as Lao-tzu onceobserved, “We are all doingnothing, we’re just beingdone.” And Jesus also said,“It’sthespiritthatgiveslife.”ThespiritwasatworkinthatBrisbane hotel room back in1989.EverytimeIlookcarefully

at Saje, I think back to theinvisible spirit that wasspeeding up the process ofgettinghere,asIsaid,against

impossible odds—and then Iremember “With God, allthings are possible.”When Iobserve her indefatigablepersistence and unwaveringdetermination, I recall howthatmusthavebeenatplayina gigantic way as shemanipulated events in orderto ensure her incarnation. IhavealwaysthankedGodforthebeautiful spirit that ismydaughter.ButIamevenmore

thankful forbeingallowed tobeaparticipant in somethingthat I can only call “realmagic,”whichwas to be thetitleofthenextbookIwouldwrite three years into thefuture. I had now left theworld of psychology behindinmywritingpermanently.Icanseeclearlynowthata

person who achieves a levelof God-realization is able toimpact everyone they

encounter simply by theirpresence in the same room.It’sbeensaidthatwhenJesusentered a village, just hispresence and nothing morewould elevate theconsciousness of everyone inthevillage.This was the same

phenomenon I observed inMay 1989 when MotherTeresa walked into thatstudio, and everyone seemed

to feel the impact of hersaintly presence. This is notPsychology 101; it isadvanced spirituality andDivine love in action. Idecided right then and therethatthiswassomethingthatIwouldaspiretofortherestofmy life. By observing howthis woman affected theworldaroundher,IwasgivenarolemodelforhowIwouldliketoimpactothersaswell.

It remindedmeof thewayDinah Shore’s lovingpresence seemed to elevateeveryone around her. WithMotherTeresa, therewas theelement of a spiritual impactaswell.Thissaintlywoman’spresence seemed to makeeveryone around her want tobe more Christlike—to beless judgmental, to overlookandforgiveanyshortcoming,to literally feelcloser toGod

becauseofthepheromonesoflove she emitted by her verypresence.Yearslater,onthemorning

of September 6, 1997, I wasabout to address a largegatheringofpeopleinSydneywhen I was handed a noteinforming me that MotherTeresa had passed away thenight before. I told theaudienceofmyexperienceinPhoenixwiththisfuturesaint,

and remarked that itwas justlike her to slip awayunnoticedata timewhen theentire world’s attention wasfocused on the funeral forPrincessDianainEngland.Mother Teresa lived her

life beyond the ego. Shedidn’t want any credit orattention given to her—shewas all about service toothers, especially to thedisadvantaged. She once

commented that every dayshesawJesusChrist inallofhisdistressingdisguises.Thisis how she lived.And this ishow she died—at a timewhen all of the fanfare andattentionwouldbeelsewhere.This woman’s Divine,

saintly presence invigoratedand enhanced not only theenergy of the immediatesurroundings, but everyonewho was in her presence as

well. I remember thinkingthat I could become like thisifIwereIabletoliveandbeonly a fraction of thegoodness and godliness thatMother Teresa represented.She was definitely a miracleworker,andIwassoinspiredby her to become more likeher. I knew I would have toundergo a radicaltransformation inmyway ofliving, particularly in taming

my ego and putting more ofthe focus of my life’s workon the realm beyond thephysical.I can clearly see that my

brief encounter with MotherTeresa,justasIwasabouttolaunch a national book tourfor You’ll See It When YouBelieveIt,pushedmetolookinto the world of themiraculous and examine thepossibilities of real magic.

Thekindofmagic that Isawtake place when this womanwalked into a studio, andmade everything andeveryone feel aligned withGod.

I am on a newmission inmy life in the fall of 1991.I’vebeenreadingagreatdeal

about spiritual masters,ancient and contemporary,who are capable ofperforming what are called“miracles” of all descriptions—stunning feats such asraising the dead, instanthealing from cripplingdeformities, acts of alchemy,telepathic communication,astounding manifestations,and synchronicities. Ibelieveso strongly that if any one

person can perform this typeofmagic, then everyone can.This is what I want toexplore.Henry Miller said, “Don’t

lookformiracles.Youarethemiracle.” Ican’tget this ideaoutofmymind.Iamgoingtowrite about the notion ofteaching people how tomaximize their own highestpotential for achieving whathave come to be called

miracles. I too am about toparticipate in my ownstunning feat and undergo aradicaltransformation.I watch the world-famous

illusionist David Copperfieldperform astonishing acts ofmagic inLasVegas.As I sitthere enjoying the show, theideacomes tome that Ihavebeen immersed in somethingthat doesn’t involve smoke,mirrors, and trickery to fool

the audience. There is realmagic, and I’ve been on theperipheryofthisphenomenonforthepastcoupleofyears.Ireturn to my hotel room andstay up all night writing anoutline for abookonhow tocreate miracles in everydaylife.IamgoingtocallitRealMagic,andIcan’twaittogetstartedonit.One of my spiritual

mentors is Nisargadatta

MaharajofIndia,whopassedaway a decade ago. As Ipreparetowritemynewbookback home in Florida, I’mdrawntoreadandrereadthisadvice that he gave to adevotee: “If you desire toreach your highest potentialand fulfill the dharma forwhich you incarnated, youwill need to live a life ofsobriety.”Gradually I realizethe sentence is speaking to

meaboutme,andthatImustmakeachoice.I have been running a

minimum of eight milesevery single day for almost15yearsnow.It isasnormalformetorunseveralhoursina day as it is to brush myteeth before going to bed.Sittingatmydesknow, I trytorememberadayinwhichIhave not had a few beers todrinkintheeveningaftermy

run. I mentally go back tenyears, and I know that it iseven longer thanadecade. Ithits me hard that almost 15years have passed in whichI’ve consumed alcohol everysingle day, no exceptions. Itis a habit, and my liferevolves around this habit. Iallowarecentscenetoreplayinmyimagination.LastweekImademywife

and all six of our children

packupandleavearestaurantbecause it had temporarilyhad its liquor licensesuspended. My need for acouple of beers became thereason to inconvenienceseven other people. I amashamed that I have allowedthis habit to become such adominant force in my life,and that it has moved intosomething of a dailyobsessionfor15yearsnow.

I hear the words ofNisargadattaringingloudlyinmyears.IfIwanttoreachmyhighest potential and fulfillmy life’s mission, I need tolivealifeofsobriety.I tell myself, “I am sober

… I never get drunk … Ialwaysstopaftertwoorthreebeers…Ireallydon’thaveaproblem.” But I know I’mfooling myself. That’s over5,000 consecutive days of

puttingalcoholintomybody.HokekyóShooncesaidinhisSanskrit text,“After the thirdcup, the wine drinks theman.” I wonder what hewould say about 5,000consecutive days of threebeers. I think hard. Indeed,thebeerisdrinkingme.I make a decision on the

spot. I make an agreementwith God, my highest self,that I will not drink a beer

tonight. I will practice thetotal sobriety thatNisargadattarecommendedtoone of his devotees inBombayback in the1970s—which also happens to bewhenIbegan thisdailyhabitof beer drinking. Perhaps hewastalkingtome.I never met Nisargadatta,

but I studied his work I AmThat in depth. Whenever Iread the transcripts of his

dialogues with his studentsand devotees, it alwaysseemedasifhewasspeakingto me. This is another ofthose quantum moments—Icanactuallyseehimwithmenow as I replay my crassbehavior in the restaurant,where I conducted myself insuch a boorish andinconsiderateway towardmywife and children. I ask forguidance and support in my

new endeavor. I tell no oneaboutwhatI’mundertaking.Tonight passes, and I am

surprisedbyhoweasythisis.I feel the hand of a guidingspirit at work here. I’m notdoingthisjustbecauseIdon’twant to disappoint myself,my family, or anyone else. Ino longer wish to disappointGod—my highest self, theindividualized expression ofGod, which is pure love. I

camefromperfecthealthandwell-being, and I intend tostay aligned with this andkeepalcoholoutofmybody,because alcohol destroysbrain cells and therefore isdestructive tomywell-being.Ihaveaseniorpartnerinthisundertaking and I feelconfident, blessed, and trulyinspired to change this habit—one day at a time—andloveeveryminuteofit.

I write furiously, and mynewpublisher,HarperCollins,is thrilled with themanuscript. Every day Ibecome increasingly awarethatdeepwithinallofusisaunified field of limitlesspossibilities. I ask myself,WhoamItoundertakesuchatask as to speak aboutmiracles? Then I stop withthedoubt, and just listen andallowmyselftobedirectedas

Spiritseemstobecallingme.Myopeningwords inReal

Magic are an observation bySt. Francis of Assisi, a saintI’ve known aboutsuperficially and consideredone of the greatest examplesof miracle making: “I havebeenallthingsunholy;ifGodcanworkthroughme,hecanworkthroughanyone.”Thesewords reflect both thehumilityandconfidenceIfeel

about this venerable subjectofrealmagic.Skipping ahead to the fall

of1992,I’vecompletedafullyear alcohol-free. I know inmy heart that this decision,prompted by my long-departed guru NisargadattaMaharaj, putmeon this newpath.IgivethankstoGod,St.Francis, andNisargadatta forthe beautiful book with therainbow on the cover titled

RealMagic, which I hold inmyhand.Iamblessed.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Well over two decadeshave passed since I heardNisargadatta Maharaj speakthose words on the necessityofcomplete sobriety inorder

to fulfill a man’s destiny.Today I can say that thosewords I heard back in 1991were among the mostmomentous I everencountered. I have neveroncebeentemptedtogobackon my commitment tosobriety since thatextraordinary quantummoment.I can see clearly now as I

lookatmydecisiontobreaka

15-year habit of dailyconsumption of beer that itwas my awareness of nolongerwantingtodispleaseordisappoint my highest self,which is in total alignmentwiththeSourceofallbeing.Ican see clearly now thatbreaking self-sabotaginghabits is not difficult when Iinvest myself in my highestGod-realizedself.IknewbackthenthatIhad

“promises to keep, andmilesto go before I sleep,” asRobert Frost wrote sosuccinctly in his famouspoem “Stopping by Woodson a Snowy Evening.” Yet Ialsoknewthat ifmyhabitofdaily alcohol consumptioncontinued,itwouldnotallowme to fulfill the promises Imade when I came into thisworld of spirit. It was thepromise that I made to my

creator, to that infiniteintelligence of well-beingfrom which I originated andwould ultimately return to,thatIfullyintendedtokeep.Once the decision was

made—with theassistanceofcontemplating what myfuture, and my brainparticularly, would look likewhen I was no longerdestroying brain cells withmy alcohol consumption—

real magic actually began toappearinmylife.I received a phone call

from Michael Jacksoninviting my entire family often to spend five days withhim at his Neverland Ranchin California. During threehours alone withMichael onamountaintop, all hewantedto know from me was, istheretrulysuchathingasrealmagic? And how can we

accessit?I met and teamed up with

DeepakChopra,andwewentontolecturetogetheralloverthe world, including inEngland, Greece, andAustralia; and at the SphinxandGreatPyramids inCairo,Egypt.Wewerebothopentothe idea of being able to notonlybecomemiracleworkersourselves,but to teachothershow to tap into their own

unique and unlimitedpotentialforgreatness.I can see clearly now that

all of these real-magicexperiences came from thesingular quantum moment inwhich a great enlightenedspiritspoketomeandsetthewheels in motion for me tomake a huge decision thatwould impactme for the restof my life. Giving up mydaily beer-drinking habit

seemed an impossibility forme one day, and an easy-to-carry-out directive from mymost respected teacher thenext.I look back now on the

shameIfeltathavingbeensoinconsiderate toward myfamily,inthenameofanego-basedcravingforasubstancethat was destroying mycapacity to reach a moreevolved and enlightened

state, and I can see that aDivineforcewasatwork.I know full well the

Buddhist homily that sayswhenthestudentisready,theteacher will appear. Theteachers were there all thetime. I had read and rereadNisargadatta umpteen timesbefore.Yet thatday,becauseof the alignment of my ownself-repudiation—along withmy desire to write about

miracles from my contactwith Mother Teresa, thewordsofmy long-deadguru,and my intention to be abetter person—I, the student,wasready.Imaintained that readiness

by systematically abolishingso many unhealthy anddecidedlynon-spiritualhabitsIhadacquired, and replacingthem with a reverence forservingothersandattempting

toliveaGod-realizedlifeasateacher. No longer a teacherof just psychologicalprinciples for a self-actualized life, but a teacherwhowasand isbeingguidedbyahostofascendedmasterstoattempttoteachothershowto find the sacred inthemselves and in everyonetheyencounter.My decision to leave

alcoholbehindwasoneofthe

most far-reaching things Ihave ever done, and it allcame about because I wastold that I could no longerdestroyafewbraincellseachday and hope to fulfill thedharmaIhadsignedupfor.Ilook back on the events ofthat day in 1991, and all ofthe shame anddisappointmentIwasfeeling,as among the greatest giftsI’veeverbeengranted.Iwas

actually able to glimpse intothe future and see myself aseither a sober spiritualteacher,oramanaddicted toa self-limiting, brain-destroying habit. Theimplementation of my newvision was, and still is,essentiallyeffortless.

Itisthespringof1994,andI’vebeen touring thecountrypromotingboththehardcover

and paperback editions ofRealMagic.My publisher isasking about a follow-upbook, and I think back to avery special day almost tenyears ago when Ken Keyes,Jr.,andhiswife,Penny,cametovisit.Theircarpulledupinfront of our home in BocaRaton,Florida,andIwatcheda young woman pick up theman who was in thepassenger seat and carry him

into our house. I then spentone of the most memorableeveningsofmylife.I had been an admirer of

KenKeyes, Jr., forwellovera decade. I read and rereadhis classic book published in1972 titled Handbook toHigher Consciousness, neverrealizing that he was aquadriplegic. It turnsout thatKen had been paralyzed foralmost 40 years of his life,

due to the fact that hecontracted polio in 1946shortly after his dischargefrom the military at theconclusion of WWII. He’donly ever mentioned it in avery early book, inwhich hewrote, “My reality is that Iamfartoobusyandinvolvedin my life activities to havetime to concern myself withself-consciousness in thewheelchair department.

Today I view my so-calledhandicap as another gift mylifehasofferedme.”During the ’80s I readand

lectured about his then-recently published book TheHundredth Monkey, which Idistributed to my audiencesforseveralmonths.Thebookdetails how higherconsciousness can beimplemented to prevent anuclearwar;itfocusesonthe

idea that all humans areconnectedonaspirituallevel,and every thought we haveindividually impacts everyother individual because ofthisinterconnectedness.Ken and Penny were as

excitedtomeetmeasIwastohave them in my home. Mybooks had graced bestsellerlists for almost a decade andmy many appearances onnational television had

brought a great deal ofrecognition my way. Ken’sbookhadbeenveryimportanttomeandtomanyothersonaspiritualpath;however,ithadnot yet reached the kind oflargeaudiencethatIbelieveditwarranted.AsKen,Penny,Marcelene,

and I sat around the kitchentable, he returned often todiscussing the area of higherawareness.He said tome, “I

encourageyou toexplore theworld of higherconsciousness. You have abig voice, and the entireplanetwill listen ifyouwriteabout it.” We spent a greatdeal of time speaking aboutthe possibilities oftransforming our worldthrough the implementationof spiritual principles. Thisareaofwritingwasrelativelynew for me, since I’d only

recently departed from anexclusively psychologicalperspective.AfterPennyandKendrove

away, I took some notes onwhatwediscussed. Idetailedfourkeystohigherawarenessthat came out of our intenseand inspiring conversationthatevening.Imadeamentalnotetoincorporatethesefourkeys in my lectures, andmaybe one day write about

them. They were: banish thedoubt, cultivate the witness,shutdowntheinnerdialogue,and free the higher self fromthe ego. I spent the nextdecade making these ideasthe centerpiece of mypresentations.I think back to that

gloriously stimulatingevening I spent with KenKeyes, Jr., and his wife,Penny,sometenyearsagoas

Iconsiderwhatmyfollow-upbook is to be. I have beentalking about the ability weall possess to create realmagicinourlives,andnowIampreoccupiedwiththeideaof writing about thesacredness that is everyone’sveryessence.We are all sacred—pieces

ofGod—andit’snotsomuchabout creating miracles forme any longer; it’s about

recognizing God within us.Livingbeyondtheego,whichisreallythefalseself.WeallcomefromGod,thereforewemust be sacred—a piece ofwhat we come from.Unfortunately, so manypeople reverse the letters insacred and are living scared.Iwriteanoutlineandpresentit to my editors atHarperCollins.Theyareveryexcited about this book that

I’mcallingYourSacredSelf.It has been three years

since I’ve been in a writingmode. I am most contentwhen I’m able to sit at mywriting table and writewithout interruption. Myfamilyisnowlivinginanewbeautiful home that my wifeand I designed and built inBoca Raton, Florida. Wehavefivedaughtersandasonliving with us, from ages 5

through18.So,Iawakeeverymorning at approximatelythree o’clock and go to mylocalofficewhereIcanbeina peaceful environmentwithoutinterruption.The words seem to come

effortlesslyasIfillpageafterpage. I learn that my friendand spiritual teacher KenKeyes is now in kidneyfailure, and I keep his photoas well as the Handbook to

HigherConsciousness withinview as I allowYour SacredSelf to come through me. Iwriteachapteroneachofthefourkeystohigherawarenessthat Ken and I discussed indepth a decade ago in mykitchen.I’m almost obsessed with

discovering ways we canovercome that huge hurdle,whichisourego,toknowoursacred selves. I write

extensively on the specificsofmovingfromanego-basedidentity with its focus oncompetition, fear, andoutward appearances; tohigher awareness such aspeace, truth, love,andpurity.Eachchapteron transcendingour ego seems to flow frommypenonto thepages that Iwrite every morning whileMarcieandallofourchildrenare soundasleepa fewmiles

away.I conclude Your Sacred

Self with an essay titled“Toward an Egoless World”that’s inspired by thatgloriousdayIspentwithKenKeyes,Jr.,andourdiscussionof the hundredth-monkeyphenomenon. This was hisvision,whatmotivatedhimtoencourage me to become aspokesperson for higherconsciousness. I give thanks

to Ken, who passed onDecember 20 of kidneyfailure, and end with aquotationfromanotherofmyspiritual teachers,Nisargadatta Maharaj: “Mystand is clear; produce todistribute, feed before youeat, give before you take,think of others before youthink of yourself. Only aselfless society based onsharing can be stable and

happy. This is the onlypractical solution. If you donotwantit,then—fight.”I say a silent prayer of

thanksgivingfor thepresenceof these two enlightenedsoulsinmylife.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

IremembersowellthedaythatKenandPennyarrivedatmyhome,andknowitwasaDivine appointment. Theenergy of that one eveningtogether in our home stayedwith me for a decade,inspiring me to write YourSacredSelf.Itwasduringthatevening together that I cameface-to-face with amanwhowas living what he hadwritten about in his

Handbook to HigherConsciousness a dozen yearsearlier. But more than whatwe talked about that night,which was to become theimpetus for amajor in-depthbook on discovering one’ssacredness, was what Inoticed in these two soulfulpeople.Ken Keyes, Jr., was

trapped in a body that wasdysfunctional in many ways.

His paralysis developed intoquadriplegia and wassufficiently severe that hewas unable to turn himselfover in bed, and he requiredaidesforbodilycareforoverfour decades. Yet what wasmost revealing to me thatnightwas that thisman,whohadwrittenaclassicbookonhigher consciousness, did itby paying no attentionwhatsoever to his physical

body.He not only knew thatwe are all spiritual beingshaving a human experience,he was living it, because hisbody was essentiallyinoperable.I can see clearly today the

importanceoftheinnerworldin contrast to the outer. Theinner is invisible, formless,and has no concern with thedatathatisrevealedtousviathe senses. It is in this inner

meditative realm where Iaccessagreatdealofmyowncreativeenergy.I write and speak often of

theIampresencewithineachof us, and how to live aspiritually directed life byignoring the illusion of ourcorporealselves.“Thatwhichis real is that which neverchanges” is a statement I’vemade thousands of times.ThatI that is theghost in the

machine is real; themachineitself is constantly changing,and therefore not real. But Ihaven’t had to test thisprinciple. Ken Keyes, Jr.,lived and taught from theonly place where he waswhole, and that ishis inner Iam presence. He nevercomplained; he just wentwithin and offered ahandbook on how to attainspiritual fulfillment

regardless of ourcircumstances in thephysicalworld.IhadtoseeKenandPenny

up close and personal. Theimageof thiswomanpickingup the man she married anddoingsofromaplaceofpureunconditional love is searedinto my memorypermanently. And the imageof thismansitting therewithhis hands unusable and his

legs dangling helplessly, andtalking to me about theimportance of my writingabout what he was living,burns brightly on my owninnerscreen.Benjamin Franklin once

observed,“Whilewemaynotbe able to control all thathappenstous,wecancontrolwhat happens inside us.” Noone personified the truth ofthisbetterthanmyfriendand

colleagueKenKeyes, Jr.Hispresence in my life inspiredme to not only write a bookon one’s sacred self, but towork even harder on tamingmyownego.I remember talking to my

friend Elisabeth Kübler-RossaboutKenandhis impactonmy writing. She told mesomething that laterappearedinherbookDeath:TheFinalStageofGrowth:

The most beautifulpeople we have knownare those who haveknown defeat, knownsuffering, knownstruggle, known loss,and have found theirway out of the depths.These persons have anappreciation, asensitivity, and anunderstandingoflifethat

fills them withcompassion, gentleness,and a deep lovingconcern. Beautifulpeople do not justhappen.

She was describing Kenwiththesewords.I can see clearly that the

surprise Divine appointmentthatdaywithKenKeyeswasto impactmeandmywriting

inaverybigway.Iloveyou,Ken. Thank you for theinspiration.Youtrulyareoneof those beautiful peopleElisabethspokeof.

OnthedayafterChristmas1995, I read an article in thenews-paper about Kaye

O’Bara,awomanwho’sbeena 24/7 caretaker for herdaughter, Edwarda, for thepast25years.Edwarda slipped into a

diabetic coma on January 3,1970,whenshewas16yearsold. Her very last wordswere: “Promise you won’tleave me, will you,Mommy?” Kaye O’Bara,holding her daughter’s hand,said,“Ofcoursenot. Iwould

never leave you, darling, Ipromise. And a promise is apromise!”Kaye’s promise to her

teenage daughter hasinvolved a kind of self-sacrifice that few people areever called to undertake:Edwarda needs to be fedevery2hours,24hoursaday.In addition, her blood has tobe checked and tested everyfourhours,andshehas tobe

given an insulin injection sixtimes a day. Kaye has notslept in a bed for the pastquarter of a century, as shehas cared for her daughteraroundtheclock.Thestoryinthenewspaper

capturesmy very soul, and Iamcompelledtoassembletherestofthefamilytohearit.Itellthem,“Iwanteachofyouto come into the kitchen andlistentothisstoryIamgoing

toreadtoyou.Iwantusasafamily to do something forthis woman and herdaughter.”My family is in tears as

theyhear about theordealofthe O’Bara family and thesacrificesthatarebeingmadeby this saintly woman wholives only 40 or 50 milesfrom our home in SouthFlorida. Kaye O’Bara, whohas sacrificed all of her

personal concerns in thename of service to herdaughter, is a living exampleofGod-realization. It feels tome much like I rememberfeeling when I encounteredthe amazing energy thatMother Teresa projected sixyearsago in the radiostationinPhoenix.I write a brief letter to

Kaye telling her that she ismyhero,andsendalongwith

itacopyofRealMagic,sincethisbookexplorestheideaofbeing able to createmiraclesin everyday life. I put myletterandbookintoapackagewith a donation and a cardsigned by my children andmywife,andsendeverythingoff to Kaye inMiami, alongwith a silent prayer for herand her now 41-year-olddaughter.In January I leave for the

west coast of Florida. I planto write a new book onmanifesting, and willcommute home on theweekends. I keep Kaye andher daughter in my prayers,but my focus is on mywriting. I am engrossed inthisideaofmanifestationandfeel as if I am somehowchanneling information alongwith the spiritual principlesfor being able to attract into

ourlivesallthatwedesire.Afteralongdayofwriting

andresearching,Iturnonthetelevision to watch theevening news. DeborahNorville, who’s interviewedme several times in the pastfewyears, isannouncing thather show Inside Edition willbe featuring a story about awoman who has been takingcareofhercomatosedaughterfor 26-plus years. When the

showcomeson, there’sKayeO’Bara reading to EdwardafromRealMagic,whichIhadsent to her less than twoweeks ago! I watch amazedas I hear Kaye reading thefirstwordsofChapterOne toherdaughter:“This isabookaboutmiracles.”I am in awe of the

synchronicity atwork here. Iam watching television,somethingIrarelydo,ashow

thatI’veneverseen,andthereis Kaye reading to herdaughter from a book I sentbecause I was so profoundlytouched by this woman’sunconditional love. To top itoff, the title of the chapterI’mwriting inmynewbook,Manifest Your Destiny, iscalled, “Connecting to theDivine Source withUnconditionalLove.”I make a decision to

contact Kaye when I returnhome from my writingsojourn. When I get back toBocaRaton,Iseeathank-youletter from Kaye O’Bara onthe top of my mountain ofmail. I immediately call herand make arrangements tovisit the following day withmywife.When Marcelene and I

arrive at Kaye’s modesthome, we are greeted by a

woman who is full of life,totally committed to servingher comatose daughter, anddevoid of self-pity. BothMarcieandIfeelasifwearein a sacred space when weenterEdwarda’sroom.IholdEdwarda’s hand andsomehow I feel as if she canhear me speaking to her.AfteranhourpassesIsayoutloud that we are about toleave, and a small tear

appears and she seemsagitated and restless.When Itell her that we’ll be back,Edwarda almost instantlyseems more peaceful, as ifsheknowswearethereintheroomwithher.I feel such a strong

connection to both of thesewomen.IknowthatEdwardais connecting with me insome way that I cannotexplain. I have been writing

about sacred spaces, realmagic, and now the spiritualprinciples involved inmanifestation. I know that itis not an accident that I amhere in this sacred spacewhereunconditional lovehasbeenomnipresentforthepastquarterofacentury.Imakeitahabittovisitthe

O’BarahomewheneverIcan,and learn of the enormousfinancial burden this family

has been under, theextraordinary expensesinvolved in Kaye fulfillingher promise to Edwarda toneverleaveher.Ikeepaskingmyselfwhat I cando tohelpthese beautiful people whoare living from a place ofhigherconsciousness,while Imerelywriteaboutit.IknowmywifeandIhavebeensentto help these people. Thereare no accidents in this

universe and certainly this isnotanexception.After several weeks my

son Sands, who is nine,comes running out of hisbedroom one morning afterhis shower. In a somewhathysterical fashion, heannounces,“Mom,Dad,Ijustsaw Edwarda in the shower.Shewasawakeandsmilingatme.Honest, itwasher,andIran out as fast as I could!”

Sandsishysterical.He,alongwith all of our children, hasbeen toEdwarda’shomeandobserved Marcie and meinteract with her in hercomatosestate.WhenI tellKayewhatmy

little boy has seen, she saysthat she can feel whenEdwarda leaves her body.Edwarda has appeared asmore than an apparitionwithothers around the world as

well. I’m skeptical, but IrememberthatJesussaidthatallthingsarepossibletothosewho believe, which leavesnothing out. I remindmyselfthat when I enter Edwarda’sbedroomandspeakwithherIalways feel a sense oftranquility and the slightfragranceofroses.I make a decision that I

want to help alleviate thefinancial burden that hovers

aboveKayeatalltimes,andIwant to tell her incrediblestory to theworld. I feel thatit will help others reach intotheir hearts and extendcompassion and love in theirown lives wherever andwheneverpossible.I’mgoingtoputmywritingonholdandtell thestoryofEdwardaandhermother’sdevotion toher,and donate the profits androyalties to Kaye. This will

be the first time in my lifethat I can turn all of mywritingenergyintosomethingthat will benefit anotherhuman being withoutbringing any financialremuneration to myself. Ihavebeengivenagiftfromawoman who has been in acomaforover26years.Iamblessed.My wife and I are alone

with Edwarda in her room

several times eachweek as Iprepare myself to write thisamazingstoryforpublication.Though Edwarda is in acomatose state, we alwayssenseahigherpresenceintheroom. I never leave thevisitation without the sensethat she is fully awareofmypresence.Furthermore, the more I

learn about what Edwardawas like before the onset of

hercoma25yearsearlier,themore I believe that she is anextremely spiritual person.She was kind to everyone,never judged, and had onlyloving things to say even tothosewhowere often on theopposite side of her valuesystem. Her sister describesher as a child of peace, andshe radiated that peaceoutward to all sheencountered.

When I ask her mother ofwhatuseisEdwarda’s lifeasshe lies motionless andwithout words, Kaye replies,“Truly she gives meaning toall of our lives. You mightthinkI’mcrazy,butIbelieveshe is doing thework of theLord.”I conduct many hours of

interviewswithKaye,andhersaintly doctor who hasworkedtirelesslyandwithout

pay. I gather up all of themedical records, my taperecordings of our interviews,and devote every workingmomenttowritingthealmostunbelievable story of amother’s unconditional loveandwhatitcanteachus.A Promise Is a Promise

will be published by HayHouse. I ask Marcelene toinclude a chapter on amother’spointofview,since

she is a devoted mother ofsevenchildrenherself.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

The presence of Kaye andEdwarda O’Bara in my lifewasanotherof thegreatgiftsbestoweduponme.AsIlookback at all that transpired in

order to facilitate this newrelationship, I can see therewere so many synchronisticevents that occurred in orderto bring this gift tome. Thiswas the work of a higherpowercoordinating theentireundertaking.I had been writing books

that focused on spirituality,miracle-making, andconnecting to the sacred thatisinherentinallbeings.Yetit

is one thing to write booksabout higher consciousnessand spirituality; it is quiteanother thing to actually liveit, day in and day out.Edwarda and Kaye werehugely instrumental in mymoving from being able towrite about spirituality andGod-realization to being ableto practice and live thoseteachings.Kaye O’Bara’s selfless

demonstration ofunconditional loving servicetoherdaughter foroverone-quarter of a century—eschewing any and allpersonal concerns, andsacrificing even the simplestof pleasures such as sleepingin a bed or buying anythingfor herself—is demonstrativeof God-realization in action.ItwastimeformetobegintoliveoutwhatIhadheretofore

onlypaidlipservicetoinmywritingandspeaking.Here are some of

Marcelene’s words from APromiseIsaPromise:

WhenWayneheardoftheir financial situation,hesaidtome,somatter-of-factly, “I’m going towriteabookaboutKayeandEdwarda.All of theprofits will go to Kaye.

What do you think ofthat?” I looked into theblue eyes of this dear,kindman, and I sawhisresolve. I havepersonally seen himevolve over the yearsintothatspiritualteacherwe all love, and I sawthisashisgreatestactofserving yet. He wouldnotonlywritethisbook,he would promote it

worldwide and takenothingfromit.

I see clearly that Edwardaand Kaye were on my lifepath to offer me theopportunity to live as Godlives—to align myself withthe pure energy of givingwithout asking anything inreturn. This is how Godworks. This is how the greatascended masters lived and

worked. Asking only, Howmay I serve? rather than,What’sinitforme?Someofthemostfulfilling

monthsofmylifewerespentwriting A Promise Is aPromise. The “coincidences”that occurred are certainly ofa higher order. Starting withme reading the news storyaboutthisunconditionallove,their living near where Ilived, seeing Kaye reading

Real Magic to her daughteron national television, goingto their home, and so manyother so-called coincidenceswere all part of the promiseof a great Source of lovecalled God, beckoning metowardlivingfromaplaceofservice to others. I amgrateful every day to KayeandEdwardaO’Bara for thatpreciousgift.Before Kaye died, she’d

tell me that I was an angelsenttoherbyGodtohelpherthrough the travail thatdefined her life. I told hermanytimesitwasthereverse—thatsheandEdwardawereangelssenttomylifetoteachme firsthand the meaning ofthe words from one of myfavorite poets, RabindranathTagore:

Isleptanddreamtthatlife

wasjoy.Iawokeandsawthatlifewas

service.Iactedandbehold,service

wasjoy.

It is January 1997, and Ihave just put the finishingtouches on Manifest Your

Destiny.Ihavebeenintriguedby this idea of manifestationeversinceIbeganwritingandspeaking from a spiritualperspective more than eightyears ago. It comes frommyfascinationwith the deeds ofJesus, who was reported tohavehad thecapacity to turnfive loaves of bread and twofish into a banquet that fed5,000 people by looking totheheavensandcommanding

thatfoodappear.I have heard of ascended

masters alive today who areable to manifest the sacredash called vibhuti and othermaterial objects from theirthoughts without the benefitof smoke and mirrors. Deepwithinme I know that all ofus are Divine because wecomefromtheDivine.AndIalsoknowthatwhenwefullyalign ourselves with our

original nature, we are onewith the creative Source oftheuniverse,andwethereforegainallofthesamepowersasthe creator. The ability toinstantaneously manifestfrom our thoughts is rarebecause so few humans haveever been successful atignoring the demands andtemptations of the false selfthatistheego.I’ve been writing on the

specific principles for beingable to reduce the time lagbetweenhavingathoughtandhaving that thought manifestas a physical reality. Theseprincipleshavecomedirectlytomeinthepasttwoyearsorso frommy daily practice ofJapa meditation, which I dotwicedailyasa resultof thisletterfromShriGuruji:

DearWayne,

The purpose of thismeditation is to end thesuffering of humanbeings through themanifestation of theirdesires. Before Ideveloped and offeredthe technique I prayedwith Siva and Nandi. Iwould never allow it tobe misused, that is thereasonIchoseyou.

This spiritual teacher fromIndiaselectedmetolearntheancient Japa technique formeditating for manifestationthatwasoriginally conceivedby the father of meditation,Patanjali, over 2,000 yearsago.The word Japa literally

translatesto“sayingthenameof God repeatedly.” I amenthralled with thistechnique,whichjustshowed

up in my mailbox with arecording and instructions onhow to practice it. Thepackage came from adistinguishedspiritualteacherfrom India who goes byseveral names, includingGuruji,DattatreyaSivaBaba,andDr.Pillai.HeisascholarmysticwhohastaughtIndianstudies at the University ofPittsburgh, when he’s nottraveling the world teaching

while doing this Japamediation.Two years ago,when Shri

Guruji’s letter andinstructions arrived at myhome, I began a seriouspractice to preparemyself toteach Japa at my public-speaking events around theworld. I contacted mypublisher and arranged tocreate a CD calledMeditations for Manifesting,

demonstrating this ancientJapa technique. People allover the world wereenthralled by the real magicinherentinthispractice.By repeating the sound of

the name ofGod as an innermantra and placing attentionon what one wants to attractinto one’s life, these Divinesounds act as a vehicle forbringing it into physicalmanifestation. As Guruji

remindedmeinhisletterandsubsequent discussions wehad in person, the beginningof everything is God, so inorder tobeginsomething,weneed the sound of God’sname. In the Book of John,theopeninglinessay,“Inthebeginningwas theword, andthewordwas with God, andthewordwasGod.”I look at the manuscript

I’vewritten,whichincludesa

chapteron“MeditatingtotheSound of Creation,” and feelawedbybeingabletousethisJapa technique to create anentire book with nineprinciples specificallydelineatedintheproperorder.I had no outline—no ideawhat the second, third, orninthprincipleswouldbeasIwrote the first one. I totallytrusted in the power of theDivinenamethatIusedasan

inner mantra while writingManifestYourDestiny.AndIhave been able to manifestnine spiritual principles andwrite a complete chapter oneachonealmosteffortlessly.I’ve read the sutras of

Patanjali and applied thisancientwisdominallareasofmy life.Meditation is now aregular part ofmy daily life,and I spend time masteringtheJapatechnique.Iuseitin

a wide variety of ways, andfind small miracles showingup when I use these Divinesounds. I’mable toeliminatefatigue and any kind ofsickness symptoms by doingJapa regularly, and bycontinually chanting God’sname I find that I canparticipate directly in the actofcreatingandmanifesting.My gratitude is enormous

for Shri Guruji placing his

faith in me, knowing that Iwould never allow thisancient technique formanifesting by using thesound that is in the name ofGod tobemisusedor sulliedin any way. I am uncertainwhy he chose me to be theteacherofJapa,butitfeelsasif it were in some wayorchestratedbyGodHimself.I treat this as a sacredassignment. My head swims

inblissfulecstasy,andIhaveasensethatIambridgingthegapbetweentheworldof thephysicalandtheDivine,fromwhence all physical particlescome.I gaze at my completed

manuscript ofManifest YourDestiny and wonder how allnineoftheseprinciplescouldhave been transmitted sogracefully.Itakeoutmypen,and I write my dedication:

“Shri Guruji, thank you forthe inspiration to explore theworld of manifesting.Namaste.”This is indeed the calling

of Spirit into my life. I feelnot only aligned with thisgreat teacherwhohaschosenme for such a resplendentassignment, but I also feelaligned with Patanjali and,yes,with the creative Sourceof all—the one Divine mind

—with God. “And the wordwas God,” I say over andoverseveraltimesaday.In addition to being a

teacher, I am now aconfirmedmeditatoraswell.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Something indefinablewas

at work in 1995 when ShriGuruji, now known asDattatreya Siva Baba, wasmotivated towrite tomeandsend audiotapes andinstructions for me to learnJapaandbecomeateacherofthis practice. Thatspontaneous decision ofGuruji inspired me to learnandultimately teach the Japameditations through my CDtitled Meditations for

Manifesting.Italsopromptedme to channel and write abook on manifesting twoyears later, and then towritemy own book onmeditation,titled Getting in the Gap,some eight years afterreceivingGuruji’sletter.This beautifully spiritual

man from India was one ofthemostinfluentialpeopletocrossmypath.BeforeGurujiI dabbled in meditative

practices, but I had neverconsidered it as a discipline.Once I began the art of Japameditation and saw theamazing results that wereshowing up, I decided tomakemeditatingapartofmyeveryday life, in both themorningandevening.While writing Manifest

Your Destiny I’d repeat thesound AH and place myattention on receiving

guidanceforeachof thenineprinciples in this book.Following long sessions ofrepeating this sound andvisualizing myself receivingwhat Ineeded, Isawmypenmoving across the pageseffortlessly, as if it were inthehandofaninvisibleforce.Inmy lectures I explained

thetheoryandhistorybehindthis provocative meditationpractice and then asked

audiences to chant the soundofGod—aum—whileplacingtheir individual attention onwhat they would like tomanifest into their lives. Theresults were astonishing. Iincluded many of thoseresults in the body of mybookGettingintheGap.It’s pretty clear tome that

thissublimebeingwassenttomesothatImightgetonwiththe next stage of my own

personal dharma. Ameditation practice was vitalforme,yetIwasn’tanywhereclose to adopting one untilGuruji decided to make methe recipient of this spiritualawareness. Somehow heknew that I would take thisJapa practice seriously andincorporateitintomylecturesandmediaappearances.ItturnsoutthatGurujihad

prayedtotwoofhisholiestof

saints,SivaandNandi,askingfor guidance on who shouldbe the person in theWest tointroduce this 2,000-year-oldmeditationmethodtoaglobalaudience. I feel honored tohave been chosen for such avenerableundertaking.Two years after I’d begun

to teach Japa, I met thisspiritual man face-to-face. IwasinvitedtoahomeinLosAngeles followinga lecture I

gave to a large seminargathering and was told thatGurujiwouldliketomeetme.Iwaitedinaprivateroomfor30 or so minutes, and thenthis great guru walked intotheroom,alldressedinwhite,and sat across from me.Neither one of us spoke awordforclosetoanhour.Wewereboth speechless,yet thelove between us is what hehascometodescribeasGrace

Lightonhiswebsite:

Grace Light is thelight of God. It isinvisible to the humaneyesbutvisibletosages,prophets, messiahs,angels and other highbeings. Grace Light hasincredible intelligenceandenergy toknowanddo everything. It is thealmighty power ofGod.

Once it is transmitted,Grace Light will do itswork in a miraculousway. It will transformthebody,mindandsoul.

I felt thisGraceLight thatGuruji describes as we satthere in silence in our veryfirst meeting. After a longsilent period, a tear left myeye and crept down mycheek.Weembracedandsaid

thank you to each other.There were very few wordsspoken,butIfeltthatwehadcommunicated with eachother via what I quotedabove.IleftthathomeinLosAngeles and had therealizationthatallofthishadsomehow been prearrangedby a celestial force that Iwouldalwaysbegratefulfor.Something inside thisman

knew that he was instructed

to contact me and get mestarted on a path of goingwithin. Japa has been agodsend for me and themillions of people who havetaken up this practice as aresult of my speaking andwriting about it publicly. Ican see clearly now whatLao-tzu meant by, “You arenot doing anything, you arejustbeingdone.”Ididn’tknowitatthetime,

but I was about to make ashift in the work that I wassent here to do, and thepractice of Japa and mymeeting with Guruji wereabsolutelyessentialformeasthis new course in my lifewasabout tounfold.Amuchwider audience was awaitingme. I obviously needed tohaveaprocedureathandthatwouldbringmeinstantaneousinner peace and a true

knowing that “all things arepossible.”Thank you! Thank you!

Thank you,Guruji, for beingwilling to bring thisphenomenal teaching to meandtrustingmetonever,everabuseitinanyway.

Itisthespringof1998,andI’ve spent the better part ofthe past year writing a book

of essays based on thewisdom of 60 of the mostprofoundly influentialteachers thathavegracedmylife. I am calling thiscompendium Wisdom of theAges, and I can imaginefutureEnglishandphilosophyteachers using it as away tobring these stimulating ideasinto the lives of youngpeople.Being a teacher first and

foremost, I warmly recall aparticular high school classthat I taught in the 1960s. Ihavealwaysfeltverystronglythat poetry, philosophy, andspiritualliteraturedonothavetobedry—theyshouldcomealive, especially for young,inquisitive minds. Mystudents in that class learnedto apply ancient wisdom totheir contemporary lives bystudyingsomeofourgreatest

masters. Almost 40 yearslater I am still teaching thewisdom to be found in greatessays.As I considerwritingmyessaysontheseteachings,I ask myself, What do ourancestral scholars, whomweconsider thewisest andmostspiritually advanced, have tosaytoustoday?Included in this

compendium of 60 essaysthat will provide readers the

opportunity to receiveguidance from our greatscholarly forebears, and torecognize their own potentialfor greatness, are Jesus,Buddha, William Blake,Emily Dickinson, WaltWhitman, Mahatma Gandhi,Rabindranath Tagore,ParamahansaYogananda,andMother Teresa. Theseancestors of ours were notjust pedantic types, writing

for professional recognition;they wrote from a place ofpassionwithadesire to raisethe human spirit to a higherplace beyond the piddlingconcernsoftheego.It’s been a gratifying year

—like being back in collegestudying the great masterswho lived before us,withoutbeing concerned aboutwritingatermpaperortakingan examination for a passing

grade on a transcript. I alsoenvision bringing theseancientwordsofwisdomtoamuch largeraudience, andasa result impacting theconsciousness of our countryandourworld.Aletterappearsinmymail

one day from Niki Vettel,who introduces herself ashaving been an executiveproducer of several PBSpledgespecials.Shewrites,“I

would like to know if youmight be interested increating a program for PBSbasedupontwoofyourmostrecentbooks.Iwouldlovetowork with you in creatingsuch a program, and Iwouldlovetoproduceitaswell.”I’mfascinatedbyherletter

and follow-up telephoneinquiry about my interest increatingaprogramtobeairednationallyasafund-raiserfor

the Public BroadcastingService. Just a few daysearlierIreceivedaletterfromfellow author Leo Buscagliaencouraging me to bring mymessage of spirituality andhigher consciousness totelevisionaudiences.The outcome of my

communication with Niki isthatwearrangetorecordtwospecial programs, one basedon my recent bookManifest

Your Destiny, and a secondprogram on this new book,Wisdom of the Ages. Thereappears tome tobeacallingtobringthisallabout—Leo’sandNiki’sunsolicited letters,and my subsequentconversation with Niki,alongsidemydesiretoimpactmore and more people in aspirituallyenlighteningway.Iknow that only one in tenpeople buy books, but

virtually everyone watchesTV in their homes. I amexcited by the prospect ofbringing these messages ofhigher awareness to a wholenewaudience.As we approach the

production deadline, Nikinervously asks if she couldtalktomeaboutsomething.Itturnsoutthatshe’sconcernedwe might not have enoughmoney in place to get the

specials together by thedeadline we’ve been given,andshewondersifIwouldbewilling to dowhat’s called a“bridge loan,” in which Iwouldputupthemoneynowand be reimbursed later. Ibelieveinmyabilitytomakethis show a success for PBSandallinvolved,andagreetohelp provide the financialunderwriting myself ifnecessary. The project is

underway!We record my first Public

TelevisionpledgeshowattheBoca Raton Resort and Clubwhereanaudienceisgatheredfor the taping. I record thefirst show,How toGetWhatYou Really, Really, Really,ReallyWant; takeaone-hourbreak; and then recordImprove Your Life Using theWisdomof theAges.My 16-year-old daughter, Skye,

sings a beautiful a cappellaversionoftheclassicspiritualsong “Amazing Grace” forthesecondprogram.Several weeks after

completingthetapingofbothshows, and while they’rebeingprepared forbroadcast,I receive a notification thatmy colleague Dr. LeoBuscagliahaspassedawayonJune12.Hewasapathfinderandaway-showerforhowto

givecompelling,entertaining,and provocative televisionlectures.IvowtomyselfthatIwilldoall thatIcantoliveuptothefaiththatLeohadinme when he encouraged meto not only support hisfavorite cause, publicbroadcasting, but to reach amuchwideraudiencethroughtelevision.I am reminded of the

commitment I made more

than20yearsago tomy firstbookforgeneralaudiences—Your Erroneous Zones— I’min the same place. I decidethat I will visit every PBSstationinthecountrythatwillhave me. I’ll become aspokesman, not only for myown work, but for the causeofpublic televisionaswell. Ilove the programming onPBS—my children were allraised on Sesame Street, the

fabulous PBS children’sprogram. I love the fact thatviolence is nonexistent onPBS daily broadcasts, andthat they’re commercial free—itfeelslikeaperfectfit.I’m geared up to go back

on the road again and bringthese lectures to America’sattention. I see the potentialfortransformationhere,andIam grateful for theopportunity to have my

messages of spiritualitybroughttothelivingroomsofpeople in every state in theunion.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

That query from NikiVettel in early 1998 was amajor turning point in my

personalandprofessionallife.It launched me into anentirelynewwayof reachinglarge numbers of people.DuringmyfirstmeetingwithNiki, I reminisced about myfascination with BishopFulton Sheen when I was ayoung boy. While all of myfriends who had televisionsets watched the comedy ofTheMiltonBerleShow, I sattransfixed listening

attentively to Bishop Sheenspeakdirectlytomeaboutthepower of my own mind tocreate thekindof life Iwantformyself.I so loved his Tuesday-

night show—it was a well-constructed, entertaining, andinformative lecture that heldthe attention of viewers intheir homes back whentelevisionwasinitsinfancy.Iwasconfident thatIcoulddo

likewiseandmakeitworkforall concerned—and that I’dhave celestial assistance aswell!I recalled Milton Berle’s

commentwhenhediscoveredthat the popular bishop hadearned an Emmy Award,while Berle had beenoverlooked for his popularcomedyshow.Berlequipped,“He’s got better writers,Matthew, Mark, Luke, and

John.” Perhaps I could enlistthese same writers in mypresentationsaswell.I took on this new

adventure with the samefervor and commitment thatinspired me to take to theroad 22 years earlier whenYour Erroneous Zones waspublished. With thecompletion of the first twoshows, I began makingpersonal fund-raising

appearances at local PBSstations on a regular basis. Itwas quite clear to Niki andme that when I was able tocome to a local studio andtalk to the audiences duringthepledgebreaks, thedollarsraised for supporting publicbroadcasting increaseddramatically. Ihadvisionsofdoing precisely what I didback in the ’70s and early’80s with the publication of

each book I wrote—I’dassumetotalresponsibilityforall aspects related to thesuccessoftheseshows.The number one priority

fortheexecutivesatPBSwasfundraising.Iftheshowmademoney through viewerscalling in and contributing,theshowwouldair,againandagain. My number one goalwasraisingtheconsciousnessof people throughout the

world. A larger viewingaudience meant more peopleinspired to support PBSfinancially. Both PBS and Icould reach our highestcallingsandobjectives.Within weeks of the

releaseofthefirsttwoshowsIearnedbackthecostsrelatedto putting the show together.Within a year we were incontracttalkswithPBStodotwomoreshows,whichwere

scheduled to record inConcord,Massachusetts—thehome of two of my mosthallowed and belovedspiritual mentors, RalphWaldo Emerson and HenryDavidThoreau.NikiVettel;myfriendReid

Tracy,whoistheCEOofmynew publisher, Hay House;and I were now a team.During every single pledgeperiod Iwas out on the road

going from station to station,frequently at my ownexpense, justas in thedaysaquarter of a century earlierwhen I was traveling allacross the country because itwas the only way to reacheveryoneatthattime.There’sa flame of intense desirewhenitcomestofulfillingthewishes that are burningwithin me. No one else candoitforme,andIcanfindno

acceptable excuses forparticipating in a project thatflounders.Iwas told bymany of the

executives in New York andWashington that the kind ofprogramming associatedwithmy presentations was notpredictive of economicsuccess. I had been told andshown the statistics on thelarge number of shows thatfailed dismally. They would

be produced and then aired,and with a few notableexceptions —such as LeoBuscaglia (fondly known asDr.Love)—theywerepushedto the wayside after one ortwoairings.IusedtowatchLeoonTV

in the pledge breaks, and Iwanted to jump through thescreen in my home and hugthis man. His enthusiasm,which in the original Greek

translates to “the Godwithin,” was his secret. Iknew I could communicatemy ideas with passion andenthusiasm as well. I knewthat peoplewouldwatch andsupport their local PBSstation if I could make thismaterial come alive withinthem—to tap into theviewers’ internalGod, if youwill.I devised a plan for

breaking down the financialhardship of contributing, andmadearrangementswithReidat Hay House to offer astupendous array of thank-yougifts for a contributor ofa dollar a day for publicbroadcastinginAmerica.AsIlook back now on mytransitionfromwriter/speakerto television personality inpublicbroadcasting I can seemoreclearly thanever that it

is that inner burning desirethatwascarryingmethroughthis transformation. I hadnothing at all on myunwilling-to-do list in orderto make my future dream apresentfact.Over the next ten years, I

madeover200personalfund-raising appearances atvirtually every single PBSstationinthecountry.Avisitmeantspendingfourhourson

television while the showsaired and then pitching thePBS mission and offering aprofusion of thankyou gifts,comprised of the books andaudio and video recordingsassociatedwiththeprogram.Iwas indefatigable in myenergy, and was reachingmillionsofpeoplewhomightnot otherwise have beenexposed to these ideas ofhigher consciousness. And

with each new book, ReidandNikiandIgottogethertodesignanewprogram,withawhole new set of thank-yougifts, and I’d head out tomake more appearances onlocalstations,manyofwhichI’d visited 10 or 12 timespreviously.Looking back at the ten

PBS specials that bear myname and my evolvingmessage, I’m proud to say

that I’ve been privileged tooften be referred to as “Mr.PBS.”The amount ofmoneyraisedforpublicbroadcastinginAmerica isn’tmeasured inthousands, hundreds ofthousands, or millions ofdollars—but in hundreds ofmillionsofdollars.Ifeel thatIwascalledtothiswork,andwas being prepared to do sowhen I was that young boysitting in front of our little

black-and-whitetelevisionsetwatching Bishop Fulton J.Sheen on Life Is WorthLiving. My fascination backthencreatedsomethingwithinme that excitedly murmured,I could do this. I know Icould. Those innerpromptings are the work ofangelic forces that havealways been there, invitingmetopursuewiderandmorefar-reachingvistas.

Leo Buscaglia was one ofthe angels, as was NikiVettel. Her decision to writeto me and encourage me toput together a trial program,and her tireless energy inproducing all ten of thesespecials for PBS, was alsodirected by invisible celestialenergy. When I read Niki’sfirst letter about thepossibility of appearing onmyownPBSshow,Ithought,

I knew this was coming—Iknew this was my destiny.Both my wife and my agentheardmesayat the time thatthis was something I’d beenaware of since my youth,when television as anentertainmentmediumwasinitsinfancy.I can see so clearly now

that my inner affirmation atage 19 of I am a teachermeant far more than one

classroom in one school. Ihad a message of self-empowerment and spiritualascendancy to bring to theworld. Bishop Fulton Sheen,Leo Buscaglia, Niki Vettel,and Reid Tracy were allangelic instigatorsaccompanyingmeinbringingtofruitionthisvisionthatI’vehad since I first watchedtelevision.Clearernowthantheymay

have been then are the twomentalliststhatIcarriedwithme.Onone list iseverythingIamwillingtodotomakemyfuture dream a present fact.On the second list iseverything I am unwilling todo—that list is alwaysblank.When the first two showswere brought to me, NikiaskedifIwouldbewillingtofly to Fresno, California,which involved three flights

eachway,andessentiallypaymyownexpensestobeinthestudio for the first program.Because of my two mentallists,Iagreedwholeheartedly.Thatvisitbecame the firstofover 200 station visitsbringing the message that’sso close tomyheart into thehomesofAmerica.We all have a destiny, a

dharma to fulfill, and thereare endless opportunities,

people, and circumstancesthat surface throughout ourlives to illuminate our path.The incidents and the peoplecreate tiny sparks that causeustorecognize,Thisisforme—this is important; this iswhy I’m here. Those sparksare signals to pay attentionand be astonished and knowthat those little sparks arebeing ignited by the sameDivine Source that is

responsibleforallofcreation.Ihavealwaysbeeneagerto

say yes to life in the beliefthatwhen I trust inmyself, Iam trusting in the verywisdomthatcreatedme.Thatinner spark isGod talking tome, and I simply refuse toignoreit.IknowthatifIfeelit and it ignites something inme, then the igniting processis the invisible, the Source,the very essence of all

creation—andI trust it to themax. This is what launchedmy public broadcastingcareer, not some lucky breakor inexplicable coincidence.It was saying yes to thosethoughtsthatburnedinsideofme, and refusing to let thembe extinguished until theywerefulfilled.

InOctober2000,Iagreetotake a small group of peopleto the city of Assisi in Italy.

This is the birthplace of St.Francis, a man who hasbecome a vital force in mylife over the past severalyears.Ihavebeenworkingona new book, There’s aSpiritual Solution to EveryProblem, based upon thefamousPrayerofSt.Francis,and I have come back toAssisi to put the finishingtouchesonthemanuscript.I feel drawn to this place

andwant to do somewritinghere because I feel that St.Francis is directing not onlymywriting,butallaspectsofmylife.Thewordsandideasfor this new book have beenso accessible, and I have felta Divine kind of extremelypeaceful energy since Idecidedthatthiswasgoingtobemynextwritingproject.In the early morning I go

for long walks alone in the

countryside,awayfromallofthe tourists who also seek tobe close to this man of Godwho lived here some 800years ago and left so manylasting impressions. I havereadofthemiraclesthatwereattributed to the man bornFrancesco di Pietro diBernardone,and Iwish tobein nature andmeditate in theenergyofthiswell-preserved,Divinecity.Ifeelthisenergy

withme, as it seems to havebeenforthepastyearwhileIhavebeenwritingeveryday.When I was considering

accepting the offer to be aguide and lectureraccompanying a small groupofpeopleonatourofAssisi,thedecisionwasmadewhenIheardmyselfsaytomywife,“Let’s go back to Assisi anddo a meditation together inthe Portiuncula Chapel that

wevisitedsixyearsago.”Marcie and I had first

visited this city in 1994withthree of our children, andsince that time we’d bothspokenofourdesiretoreturnand do ameditation togetherin the small chapel calledPortiuncula,asacredspaceofwelcome for those seekingpeace of mind, body, andspirit.ItissituatednowinsidetheBasilicaofSaintMaryof

the Angels, surrounded bymodern architecture, withbeautiful frescoes on all ofthe walls and domes. Thechapel commemorates theamazinglifeofthislittlemanwho touched the lives of somany people—it was herethatFrancescounderstoodhisvocation clearly, and withDivine inspiration foundedtheFranciscanOrder.This iswherehelivedanddied.

Inthecorridorofourhomeleading to our children’sbedroomshangsabeautifullyframedimageofthePrayerofSt.Francisthatwashandedtomebyawomanatoneofmypublic lectures. She designedandcreatedthisportrayalandtold me as she handed it tome that the message of thisprayer would be veryimportant for me. At leastonceadayforthepastdecade

I’ve read it. Long ago itwascompletely committed tomemory:

Lord,makemeaninstrumentofyourpeace.

Wherethereishatred,letmesowlove;

wherethereisinjury,pardon;wherethereisdoubt,faith;wherethereisdespair,hope;wherethereisdarkness,

light;

andwherethereissadness,joy.

ODivineMaster,grantthatImaynotsomuchseek

tobeconsoled,astoconsole;tobeunderstood,asto

understand;tobeloved,astolove.Foritisingivingthatwe

receive;itisinpardoningthatweare

pardoned,

anditisindyingthatweareborntoEternalLife.

Amen.Every time I reciteor read

it,Isaytomyself,Thisisnotaprayer;itisatechnology.Itis about being an alchemistandconvertinghatredtolove,doubt to faith, despair tohope, and sadness to joy. Inrecent months it has trulycome alive for me, becauseeach of the final seven

chapters of the book I amnow completing are titled bythe first seven lines of thisprayer.IfeelasifSt.Francishas been next to meencouraging me to write inmodern language what hewasteachingbackinthe12thand13thcenturies.Marcie and I enter the

Portiunculaandsitacrosstheaislefromeachother,able tohold hands while we

meditate. Something verystrange is happening. Weboth feel it. A cloud oftinglies envelops us. I canhardly breathe, the feeling isso overwhelming. My skinbreaksout ingoosefleshas ifenergyisrunningthroughmyentirebody.Asweleavethisholy place we both look ateach other unable to eventalk.We are both touched atthesoullevel.

The next daywe visit SanDamiano to see the homewhere St. Clare lived andpreached as a devotedFranciscan, living out hervowofchastityandpoverty.Iam walking up the windingstaircase to the third levelwhen a young man namedJohn Graybill II, who hasbraces on his legs due to hismuscular dystrophy, informsme that he’s unable to

continue the upward climb.The staircase is too narrow,andhecan’textendhislegfarenoughtoeithersideinordertomakethenextupwardstep.He is a member of our tourgroup and asks me what todo, as he can’t walk up andhecannotretreat.I tell him to put his arms

aroundmyneck—Iwillcarryhim on my back. I simplyforgetthatI’vebeentoldthat

my quarter of a century ofdaily running and tennis hascreated enough deteriorationthatIwillsoonbeacandidatefor a knee replacement. Idon’t think about my knee,with bone on bone, or that Iforgot to put on the smallbracethatIuseforsupport.I take three or four steps

upward with John on myback, cradling his arms overmyshoulders,andIsuddenly

feelmykneegrowingweakerand weaker. I am about tocollapse with the weight ofJohn and his braces on mybody. I panic. There’s asingle long line of peoplebehindme.Istarttogodownwith John on top ofme, andsuddenly I see an apparitionof Francesco. He looksdirectly at me and saysnothing.Heholdsoutbothofhis hands and motions them

upward, signaling for me tostand up. I right myself, andsuddenlyIamexplodingwithhighenergy.Istarttowalkupwith John on my back, andthenImoveintoatrotonthestone circular stairway. Ibegin to run with unabatedenergy. My knee feels as ifit’sneverbeenstronger!I reach the top, where my

wife and most of the rest ofthe tour group arewaiting to

visit the small reproducedbedroom of St. Clare, thefounder of the Poor ClareSisters. With a startledexpression on her face,Marcie asks, “Whathappened?” I tell her that Ijust experienced a genuinemiracle.IsawSt.Francisandhemotionedmeupward.She says, “But everyone

else is all out of breath, andyou’re running with John on

your back, and you forgot toput on your knee brace thismorning.” I tell her I can’texplain it. I am fullyenergized, my leg feelshealed.Iaskeveryonearoundmetopleaseexcuseme.Iwalk over to the edge of

thebalconyonthethirdlevelofthisancientedifice,putmyhands together, and look outtoseeifIcanonceagaingazeon the apparition of St.

Francis. Only a few weeksback I was carried off of atenniscourtbecausemyrightkneehadgivenout,andIwastold the news that I’dprobably need a kneereplacement. Now it feelsstrongerthanever!AsIsayasilent prayer of gratitude, awomannamedPatriciaEagansnapsapictureofmeleaningover the balcony givingthanks to St. Francis. I take

my wife’s hand and walkeffortlesslydownthewindingstaircaseaftersayingaprayerin St. Clare’s humble abodehere inSanDamiano.Wegofor a long walk in thecountryside, and I amwalking without any pain inmy knee for the first time inyears.Blisshasoverwhelmedme,

and I feel very humbled bythis second visit to Assisi. I

have been reading andcontemplating the Prayer ofSt. Francis for almost adecade. Now he’s come intomylifeandshownhimselftomeforjustafewseconds.Later, sitting in my hotel

room,Iputthefinalfinishingtouches on There’s aSpiritual Solution to EveryProblem. I know that thespiritofthismanfromAssisi,who lived almost 800 years

agorighthereinthisbeautifulvillageinItaly,isguidinganddirectingmylifeinawaythatdefies description. I feel soprofoundly loved, so blessedto have partaken of thismiraculousexperience.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

EversinceImadetheshiftto focusing on teachingspirituality and higherconsciousness, Francesco diPietro diBernardone, aka St.Francis ofAssisi, has been amajor force in my life. Thissaintlymanhashadauniqueplace in my heart for sometime. I think it beganwhen Ihung the gift of thebeautifully framed print ofthe Prayer of St. Francis on

thewallofourhome.As thedays and years passed afterhanging it there, Imust haverecited the prayer thousandsof times. I believe thatFrancesco played some kindof a Divine role in placingthat framed prayer in myhands back in the early1980s.I have watched every film

ever made about St. Francis,and I have a small library of

bookswrittenabouthim.Inapast-life regression someyearsagoIsawmyselflivingas,orwith,St.Francis.WhenI came out of that hypnoticstateIhadsuchaclearvisionabout how to handle anongoingcrisis inmy life thatit was all resolved withinminutes of my coming backtothepresentmoment.I find this all very

fascinating as I lookbackon

Francesco’s influence in mylife. I wasn’t raised in aCatholic tradition, butsomehow I’m incrediblydrawn to the story of thisman’s life and his profounddevotion to his belief, alongwith his spiritual connectionto Jesus, which brought himthestigmatainthefinalyearsof his life. Something wasputtingenormouspressureonme to go to Assisi and

experienceitfirsthand.Itwasan internal knowing that thisman and his life story weresomehow mystically tied inwithmyown.I’ve always been touched

by St. Francis’s ability tocommune peacefully andlovingly with the animals,especially the birds whofearlessly gathered near him.I loved his compassion foreveryone, including those he

personallyfeared,suchastheleperswhomhebefriended. Ican see clearly now thatFrancesco lived up to whatPatanjali offered in his yogasutras a thousand or moreyears before the birth of thesaint. “When you aresteadfast,” Patanjali said—meaningyounever,everslip,“in your abstention ofthoughts of harm directedtoward others, all living

creatures will cease to feelenmity in your presence.”Francescowasofsuchpuritythat even wild animals weretamed by his steadfastness.He was pure Christconsciousness, andeverything I read about himmademewanttobelikehimin as many ways as I couldsummon.Looking back at that

moment when my knee

healed at the castle in SanDamiano, I can see muchmore clearly how and whythis came about. For a longperiod of time I let my egoexplain it away, saying tomyself that this happened tome because I was a well-known spiritual teacher wholoved Francesco and thishealing was a gift to me. Iknowbetternow.The ascended masters

cometouswithguidanceandhelp, not because of ourprayers for their intervention,or our prominence—theycome to us when they canrecognize themselves in us.That moment occurred whenI put my ego aside,spontaneously offeringassistance to a frail man inneed,withoutthoughtsofanyproblems this might presentforme.Iactedin thewayan

ascended master such as St.Francis would act. Herecognized himself, a beingof unconditional love, in meat that moment, and hemanifested. In his presence,the injury in my knee waspardoned.Ashisprayersays,“Where there is injury,pardon.” I learned a hugelesson from that day in SanDamiano—miracles happenwhenwethinkandactasGod

does. I now see clearly thatthis means serving withouthesitation, ignoring thedemands of the ego, andaskingfornothinginreturn.The following year the

newly published There’s aSpiritual Solution to EveryProblemwasavailable to thepublic with Patricia Eagan’sphoto, after that miraculousmoment, on the cover. Withtearfulappreciationforallthe

wisdom it contained forliving a spirituallyenlightened life, I held thebook I’d written partially inAssisi, based on theilluminating teachings of theman who grew up there andbecame a living saint beforehisdeathin1226.I decided to do a massive

book-promotion tour to shareFrancesco’s teachings andhelp raise the consciousness

of our troubledworld. I flewouttoSanDiegotobegintheeight-week tour that wasscheduled to start inSeptember. The PBS showbased upon the teachings ofthePrayer of St. Francis thatI’d recorded in Concord,Massachusetts, would airsimultaneously with mynationaltour.Following a full day of

scheduled interviews on San

Diego media, I awoke to aphonecall frommydaughterTracy,whotoldmetoturnonthe TV. Our country wasbeingattacked,andtheWorldTrade Center buildings inNewYorkwereonfireandindangerofcollapsing.Itwas6:15A.M.Acopyof

USATodayforSeptember11,2001, was on the carpetinside my hotel room door.Amidst the chaos shown on

the television, I opened thenewspaper, and therewas anadformyjust-publishedbookcovering 80 percent of thepage. In bold print theheadingannouncedThere’saSpiritual Solution to EveryProblem. I thought of theironythatanalmostfull-pagead in a national newspaperwould appear on this daywhen we appeared to beensconced in a very big

problem that affectedeveryone—not just in ourcountry, but on our entireplanet.Ilookbackwithaknowing

that the ad appearing on thatday,proclaiming that there isa spiritual solution to everyproblem,wasnotanaccident.There are no accidents, nocoincidences—we have towork together to come upwithaspiritualsolutiontothe

hatredthatfosterssuchmean-spirited, evil actions. Man’sinhumanity to man will onlybe solved when we take upthe mantle of the life andteaching of St. Francis ofAssisi. I can see clearly nowthat those inexplicablefeelingsofconnection to thisman were and are theexpressions of a DivineSource that seeks to beknowninourworldnow.

I inhale and exhalegratitude formy healed kneeeverydaywhenIdoyoga,orswim in the ocean, or go forlong walks. I smile as thevisage of Francesco crossesmy inner screen, and Iimagine him there holdingout his arms and beckoningme to rise. And I can seeclearly now that whathappened to me individuallyis being offered through me

totheworld.

It is the spring of 2003. Iam 62 years old and goingthroughmyveryfirstboutof

extended deep sadness. Isleepforlongperiodsoftime,can’t seem to get myselfmotivated to do much ofanything, and have lost atleast 25 pounds. I don’t feellike eating, and I have toforce myself to get outsideand continue my dailyrunningpractice.PeopleclosetomeoftenaskifIhavesomesort of illness that I don’twant to talk about. I know I

aminastateofdepression.TwoyearsagoIsuffereda

mild heart attack. AnangiogramrevealedthatIhada99percentblockage inoneartery leading into my heartthatmayhavebeen a part ofmy physical anatomy sincebirth.My heart’s strong, anddamage is minimal. A stentwas inserted in the blockedartery, and Iwasback tomynormal exercise and work

routinequitequickly.Today I have a healthy

heart according to all of themedical exams—however, itis indeed very much brokenotherwise. My wife and Iseparated almost two yearsago. She is involved in arelationship with a man sheloves very much, and I amessentiallyinastateofshock.Ineverimaginedthatatthe

age of 62 I would be

experiencing the emotionaleffects of a separation. I’vebeen down this road before,andIthoughtitwasallinthepast at this stage of my life.Marcelene and I have sevenbeautiful children, and weboth love them very dearly.There is no fault to assignhere.Itakefullresponsibilityformyrole in thebreakupofthis marriage. It’s just that Ican’t seem to bring myself

out of this funk. Medical-doctorfriendsurgemetotakeantidepressants. When myfamily physicianwritesme aprescription for one of thesedrugs, I tear it topiecesafterreading the potential sideeffects of this kind of pilltherapy.Severalofmychildrenare

concerned about my healthand try to help in theirconversations with me.

They’ve often suggestedlovingly, “You seem sodepressed … maybe youshould try writing to bringyou some peace of mind.” Iam deeply grateful for theirconcern,andatthesametimeMarcie and I are doingeverythingwecantokeepthechildrenoutofthisseparationanxietythatwebothfeel.A year or so ago I came

across some words while

reading Carlos Castaneda’sbook The Power of Silencethat struck a chord deepwithin me. I had thestatement copied andlaminatedon a card so that Icould carry it with me. Themoment I read thesewords Iknew the direction mywriting would take, yet thisseparation and semi-breakupof our family has kept mefrom even thinking about

taking on such a giganticproject as planning andwritinganentirebook.Today I remove the

laminatedcardfrommyshirtpocket and read Castaneda’swords softly to myself: “Inthe universe there is anunmeasurable, indescribableforce which sorcerers callintent, and absolutelyeverything that exists in theentire cosmos is attached to

intentbyaconnectinglink.”Iam enthralled by this idea ofintentionnotbeingsomethingthat we do, but rather anenergy thatweareconnectedto.I put the card back in my

front pocket, feeling theimpact of these words. Weare all connected to anindescribable, invisible fieldcalledintent—allIhavetodoto heal myself is cleanse

myselfofthenumbnessthatIfeel, andmy connecting linkto this great Source calledintent will be once againwhole.I begin to see that I have

been wallowing in my ego,and I’m filled with deepsadnessbecauseIretreatedtoan ordinary level ofconsciousness. I temporarilylostmyconnection toGod—to the field Castaneda is

calling intent. I have anepiphany right on the spot. Iam going to take the adviceof my children and begindoingwhatIlovethemost—that is,writing.Iwillcleansemy own connecting link tointent,andIwillwriteabookthat will help millions ofotherstodothesame.I had thought of intention

as something that I do—anattitude of determination and

indomitable will. But Isuddenlyrecognizethatistheego’s definition, needing totake credit for making big-time changes in one’s life.Now I am thinking of intentas a field, to which I’malways connected albeit witha seriously corroded link. IcallReidTracyatHayHouseand tell him that I am goingto be writing a book on thepower of intention, based on

the ideas that are on alaminated card that I havebeenconstantlycarryingwithme.I spend the better part of

the next year writing everyday; in the process, I comeout of the sadness thatenveloped me the past twoyears. I find thatmy state ofdespondency over my newmarital status of “separated”is changing the complexion

of my writing. I have morecompassion for myself as aresult of actively doing whatmakes me feel purposeful,which is writing. Thiscompassion is reflected inwhat Iwrite, andmywritingis flowing in a way that isentirelynewtome.Ihaveasmallframeonmy

deskthatIlookateachdayasIbegintowrite.Itsays:

Goodmorning,ThisisGod.

IwillbehandlingAllofyour

Problemstoday.Iwillnotneed

Yourhelp,sohaveAmiraculousday.

I feel that the presence ofGod—the field of intent, ifyou will—is doing thewritinghere.Irealizethatthe

pain of my separation frommy wife is actually makingme a more tender andempathetic writer. I noticethatmy public lectures are abit softer, laced more withkindnessandloveratherthanbeingwittyandmaybeevenatad hard-hearted. My brokenheart is healing; myrelationshiptoMarcieandhernew love has improvedsignificantly.

Fast-forward to thefollowingspring.Threeyearshave passed since the shockof the separation, and mynewest book, The Power ofIntention, is about to bereleased. I have contactedNikiVettel, and she is goingto be the executive producerofmynewPBSspecial tobefilmedatEmersonCollegeinBoston.WhenIholdThePowerof

Intention inmy hand, I havethe paradoxical awarenessthatitwasmyowndeepgriefthatallowedmetowritefroma new place of compassionandempathy.IconsiderthatItruly needed to go to thelowest point in my life inorder to advance to the nextstage of my own Divinemission.Noaccidentshere, Irealize. I needed this jolt inordertounderstandandwrite

this highly spiritual book onlearning how to co-createone’sownlife.IntentionisnotsomethingI

have done, even in thewriting of this book. It is ajoint effort with the creativeSourceofall,whichthegreatsorcerers call intent. I knowthat intention is notsomething that I do becauseof a rigid determination tobring it about; it is what

happens when I cleancorroding elements from theconnectinglinktothefieldofintent.Thatiswhenintentionstarts to kick in. I know as Ihold this book in my handsthatGodwritesallthebooks,andbuildsallthebridges,anddelivers all the speeches. Ican become a corrosion-freelinktotheSourceofall—thefield from which all thingsareintended.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

At the timemywife and Iseparated—after over 20years of togetherness, and inthe process of raising sevenchildren together—I thoughtmy world had come to anend. Despite all of mytraining and life experience,andmymany books on self-

empowerment, the emotionalimpact of our separation leftme feeling anything butempowered.AndyetasIlookat the significance of thisevent from a distance, I canseeclearlythat thistraumaticepisode shifted me upwardinto becoming a morecompassionateandspirituallyaware person. Virtually allspiritual advances that wemake in our lives are

preceded by some kind of afall.That fallof living in themiddle of melancholy forcedme to figure out a way toclimboutandreachhigher.I look back on our

separation (which stillcontinues today, even thoughwehaveneverfiledforafinaldivorce) as a gift. A gift forwhich I expressmygratitudeevery day. Marcie and I areclosernowthanweeverhave

been.Allofourchildrenfeelthe love that bothof us havefor each and every one ofthem.Wespendtimetogetheras a family frequently, andthere is nothing but respectandloveforeachother.The book that I wrote

while I was feeling sodespondent over ourseparation was by far themost well-received book Ihad written since Your

Erroneous Zones waspublished 28 years earlier. Ihave receivedmoremail andhavehadmorepeopletellmehow much The Power ofIntention influenced andchanged their lives for thebetter than I have for any ofthe 41 books that I haveauthored since 1971. Peoplesay to me, “There issomethingaboutthewayyoudescribedintentionthatreally

spoketome.Ittrulychangedmylife.”I wrote this book from a

place of almost radicalhumility, and compassionvirtually oozed onto everypage.Myownfallforcedmeto climb upward and writefromafarmoreGod-realizedplace—aplacewhereIcouldhave genuine empathy foreveryone wanting theirconnecting link to theDivine

Source of all to be cleansedofallthecorrosionthatkeepsthemlivingatordinarylevelsofconsciousness.The PBS show that I

recorded as a pledge specialfor The Power of IntentionwasthemostsuccessfulshowinraisingfundsforPBSthatIhave ever done.The ideas inthislecture,whichweretakenfrom my book, seemed toresonate with audiences all

across thecountry.Theshowwasairedthousandsoftimes,frequentlyinprimetime.Itisclear that the desolation anddepression that I was goingthrough as I wrote impactedmillions of people in apositive way. Had I not hadtheopportunitytogothroughthisgloomandwritemywayout of it, this book couldneverhavecomeabout.I have come to understand

that I shouldalwaysstrive tobe ina stateofgratitude,notsimply for the niceties thatshow up, but also for thethings that appear to be sodevastating. A hard lesson,butonethatIapplyregularlynow, ever since I saw theenormousspiritualadvancesIwasabletomakeoverwhatIthought at the time was theendofmyhappiness.OnthedaythatIdecidedI

was going to write a bookbased on a little quote fromthe teachings of CarlosCastaneda,which I had beencarrying with me in mypocketforwelloverayear,Ireceived a letter from myspiritual teacher and guru,Shri Guruji. The man whowas responsible for teachingme the Japa meditation adecadeearlierheardaboutmyseparation and subsequent

despondency,andhesentmea letter with one sentence,which is taped to thewall ofmy sacred writing space tothis day. It says, “DearWayne: The sun is shiningbehindtheclouds.”This was the spark that

mademestopengaginginmypitypartyandgetonwithmyown dharma. The cloudsrepresent any and all of theso-called problems that are

omnipresent in all of ourlives. The sun behind theclouds is God—the field ofintention, the Divine mind.All I needed to dowas clearaway those clouds, and thereshiningbrightly, I couldnowsee clearly my Source ofbeing. And the words of myfriend the late ElisabethKübler-Ross ring true to measIwritetoday:“Shouldyoushield the canyons from the

windstorms,youwouldneversee the beauty of thecarvings.”The saddest,most difficult

time of my life ultimatelyallowed me to write apowerfulbookandproduceaspectacularly impactful PBSspecial, both of whichtouched the lives of millionsof people. That storm in mylifewasresponsibleformanyspiritual advances being

carvedout, and it steeredmylife in a new direction onmany fronts that extend waybeyondmypublicpersona.As I look back, I am in a

profoundstateofgratitudeforall of the storms of my life,especially for that CategoryFive hurricane that showeduptokeepmeonthepathofteaching and living Divineloveandhigherawareness.

I have just finished givinga lecture in New York Citybefore several thousand

people at anOmega InstituteseminaronApril3,2005.I’mstanding outside the hotelballroom surrounded bypeople seeking autographsand photo opportunities. Ilookup,andmyeyescatchanincredibly striking Africanwoman at the back of thecircleofpeoplearoundme. Iam immediately takenby thefact that she seems to radiatesuchahighlyspiritualenergy,

it’salmostangelic.As the crowd of people

beginstothinout,Iapproachthis woman and ask her,“Where are you from?” Invery broken English shereplies,“IamfromRwanda.”The night before in my

hotelroomIhadwatchedthefilmHotelRwanda. Iaskherif she is familiar with whattranspired in that Africannation in 1994. Her friend

who is helping her with thelanguage responds, “Yes,Dr.Dyer.Shewasthere.Shewaslocked in a bathroom for 90days with seven otherwomen,andthestoryofhowshesurvivedthatholocaustisone of the most inspiringstories of courage and faiththat anyone has ever heard.Ever.”I ask theRwandanwoman

to write down her name and

exchange e-mail addresseswithmy daughter Skye,whoisstandingnexttome.Iwantto know more about thisfascinating individual whoseradiant, almost celestialenergy captured me the veryfirst moment I laid eyes onher.AweekpassesandIaskSkyetopleasesendherane-mail askingher to callme inMaui, where I’m putting thefinishing touches on a new

booktitledInspiration.I still don’t know this

striking woman’s name, butsomething inside of me hastaken over and replaced alllogic.Ihaveaninstantaneousknowingthatwearegoingtowork together on the samemission. I feel a strong needto call Reid Tracy and tellhim, “I have just met aremarkable woman who hasanastoundingstorythatmust

betold.Iwantyoutopublishher as-yet-unwritten book,andIwillputher inmynextPBS special to introduce herto the world.” Reid tells methat he would be happy topublishherstoryandwillfindsomeone to work with hersince English is her thirdlanguage.I finally receive an e-mail

fromSkyetellingmethatshehas located the lady from

Rwanda.Ipickupthephone,and Immaculée Ilibagiza andI speak for the next severalhours.And she relates tomethemost astonishing storyofsurvivalIhaveeverheard.It is estimated that more

than one million men,women, and children wereslaughteredwithmachetes inthis tiny country that’s aboutthe size of the state ofMaryland. The Hutu and

Tutsi tribeshad livedsidebyside in the once-peacefulcountry,butaconflicteruptedwhen the president ofRwanda was killed and theHutus declared a “finalsolution”fortheTutsis.Immaculée hid in a

crampedbathroomwithsevenother women for 90consecutivedays.Duringthatdark nightmare of unabatedkilling,herweightdroppedto

65 pounds, and her parentsand twoofherbrotherswereall slaughtered mercilessly.Yet she managed to stayalive.The very first moment we

met, I knew in an absoluteflash of insight that Iwas inthe presence of a uniquelyDivine woman. Our longconversations have givenmea whole new perspective onthe power of faith, and I

know that Immaculée has amessage for all ofhumankind. Her story has tobe told, and something deepwithin me is pushing me tomakethishappen.IaskhertotitlethebookLefttoTell,andtellherthatI’dconsideritanhonor to write the Forewordto her book when it iscomplete.I commit to doing

everything I possibly can to

bring this heroic woman’sstory to the world. I contactNiki Vettel and inform herthat I want to introduceImmaculée to the Americanpublic on my PBS show oninspiration, which is to berecordedinNovemberinSanFrancisco.IaskImmaculéetokeep her schedule clear forthe next two to three yearsbecauseIwanthertospeakateachofmypubliclectures.

Themore details I hear ofImmaculée’s ordeal in the1994Rwandanholocaust, themoreIbegintobelievethatIam talking to a person whohasachievedanextraordinarylevel of enlightened, higherawareness. When sheconverses at a dinner table,allwhoarepresentarealmostmagnetically drawn to her.Thereissomethingmorethancharisma at work here.

Immaculée not only speaksaboutunconditional love,sheradiates it with everyone—even toward the Hutus whowere responsible for thehorrificmurdersofherentirefamily in Rwanda. She livesat an elevated level ofspiritual consciousness, and Iamblessedtobeabletodoallthat I can to bring thisextraordinarywomanandherstorytotheworld.

It is nowOctober 1, and Iwill be recordinganewPBSshow 40 days from now.Immaculée is working everyday on her book, and she isvery nervous about speakingontelevisionforthefirsttimebecause of her languageconsiderations.I have been immersed in

the unbelievable challenges

she underwent in herdetermination to survive—when only a tiny handful ofTutsis survived the 100-daybloodbath that left so manycorpses littering thecountryside of that formerlybucolic country in centralAfrica.Immaculée is a devout

Catholic. While only inchesaway from being hacked todeath, she used her faith in

Jesustostayalive;infact,shesaysshetrulydiscoveredGodin the midst of ademonstration of man’sabominable inhumanity toman.I am inspired to challenge

myselfinaminorway,justtogainatinyappreciationofthestruggle that Immaculéeexperienced. Jesus, whomboth Immaculée and I loveunconditionally, spent 40

days in the desert at thebeginning of his publicministry. This was a time oftesting and preparation forhim.Today,I’llbetakingmyfirst Bikram yoga class—90minutes of intense yogapractice in a room that is adesert-hot 110 degrees. Itpales in significance to whatJesus and Immaculéeexperienced, but I am 65years old and choose to test

andpreparemyselfaswell. Iam committed to doing 40consecutive days of thispractice. The word yogameans“union.”Thatis,unionwithGod,ourcreativeSourceof being. The wordinspirationmeans“in-Spirit.”Awayofexperiencingunionwithour spiritualSourceandto stay in-Spirit. It all seemstomakeperfectsensetome.When I take Immaculée to

the Bikram yoga class, shejokingly tells me that it washarder than living in the tinybathroom with seven otherwomen.YetonNovember10I complete my 40thconsecutive hot yoga class—andIamacommittedyogi.Iwill practice this ancientspiritualcustomfortherestofmy life. My 40 consecutivedays leaveme feeling as if Icanaccomplishanything.

Well into my three-hourtelevisionprogramforPBS,Ibring Immaculée onto thestage. Even though herlanguage isabitofabarrier,she completely mesmerizesthe audience and receives astanding ovation. Everyonewho sees her has the samereaction that I had the veryfirst moment my eyes methers justsevenmonthsago.Iamsoproudtohavehershare

the stage and the spotlightwith me. I can write aboutinspiration all day, but thiswoman with herunconditionally loving andforgiving countenance is aliving, breathing example ofwhat it means to live in-Spirit.Fast-forward to Monday,

March6,2006.ThenewPBSpledge special, Inspiration:Your Ultimate Calling, has

played in prime time invirtually every city inAmerica that has a publictelevision station. The showis scheduled to air severalthousand times this monthalone. Immaculée is a hugehit across the country—herstory of faith and survivalleavesnooneuntouched.Iamonthephonewithher

now as she stares at hercomputer screen to see that

the two top-selling books inthe country are Inspirationand Left to Tell. Thefollowing week, ImmaculéeIlibagizaisaNewYorkTimesbest-selling author. I ambeyond elated. I am honoredtohavehadthisDivinebeingshowupinmylifeandteachme the unfathomable powerof faith and Divine love inperson.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Immaculée traveled withme to every speakingengagementforovertwoandahalfyears,andwhereverwewent, audiences fell in lovewith her. As I look back ontheimpactshe’shadonme,Iimmediately see images ofboth Mother Teresa and

Viktor Frankl. She has thesame impact on audiencesthat Mother Teresa did:Somehow the room getssofter when Immaculéespeaks. She has the samequalityofbeingabletomakeeveryone feelmore at peace,almost as if she radiatesoutwardakindof angelmistthat envelops everyone whocomesintocontactwithher.Viktor Frankl was also a

holocaust survivor, and hisdetermination to survive theNazi extermination campswas fueled by his obsessivedesire to tell the story to theworld. Itwas inDr. Frankl’shonorthatIaskedImmaculéeto title her bookLeft to Tell.The very fact that a Tutsiwoman was able to survivethat 100-day macheterampage against any and allmembers of her tribe was a

miracle in and of itself. Shetruly felt that itwasherdutyto tell every detail of herharrowingordeal.Immaculée’s presence in

my life at that time wasanother of those eventsorchestrated by a Divinepower. There was anindefinable spiritualconnection that existedbetweenusfromtheveryfirstmomentoureyesmet.Divine

intervention was working sothat Immaculée “happened”tobeinthathotelonthatdayand was curious enough tostayandwatchabooksigningby an author she’d neverheardof. Ihaveneverbeforeorsincebeensopossessedtoactonaninnerfeeling.Ihadtolocateher.Ihadtohelphergetpublished.Ihadtoputheron my TV show. I had tohavehertravelwithmesothe

worldcouldseeatruemiracle—asaintinmyeyes.WhatIcanseeclearlynow

is that Immaculée wasdirected intomy life to haveme see, up close andpersonal, a living, breathingexample of what we all canaccomplish when we gowithin and surrender to aDivine Source. She becameone with God during herconfinement in that

bathroom.SheknewthatGodwaswith her, as she actuallysaw a cross of light bar herand her companions fromcertain death—and angels oflove and compassion seemedtoemergeoutofnowherethemore she intensified hercommunionwithHim.Whilehiding in the bathroomImmaculée was aware of therampage of murder takingplace in her country against

herfellowTutsisbecauseshecould hear radio broadcastsoutside of her bathroomwindow. Yet in the midst ofthishideousoutrage,shewasabletoforgivehertormentorsandevensendthemlove.Immaculée brought a

whole new sense of thepossibilities of miraclesoccurring when a person is100 percent aligned with hisor her Source of being. My

almost obsessive desire tofind her, help her get herstoryout,write theForewordforherbook,haveheronthePBS special, and take herwithmeforovertwoyearsofspeakingengagementshad tobe coming from a DivineSource. She’s also totallyresponsibleformotivatingmeto take up the practice ofyoga, which I desperatelyneeded, and which I still do

regularly as a component ofmyownspiritualpractice.Left to Tell is one of the

best-selling books that HayHouse has ever published,and Immaculée’s message ofhope, unconditional love,forgiveness, and pure faithcontinues to impact millionsofpeopleallovertheworld.Hangingonmywallisthis

briefnote:

DearestWayne:You are the most

beautiful being in thewholeworld! I love youwith allmy heart. I canonlypraythatGodgivesback a thousand timestheblessingsandjoyyougive. If you only knowhow blessed I feel toknowyou.(Ihadtowritethis in case I don’t getserious enough to

expressthesefeelings.)

I treasurethisnote,andallI can say is I could havewrittenitmyselfanddirectedit to the beautiful soul whowas left to tell—right backatcha,Immaculée.

It is May 11, 2005—theday after my 65th birthday.This is the traditional age at

whichIamsupposedtoretireandspendmyremainingdayssitting in an idyllic settinglistening to the birds andcontemplating my navel. Mywork is now supposed to becomplete. Yet I cannot evenponder the concept ofretirement! Retire to what?Retirefromwhat?Iamfeelingastrong inner

push to make a significantchangeinmylife,whichI’ve

never felt before. When Ilook around at the mountainofstuffthatI’veaccumulated,I feel oddly that all of thisstuff really ownsme. It’s anempty feeling, and I feeltrapped by it. If I choose tomove,howamIgoingtogetall of this stuff from here towhere I want to go? I sitdownintheblueleatherchairwhere I’ve spent countlesshours meditating over the

past several years, and I askforguidance.I have a calling to do

something very big—something thatwillchallengeme more than I have everbeen challenged before. Icontinuously think ofImmaculée, who attributeshersurvival toher faith—herconsciouscontactwithGod—and of how she enduredphysical and emotional

hardships beyond whatanyone could imagine. Iknow that I’m not beingcalled to suffer, as wasImmaculée’s fate, but I amfeeling an irrepressible sensethat it is now time forme tomake a huge change in mylife.I havebeen staying in and

out of Florida for the pastfour years and am stillseparatedfrommywife.Iam

not happy or healthy stayingsoclose,andIknowthatitistime forme to beginwritingagain. Sitting in my bluechair meditating, I note afamiliar figure repeatedlymoving across my innerscreen that triggers thoughtsofhaving just reread theTaoTe Ching, 81 short versesoffering spiritual awakeningto those who study and livebyitsteachings.

The 2,500-year-oldspiritualtextwasgiventomeby my friend Stuart Wildemore than a decade ago.Butthe Tao has been coming upformealotlately,Irealize.Ijust completed reading thebook A Million Little Piecesby James Frey, and the TaoTeChingisalloverit.Whilein Las Vegas on a speakingengagement I joined friendsat the TaoRestaurant,where

theentiredécor,andeventhemenu, is a Taoist theme. Ialso remember Stuart tellingme how much wisdom is inthat little book, and how heencouragedme to study it indepth, frequently telling methat thiswas thewisest bookeverwritten.NowIseeanoldmanwho

is Asian in appearance,informingmethatIambeingcalled to begin living by the

teachings of the Tao TeChing, and that this willreturnsomeofmylosthealthandhappiness. I comeoutofmy deep meditation, and Ihaveacertaintyaboutwhat Imustdo.I recall how my wild and

crazy mentor and friendStuart once told me how hehad lefteverythingheownedbehind just by closing thedoor andwalking away from

it. For years I thought of theparadox inherent in such ascene. Leaving everythingseems so final, and besidesthereissuchanattachmenttoa lifetime of accumulatedstuff.Ontheotherhand,thereis such freedom in havingnothingtoholdoneback—tomove ahead unencumbered,to be as free as those birdsI’msupposedtolistentonowthat Iamof retirementage. I

feelas if Iambeingdirectedto make this move to shedeverything.I pick up the phone and

call my personal assistant,Maya, who has worked forand with me for over aquarterofacentury.Itellherto drive over to my gardenapartment, which has servedas my office and writingspace for almost threedecades.Asshewalksupthe

sidewalk, I hand her the keyand say, “I want you to getrid of everything I own, andthen I want you to put thisplaceupforsale.”Mayaisinshock.Shetells

me there must be 20,000books in there. What shouldshe do with all of thefurniture? My clothes? Myshoes?My framedmementoson the walls? Thephotographs? The mountain

of old tax records andpersonal papers? I tell her,“Here is the key; I am donehere.I’lltellmychildrenthatthey have first choice oneverything in there. The restyouaretodisposeof.Giveitallaway.”She tries to talk sense into

me, but I am adamant. I amletting go of all myattachments and heading tomywriting space onMaui. I

am being called to dosomething on the Tao TeChing.I’mnotsurewhat,butIknowIambeingtold to letgo,andletGod.I walk away from

everything.Mayaisinchargeof all of my stuff, and I amfeeling an unbelievablystrongsenseofreliefandjustplainawe. I rememberhowIfeltwhenStuart toldmehowhehadlefteverythingbehind

—therewasanexcitement inthe pit of my stomach, andhereIamdoingpreciselythesamething.At different times during

the transition I think aboutthings I might really want. Idon’tevenhaveacopyofmydoctoral dissertation. Ohwell, I’ve never once lookedat it in35years.Whataboutmy favorite pants and shoesand all of the great shirts?

Maya has given them allaway to a group of peoplewholiveunderanoverpassina homeless enclave. IrememberwhatIhavetaughtin somanyofmybooks andlectures: We come from no-where to now-here withnothing. We leave now-herefor no-where with nothing.No-where, now-here; it’s allthe same. It’s just a questionofspacing.

OnMaui I read and studytheTaoTeChing every day.It is a book filled withparadox. Do less. Achievemore. Think small andaccomplish big things. TheTao does nothing and leavesnothing undone. We are alldoingnothing;rather,wearebeing done. God iseverywhere.God is nowhere.I know in some mysteriousway I have been called by

Lao-tzu, the author of theTao,tobringthemessagesofthe Tao Te Ching to a 21st-centuryaudience.ItalktoReidatHayHouse

and inform him that I amgoing to write individualessays on how to apply thewisdom of each of the 81verses of the Tao Te Ching.But before I can write theseessays, I must invest myselfin each one of the verses. I

explainmyplan toReid,andhe gives me an enthusiasticgo-ahead.I will read the Tao Te

Chingverseone,ondayone.Then I will meditate on it,tossitaroundinmymindforfour days, and consult withLao-tzu. I have severalportraits of him around mywriting space: In one he’sclad in a simple robe, inanotherhestandswithastaff,

andinathirdheisastrideanox. But the most tellingimage I have of him is theone I see when I close myeyes in meditation. Aftercontemplating and ponderingthe meaning in verse one, Iwill awaken on the fifth dayandwriteanessayonhowtoapply the wisdom of thatverse.Iintendtodothisfour-and-

a-half-day ritual for each of

the 81 verses; devoting theentire year of 2006 to thisproject.ThisiswhatIfeelsocalledtodo.Alloftheomensthat have come to meconcerning Lao-tzu and theTao are directing me to thisexciting task. I will not onlywriteabouttheTaoTeChing,I’ll become a Taoist myselfand ask Lao-tzu in mymeditationswhatIshouldsayineachofthe81verses.Iwill

call the book Change YourThoughts—ChangeYourLife.IamonaTaoistmission.I

have left everything I wasattachedtoinordertoengagemyself in this herculean taskat the age where everyonetells me I should be slowingdown and enjoyingmyself. Iam truly overjoyed withanticipation. I know that thegreat wisdom of Lao-tzu isnot outdated in the least,

simplybecauseitwaswritten2,500 years ago. The wordTao istheChineseversionofthewordGod—the invisible,nameless energy that’sresponsibleforalloflife.I receive a book from a

person who knows I amundertaking this project,called Jesus and Lao Tzu:The Parallel Sayings, editedby Martin Aronson. On onesideofthepagearethewords

of Jesus, who walked onEarth longafterLao-tzu;andon theother sideof thepageare the words of Lao-tzu,expressing the same ideasusingslightlydifferentwords.This is ancient truth, Divinewisdom,andIamnowaboutto begin a new and excitingchapter in my life. I am notjust a teacher, but a studentand teacher of ancientwisdom, with a 2,500-year-

old invisible mentor as myguide.I contact Niki Vettel and

informherofmynewproject,andaskhertocheckwiththeexecutives at PBS. I canenvisiondoingapledgeshowthat brings the teachings ofthe Tao Te Ching to theliving rooms of America inprime time. This is a callingthat could impactmillions ofpeople and initiate a

transformational shift in ourcollectiveconsciousness.Niki makes arrangements

with the setdecorator for thefilm Memoirs of a Geisha,and they allowus to use thismagnificent set for my newspecial. The show, titledChange Your Thoughts—Change Your Life, becomesan instant hit. The greatteachings of Lao-tzu in theTao Te Ching are broadcast

inprime time into thehomesof millions of peoplewherever PBS is being aired—which is every major andminor market in America.And the book containing theversesandtheessaysgoesonto top The New York Timesbestsellerlist.

ICanSeeClearly

I can recall with crystalclarity the quantum momentwhenIcameoutofthatdeepmeditationinmyblueleatherchair at my office the dayafter my 65th birthday.Something I had beenthinkingaboutinavaguesortofnonactionwaybecamemyabsolute reality. The fear ofmakingsuchadrasticchange

and letting go of so manyattachments to somuch stuffwas gone in a moment thatZen Buddhists often refer toas satori, a word that means“seeing instantly into one’strue nature.” All doubt wasremoved and replacedwith acertaintyaboutwhat thenextstepsinmylifeweretobe.When I handed Maya the

key to my apartment and allof its contents, I spoke from

an internal knowing, almostas if I was being directed toovercomeallofmyresistanceand do what is associatedwith the recoverymovement:LetgoandletGod.Itwassoclear that what I had to dowas let go of the strong pulloftheegoandallowSpirit,orthe invisibleTao, to dowhatitknowshowtodoperfectly.I can see clearly now that

my year of immersion in the

TaoTeChingwassomethingthat I absolutely had toexperiencefirsthand,before Icouldget onwith thework Iwasdestinedtodo.Thatyearof living the Tao and thenwritinganinterpretiveaction-oriented essay on how toapply this infinite wisdomwaswithoutadoubtthemostcriticalandsubstantialyearofmyentirelife.I look back with much

more clarity now with thebenefit of 20/20 hindsight,andIcanseethatmanyTao-centered omens were beingdirected my way by theuniversal one mind. Timeafter time when a Taoreference would surface in abook, on television, in amovie, in a restaurant, orduring a phone conversation,I would stop and have amomentary internal aha—I

know the Tao is showing up,overandover;Iwonderwhatthismeans?IwasreadingthebookThe

Alchemist by Paulo Coelho,and he would refer over andovertowhathecalledomens,which are clues from ourinvisible Source of being topay attention. Rather thanthink of it as a continuousrunning coincidence, he saidto listen and let yourself be

guided—and most important,banish fear. When StuartWildetoldmeaboutthetimehewasinstructedtowalkoutof his home in London andleave everything behind, thatstory left an indelibleimpressiononme.Iknewtheday would come when I toowould be called upon toundertake such amomentousjourney. That image ofleaving everything behind

and moving forward withabsolutetrustneverleftme.Somehow the combination

of reaching the age of 65,which symbolizes the end ofamaterialworldpassage,andthe continuous presence ofomens related to the Tao—along with that powerfulmeditation—all coalesced toimprintonmy inner screenaknowing that I had to act.LivingtheTaoTeChingfora

year was like having acomplete body, mind, andspirit makeover. The wordTao is the hidden force thatbrings the 10,000 things intobeing—the closest synonymthere is for God. Lao-tzuteaches that we gainawareness of love or Tao-nature through the loss ofemphasis on the physicalconditionsofourlives.Over and over I read and

interpreted and applied whatLao-tzuwasteaching.Itisallabout letting go of ourattachments to this physicalplane. As I would read andthen write, I found myselfgivingmore andmoreofmystuffaway.Itwasnotatallasurprise to me that I wasoriginallyinspiredtocometoMaui and immersemyself inthe Tao Te Ching by analmost uncontrollable desire

to release my attachments toall that I had accumulated inthe previous two or threedecades. Itwas that quantummoment in my life thatinitiatedaproject thatwas tobring thewisdomof theTaoto untold millions of peopleallovertheworld.I experienced a kind of

automatic writing when IwenttowritethebriefessaysonhowtodotheTaonow.In

the years that have passedsinceChange Your Thoughts—ChangeYourLifewasfirstreleased, I have receivedletters from many Taoistscholars around the world,particularly in China, tellingme how well these essaysalignwiththeirvisionofwhattheTaoTeChingisteaching.I can see clearly now that itwas my own destiny to notjust write a book on the

wisdom of the Tao as itapplies to our contemporaryworld, but to make the shiftmyself to a more Tao-centeredwayofbeing.Ifoundmyselfbehavingin

far lessego-directedways, infact practicing a kind ofselfless humility inspired bythe words of Lao-tzu. I wasliving softer andwith a kindof detached contentment thatwas not a character trait

associatedwithmeinpre-Taotimes. I found myselflistening more and speakingless, and I noticed nature’sinherent wisdom so muchmore. I began to see that allofmyattachmentstoobjects,status, my culture, and eventhose close to me werekeeping me from being freeinthegreatwayoftheTao.Iwas feeling freer, andpeoplewerenoticingiteverywhereI

went.I can see clearly now that

my sudden satori quantummoment on May 11, 2005,was to have a far-reachingeffect, and that it didn’thappen forme personally, asmyegowouldliketobelieve.As the Tao teacher states inVerse57:“Ifyouwanttobeagreat leader, you must learntofollowtheTao.Stoptryingto control. Let go of fixed

plans and concepts, and theworldwillgovernitself.”AsIlet go more and more, Inoticed the truth of thispassage.Iamcertainthatthissatori

momentthedayaftermy65thbirthday—whenIwasurgedto let go of everything andcome toMaui to study, live,and write about the greatwisdom of the Tao—wasorchestrated by a Divine

intelligence that I listen toandtrustinawaythatIoncedidn’t grasp. I can see withgreat clarity that the last lineof Verse 40 was at work inthat quantum moment:“Beingisbornofnonbeing.”The TV show that went

into so many homes and thebook interpreting the greatTao Te Ching that was readby so many people are allnow beings born of non-

being. It was non-being thattouched my soul that Mayday in 2005 and allowed awhole new me, and a wholenewteaching,tobebornintobeing. I see more and moreclearly, and I am more andmoreinawe.

PBSisairingmytelevisionspecial during their pledgedrives in the spring of 2008,

whichmeans thatmillionsofpeople in the U.S. andCanada are taking in thewisdom of Lao-tzu from the2,500-year-oldTaoTeChing.I’m not ready to begin therigorousundertakingofeitherwriting a new book orcreating another televisionspecial in the immediatefuture, as writing ChangeYour Thoughts—ChangeYour Life was a formidable

task. I literally lived each ofthose Tao verses whilewriting the 81 essaysinterpreting the words ofmyancient mentor Lao-tzu,before taking on the task ofcondensing them into aformat for a televisionaudience. I am weary butstimulated by all that thisgrand project has brought tomylife.Reid Tracy, the CEO of

HayHouse,asksme,“Wouldyou be interested in doing adramatic filmbasedupon theworkyouhaveproduced,anddo you think you can play astarring role in the moviewithnoactingexperience?”ItellhimIaminterested—

the idea of doing a film issomething that has longresided in the recessesofmyimagination. And I do havesome acting experience,

portraying Julius Caesar in aplayatMarquetteElementarySchool when I was 13 yearsold.Reid has been

communicating with abrilliant young man namedMichael Goorjian, who’sbeenbothaprofessionalactorand film director; in fact, herecently directed KirkDouglas in amovie.Michaelhas reada screenplaywritten

byKristenLazarian inwhichthere are three intertwinedstories of an overachievingbusinessman,amotheroftwoseeking her own expressionin the world, and a directortrying to make a name forhimself. In the film thesethree come together atAsilomar, a retreat center inNorthern California, whereWayneDyerisdoingaseriesof interviews on a

forthcoming book. I am toplay myself in this drama,which shouldn’t be too greata stretch since I’ve beendoing precisely that for 68yearsnow.Myonlyreluctancetotake

onsuchaproject stems fromthe fact that I’ve viewed aconsiderablenumberof filmsbased on spiritually orientedbooks, and I’vealwayscomeaway disappointed. They

haveseemedabitamateurish—in part because the authorattemptstoassumetheroleofaprofessionalactor.Oftenthescriptseemsweak, theactingunpolished, and the entirefilmanembarrassment.I express tobothReid and

Michael thatIdonotwishtobe associatedwith a clumsy-looking final product. I willonly undertake this project ifeverything and everyone

associated with it is of thehighestprofessionalcaliber.Iinsistthatalloftheactorsandtechnicians be top-leveltalent.IfIamgoingtobeinamovie based upon thespiritual principles of higherconsciousness that I’ve beenwriting and speaking aboutfor the past several decades,then the final project has toreflect a proficiency thatmatchestheelevatedidealsof

higher consciousness andGod-realization.I make it clear from the

onset that I’m willing to dowhatever is asked of me inorder to create a movie thatwill survive the test of timeand potentially make a hugeimpactoneveryonewhoseesit. Thismeans it needs be ofsuch high quality that it willset a standard for futurefilmmakerswhoopttocreate

a dramatic presentation ofspirituallybasedwriting.Thepeople financing anddirectingthisprojectagree.I love the script, and after

extensive talks with thefilmmaking team I’mconvincedthemoviewillbeafinished product that I canpromote with pride andenthusiasm. I feelhonored tohave so many highly skilledand competent people to

workwithonthisprojectasIheadouttoCaliforniatolearnabout moviemaking, acting,and film editing. I’m in mylate 60s, about to once againtaketheroadlesstraveledandimmerse myself in a brand-newvocational endeavor thatmay be a means to reachpeoplewhoaren’treaders.Recently I’d read that

approximately 10 percent oftheAmericanpopulationbuys

95 percent of all the books,andvirtually90percentoftheadultpopulationneverbuysabook at all. By contrast,almost 100 percent of thepopulation goes to themovies, or watches them athome. These alarming-to-mestatisticssuggestthatmytimewriting and producing bookson self-development andspirituality means that I’vebeen unable to reach almost

90outofevery100adults inAmerica. The idea ofpositively impacting a largepercentage of the populationwho are untouched by mylife’s work is an excitingprospectforme.It is my desire to get ten

million people to view thisfilm, called The Shift. Thisnumber representsapproximately3.14percentofthepopulationoftheU.S.and

Canada. I remember thenumber3.1416frommydaysstruggling through algebraandgeometry—it is calledpi(π).Irecallhearingthatwhenthat percentage of apopulation is exposed to anew or a radical idea, itrepresents something inphysics called a phasetransition, and it triggers amessage to the remainingmembersofthatpopulationto

begin to shift and align withthose who are in that newlyalignedcriticalmass.In quantum-physics

experiments, when a givennumberofelectronswithinanatomarelinedupinaspecificway, and the criticalmass isreached, the other untouchedelectrons begin toautomatically line up withthose in the experimentalgrouping.Ilovethisidea:Get

alargenumberofpeopleinapopulation to shift theirawareness to a more God-realizedplace,andregardlessofanyotherexternalforces—such as political issues,economic status,unemployment figures,educationalpractices,weatherpatterns, wars, conflicts, andon and on—the entirepopulation will ultimately bebrought into amore spiritual

alignment. When enough ofus begin to choose higherawareness,wewillreachthatcriticalmass.Ihavealwaysfeltthatbig-

time radical changeswill notcome about because of theefforts of political leaders tomake changes in the system,but because enoughindividualswithin the systemopt to shift their ownconsciousness. This is what

will impact the entirecollective consciousness,independent of what anyonemightattempttoimposeuponthemajority.I love this ideaof shifting.

Themajorfocusofthismoviewill be about shifting fromego, with its attendantemphasis on ambition andacquisitions, to meaning,wherein the primary innerdesire is serving others and

creating aworldwhereGod-realization is a universalreality rather than thehopelessidealofafewhighlyevolvedspiritualdreamers.Portia de Rossi will be

playing one of the movie’slead characters. A fewmonths back Portia and herfiancée, Ellen DeGeneres,askedme to officiate at theirwedding, which is scheduledforAugust15,rightsmackin

the middle of our filmingschedule. I agree happily,excited to be the one whopronounces them a legallymarriedcouple.I arrive at Asilomar to

spend thenext severalweeksdeeply absorbed in thisfascinating new world ofmoviemaking.Imeetwiththeentire production team,including Portia and the restof the actors. Everyone

associatedwiththemakingofthismovie is 100 percent onboardwiththeobjectivesthatare stated clearly andemphatically by MichaelGoorjianandmeatourinitialmeeting. I am a bitintimidatedbytheprospectofbeing in a movie with theseexperienced actors and thedirecting crew. I keepreminding myself that I’monlyplayingmyself—butitis

stillacting.It is the day before

shooting is to begin, andMichael arranges to give memy one and only actinglesson. We spend two hourstogether walking through animaginary scene. At the endofthesessionIfeelconfidentthatIcanmakethishappenata higher level. As the shootbegins, however, I becomeexasperated with the endless

reshoots that are required fora variety of reasons. Theshadows were too dark, thesoundmanpickedupthechirpof a bird overhead, thedirector wants to have asafetyreshoot,andonandontheygo.Thisisverydifferentfrom anything I’ve donebefore.When I speak to live

audiences, I simply walkonstage and wing it for the

next several hours, speakingfrom my heart and tellingstories that punctuate a pointthat I want to make. If Icough,Icoughandmoveon.If I stumble a bit, I regroupand move on. If there is amicrophone failure, or adisturbance of any kind, it iscorrected and we move on.Notsohereonthesetofthismovie.Althoughitistedious,it is also exhilarating, and I

am enthralled by how muchtime, energy, expertise, andlove go into the process offilmmaking.On the third day of

shootingImakemyownshift—aquantummomentforme.For the past two days I’dbeen trying to memorize mylines and appear natural, butit all felt very contrived andartificial to me. I’d beendoing as I’d been directed,

andencouragedby theactorsin the film, but I didn’t feelthe sameway Idowhen I’monstage or in a televisioninterviewjustbeingmyself.So Michael says to me,

“Wayne, forget the script,forget the lines you’rememorizing—just speak totheotherpeopleinthescenesasifyouweretalkingtotheminasimilarreal-lifesituation.Whatever you say will be

exactlywhatwewant for thefinishedproduct.”I letgo,andlikeI’vebeen

doingforsomanyyears,IletGod.Iturnitovertoahigheraspectofmyself—totheGodwithin that knows exactlyhowtobe—andIsailthroughtheremainderofthefilming.On August 14, halfway

through filming, Portia hascompletedallofherscenes.Ifly down to Los Angeles to

perform my first weddingceremony,writing a heartfeltlettertoEllenandPortiathatIwillreadtothem.OnAugust15, with paparazzi soaringoverhead in helicopters, theimmediate family gathers inthe couple’s basement, withallofthewindowscoveredtodissuade any errantphotographer from crashingthis very private weddingparty. I officially bring these

two incredibly specialpeopletogether as a legally marriedcouple.The next morning I fly

backtoAsilomarandresumea daily schedule of 12 to 14hours of shooting. Early inSeptember we have a finalgathering with all of thefilming now completed. Myworkisdonefornow,andthebigjobofeditingandputtingeverything into a finished

product begins for thedirectorandhiseditingcrew.Iamsoappreciativeofallofthe dedicated people whohave worked so many hourstobring this to fruition. Iamvery excited about this filmthataddressesthemessageoftranscending the call of theego and urges viewers,through the medium of aseriesofintertwineddramaticstories, to find their own

purpose.Afewmonthslater,Ihave

theopportunity to review themany edits for the film. It isnow a finished product titledFrom Ambition to Meaning,and a cross-country tour isplanned to introduce themovie to audiences in NewYorkCity,Chicago, andLosAngeles.I travel to these three

movie premieres with the

executive producer, ReidTracy; the director, MichaelGoorjian; and a special soul-mate companion, TiffanySaia. We are all riding in arented bus when I have anepiphany concerning the titleofourmovie.IsaythatIlovethemovie,andamthrilledbytheaudiencereactionsandthestanding ovations. Whatbothers me is the title—if Iweredoingitover,I’dchange

thetitlebecauseitsoundstoomuchlikeadocumentaryoralive lecture. I’d title it TheShift,which isa theme that’srepeated throughout themovie.Reidcommentsthatitwill be costly to do so, buthe’s willing to incur theadditional expense to give itthisnewtitle,whicheveryoneagrees is more indicative ofthecontentofthefilm.It isnowMarch2009,and

I have added a newmonikertomyrésumé—moviestar.Isthisamiracleorwhat?

ICanSeeClearlyNow

AsIlookbackatalloftheeventsthathadtocoalesceinorder for me to become thedriving force behind this

movie project, I can seeclearly that there was somekind of a Divine handworking to transform it froman idea into physical reality.EversinceIwasayoungboyI’ve known that the “crazy”ideas circulating inmymindwere destined for larger andlarger audiences. Whether itbe speaking orwriting, therehas always been an internalawareness that I’m to share

this with as many people aspossible.This entire project seemed

to be given a silent blessingby a celestial force that waswatching over all of us. TheAsilomar ConferenceGroundsandStateBeacharelocated on 107 acres ofecologically diversebeachfront land on theMontereypeninsulainPacificGrove, California. Over 90

film crew members gatheredat this breathtakinglygorgeous“refugebythesea,”which is what the wordAsilomar means in Spanish.Large numbers of visitorsattendmanydiversefunctionsthroughouttheyearhere,andthis isparticularly true in thesummer months when weconverged on the groundswith big trucks, lighting,sound equipment, and the

vast array of technicians andsupport personnel that arerequiredformakingafilmofthis caliber. Every day ineverywayeverythingseemedtofallintoplaceforus.Atthetimeofourshooting

there was a large conferenceof spiritually inclined peopleassociated with Unity andReligious Science churchesacrossAmerica.Iwasspottedbysomeof theattendeesand

asked if I’d give a keynoteaddress, since their featuredspeakerwas forced to cancelherscheduledlecture.WhenIwas introduced to theaudience, they were happilysurprised that I could offerthem a free lecture—withEllen DeGeneres and Portiade Rossi seated in the frontrow as honored celebrityguests to boot. When weneededextrasformanyofthe

scenes in the movie, thosewho had been at that lecturein thebeginningof the shootwere only too happy tooblige.When we needed cloud

cover, it magically appeared.When we needed the cloudsto disperse, they seemed toobeysomeinvisibleexecutivedirector and accommodateour needs. These kinds ofmini-miracles were

constantly being observed,and commented upon, byeveryone associated with themakingofTheShift.I can see clearly now that

themakingofthisfilmwasaDivinely ordainedappointment. I had beenlecturing about the quantumnotionsofcriticalmass,phasetransition,andthehundredth-monkey effect for decades.Now itwas all happeningon

a different scale. From adistanceIcanseethetruthinthe idea that when I followmyexcitement,Ialignmyselfwithwho I am as an infinitebeing. The excitement orfeeling of inner bliss thatarises when I contemplatewhatItrulyknowImustdoisGod-realization.When I stayin that state of followingmybliss, everything I undertakeis not only going to be

effortless, but even moresignificantly, I will be fullysupported by the universe aswell.Theideaofcreatingafull-

length dramatic film thatcould help people shift fromthe selfish demands of theego to a more spirituallymeaningful life piqued myexcitementinaverybigway.Moreover, the thought ofreaching all of those folks

who never read books andcreatingacriticalmasswherethis shift could happenglobally was a thrillingthought that I do not havewords todescribe.When I’mfollowingmyexcitementwithintegrity, I know I truly amon the path I’mmeant to beoninthislifetime.Doing this film at the age

of 68 was not just a newundertaking to fillup timeor

attract fans. Because ittriggered that sense ofexcitement, itwas amessagetomefrommyDivineSourceof being, saying, “You mustdo this. Your highest self isdemanding it. It cannot beignored.” I see clearly nowthat my excitement is thesignpost—itisme.OnceIhadthisideafirmly

planted in my imaginationand felt the excitement, I

knew I would be fullysupported by the universalDivine mind from which Iwas originally intended. IdiscoveredthatwhenIfollowmy excitement, it is akin toturningtheentireprojectoverto God and watching theendless flowof synchronisticmiracles unfold perfectly.Theentirebusinessofmakingthis film flowed effortlesslybecauseitwasallturnedover

to a higher power thatmatched up within me andeveryone involved. We werelistening to our highestselves,which are identifiablebecause our excitement isbeing triggered and actedupon.As I look back at theway

The Shift has been acceptedandreviewed,Iseemoreandmore clearly how theuniverse supports the ideas

presented in the film. It hasairedmany timesonnationaltelevision and receivedmanyglowingreviews.Ithasfoundalifeofitsownandcontinuestomakeamarkonaudiencesallovertheworldsinceithasbeentranslatedintodozensofforeign languages. Myoriginal enthusiasmenvisionedtenmillionpeopleviewing The Shift andbeginning a phase transition

to a more spiritually awakeplanet—Icanseeclearlynowthat this is under way, and Iam truly being fullysupportedinthisvision.I lookbackat theday that

EllenandPortiaaskedmeifIwould be willing to be theperson to marry them. Astheysincerelymadetheirpleato me, I was reminded ofmany of the stories I’verelated here in this book: the

images ofRhoda,my Jewishclassmate in grade school;Ray Dudley, my best friendin the Navy, being punishedfor the color of his skin; theGuamanian civilians whowere denied privilegesbecauseoftheirethnicity;andso many, many more that Ihave not delineated in thepagesof thisbook. Ihavesofrequently been called tostand up for causes, long

before they become acceptedbythemasses.I responded to Ellen and

Portia enthusiastically that Iwouldbehonoredtoserveinthis capacity at theirupcoming marriage. I wasthrilled and honored beyondmeasure to perform thewedding ceremony for thesetwo beautiful people, whoopted to tell the world thattheywereinloveandwanted

to be treated with the samerespect and rights as anyother two people,independent of their sexualorientation.I have never been able to

comprehend unequaltreatment for any of God’schildren. I know for certainthat I am here to learn andteachafundamentaltruththathas been a part of my ownlife experience since I first

showed up here on planetEarth in 1940. We must allwork toward being steadfastin our abstention of thoughtsof harm directed towardourselves and all others, andsimply refuse to have anyjudgment, criticism, orcondemnation toward anyoneoranypartofGod’screation.Icanseeclearlynowthatthisis a part of The Shift that isinherentinthemovie.

ItisnoaccidentthatPortia—who starred in this film,alongwithmanyothersuperbandstellaractors—joinedthismovie set to help our entireworld shift to a moreDivinely loving awareness.She did so by standing uppublicly and marrying thewoman she loved, whohappenstobeoneofthemostnonjudgmental, noncritical,world-renowned celebrities I

haveeverhadtheprivilegeofcalling my friend. This iswhatthemovieisabout.Thisis what Ellen and Portia areallabout.Helpingmake this shifton

our planet is what has trulydefinedmylife.Thiswasoneofthegreatquantum-momenthonorsforme,anditcouldn’thave come at a morepropitious time, right smack-dabinthemiddleofmakinga

filmtobetitledTheShift.

After several months offilming,Ihavereturnedtomywriting space inMaui in the

fall of 2008. I’mworking ona theme for a new book oneliminatingthepropensityforexcuse-making, and I’vecompiled a list of the mostcommonlyusedexcusesthatIbelieve keep people fromlivingattheirhighestlevelofself-actualization. I’ve heardthese excuses for a lifetime,and have even frequentlyemployed themmyself whenI’ve temporarily taken the

pathofblameratherthanself-responsibility.I am also reading a very

stimulating self-publishedbook titled The Biology ofBeliefbyDr.BruceLipton,aprominent cell biologist. Inote with interest that hewrites, “I came to theconclusion that we are notvictims of our genes, butmasters of our fates … theprimacy of DNA in

controlling life is not ascientifictruth.”I am listening to an

interviewonCNN,andIhearthe person being interviewedexplain why he conductedhimself inthefashionthathedid.Quitematter-of-factly,hesays, “I couldn’t helpmyselffrom acting the way I did;afterall,it’sinmyDNA,andeveryone knows that no onecan change their genetic

makeup. It’s what we arebornwith.”I know I’ve expressed a

similar sentiment myself inthe mistaken belief that ourgenes are what comprise ourveryhumanity,andobviouslythey cannot be changed byour mind or any amount ofwillpower. I grew up in theage of genetic determinism,and until now I have neverconsidered that I may have

been programmed to relyupon one gigantic excusewhenallothersfadeaway.After reading The Biology

of Belief, I encourage ReidTracy at Hay House topublish this extraordinarybook. I tell him I want tomakeitapartofmynextPBSspecial and present it to thepublic as one of the giftsoffered in return for adonation to their local public

broadcasting station, and heagrees.I am intrigued by the idea

that our beliefs can literallychange our genes, and Dr.Lipton gives a great deal ofscientific evidence to supportthisrevolutionaryidea.Ifourentire genetic blueprint canbe changed by altering thewaywe process life, then allof theotherpettyexcusesweemploy can also be

eradicated. What if we wereraised to truly believe in myoft-quotedmaxim offered byJesus, “With God, all thingsare possible”? And that noexcusesareevernecessary?I have compiled a list of

the most common excusesthat I have heard over theyears as a therapist, lecturer,mediapersonality,andparentofeightchildren.Inaddition,I have created an Excuses

Begone! paradigm thatconsists of seven questionsI’veusedwithclients tohelpthem see that all of theseexcusesthataresofrequentlyemployedare reallyaway toavoid responsibility and shiftto a blame mentality. I havereceived an okay from thepowers that be at PBS torecord a three-hour pledgeshow introducing thisparadigmforuseineveryday

life. I know it works—I’veseen people shift out of alifetime of habitual patternswhen they use this paradigmseriously, and I’ve put it towork in my own life toeradicate patterns of excusesthatIhaveusedsinceIwasalittleboy.Ridding oneself of the 18

typical excuses—such as Itwill be difficult, It’s going tobe risky, I don’t deserve it, I

can’tafford it, I’mnot smartenough, or I’m too scared—thateveryoneuses toexplaintheir inability to get thingsdone the way they wouldideallyliketodothemcanbea life-altering experiencewhen using the ExcusesBegone! paradigm regularly.It is the area of overcomingthe really big excuses thatkeeppeoplestuckinplaceforlife that I find most

challenging. I feel deepwithin me that lifelong self-defeating habits can beeliminated, and I am excitedbytheideaofteachingothershow this can be readilyaccomplished.Science is now informing

the world that our most-cherishedbeliefs, suchas thesupremacy of our geneticmakeup and the existence oflong-held memes embedded

firmly in the subconsciousmind, are amenable tochange. Iwrite about how tochange self-defeatingthinking habits, and I applythemtomyownlifeaswell.Irecall the experiment of ablisterformingonawoman’sarmbecauseofthestrengthofher belief, as well as how Iwas able to healmyself of adiagnosis of a pilonidal cystby using my mind. Now in

The Biology of Belief I’vereadabouthow thepowerofthe mind can be trained toovercome not only geneticpredispositions, but memesand mind viruses that havebeen cemented into oursubconscious from the timeofourinfancy.Ichallengemyselftoberid

of any and all excuses, andsee myself transformed byusing this new awareness on

manyofmy lifelonghabitualtendencies. I write furiouslyandwith renewedexcitementon this new book ExcusesBegone!—though it seemsalso tobewriting itself. Iactasaconduitandsimplyallowthismaterialtocomethroughme.IgoontotaketheExcuses

Begone! paradigm on theroadwithmetoseminarsthatIconductallovertheworld.I

bring people up onstage andguide them through theparadigm and watch inamazement as old habitsbegintofadeawayinfrontofthousands of people. Anangry man with a short fusemakes a commitment toremember his Source ofbeing, which is eternalgentleness. A woman givesup smoking on the spot andmakes it a public

pronouncement.Ashyyounglady in her 30s changes hersubconscious programmingand commits to a life ofassertiveness and non-victimhood. A womansuffering with an eatingdisorder for over 20 years,who looks as if she is arefugee from a death camp,allows me to guide herthrough the paradigm,commits to eating a healthy

meal, and decides to let herlong-heldexcusesbegoneonthe spot. She is no longer aperson with an eatingdisorder.Skip ahead to June 2009,

and the three-hour pledgeshow on Excuses Begone!airs across the country ineverymajormarket.Millionsof people in the U.S. andCanada see my presentationof this material on how to

change anything aboutthemselves that is not inharmony with who they’dlike to be, regardless of howdeeply embedded thesebehaviors, habits, or evenillnesses have been. Theresponse is overwhelming.The book goes to the top ofThe New York Timesbestseller list, as does Dr.Bruce Lipton’s The BiologyofBelief.

I am giving lectures allover the world on how toapply the material in theExcuses Begone! paradigm,when I am presented with atotally unexpected gift fromthe universe—an opportunityto abandon all excuses indealingwithasituationthatInever, ever expected orthoughtpossible.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Three days after thenationalpremiereofmyPBSspecial,onThursday, June4,2009, I was in Dr. Kepler’soffice in Kihei, Maui. Someblood tests taken during aroutine physical examrevealed that I have chroniclymphocyticleukemia(CLL),

a blood and bone marrowdisease. I was informed thatCLL is believed to beincurable and predicted toslowlygetworse.As I look back atmy first

reaction to the diagnosis ofleukemia, Iwas in a state ofshock. I was being told thatmy life would have toundergo a serious shift: Iwould begin to incur nightsweats, frequent bruising,

elevated white blood cellcounts, and fatigue, amongother things. Iwouldhave tomeetwith an oncologist, andperhaps prepare myself forpossible chemotherapy andbonemarrowtransplants.Mylifewasbeing redesigned forme by a team of well-meaningmedicalpeople, andI was being handed a wholehost of excuses that I’d beable to use to explain my

deteriorating health, my lackofenergy,andmyinabilitytocarry on and do thework ofempowering people andhelping to transform theplanet into a more God-realizedhabitat.On the same day that I

received the CLL diagnosticreport, I met a woman whowas a nurse-practitioner andwas wanting to enlist mysupport in her alternative-

medicine practice. She wasusing some of my morerecentbooks,particularlyThePower of Intention, with herpatients and had come toMaui to see if I could be ofassistancetoher.WhenItoldher that that very morning Ireceived the news of myleukemia, she decided toreachouttoserveme.I can see clearly now that

there was no accident in our

meeting,onthatverydaythatI was walking around inshock. Pam McDonaldbecame my healthpractitioner, helping meredesign my eating habits sothat I was getting the propernutritional balance to assistthehealingofmybody.Pamwrote a very important booktitledThe PerfectGeneDiet,for which I later wrote theForeword, and she presented

her research and work tomany of my seminarattendees for a couple ofsubsequent years. This wasindeedaDivineappointment.Ihadspentmorethanafull

yearwriting daily, creating abook that was designed tohelp people overcome theirmost intransigent excuses. Iwaswriting about being ableto overcome any geneticpredispositions and to

reprogram the subconsciousmind to surmount the mostembedded early childhoodprogramming by eliminatingany and all excuses. Now Iwasbeingforcedtoapplythissame teaching to my owndiagnosis of leukemia. I saidat the very beginning ofExcuses Begone!: “Hence,the titleof thisbook is reallya statement to yourself, aswell as to that system of

explanations you’ve created.It is my intention that allexcusesbe…gone!”A quotation from Gandhi

thathasalwaysstuckwithmeis: “My life ismymessage.”Andsoithasbeenwithme—everything I’ve ever writtenabout has come out of myown life experiences.Learning to overcomedifficulties; rising above theordinary;takingonunpopular

causes;challengingauthority;transcending abandonment;surmounting addictions,relationship struggles, andparenting issues … all of itwas what I was beingpresented with by a supremeSource.For the first fewmonths I

allowed myself to buy intothe protocol for how to dealwith a body that has a bloodand bone marrow cancer: I

started to have serious nightsweats, I noticed morestrange bruising, and Ibecamemoreeasily fatigued.I gave up my yoga practiceforalmostanentireyear,andI changedmy normally busyand exciting life to one ofcaution and evensubconsciousfear.AndIreadalloftheliteraturebeingsentto me on CLL, and sort ofadoptedtheit’sincurableand

willworsenmessagesthatareso rampant in the medicalliterature.Iwasouttherespeakingon

television about having noexcuses for living anextraordinary life; I waspromoting a book writtenwiththeintentionofteachingotherstoexpungeanyandallexcuses, big or small; andstill I was somewhatunconsciously adopting my

own excuses, rather thanseeing this leukemiadiagnosisasagifttohammerhome the truth of what I’dbeen researching and writingfortheprevioustwoyears.Ihadaccepted that Icould

literally change geneticinformation. I had endorsedthe idea that I could undoearly programming. I wasteachingtheseradicalideasinmywriting, inamultitudeof

public lectures, and onmillionsoftelevisionscreens.But for a brief moment ortwo, I forgot that I wasinstantaneously put intoanother big excuse factorycalled, I’ve got a seriousdisease. I can seenow that atruth doesn’t really becomefastenedtoourconsciousnessuntil we experience itdirectly. All of my research,writing, lecturing, and

pontificating meant nothingin terms of reallyunderstandingthemessageofliving an excuse-free life.Thisleukemiawasagift,andjustlikeeverythingelseinmylife,itshoweduppreciselyontime.By the end of 2009, and

throughout all of 2010 andbeyond, I began to use thisgiftthatwashandedtome,ina way that was both

beneficial to myself and tothose who were makingthemselves available to myteachings. I worked theExcusesBegone!paradigmonmyselfandworkeditintomywritingandspeakingaswell.I asked myself the seven

questions,andtheseweremybriefanswerstomyself:

1. Is the Cancer ExcuseTrue? I can never be 100

percent certain the leukemiahas to slow me down or getworse. Thus, the excusemayor may not be true. So Idecide not to believesomething that is just aslikelytobefalseastobetrue.

2.WhereDid theExcuseCome From? From theendless messages aboutcancer that flood themedicalliterature. From a portion of

the medical community whomake a living off of cancer.From the Internet. Fromthings I’ve heard, and soforth.But the excuse did notcome frommeormySourceof being, which is eternalwell-beingandDivinelove.

3. What’s the Payoff forUsingThisExcuse? If I usethe “I’m sick” excuse, I cantake the easyway out: I can

avoid dealing with my owninner capacity for well-beingand healing; I can blame thefood, the air,myparents, thewater,andthefactthatweallare forced to live in acarcinogenicworld. I cangeta lot of sympathy and, ofcourse, I can be right,whichis the gigantic payoff of theego.

4. What Would My Life

LookLikeIfICouldn’tUseThese Excuses? (This wasthemost helpful to me.) If Iwere incapable of believingthat I had to be in any wayincapacitated because of thisdiagnosis, I would be forcedto think thoughts such as, Iamas strongas I need tobeto do anything I choose. Ihave the inner capacity andtheconnectiontoGodtohealanything. I am a vigorous

personwho possesses all theliveliness and vitality toaccomplishanythingIsetmymindto.

5. Can I Create aRational Reason toChange? Yes. Emphatically.My choice to live a lifewithoutan“I’msick”excusemakes sense to me —it isdoable, it will allow me tofeel good, and it will allow

metostayconnectedtoGod.AndwithGod, all things arepossible.

6.CanIAccessUniversalCooperation in SheddingThisExcuse? Yes, amilliontimes,yes.

7.HowDoIContinuouslyReinforceThisNewWayofBeing? Create a knowingwithinthatbanishesalldoubt.

Livefrommyhighestselfandrespect my eternal divinity,have regular conversationswith my habitualsubconsciousmind—andstopmyself when I am about tohaulouttheleukemiaexcuse,and substitute a consciousresponse that is fully alignedwithmycommitmenttoliveahealthy life. Practice moremeditation and reduce thenoise levelofmy life.Spend

moretimeintheoceanandinnature. Make my connectionto my Source of being mynumber one relationship inlife. Work the paradigmregularly.

From this perspective ofseeing more clearly, it ispatently obvious to me nowthatmywritingand lecturingonlivinganExcusesBegone!lifecameattheexactmoment

whenGod said tome, “Hereis an opportunity for you toreally bring this messagehome. Now practice whatI’ve revealed to you onyourself, and continue withyour commitment to serveothersinaspectacularway.”

Itisthespringof2011,andI have lived with mydiagnosis of leukemia for

almosttwoyears.Ihavebeena patient of two oncologistsand getting my blood testedformywhite blood count ona regular basis. I’ve beenfollowing the eating protocoloutlined and monitored bymy friend Pam McDonald,who is a practicing nurse-practitioner and an expert onalternative medicine. I havestayedawayfromBikramhotyoga for thepastyearon the

adviceofmymedicaldoctors.I’ve been practicing theExcusesBegone!paradigmona daily basis, and I’veincluded my diagnosis ofleukemiainmylecturesasanexample of how I’m dealingwith this situation in mybody. ABC World Newspicked up on this story andaired a national segment onmy leukemia diagnosis thatran on the day after

Thanksgivinglastyear.I hear from Dr. Rayna

Piskova, aneye surgeonwhohas a practice in Madera,California. She tells me, “Iam making a second trip toBrazil to see John of God. Iwouldverymuch likeyou tocome as well, I can’temphasize enough howimportant I feel this is foryou.”A man who goes by the

name John of God has beentreating people for over 40years in Abadiania, Brazil.Millions of people from allover theworld have come tothis small village to receivetreatment from this simplemanwhosesurgeriesaredoneby entities who enter hisbody.Iknowabout JohnofGod

and the miraculous healingstories that have emanated

out of the Casa de DomInacio because eight yearsago my wife, Marcelene,visited there twice and wasasked to assist at one of hishealingsessions.I have long thought that I

would love to visit there andexperience firsthand thisunique individual and themiracles I’ve read about. Hemakesonethingveryclear:“Ido not cure anybody, God

heals, and in His infinitegoodness permits the entitiesto heal and console mybrothers. I am merely aninstrument in God’s Divinehands.” While many areskeptical of thismiraclemanof Brazil, I have come to aplaceinmylifewhereIhavea mind that is open toeverything.IplantojoinRaynaonher

trip,butdecidenottobecause

of my looming writingdeadlines. Yet she is on amission for my healing andmakes intricate arrangementsfor me to have a remotehealing experience. She tellsme that she is almostpossessed,socertainissheofmy need to experience theDivine healing offered onlyby this one man in the tinytown of Abadania. ViaFedEx, she forwards blessed

herbsandblessedwateralongwith instructions forme.Sheinstructsmetotaketheherbs,dress all in white, and havemy photo taken from fourdifferent angles for John ofGodtosee.Aftere-mailingthephotos,

I’mtoldthatthesurgeryistobe conducted on the eveningof April 21, 2011—whichhappens tobe thedateofmymother’s 95th birthday. I go

to bed as instructed at teno’clock Wednesday night,sleep in all white clothing,drink the blessed water, andmeditatepeacefully.InthemorningIawaketoa

phonecallfromRayna,who’salso having surgerysimultaneously with John ofGod in Abadiania. Sheinformsme that I need to goback tobedandsleepfor thenext 24 hours, and treat this

remotehealing thesamewayas if I’d just had mygallbladder removed by alocalsurgeon. IhearRayna’spleadings tome—however, Ido not listen. I feel fine andhave nomemory of anythingtakingplaceduringthenight.IdecidethatIamgoingtogofor my normal 90-minutewalk,andperhapstheentitieswereunable

to locateme for any kind ofhealing because John ofGodwas in Brazil with a seven-hour timedifferential. Iwalkout thedoorbutgetnomorethan 500 yards before Icollapse!Ineedtheassistanceoftwo

ofmychildrentogetbacktomy bedroom. They help meback into bed and that iswhereIstay,sleepingfor thenext24hours—justasRayna

had instructed. I am fatiguedand feel exceptionally weak.As the days pass I take onflulike symptoms, cough upphlegm, and am only able toeat a bit of soup.This ismyconditionforafullweek.Noexercise, no swimming, nowalking—simply detoxingfromsomething invisible thatIdonotunderstand.Rayna tells me by

telephone that on Thursday,

April 28, precisely oneweekfromtheremotesurgery,Iamtogo throughanother remoteprocedure called the removalof the sutures. There are nosutures, of course, and therewouldn’tbeanyforahealingofabloodcancer.Wednesdaynight,April27,at11:00P.M.(6:00 A.M. on April 28 inBrazil) I take my designatedblessed herbs and drink thewater blessed by John of

God,and Igo tobedclothedinwhite.Iamweakandabitemaciated from not havingeaten any solid food andbeing quite sick for the pastweek. I awaken the nextmorning feeling verydifferentthanIhaveeverfeltbefore.ThefirstthingIdiscoveris

that my brand-newwristwatch has stoppedfunctioning. This is strange

because this is a precisioninstrument that’s guaranteednot to malfunction or everlose time. I walk out of thebedroomtogreetmysonanddaughter and amoverwhelmed by feelingprofound unconditional lovefor both of them. I reach outto hug them both and tellthem how much I truly lovethem. Sands and Serena askme, “Dad, have you been

doing drugs? You have nopupils inyoureyes,andyourleft eye appears to bescratched.”I feel like I am pure love.

Myplantsarepure love.Theocean is calling me to comeswim in this liquid lovepotion.Mychildrenlooklikeangels to me. I feel strong,hungry, and totally blissedout.Ihavenoideawhattookplace in my bedroom last

night;allIknowforcertainisthat the world and everyoneinitfeelsverydifferentfromanything I have everexperiencedbefore.I am in a state of ecstasy

every day now since my“suture removal” experienceseveral days ago. Anannoying piece of litigationdisappears, and all I feel forthis seeming adversary islove. I walk and swim with

renewedenergy,aheightenedsense of empowerment that Ihave never felt before inmyentire life—and especiallysince the leukemia diagnosisalmosttwoyearsago.Alittleoveraweekpasses,

and it isMay 10, 2011—my71st birthday. I am in SanFrancisco to finish filming amovie titled My GreatestTeacher,which is about howIfoundmyfather’sgravesite

in Biloxi, Mississippi, andwas able to communicatewithandforgivehim.Iaminmy hotel suite, sitting on thebed meditating in the earlymorninghours.SuddenlyI’movercome by a very strongsensationthatIneedtobeaninstrument of an outpouringofunconditionallove.I take a wad of $50 bills

and head out of the St.Francis Hotel, and spend the

better part of my birthdaypassing out love and moneyto homeless people. I givepassionate hugs and listenattentively to men with noteeth who are as grubby asyou can imagine. I reach outto little ladies who areinspecting trash containers inUnion Square for thepossibility of a prize in theformofanemptysodacanora discarded plastic water

bottle.Idon’tnoticethefilth;I see only the unfolding ofGod in these vacant eyes.And I am so in love witheveryoneItouch.Ipassoutallofthemoney

and return to my hotel roomandsitonmybedsobbingingratitudeforwhatIhavebeenabletoexperiencetoday.Thisis the most memorablebirthdayinmy71years.Twenty days have passed

since the removal of theinvisiblesutures,andit’snowMay 18. I am sitting in mymeditation chair and hear adistinctinnervoicesaytome,Do not go for a walk today.You can now do yoga. I amvisibly shocked. I haveavoidedmyhotyogapracticeunder the advice of severalmedical experts for almost ayear. I immediately get upand drive to the yoga studio

on Maui I once went toregularly, and I complete the90-minutesession,doingbothsetsoneachandeveryasana.I’mabitrusty,butthrilledtomyinnercoreatbeingabletodowhat I love somuch—90minutesofintenseexercise.I am livingmy excitement

and imbued with the energyofDivinelove.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

In the last chapter Iexamined briefly the sixthquestion in the ExcusesBegone! paradigm: Can Iaccess universal cooperationin shedding old habits? As Ireexamine the miraculousevents that led tomyhealingwith John of God and the

entities that work throughhim, I can now see clearly aseminal truth.Whenwe shiftour energies to live fromouroriginal nature, and practicethe four cardinal virtuesoutlined by Lao-tzu, whichinclude: (1) reverence for alllife, (2) natural sincerity, (3)gentleness, and (4)supportiveness,wealignwithour one Source of being andreceiveuniversalcooperation.

These four virtues aren’texternal dogma—they arepartofouroriginalnature.I can see clearly now that

my experience with John ofGod and the miraculousresults that followed thesestrangehappeningswereallafunction of my shifting to amore God-realized place inmylife.Thefamiliarmessagefrom the New Testament is,“With God, all things are

possible.” That leavesnothingout,includinghealinganincurabledisease.Dr. Rayna Piskova’s

insistence that I have anencounterwiththeentitiesviaJohn of God was indeed aDivine intervention. It wasconnectedtomyadherencetothefourcardinalvirtueswhenI made the shift to livingmore and more from anExcusesBegone!perspective.

Icanseequiteclearlythatthepresenceofthisleukemiawasan opportunity for me to beable to teach, via my ownexample, how to live from aplace of no excuses andDivine love. I know thatRayna’spersistenceinhavingme go through thisexperiencewas inspired by aforcebiggerthanbothofus.Iknowthis tobetrue,becauseRayna has confided to me

that itwasimpossibleforherto shake or even ignore thisburningdesireofherstohaveme experience these healingentitiesfirsthand.Five months after my

remote healing experienceand the vitality I recapturedfrom the remote spiritualsurgery, I was invited to theOmega Institute inRhinebeck, New York, toattend a four-day gathering

where John of God wasappearing in person. Some1,500 people a day, dressedonly inwhite, filedpasthim,and the entities performedvarious kinds of spiritualsurgeries.I was placed in the line

with all the others, withoutany special priorities of anykind.AsIstoppedinfrontofthismanofGodfromBrazil,Iwasonlyoneindividualina

long line of people. Helooked up at me and said inPortuguese, “You are well,”three words that flooded mewith tears of gratitude anddeep emotion. Later, I sat inwhat’s called “the currentroom” at the invitation ofJohnofGod,anddrankintheloving energy that permeatedtheentireconferencecenter.DebbieFord, anold friend

and colleague, was in the

cabin next to me at Omega.She was there to havespiritual surgery for adebilitating and rare cancerthatshe’dlivedwithformanyyears.SeveraltimeseachdayafterherinterventionwiththeentitiesIwenttohercabintotalk with her about myamazing healing experience.Asweakasshewas,Isawinher eyes a sense thatsomething truly miraculous

was taking place, and I wassohappythatwehaddecidedto make this trip. (Eventhough she ultimatelysuccumbed to the disease in2013,Ifeltasifthisbeautifulsoul were being healed onsomelevelaswell.)The morning after I heard

the words from the entitiesthrough John of God, I wasinvited to address the entirecontingent of people in a

huge tent. Looking out at aseaofwhiteItoldthemofmyexperience and what I hadbeentoldthedaybefore,andI rededicated myself tosharing this gift and helpingmore people move into aGod-realized place wherethey can engage the oneDivinemindtosenduniversalcooperationtheirway.Ihave longheld thebelief

taught in A Course in

Miracles that there are reallyonly twoemotions—fear andlove. When we are in fear,there is no room for love;when we’re in love, there isno room for fear. As I lookback with a clearer sense atthe experience I had themorning after the sutureremoval, it is patentlyobvious to me that thoseDivinehealingentitiesplaceda kind of enchanting love

insidemyconsciousness,andby doing so there was nomore room for fear. Neverbefore had I known thefeeling of love for everyoneand everything that sodrenched my entire being.Just the word leukemia is soloadedwithforeboding that Imust have internalized someof the disquietude associatedwiththeideaofhavingcancercells streaming through my

blood.The first day after my

suture-removal experience Iwenttomyrefrigeratorforanalcohol-free beer,which I’vedone every day for sometime.AlthoughIquitdrinkingalcoholmany years before, Istill enjoyed the taste ofnonalcoholic beer—but onthis day, something told methat this was not what Ishould be consuming. I left

behind an old habit in thatmoment and haven’t beentemptedtoputthatdrinkintomy body again. The remotehealing experience ledme toseekhealthywaystoloveandcareformyself,andforsomestill-unknown reason, thatalcohol-free beer no longerresonated with me as ahealthyhabit.Inowknowforcertain that this experiencewas orchestrated by a force

muchlargerthanme.Ihavealwaysaffirmedthat

I am a teacher, and thisexperience, along with somanyotherwondrousevents,wasgiventometouseasanexampletoserveandsupportothers. I no longer say, “Ihave leukemia,”which I saidroutinely during the earlierdays of my diagnosis.Instead,Ibegineachdaywiththestatement that theentities

spoketomeasIstoodbeforeJohn of God: “I am well. Infact,Iaminperfecthealth.”Ihave learned touse these

two words I am with greatreverence.ThisisthenameofGod as revealed toMoses inExodus 3:14. I do not useanythingexternaltomyselftodefinewhoIamorwhatIamdoing.Idonotdeterminemystateofhealthonthebasisofwhat a number says on a

medicalprintout.Therefore,Ihave eschewed looking atthose kinds of reports. I feelstrong, I eat healthy, Iexercise daily, and I have ameditation practice thatallows me to stay inconsciouscontactwithGod.What I see most clearly

today is that I have Divineassistance,which I believe istrue for everyone. Byremoving fear, I’ve allowed

Divine love to fill my innerawareness. And this love,which I have felt sopersonally and so powerfullysince that April day when Iexperiencedthefullimpactofthe remote surgery, has beenmyhealing.I need look nowhere else

for validation of myaffirmations:I amwell, I amin perfect health. I can seeclearlynowthatitismyown

I am presence that is trulywhoIamanddeterminesmystate of health. My job is tolive each day in a state ofgratitude for this I ampresence. I am here to alsoteach all whowill listen thatthey too have this invisibleDivine I am presence—it istheir very essence—and theymusttrustinitandstayinanexalted state of appreciationforiteveryday.

TheSufistellusthatwhenwe walk in the garden andstep on a thorn, we mustalways remember to saythank you. For the thorn ofleukemia that brought mecloser to my own I ampresence, and to the oneDivine all-knowing mind ofGod, I offer aheartfelt thankyou,thankyou,thankyou!

I’m reading a small bookthat’s creating the kind ofepiphany awareness that

happened 40 years agowhenI first readDr.Albert Ellis’sbook A Guide to RationalLiving. Throughout thisbook’s 27 short chapters Ikeep feeling that it’s tellingme, There’s something ofgreatimportancehereforyou—pay attention and takenotes. For example, I lovethesewordsfromtheverylastchapter:“Inallcreation,inalleternity, in all the realms of

your infinite being the mostwonderful fact is that whichisstressedinthefirstchapterof this book, you are God,youaretheIAm,thatIAm.”The book isThe Power of

Awareness by NevilleGoddard, who wrote tenbooks under the pen nameNeville.Itislikeamagnetinmy possession—I read, thensit and ponder every fewsentences,thenIwritemyself

a few notes. I try to put itdown,but itcontinuestocallmetopickitupagain.Ihavehad this experience onmanyoccasions in my life, andwhen it happens I know thatthere is a force operatingtellingmethatthisisapartofmy lifeplan, adharma that Icannotignore.By November 2010, I’ve

listened tomanyofNeville’slectures and finished four

complete readings of ThePower of Awareness. I ordereight copies of the book asChristmas gifts for each ofmy children, encouragingthem to explore this radicalidea that “imagining createsreality.” Iask them to letmeknowhowtheyfeelaboutthebookafterthey’vereadit,andI give them one of Neville’smost impactful quotes:“Assumeyouarealreadythat

which you seek and yourassumption, though false, ifsustained, will harden intofact.”Eachof them respondswith the same sentiment,whichessentiallyis,“Thanks,Dad, I tried to read it, and Ihadtorereaditoverandoverand then it just lostme. Toodeep—tooconfusing.”For me, the words of

Neville Goddard retain theirpower to electrify, as he

asserts with complete easethat our thoughts create theworld, and they do so in themost literal sense. I feelalmostcompelledtomakehisteachingsmoreaccessibleandunderstandable to thecontemporaryworld.Idecidetowrite a book titledWishesFulfilled and create a ninthPBS pledge special tointroduce the empoweringideas that he has sparked in

me. I feel that these couldleadto,andperhapsinitiate,aquickening of the shift incollectiveconsciousness.Ithasbeenmyownpathto

take somewhat abstract andoften overly complicatedideas and make themavailable in a simplified andunderstandablefashion.Ifeelthis is what Dr. Maslowconveyed to me at his death—to introduce the average

person to the hidden powersof self-actualization that aredormant within each of us.Neville passed away onOctober1,1972,justasIwasbeginningmywriting career;now, some40 years after hispassing, his many lecturesand books are awakening asleepinginquisitorwithinme.Ihavewritten40booksuptothis point, and the ideas thatNeville offers are stirring

inside of me like a cyclonethatneedstobeexpressed.Ibegina thorough reading

oftheNewTestament,payingparticular attention to thewordsofJesus,whooffersupthe Divine wisdom that weare all God.Our highest selfisGod;itisourpureessence.We come from God and weare God—we just have toovercome the many mindviruses and religious

teachings that want us tobelieve this is nonsense andblasphemy.Next I immerse myself in

The “I Am” Discourses byAscended Master SaintGermain and feel theexcitement roaring throughme as I have the realizationthat the two words I am arethe name ofGod as reportedin Exodus, and that everytime I say those words I am

referringtothenameofGod.I read The Power of

Awareness for the fifth timein less thansixmonths. Iameager to put these powerfulteachingstoworkinmyownlife,soI retreat tomysacredwriting space onMaui everydayandmelt intothem.Iamseeing that the greatest giftI’ve ever been given is thegift of my imagination. Byaffixing into my imagination

an I am God-realizedstatement, I and all ofhumankindcouldachieveanygoal. This only requiresassuming the feeling now ofthe wish already fulfilled. Ideclare to myself that I amwell, I am in perfect health,and theuniverse respondsbysending me the energy thatmatches up with my I amstatement that is firmlylodgedinmyimagination.

I am living in ecstaticawareness. My hand movesacross the empty pages andfills them from I know notwhere or how. I am beingused as an instrument. Thechapterscontinuetoflow,andI love this feeling of almostautomatic writing. I writeabout what I consider to bethe five most salientteachings of Neville’s work;theworkofUellS.Andersen;

and the channeled teachingsofSaintGermain.Meanwhile, miracles are

happeningeveryday. Ispeakto my producer Niki Vettel,andwehavethefullblessingandpermissionofthepowersthat be at PBS to create athree-hour special. This willairthroughoutthecountryforthenextseveralyears,givingmillions of people theopportunity to discover what

I am so excited to share. Irefuse to allow fear ofpotentialcriticismfromthosewho take a different view ofGod to cause me to holdanything back. I study thewordsofJesusandhismanyIampronouncements.Ipullnopunches in the actual videofilming for this ninth PBSspecial.March 2012 arrives with

the new pledge special,

Wishes Fulfilled, airing invirtually every televisionmarket in the United StatesandCanada.Over$18millionis raised for publicbroadcasting in the U.S.,bringingthegrandtotalraisedto over $200 million since1998, when I began thisjourney of visiting almostevery PBS station duringpledgeweek.The bookWishes Fulfilled

jumps to the topofTheNewYorkTimesbestsellerlist,andI receive a ton of mail frommillions of people who tellme of the many miraclesthey’ve seen take place intheir lives by applying thespiritual messages of mybook.I say a silent prayer of

gratitude for Neville’sbrilliance. He took Psalm82:6,“YouareGods,”as the

literal truth of man’scondition.Iporedthroughallof Neville’s teachings—particularly those on thepower of awareness, andstudied the words of Jesus,and The “I Am” Discourses,andmadeeveryefforttokeepall of these Divine messagessimple, understandable, andapplicable in the now. Iobserve with great pride andpersonal excitement the

enormous positive responseto these teachings—theawareness thatGod isnot anexternalconceptbutratheranawareness within. ThatknowingwearemergedwithGod—beyond ego—themanifestationofourdesiresisnot only probable, it isguaranteed.I am so blessed and so

proud to have had the innerpush to read, reread, study,

and put into practice thewords of this articulate andcharismatic teacher. Nevillecaptures the sheer logic ofcreative mind principles asperhapsnootherfigureofhisera.Hiswork came tome inthese past two years with aninsistencethatIpayattention,studyitcarefully,andmakeitavailable to as wide anaudience as possible. TheseWishes Fulfilled teachings

carrywith themthepower tomake heaven on earth areality.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

I’ve often cited theBuddhist proverb “When thestudent is ready, the teacherwill appear.” Although it is

not always evident at thetime,allofourexperiencesinthis life, even those that arepainful, have a true andnecessary purpose in oursoul’s journey. Today I cansee quite clearly thatNeville’s teachings impactedme at a time that seems tohavebeenexquisitelyattunedtomydegreeofreadinessasastudent and teacher of theprinciples of higher

consciousness andspirituality.In the earliest days of my

writing, as I’ve indicatedpreviously,Inevermentionedthe words God, spirituality,orhigherconsciousness.Thiswas because I was writingfrom the place of my ownreadiness. The teachers Ineededduring that timewerehelping me get my messageof motivation and self-

developmenttoaudiences.Asmy level of readiness waselevated, so too was thespiritual awareness of theteacherswhoappeared.As I look back I can see

that my entire career wasbeginning when I was thatyoungboyinanorphanage.Ican see the shift happeningthroughoutallofmyyears inhigh school, in the military,as an inquisitive college

student, as a youngschoolteacher,asauniversityprofessor, and throughoutover fourdecadesasawriterofmanybooksandalecturertomillionsofpeopleallovertheworld.Fromadistance, Ilook at it all and can see thepatterns from my earliestdays until now as aseptuagenarian. It has been along-term journey, and theoverallmotifisclearlyvisible

to me now. I was unable tosee, at the time of everyposition I was in, how eachstep led to a higher step onthe ladder toward God-realization.I shifted from never using

orevenconsideringthewordsGod,higherconsciousness,orspirituality to slowlyintroducing these ideas onrare occasions in my writingand speaking. I gradually

shiftedtoaplacewhereIwasopen to considering thesignificance of writing abouta relationship to God, anddiscoveringthat thenextstepwas being more like God.From Neville Goddard andSaintGermaininThe“IAm”Discourses, I learned theinfinite wisdom of livingfromthehighestself—thatis,as a piece of God. Wow,whatajourney!

With the benefit of 20/20hindsight, I notice that 15years before writing WishesFulfilled,IwroteabooktitledManifest Your Destiny. Thiswasmydegreeofreadinessatthat time. I was in the earlystages of my transition frombeing a writer based inpsychologyandmotivationtobeingastudentandteacherofspirituality and higherconsciousness.Backin1996I

was putting the focus ongetting what you want,emphasizing that when youlearn the principles ofmanifestation, you will beable to do so using the nineimportant components of theprocess of manifestation.Each of these nine principlesof manifesting were andremain essential to living alife in which one is able toattract all that one wants.

Fifteenyearslater,IgraduallyshiftedintotheareasofGod-consciousness.ThekindofmanifestationI

exploreinWishesFulfilled isbased on my own inquiriesintotheworksofThe“IAm”Discourses and particularlythe teachings of NevilleGoddard. It is not aboutgetting what you wantthrough practicing specificprinciples. The theme of

Wishes Fulfilled is thatspirituality is not aboutmanifestingwhatyouwant,itisaboutmanifestingwhatyouare. I know now that all ofmy wants for things comefromaconsciousnessoflack.I can see clearly now that Iam already whole andcomplete,andthattheprocessof manifestation is aboutbecoming all that I wasintended to be—reclaiming

mydivinity,myconnectiontomy Source. Living a life ofGod-realization is what truemanifestationis.Dwelling day by day in

thoughts of peace and lovetoward every creature is thepath of awareness that leadsto abounding peace. This iswhat I was to add to myoriginal book onmanifestingwritten 15 years earlier. Bythinking and acting like the

creative Source, I transcendtheego’sdesireformoreandmore physical stuff, and Icome to understand that I donot manifest what I want. Imanifest who I am. Bystayingalignedwith theTao,orGod,ortheDivinemind,Igain all the power of thecreative Source of theuniverse.Itismyhighestself.It is God—and when I livethisway,Iam.

I can also see clearly nowthat my fascination with theteachings ofNeville andThe“IAm”Discourseswasbeinghandledformebyaforcethatwantedmetounderstandthatit is only by being alignedwith God-consciousness thatone can attract spiritualguidance from those whohave left thisearthlydomain.By eschewing judgment,criticism, condemnation, and

all thoughts of harm, theangels of higher awarenessrecognize themselves in apersonwho iswired togetherinpurelove,andtheuniversewill conspire to open thosedoors to abundance andsupreme happiness that haveremained tightly shut. I seeclearly now that the more aperson lives a life of Divinelove, the more guidance isreceived from nonphysical

Sources.The message here is clear

to me now. In the highestvision of the soul, a wakingangel stirs, so use yourimagination insuchawayasto keep it fully aligned withDivine love. It’s not thatthese powerful teachings,which became the backdropforWishes Fulfilled in 2012,wereunknownorunavailableto me 15 or even 5 years

earlier—it is always aquestion of readiness. Ibecame more open to theideas of spiritual guidancebeingthereforme,andtotheidea that God was not anexternal concept but deepwithinmeandeveryonewhohaseverlived.The creator planted a

fragment of itself withinhumanity,asparkof its Iamnature that cangrow into the

fire of realization that at myverybasicessence,IamGod.As my own personalreadinessshifted toacceptingwhat I previously consideredaradicalconcept,theteachersIwasreadyforbegantoshowup with astonishing alacrity.What was once obscure anddismissedbymeatanearlierstage of my life becamesensible and intenselyexciting. Nurtured by my

excitement, this evolvedthroughmeintothebookandPBS special titled WishesFulfilled.At the airing of my ninth

PBS special on nationaltelevision, based on theteachings ofNeville andThe“I Am” Discourses, I wasable to bringAnitaMoorjanionstage to tell the amazingstory of her near-deathexperience and subsequent

amazing healing from end-stage lymphoma. Anita’sstorycametomeatthesametime that I was becomingmore ready to receive thesemind-bendingteachings.Thisteacher arrived in my lifewhen I was able to help herpublishherbook,DyingtoBeMe, and I was privileged towritetheForeword.Anita discovered firsthand

that she was not separate

from God, and that she washealed from the ravages of adebilitating cancer that hadproceededsofarthatshewasgiven only a few hours tolive.Noonewhohadbeenatthis end-stage of cancer hadeversurvived,yetAnitacameback—cancer-free—to teachothers what she learnedduring her near-death,unconscious comatose state.Her story has touched the

lives of millions of peopleand the book became aninstant New York Timesbestseller. She now travelsthe world sharing withaudiences what she learnedandknowsforcertain:Allwehave to do is to treasure ourown magnificence and knowin our hearts that we arealways committed to God—andwithGod,trulyallthingsarepossible.

Icanseeclearlynowallofthecircumstances thathad tofall intoplace, inorder that Imight know about Anita’sphenomenal experience on“the other side.” Myunquenchabledesiretolocateher in Hong Kong, help hertellherstory,seetoitthatherbookwaspublished,andthenbring her to America toappear on my PBS specialwas all choreographed by a

higher power. Millions ofpeople were able to shift intheir own development as aresult of Anita’s book andPBS appearance. Theyneeded to see and hear fromsomeone who hadexperiencedthepowerwithinall of us and reinforce theideathatweareallGod.I am in awe of the

exquisite synchronicities thatwere at play here. Indeed

when we students are ready,theteachersandtheteachingsjustmagicallyappear.

It is the middle of June2011, and I am back inAssisi.SeveralmonthsbackI

arrangedwithReidTracy,myclose friend and the CEO ofHay House, my exclusivepublisher for the past 12years, to promote this tripwe’re calling ExperiencingtheMiraculous.The itineraryhas us flying into the sacredplacesofAssisi,Lourdes,andMedjugorjeviaprivateplane.In each of these threelocations, where verifiablemiracleshaveoccurred,Iwill

give a two-hour lecture.Onehundredsixty-twopeople,themaximumnumberofseatsonourcharteredjet,havesignedup for this once-in-a lifetimetrip.Thisismythirdvisittothe

home of the saint who hasbeen so instrumental in myspiritual evolution over thepast 20 years, and I knewwhen I was planning thisspiritualodysseythatIhadto

come back here. It is myvision to actually live theideals that defined the lifeofSt.FrancisofAssisi,whohasbeensuchanenormousforcein my life over the pastseveraldecades.When I check into the

hotel, I am offered a brownrobe to use, designed in thesamefashionasthemonksofthe Franciscan Order wear(and as St. Francis wore

himselfwhenhefoundedthisspiritualorderover800yearsago). I put on the robe andwalk through the grounds ofthe hotel here in this villageincentralItaly,andIaminastate of semi-awe at beingback where I encounteredthose miracles of healing inthe1990s.Itouchmykneeinremembrance and offer asilent prayer of gratitude tothe man whose visage I

observed when he asked meto rise with John Graybillhanging on my back, andgavemeahealingthat’skeptme from even consideringknee-replacementsurgery.The next day our group

(which includes three of mychildren)visitsthemanyholyplaces thatarea testament tothe influence that one personcan have on the world’spopulation, more than eight

centuries after his passing in1226. Francesco’s life wasone in which he had a deepconnection to Jesus Christ.Hewasconvinced that livingalifeofChristconsciousnesscould literally bringforgiveness,love,faith,hope,light, and joy to a world inwhich people are willing tolet go of revenge, hatred,doubt, despair, darkness, andsadness.

I am deeply touched toreceive permission to give alecture the followingeveningat a very special venue thathas never before beenavailable for such an event:the Church of San Pietro, aBenedictine abbey that wasfounded in the tenth century.Wearealsogivenpermissiontobring inonevideocamerato record this lecture.Surely,Francescoisplayingarolein

allowingmetogivea lectureandhaveitfilmedhere.The date of my lecture

happens to be the summersolstice: Tuesday, June 21.That evening we are greetedby a Franciscan monk aseveryone quietly enters thechurch. He smilesapprovingly as I speak aboutthisamazingstructure,whichwashereinAssisiatthetimethat Francesco and his

devotees were attempting tomake an impact on thecorruptionthathadsoinfusedthe Catholic hierarchy at thetime.This is an electrifying

environment, even though itissereneandnoticeablyquiet.There is a statue of Jesus onthe cross, and I am to speakin a few moments beneaththis ancient sculpture. As Iwait in the wings, I feel a

tingling unlike anything Ihaveever experiencedbeforespeaking.Prior to my lecture, my

children Serena, Sands, andSajeeachpersonallygivemea loving introduction. I thentell of my long history withSt.Francis and feel as if I’min a supercharged energyfield. I can’t shake the ideathatheisrightherewithme.As I prepare to conclude

my two-hour videotapedpresentation, I read fromNikos Kazantzakis’sprofoundly moving fictionalstory titled simply, SaintFrancis. It tells ofFrancesco’s transformationfromayoungsoldierwhohadalmost died in prison to arenunciate who gave awayeverything he possessed anddedicatedhislifetorepairhischurch and live the message

of Jesus uncompromisingly.The story is told through theeyes of Francesco’s constantcompanion,BrotherLeo.I have read this particular

novelfiveorsixtimes,anditalways stirs deep emotionswithin me. Now I elect toreadashortexcerpt inwhichFrancesco is confronting thething he fears the most, aleper, whom Jesus hasinstructed him to kiss on the

mouth to eradicate hisapprehensiontowardthosesohorrifically afflicted withleprosy.As I read the story to the

group, I am suddenly filledwith emotion. I freezeonstage and am unable tocontinue speaking. I amsobbing uncontrollably. Ihave lostcontrolofmyself. Ifeel as if I have been takenover by another being. For

thefirsttimeinover40yearsof public speaking, I feel asthoughIamnotmyself.Iamnot Wayne Dyer, giving alecturethatisbeingfilmedtobe part of a spiritualtravelogue.Iammergedwiththis being who has been inandoutofmylife,sometimeson the periphery and othertimes deep within my soul.Webecomeone.Tearsareflowingdownmy

face, and I feel Francesco asif he has merged with me.There are no words todescribe this feeling. Myhands are outstretched, andthe audience stands in thechurch and simply holds outtheir arms back to me. Theystaywithme,andI feel theirloving embrace even thoughthere is no touching or evenmovement. There is noapplause—the lecture is

complete. I am at the sametimebothanemotionalwreckas well as a supremelyecstaticpieceofGod.People approach me as I

walk out of the church andtellme theyhaveneverbeenin such a quickening spaceand had their breath takenaway at the same time. Iknow something verydramatic and powerful hasjust transpired. I have

experienced the merging ofmy inner self with a spiritwho has long played adominantroleinmypersonalandspiritualdevelopment.The group heads out to a

restaurant,butIamunabletoeven think about eating. Ireturn by cab to my hotelroom, where I meditate fortwohours.Ihavenoappetite.I feel spent—as if I havesomehow been through a

powerful detoxificationprocedure. I am awake allnightrelivingwhattookplaceat the church and trying tofigure out how I, as aseasoned professionalspeaker, could have “lost it”sounabashedlyonstage.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

Thereisaclearsequencingof circumstances and eventsthat led up tomy experienceattheChurchofSanPietroinAssisi, when I felt thepresence of St. Francis entermy body and render mespeechless and immobile aswell. Up until that summer-solstice day in 2011, I hadwritten and spoken a greatdeal about the concept ofoneness and the merging of

souls as God-realization isachieved. In each of mybooks—beginning withYou’ll See It When YouBelieve It, writtenmore than20 years earlier, where Iwrote an entire chapter ononeness—I was able to talksensibly about these esotericsubjects. I can see clearlynowthatthemanybooksthatfollowed were attempts byme to further expand upon

this idea that we are allconnected, and that this ideaof being fully merged withanother spiritual counterpartisagenuinepossibility.But my clearest vision

todayasIlookbackisaviewof myself at that altar in theamazing church where St.Francis once stood, in thatmagnificent city of Assisi. Iwas taken to a placewhere Icould actually experience the

difference between writingabout oneness andexperiencingitfirsthand.Itislike the difference betweenknowing about God via thewriting of others, andknowing God by makingconsciouscontactwithGod.It was time for me to see

thebiggerpictureofmylife’sjourney from a young writerand speaker aboutpsychological matters, to a

supposed level of expertiseon spiritual pursuits, toultimately coming to knowvia my own personalexperience with St. Francis.This was truly a Divineappointment arranged bywhatever invisible forceshandlesuchcelestialmatters.It is akin to my absolute

knowing today thatmyyearsspent in a series of fosterhomesandorphanages in the

first decade of my life wereofferedtomeastheonlywayIcouldactuallycometoknowabout the idea of self-reliance. I look upon thoseearly years as the path that Iwas directed to traverse, thenecessary beginning babysteps I needed to internalizein order to have self-reliancefirmly implanted on myconsciousness. My earlywritings on oneness and the

interconnectedness of allsoulsonaspirituallevelweremytentativestepstowardtheultimate realization of beingable to experience themfirsthand.St. Francis has been a

prominent figure in theoverall pattern of my life,from the time Iwas a youngboywhowasintriguedbythepossibility of there being asecret garden, to the present

dayinwhichIhavebecomeawell-recognized spirituallyinfluentialteacher.Intheeyesof the creator I had to havemore than a cursoryacquaintance with Francescoof Assisi—I had to not onlycome to know about him, Ihad to become him. Thatsummer-solstice day, I knewbeyond a shadow of a doubtthat we had momentarilymerged.

Everyone present in theabbey that day could feelFrancis’s presence as well.And when I saw photos ofmyself from a variety ofdifferent cameras at thatmoment, there were hugeorbs visible. In fact, Iincluded one of those photosfilled with those mysteriousorbs in an insert in WishesFulfilled.As I was putting the

finishing touches on thatbook,IreceivedaletterfromBrenda Babinski, who hadbeen in the audience at arecent talk I gave inCanada.Shewrote to tellme about alight that surrounded meonstage throughout mypresentation:

Then something evenstranger happened. Dr.Wayne,youweretalking

about SaintFrancis andbeforemyveryeyes,youtransformed. Your bodywas clad in a long robeand your featurestransformed so that youwere Saint Francis ofAssisi. It lasted for onlya moment, but it waspowerful,emotional,andvery,veryreal.But then something

evenstrangerhappened.

Youbegan to talk aboutLao-tzu, and youtransformed into him! Along braid tailed downyour back and I couldseeyourfacecompletelytransform into Lao-tzu.Again, it only lasted fora moment, but theexperiencewill lastwithmeforever.

For the major part of my

life, up until only recently, Iwouldhaveassuredlyrejectedsuchahappeningasnotonlyimpossible but delusional aswell. But now I see with amuch clearer vision. I wasthere in the abbey of SanPietro in Assisi once beforewhen this saintly man cameto me—I saw for a splitsecond a vision of himimploring me to rise, and atthat time I had a healing of

myimpairedkneethatdefiedall medical guidance. Beforethat, Francesco entered mywife’s heart and mine andtouched our souls as we satand meditated in the chapelwhere he lived and died. Onthat solstice day in 2011, Ifelt myself become one withthis Divine being for a fewpreciousmoments,infrontofthe video camera and before162spiritualseekers.

Francesco experiencedstigmata during the final twoyearsofhislife.Hisdevotionto Christ consciousness wassuchthathebecameonewithJesus.Iseeclearlytodaythatthe real essence of livingfrom a place of pureunconditional Divine love isin becoming one with ourSourceofbeing,thinkingandacting in a steadfast manneras God. When one’s being

becomes saturated with purelove,as itwas formeonmythird miraculous visit toAssisi—giving a talk on theimpact that thissainthashadon me, relating the story ofhow Francesco discoveredthatJesushadcometohiminthe form of a leper and howhe had overcome his fear bykissing that leper on themouth—in that moment,Divine love united me with

Francesco and we becameone.I’ve always loved Mother

Teresa’s observation, as shelooked into the eyesof thoseshe literallypulledoutof thegutter: “Each one of them isJesusindisguise.”Iknowweareallconnected—allone.Unconditional Divine love

can become so empoweringthat it can give one thewoundsofChrist;itcanallow

one to see the unfolding ofGod in everyone; and as Ilearned in those magicalmoments in Assisi that arerecorded in a DVD programcalled Experiencing theMiraculous, it can fusetogether into oneness thesouls ofwhat onlyappear tobetwoseparatebeings.Since that day in the

ChurchofSanPietrowithSt.Francis, I have felt himwith

meatalltimes.Iamhumbledby the mere thought that Icould have been blended asonewithsuchabeing,ifonlyfor a moment … but morelikelyforeternity.

I’m meeting with 350people who have agreed tocomewithmeon a cruise of

the Mediterranean Sea, onboard Celebrity Cruises’fabulous 17-story flagship,Equinox. I announce to thegroup that I’ve arranged togive five two-hour lectureswhile at sea, travelingbetween Rome, Santorini,Istanbul, Athens, Mykonos,and Naples. In addition, Iplan to give a one-hourlecture at the site of theHouseoftheVirginMary,in

Ephesus, Turkey. The topicfor this particularly speciallecturewillbe,“In theWakeof Our Spiritual Ancestors,”which is also the theme ofthisodyssey.During the previous two

weeks I gave two publiclectures in Scotland andEngland, where I spent timepreparingfor thespecialdateof September 30, 2012. Thisis when we’ll gather at the

stonehousethatisbelievedtobe the onewhere themotherof Jesus was taken by St.John after the Crucifixion,andwhereshe liveduntilherascension. This home is nowbothaCatholicandaMuslimshrine, located on MountKoressos in the vicinity ofEphesus, Turkey.My lecturewillbegiven justoutside theancient stone house wherehundreds,ifnotthousands,of

peoplewillbewalkingby.Afilm crew is to record thisevent, as they’ve been doingfor all of the lectures andvisits to these historicalMediterraneanlocations.Ihavebeen thinkingabout

the spiritual saint who livednot far from this site inTurkey:MawlanaJalalal-DinRumi. He was a poet, jurist,theologian, and mostsignificantly, a Sufi mystic.

And his life actuallyoverlappedwithSt.FrancisofAssisi by approximately 19years(Rumiwasbornin1207andwas19yearsofagewhenFrancesco passed in 1226).Although he lived during the13thcentury, in2007hewasdescribed as “the mostpopularpoetinAmerica.”I have been reading and

quoting Rumi for almost 30years now.He has become a

very significant figure inmylife,onaparwithsomanyofthe spiritual teacherswhomIhave written about here inthesepages.Infact,I’vebeenalmost obsessedwith the lifeofthismanconsideredtobeasaint inboth theMuslimandChristian worlds—hisimportance is considered totranscend national and ethnicborders.In the early 1980s, shortly

after the revolution in Iran, Ireceived a letter from awoman named Mariam wholivedinTehran.Shehadreadin her nativeFarsi a recentlypublished edition of YourErroneous Zones, and shebrought the works of Rumiinto my awareness. She hassince been in continuouscommunication with me,throughlettersfromherhomeinIran.

Almost threedecadeshavepassed since Mariam firstconnected with me afterfalling in lovewith the ideaspresented in my earliestbooks. Although she lives inacountrythatseriouslylimitsand discourages any contactwith people from America,shehas a profoundly abidinglove for me and the worksthatIhaveproducedoverthepast 30 or more years.

Mariam had polio as a childand was unable to stand orwalk from the age of twountilsix.InadreamaDivinespiritual female apparitionbeckonedhertoriseandwalkand she did so, first in thedream, and then in herphysical awakened state aswell.Shesendsmethepoetryof

Rumi,anddreamsofonedaymeeting up with the one she

calls her “Shams-love.” Itseemsthatshehasdevelopedthe samekindof relationshipwithmeasRumihadwiththegreat spiritual teacher Shamsof Tabriz, who was theinspiration for so much ofRumi’s vast array of poetry.In 1244 at the age of 37,Rumimet hismaster Shams,and thismeetingwas said tochangehis life.Thelovethatexisted between them for the

four years of theircompanionship wasconsidered to be Divine. Hislove for Shams and hisbereavement upon hismaster’s death (some saybroughtaboutbyRumi’sownson)inspiredanavalancheoflove poetry that’s beentranslated into manylanguagesandpersists to thisday.Mariam’s letters,gifts,and

occasional phone calls overthe decades all speak to akind of holy love alliancebetween us that transcendstheculturalandglobaldividethat separates us. Her mostferventwish is thatwecouldone day meet in person,although that has alwaysappeared to be animpossibility because she isforbidden by the laws of herland to obtain a visa to visit

NorthAmerica.On the morning of

September 28, 2012, ourgroup is getting ready for atouroftheenchantingancientcity of Istanbul, which Ihaven’t seen since I lived inKaramursel in 1974, when Iwas forced to bribe my wayout of Turkey due to theimpending war with Greeceover the erupting crisis onCyprus. I am about to board

my bus when a womanwearingaheadcoveringstepsin front of me with ahandwritten sign that says:YOU’LL SEE IT WHENYOUBELIEVEIT.Sheasks,“DoyouknowwhoIam?”When I discover that it is

Mariam, we are bothoverwhelmedby joy. It turnsoutthatshewasabletogetavisa to come to Turkey andhas waited all night to meet

me at this crowded portteeming with thousands ofvisitors.Onepersonfromourgroup

was unable to come on thebus tour due to illness, sothere is one empty seat.Mariamspendstheentiredaywith me and my daughterSerena,andweshareatearfulgoodbye at the end of ourvisit to the incredible BlueMosque.

I return to the ship andcontinuemy preparations formylectureattheHouseoftheVirgin Mary in Ephesus. IhavebeentotallyimmersedintheworksofRumiandShamsof Tabriz, and I pick out thepoems and stories I wish toinclude at my presentation. Ifeel the presence of bothRumi and Shams, and ofMariam after seeing her forthe very first time following

so many years ofcommunication, especiallyrelated to the teachings ofthese two spiritualecumenical giants. Theseteachings go way beyondreligion; they represent thevery essence of Divine love,which is where I see myselfnow.Astudentanda teacherof a kind of love that neverchanges—never varies. It isthesamelovethat isdirected

atallofhumanityfromGod.I arrive via this

magnificent cruise ship—aliteral floating city—atEphesus, and again board abus. Our group will spend afull day in this ancient city,which conceals the remainsof a Neolithic settlementdating back to 6,000 B.C. Italso contains the largestcollection of Roman ruinseast of the Mediterranean

Sea. It is a fascinating placeto see and to recall that onlyan estimated 15 percent hasbeenexcavated.AsIwalk tomybus,once

again I seeMariam. She haschangedherplanstoflybackto Tehran and has taken aflight, a train, and a bus tojoinupwithme for thisvisitto Ephesus. Of course shealso wants to attend mylecture on Rumi and Shams,

sincemuchofitwasgarneredfrom material she’s sent tome for almost 30 years. Ithinkabout the time, trouble,andexpense thatMariamhasgone through and I look ather and see the pure joy thatshe feels at finally fulfillingher lifelong dream to meetwithmeinperson.Iaminastateofshockand

excitement. Having Mariamaccompany me and my

daughter through theexcavated city of Ephesusstill feels almost dreamlike,and now to lecture on Rumiat the House of the VirginMary with her in attendancewill be exciting andchallenging as well. ThiswomanhasreadallofRumi’sworks, including the six-volume Masnavi, which is aspiritual writing that teachesSufishow to reach theirgoal

of being in true alignmentwithGod.Wetakeabustothetopof

NightingaleMountain,wheretheHouseoftheVirginMaryislocatedinanaturepark.All350 members of our groupareseatedinanareaadjacentto the stone house, thefoundation of which datesbacktothefirstcenturyA.D.Legend tells us that theVirgin Mary came with the

apostle John to this home,where she lived until herdeath.I introduce Mariam to the

group,includingthehundredsof visiting tourists who havestopped to listen to my talkandobservethevideocameracrew recording this event. Irecite a series of Rumi andShams poems and tell of thegreat love that existedbetween these venerable

spirits. I relate the story ofMariam and myself, and allthatit tookforhertobenextto me on this stage. I recallthestorythatMariamtoldmeofheryearsasapoliovictimandhowablessedwoman inher dream toldher to rise upand walk, after over fouryearsofbeingunabletoevenstand.I recall thevision I hadof

St. Francis while in Assisi

and how he appeared for afew seconds as an apparitionand instructedme to riseandhealed my ailing right knee,rightonthespot.Ilooktomyleft and see the actual homewheretheVirginMarycame,and I recall how Mary ismentioned not only in thepoetic works of Rumi but intheKoranaswell.I complete a 70-minute

videotaped presentation on

“The Wake of Our SpiritualAncestors,” particularlyShamsandRumi,whospokeofakindofhealinglovethatgoes beyond any religion. Itis September 30, 2012, the805th birthday of this manwho has become such aDivine force in my life,largely because of the lovethat Mariam in Iran had forme, and continues to haverightupuntilthisday.Wesay

a happy birthday to Rumi,and proceed to the house ofthe Virgin to light a candleand feel the energy of lovethatisenvelopingeveryoneinattendancetoday.Ihavespentaconsiderable

amount of time in recentmonths in Assisi, Lourdes,Medugorje, and nowEphesus, all places ofworshipwheretheapparitionsof the Mother of Jesus have

been recorded anddocumented. I am speakingon the birthday of the manwhose teachings on Divinelovehaveinspiredmillionsofpeople throughout theworld,irrespective of their culturalorreligiouspersuasions.IamwithMariam,whowashealedfrom the devastating effectsof polio as a young Muslimgirl by a visionof a spiritualapparition. Everyone in

attendance is touched bythese and so many otherironies.Weboardourbusesaftera

deeply portentous experiencein the House of the Virgin.We return to the port, and Iam in the throes of themosttearful sobbing as Mariamtells me, “Now I will carryyou with me into eternity.”She givesme a slew of giftsfor all of my children, and

almost collapses in my armsas I hug her and say good-bye.

ICanSeeClearlyNow

YouwhoseekGod,apart,apart

Thethingyouseek,thouart,thouart.

IfyouwanttoseektheBeloved’sface.

Polishthemirror,gazeintothatspace.

These words were writtenby Rumi as a tribute for hismasterguruShamsofTabriz.As I look back at the veryimpactful day at Ephesus Ibelieve that these words,which I read just prior togiving my lecture at the

House of the Virgin Mary,are symbolic of the placewhere I have been guided to—not just on thisMediterranean cruise andmymeetingwithMariam,butformyentirelifeaswell.ItisallaboutrecognizingthatGodisnotsomethingthatlivesapartfrom us. If we polish themirror and gaze into thatspace,whatwewill discoveris that God resides in that

whichisreflectedback.On the 805th anniversary

of the birth ofRumi,when Imademy presentation at thatsacredspot,Ihadbeendoingalmost nothing else theprevious three weeks otherthanimmersingmyself inthelife and teachings of bothMawlana Jalal al-Din Rumiand Shams of Tabriz. Theyboth were visitors into myheart and soul, much like

Ellis, Maslow, St. Francis,Lao-tzu, andothers hadbeenatearliertimesinmylife.TohaveMariam,whohad

first introduced Rumi andShamstomealmost30yearsearlier, show up socompletely unexpectedly andstandbesidemewhileIspokeand recited Rumi’s poetrywas to me a Divineappointment. This feltparticularly significant since

this took place at the lastearthly residence of theMotherofJesus,whoMariamsuspects may have beeninstrumental in her healingfrom the polio that sheexperienceduntilshewassix.Icanseeclearlytodaythat

all of these “coincidences”that coalesced on Rumi’sbirthday in Ephesus let meknow the meaning of thewords attributed to him as

tribute to his master, whomhe loved so adoringly andunconditionally. For Rumi,love is the urge to rejoinSpirit, the divinity, and thegoal toward which all thingsmove.Theillusionis thatweare apart from this DivineSource of ours. All of ourefforts at love, according toRumi,aretocomecloserandcloser to that which is ouroriginal nature. This was the

essential lesson of both St.Francis and Lao-tzu: TomergeintoonenesswithGod.To abandon the demands ofthe ego, and to live from aplace of Divine love, a lovethat never changes, nevervaries, is steadfast, neverslipping—as is the love ofJesus,Buddha,andallDivinespiritualmasters.IcanseeclearlynowthatI

wasbeingdirectedtogoeven

beyond knowing that we areall pieces of God, and toexperience the inner radiancethat comes to us when wefinally know this at anexperientiallevel.Iattainedanew level of insight from allthat I was reading in theweeks leading up tomeetingMariam and delivering mytalkontheworksofthisgreatSufi master who transcendedall religious and cultural

identities. This essentialmessagewas, and is, that allmatter in the universe obeysthelawofDivinelove,whichis amovement to evolve andseek unity with the divinityfromwhichithasemerged.These poetic lines express

Rumi’s teaching, and mycallingtoDivinelove:

IroamedthelandsofChristendomfromendtoend

Searchingallover,butHewasnotontheCross.

IwentintothetempleswheretheIndiansworshipidolsAndtheMagianschant

prayerstofire—IfoundnotraceofHim.

Ridingatfullspeed,IlookedallovertheKaaba

ButHewasnotatthatsanctuaryforyoungandold.

ThenIgazedrightintomyownheart:

There,IsawHim…Hewasthereandnowhereelse.

The “Him” that Rumi sawwas his own highest self—God within. But beyond thisrecognition of our own holypresenceis thewillingnesstobe an instrument of this loveandtoradiateitoutwardtoallof God’s creations. I am

challenged to love all asRumi was challenged byShams to love beyond anyconditions or restrictions. ToloveasMariamhaslovedmeand my teachings for threedecades without ever havingseenmewithhereyes.ThesearethewordsshewrotetomeafterourvisitsinTurkey:

I have not stoppedcrying aboutmy leaving

you yet, on the waycoming back home, atwork, day and night.Tears flowing down myeyes wherever I go,whatever I do. There isno one, even you, whocan understand how Ifeel after having comeback—only me, God,and Molanaye Rumi. …You thankme, but I amthe one who should

thank you to callme onthe stage to have thehonor to stand besideyou and talk aboutMolanayeRumi…

Mordehbodamzenehzendehshodam

(IwasdeadIbecamealive)Geryehbodamkhandeh

shodam(IwastearsIbecame

laughter)

Dowlateheshghamadomandowlatehpayandehshodam(ThekingdomoflovecameandIbecametheeternal

kingdom)MolanayeRumi

Wayne,IfeelthatRumiisbetweenus,Imeannotin

between,butinsideyouandmeandmakesustofeelcloserthananytimeelse.Thisisnotanaccident.Loveisourdestiny.

As I look back at theastonishing events thattranspiredonthatday,Irecallhow over three decades,Mariam has loved me—throughthebirthsofmanyofmy children, through thedeaths of her own parents,through the healing of herown infirmities, throughpolitical extremism, throughwars and enforcedseparations, she never

wavered. She has been amessenger of God, bringingRumiandShamsofTabriztome,andallowingmyhearttoopen to a new kind of love.Not a human love, whichchanges and varies; not aspiritual love, which variesbut never changes; but aDivine love, which neverchangesandnevervaries.Allofmyendlesshoursof

reading and preparation for

that presentation at Ephesus,and still I had no idea thatMariamwouldjustappearonacrowdedpierasIboardedabus. I had no idea as Iengaged in my preparationsand research that I would beat the House of the VirginMary. Nor did I realize thatI’dbethereonthebirthdayofthe world’s most belovedteacherofDivinelove.I sit here and write in a

stateofstupefactionatallthattranspiredon thatday.All toteach me those words ofRumi:

Lovehascomeanditislikebloodinmyveinsandinmy

flesh.IthasannihilatedmeandfilledmewiththeBeloved.TheBelovedhaspenetratedeverycellofmybody.

Ofmyselfthereremainsonly

aname,everythingelseisHim.

This is what I can seeclearly now. My nameremains.Loveismyessence.And it is my destiny topractice and teach Divinelove.

AFTERWORD

SeeingYourLifeMoreClearly—Now!

Therearesomanybenefitsthat can and will accrue foryou if you are willing toexamine your own personalstory from the perspective ofhaving an open mind, and

with the intention of seeingall that has come your waywith a clearer vision. Inrelating all of thecircumstances that weremajor turning points in mylife throughout the pages ofthis book, I discovered sometruths I would like to sharewith you so that you toomight enjoy the benefits oflookingatyourlife, thenandnow, through unclouded

lenses.The one overriding insight

Ihave is thatweall live inauniverse that has intelligencebehind life—and thatintelligence is innate in eachcreation.Thisuniversalmindiscompletewithineachofus,andwehaveonlytodiscoveritforitspowerandperfectiontobeours.I urge you to apply an

unobstructed view to

everything that has everhappened to you, andeveryone that has ever comeintoyourlife.Youareapieceof the creative force that isthematrix of all matter. Theeventsorpeoplethatshowupinyourlifearenotbecauseofhappenstance andcoincidence.Armedwiththisawareness

that “accidents” cannotoccurin a universe that’s being

directed by a consciousintelligent mind, and thatthere is somesortofpurposeassociated with everythingthat arrives in your lifebecauseyouareapartofthismatrix of allmatter, you canbegintodowhatIhavebeendoing throughout the writingof this book. Begin to payclose attention and viewevery event and everycircumstance—in particular,

those that result in dramaticshifts—asguidance from thisDivine organizingintelligence.Throughout history there

have been so many familiarnames for this force thatinspires human beings tochoose to go in a directionthat yields beauty, love, andtruth. This invisibleintelligence is eternally withyou, and it offers something

foryouineverymoment—inevery encounter, everysituation, and everycircumstance. There issomething right in front ofyou, staring you in the face,offeringyouachoice tograbahold and get on board totravelinanewdirection,ortoignore it and attribute it tonothingmorethanchance.Asyou adopt more of an I cansee clearly now attitude, you

will look very differently ateveryaspectofyourlife.With the advantage of

hindsight, I am able to seeand write about thesemomentousshiftsthatwereintheprocessof takingplace. Ihadnoideahowfar-reachingtheytrulywere.Icannowseethe entire tapestry ofmy lifeas a continuous design. I seethat this invisible force wasoffering me free passes to

move in the direction of mylife’s purpose. I urge you tolook back on your own lifewith as much honesty andopenness as you can musterand see how those strangerswho “just showed up” orthose significant events thattranspired were offered toyoutoencourageyoutoalignwithyourownlife’spurpose.You always have the

choice to pay attention and

take an unfamiliar andperhaps riskypath.Likewise,you can choose to not payattention and stay with theversionofyourlifeimplantedin you by familial andcultural influences dictatingprecisely what yourlimitations and aspirationsought to be. The real benefitoflookingbackatallofthosesignificanteventsofyourlifeandseeinghowthat invisible

hand of God was there foryou at the time is not torehash your entire pastlooking for the hiddenmeanings,but toawakenyouto becoming a moreconsciouspersonnow,today,in the present moments ofyourlife.What Iknowforcertain is

that there are teachers andteachings everywhere. Everymomentofourlivesoffersus

the opportunity to pay closeattention to see the personwho approaches us not as astranger,butassomeonewhoshowedup in the rightplace,attherightmoment.Toviewanunfortunatehappeningnotas“mybadluck,”but toask,“WhatmightIlearnfromthisrighthere, rightnow?”ratherthan going through a longperiod of suffering beforeseeingwhy you alignedwith

this seemingly regrettablecircumstance.As I look back over my

life, it is not a far reach forme to conclude that there issome kind of a plan that isalways at work, even if it islargely unknown as itunfolds. It is not a greatstretch for me to concludethatthisplanisbeingdirectedby the same force that keepstheplanetsaligned,opensthe

buds of all the flowers, andgives life to all manner ofcreationhereandeverywhereelseintheuniverseaswell.Inow pay much closerattention to what shows upfor me, and I’m willing tolisten carefully to anyinclination I might have andact accordingly, even if itleads me into unknownterritory.Iurgeyoutodothesame.

Examine themajor turningpoints in your life and lookcarefully at all of the so-called coincidences that hadto arise in order for you toshift direction. At thatmoment you think of as acoincidence, you had a freewill and youmade a choice.At that same moment therewas something much biggerthan you, something you’realwaysconnectedto,thatwas

also at play. That“something” was setting upthe details so that you couldfulfillthepurposeyousignedup for when you made theleap from Spirit to form—fromnowhere,tonowhere.The teachers are always

there. Your degree ofreadinesstopayattentionandlisten carefully to yourhighest self, and act onwhatyour intuitive self tells you,

enlivens your awareness ofyour teachers. Sharpen yourinsightandbewillingtotrustthat what you are feelinginside iswhat you should bedoing, regardless of whateverything and everyonearound you might be sayingto the contrary. This is theadvantage of adopting an Ican see clearly nowmentality.

Therearemanydiscoveriesto be made when you openyour mind to the possibilitythat there’s Divineintelligencemovingallofthepieces of your life around inharmonywith your ability tohave free will and makechoices.Youdiscover that infact your life’s dharma hasbeenlaidout,andwithinthat

same predetermined realityset, you are free to makechoices. You will alsodiscover that this Divineforce, or the Tao, is reallynothing more than pureunconditional love. One ofmy most respected teachers,Carl Jung, expressed theparadox this way: “In thesamemoment that you are aprotagonist in your lifemakingchoices,you’realsoa

spear carrier or extra in amuch larger drama. You aredoomedtomakechoices.”This love isboundlessand

infinite, and when you thinkand behave in ways thatmatchthisDivinelove,thatiswhen you are able to attractthe guidance from this realmtoassist you in steeringyourlife inaGod-realizedway. Itis in these moments of purelove that you are able to

experience miraculoushappenings.This iswhen theangelsoftheDivinerealmofSpiritareable tobe there foryouandyoubecomeawareoftheirpresence.It is in these times of

unqualified giving, or whenyour inner focus isexclusively on, How may Ireach out and serve? ratherthan the selfish demands ofthe ego, saying,What’s in it

for me? that these guides ofpure love recognizethemselves in you and reachout to put you on your pathtoward reemergingwith youroriginal Source of being—withGodandyourappointedguides.Throughoutmy life, itwas

when I suspended and tamedmy ego that miraclesoccurred and I was invisiblyurged to make a shift in my

life’spath.Iurgeyoutolookattheeventsofyourownlife,even way back when youwere a child and right up tothe present, and examinewhatwas takingplacewithinyou that propelled you in anewdirection.Then,and thisis of the utmost urgency,becomeawareofanyofyourown internal thoughts thatare judgmental, critical, orcondemnatory toward any of

God’s children, includingyourself.Whenyou’reabletoshift your inner thoughts tounconditional love, eventoward those who’ve beendesignated as your enemies,youwillopenyourself to theguidance that nudges youtoward the path leading toyour own self-actualizationand God-realization. This isthe advantage of seeing withclearer eyes—it can aid you

now, in thispresentmoment,in shifting away from a paththatleadstoself-sabotage.Asyouchangethewayyou

lookatthingssoastostayinthatplaceofDivinelove, thethings you look at begin tochange as well. This isbecause at these highestvibrational frequencies ofunconditional love, you arevibrating in unity with theSource of all, that which we

have come to call God. AsI’vestatedmany times in thewriting of this book, withGod(withlove)allthingsarepossible, and that includesattracting angels of love toguide you right in themoment.

Seeingyourownlifemoreclearlyinvolvesbeingacutely

aware of anything andeverything that createsexcitementwithinyourbeing.If it excites you, the verypresence of that innerexcitementisalltheevidenceyou need to remind you thatyou’realignedwithyourtrueessence. When you arefollowing your bliss, you aremost amenable to receivingguidance from the spiritualrealm. This is called

synchronicity—a state inwhich you almost feel as ifyou are in a collaborativearrangementwithfate.This has been the

overriding story of my ownlife.WhenIlistencarefullytothoseinnersignals,theyseemtosaytome,Thisiswhyyouare here, now you are trulyalignedwithyourhighestself,there is nothing to fear, justdowhatyourexcitementtells

you to do. And that isprecisely what I’ve done inrecapitulating the seeminglydisparate events that formedthe entire tapestry ofmy lifeupuntilnow.For much of your life

you’ve very likely beencautiousaboutfollowingyourinnerpassion,becauseyou’vebeen programmed sincechildhood to follow someoneelse’s idea of what you

shouldbedoing.Yourfamily,your culture, your circle offriends, your immediatesurroundings—allconspire tolay out the path of your life.When you’ve ignored thatprogramming and followedwhat your inner excitementdictated,youprobablythrivedin a more satisfying way,even when criticized andjudgedasselfish.As I lookbackatmanyof

thedecisionsImadethattookme down a very differentpath, it’s clear that I wasmaking those decisionsexclusively on the basis ofwhatfeltright,whatmademefeel passionate andenthusiastic, even when thepotential for failure anddisappointment was a realpossibility.See your own life more

clearly today—right here,

right now in this moment—by refusing to ignore thatwhich stirs passion andexcitement within you. Youcameherewithmusictoplay,so when you begin toharmonize with what onlyyou hear playing in yourmind, listen carefully andstop yourself right in yourtracks and be willing to takethe first step in the directionof those synchronistic

callings. This is your highestself calling! This is yourreemergence with yourSourceofbeing.Itmaynotmakeanysense

to anyone around you, andmight even appear to bepreposterous to you as well,but justknow that in theendyouwillnotbedisappointed.In fact, whoever andwhatever you need willeventually appear in their

unforeseenDivineperfection.Even if nothing seems to begoing right and it all lookslike doom and gloom, staywith your excitement.Declare yourself to be in astate of faith and trust,meditate on your vision, andthesupportwillultimatelybeforthcoming. The reason thatit serves your innerexcitement is because inthose moments, known only

to you, you are in alignmentwithwhoyoutrulyare.

Duringyour life, justas inmine,therehavebeenspecialteacherswhohaverepeatedlymadethemselvesknown.I’vedetailed how St. Francis ofAssisi, Lao-tzu, Jalal al-DinRumi,AbrahamMaslow,Dr.Mildred Peters, Albert Ellis,

and many others havecontinually shown up andpresented their offerings tomepreciselywhen theyhavebeenmost needed, andwhenitwasclear thatIwasfinallyready to accept andimplement their Divinelyinspiredguidance.Ifyouarewillingtoreview

your past with lovingawareness,youwillrecognizemanyteacherswhohavebeen

thereforyouthroughoutyourown life. Some of them youwerewillingtolistentoatthetime and act on what theyoffered you because of yourreadiness level, and othertimes your readiness levelwas at such a low level thatyoudidn’tevenrecognizetheDivine timingof their arrivalor reappearance. Begin nowto become aware of andwelcome the assistance that

continually makes itselfavailabletoyouindailylife.After spending the better

part of this past yearreviewing the many teachersand teachings that haveinfluenced the general paththat my life has taken, I cansee clearly that I’ve been insome kind of invisibleascended-master trainingsincemyarrivalhereback inMay of 1940. And so have

you.Wealloriginatefromthesame Source of Divine love.As we grow andmature, weare all given free choice tostayconnectedtothisSource,or to edge God out and liveby the demands andinclinations of our false self—theego.Ralph Waldo Emerson,

another of those ascendedmasters who have beenknocking on the door of my

innerawarenesssinceIwasateenager, and perhaps evenbefore that, offers us thisobservation:

Withinmanisthesoulofthewhole;thewisesilence,

theuniversalbeauty,towhicheverypartand

particleisequallyrelated;theeternalOne.

Yes,hedidsayitiswithinus. That means you as well.

This isyour inheritancefromyour originating Source, andthis “eternal One” iscontinuously sendingemissaries. They arecomprised exclusively of thewise silence, the universalbeauty. It is your choicewhetherornottofollowtheirenergetic promptings or toignore them because of yourunreadinessforsuchcounsel.These beings of light and

love are all around you, andhave been since your arrivalinto this physical presencethat you identify with sostrongly. They leave cluesand omens, and sometimestheir guidance is subtle andconfusing—but they arethere, and all you need do isbegintopayattentiontoyourintuitivefeelingsandthenactfearlessly onwhat they seemto be communicating to you.

The more you trust in thisintuition, the more you willsee things in pure alignmentwithyourowndharma.Go with what you feel

inside—your soul-beatactivating your excitement—it’s inviting you to the nextstep up the ladder of a lifethat leads to the light. AsRumi said: “The second youstepped into this world ofexistencealadderwasplaced

beforeyoutohelpyouescapeit.” (Translation by AndrewHarvey; I amgrateful tohimforgrantingmepermissiontoreprintthisquote.)Therearesomanyhelping

hands beckoning you to takehold and move up to escapethe illusion of this world ofexistence. Ascended masters,angels of your higher self,well-intended teachers,familymembers, strangers, a

hostofevents,andwhatseemlikebizarrecircumstancesareall working earnestly to helpyoumoveuptheladderthat’srooted in ordinaryconsciousness—and ascendsto the celestial world ofextraordinary living andhigher awareness. Bewillingtoletyourselfbepersuadedtostep fearlessly on the nextrung,andthenext,bypayingcloseattentiontoyourguides.

Our ultimate mission hereinthisphysicalincarnationonplanet Earth is to reemergewith our Source, the oneeternal One, to recognizeourselves as a being of loveand light—apieceofGod, ifyou will—and to practicethinking and acting in thesamewaythatGoddoes.Every turning point or

momentofinsightthathelpedme climb up that ladder thatwas placed before me at mybirthcameaboutasaresultofan inner intuitive knowingthatIhadtoputlessandlessemphasis on my ego and itscontinual thoughts ofWhat’sin it forme? I learned that Iwanted and needed to shifttoward acting and thinkinglikeGod.God, our Source, the great

Tao,Divinemind,isallaboutserving, reaching out andtamingtheselfishdemandsofthe ego that is alwaysinsistingonmore stuff,morepopularity, more approval,more recognition, morewinning, and moreownership.When I shift to

contemplating what is thebest way to reach as manypeople as possible with a

message of hope, kindness,joy, and most of all, love—and shift from the materialbenefits—I feel excitementexpanding within me. Thenmore synchronistic helpseemstojustturnuprightonsome invisible-to-meschedule.Examine your own

movement toward seeingmore clearly, and when youareatwhatyouknowtobea

crossroads, or where tworoads are diverging in awood, ask for assistance.Seek advice toward movingin the directionwhere ego isless and less a determiningfactor. Ask yourself how tofulfill your soul purpose byservingothersfirst.Critics may say that my

life’s work is about makingmoney, and making a namefor myself so that I might

bask in the limelightof fameand popularity. I have spentthousands upon thousands ofhours sitting alone at a desk,facing blank sheets of paperwaiting to be filled with theideas that are reverberatingwithinme. I can saywithallhonesty that I’ve neverengaged in this solitaryactivity of writing 41 bookswiththeideainmyheadthatIwas going tomakemoney,

oracquirefameforallofmyefforts.Every step up that ladder

that Rumi speaks about hasbeentakenbecauseI’vebeenguided and prodded by somany profound teachers andteachings that it was almostimpossible forme not to putmy foot on the next upwardrung and pull the rest ofmyphysical apparatus up towardmore exalted and heightened

awareness. It all happenedbecause I was willing andready to reach out and serveand to spend the time andenergyallaloneinaroomfarfrom all distractions, and putonto the pad of paper beforeme what was absolutelyinsisting upon beingexpressed by me for thebetterment of others in someway that I needn’t ever fullycomprehend.

Whatever fameandwealththat arrived in my life isn’tbecauseIwaschasingafterit.Allof theresultsarebecauseI actively followed myexcitement and trusted inguidance that surfaced alongthe way, and becausesomething within mepractically forced me to dothiswork.It’sthesamethingthathaspushedmetonighttoleavethecomfortofmyhome

and family and sit herewriting.AsDr.Redlusedtotellus,

self-actualizing people mustbe what they can be. Theydon’t know how to suppressthose inner burning desiresthat simply must beexpressed. The externalrewards are just bonuses thatarrive when one advancesconfidentlyinthedirectionofhis own dreams, and

endeavors to live the lifewhich he has imagined, tociteHenryDavidThoreau.Asyou’ve read, he is one ofthose teachers who’s shownup for me since I was a 15-year-old-boy awaitingpunishment for my “civildisobedience”inhighschool.Lookbackoveryourlifeat

the key turning-pointmoments when you wereinvolved in some kind of a

peak experience and beingpulled in a new direction.Think about your soul andwhat it truly means to bemotivated by your innerthoughts, rather than usingsome artificial externalbarometer as your life’sguide. Promotions are nice;salaryincreasesareofcoursewelcomed; a goldwatch is afine symbol of a long anddevoted life; a grade on a

transcript, a trophy, and somany more are all externalindices. They do not sootheor satisfy your soul. Yoursoul is not finite—it has noform—nobeginningorend.Itneedstoexpand—togrow,toavoid being labeled orcompartmentalized.Everymove Imade inmy

life was in the direction ofmore freedom that gave methe ability to decide for

myselfwheretobeeachday,what to wear, how to speak,how my writing wouldproceed. These were nudgesfrom my soul—the innerinvisible part of me that isinfinite and therefore alwaysseekingexpansion.Stay in touch with and

honor the calling you feeldeep within you. Ignoringthat will leave you feelinglike a prisoner in your own

bodyandinyourownprivateworld.Yoursoulismiserablewhen it is confined, orlabeled,ortoldwhatitcanorcannot do. Its theme songshouts out, “Don’t fence mein!”As you begin to see more

and more clearly not onlyhow and why your life tookall of its twists and turns butwhat direction it is going totakefromhereonin,youwill

see that your soul will notever lead you astray. This isbecausethis is trulywhoyouare—not youraccomplishments orpossessions, but that innersense of purpose that seeksoutimmensityandexpansion.Listenwhenitbeckonsyou

inacertaindirection,orwhenitsendsyouateacher,orsetsup a synchronistic series ofevents. It all feels so

mysteriouslyexcitingwhenitoccurs because your outerworldisfinallymeshingwithyour soul’s innate need tokeep on expanding. It mustandalwayswillprodyouthiswaybecauseitisinfinite,andtherefore it must just keepgrowing. That which isinfinite cannot be labeled orputintoanykindofaboxforsafekeeping. To do sowoulddeny its verynature and turn

itintotheoppositeofinfinite,whichisfinite.

AsIreviewsomanyofthemomentous shifts that tookplace in my life, I can seemuch more clearly now thatmuchofwhaturgedmeontohigher rungs of the ladder,whichRumidescribedasmyescape hatch from this

materialworld,wastheuseofmy own imagination. If Icould get a clear picture ofmyself focused on a newendeavor within myimagination, and if I couldtrain myself to act as if thatinner picture were already apresent fact, the rest of thework of having it allmaterialize seemed to bealmosteffortless.WhenIwasin theNavy,I

declared to myself, I amattendingcollege.Attemptingtoescapefromawarzone inTurkey, Isawmyself leavingthe country way before theopportunity actuallypresented itself.Dealingwiththe resistance of my firstpublisher, I had a verydifferent picture in myimagination from what theexperts had in mind for meand my book. And so it has

been for the greaterpercentageofmylife.Use your own imagination

asaninnerblueprintforwhatyou absolutely intend tomanifest. Then act as if thatcurrent dream is a presentfact.Thishasbeenmysecrettactic formanifesting the lifeI intended to live. Iurgeyouto make full use of thisprocedure that is spelled outin detail in my bookWishes

Fulfilled. Examine therelevant moments in yourown life where you feltprompted to move in aparticular direction,considering how much faithyouwereabletoplaceinthatmagical creativeplacewithinyou—your imagination.Everythingthatnowexists inyour life and in this entirephysicalworldhadtofirstbeimagined. Thus if you can’t

imagineitandactasifitwerealreadyanaccomplishedfact,then you cannot possiblymakeityourreality.I use the phrase I am as a

declarationoffact,regardlessof what anyone around mesays, or even what my owneyesandearstellmeistrue.IamisthenamethatGodusedto identify himself to Mosesandtoallfuturegenerations.Iencourage you to use these

twowordstoseefirstinyourimagination what it is thatyou intend to see, manifestinto your physical reality. Ideclare every day that I amwell,Iamperfecthealth,Iamcontent,Iamlove,IamGod.I do not need to look atnumbers on amedical reportorhearanyoneelse’sopinionaboutmyhealth.This great mystical power

is available to you. Use the

name of God as youraffirmation for creating thelife youdesire, for becomingthe person you intend tobecome.When you make anabsolute declaration byplacing your I am presencesquarelyinthecenterofyourimagination, and refusing toentertain any other options,you achieve the results youthought you were onlyimagining.Whenyouassume

the feeling of your wish asalready fulfilled, ultimatelyyour wish is hardened into aphysicalreality.Use this Iam presence for

allthatyouintendtomanifestfrom thisday forward.Whenyou do so with integrity andan inner knowing that doesnot allow for skepticism ordoubt, you will begin to seehowyoucantakethereinsofyour life into your human

hands. Reconnect yourself toyourSourceofbeingandlivea Divinely inspired life as aco-creatorwithGod.

I love this quotation byOscarWilde:“Tobecomethespectatorofone’sownlife…is to escape the suffering oflife.” It offers the key to theend of all suffering. All you

have to do is to become aspectatorofyourownlife.I call this “cultivating the

witness”:Thewayoutofanydiscomfort is simply to justbeginnoticingwho’sdoingornotdoinganything.Ifyouaresad, all you have to do isnotice who is experiencingthe sadness. The one whonotices is already free of thesadness. As you pay closeattention youwill notice that

the sadness is not you; it isnothing more than a part ofthe nature of a humanbeing.But you as the spectator aresimply the indwelling beingthat is aware of all that youarenoticing.DailyIcultivateandinvite

the gentle loving witness toreplace my being soidentified with what I amobserving. Who I am is aninvisibleformlesspieceofthe

great Divine mind, the Tao,God.When Iobserveall thatI envisionbeforeme—notasthat to which I am attachedandconnected,butratherasacaring, curious spectator—Ieliminate my potentialsuffering. My attachment tothe outcome dissolves. Anybeliefs that I’munworthyareeliminated, and I answer thequestion of Who am I? asMichaelSingerdidsolucidly

in his stimulating book TheUntethered Soul: “I am theone who sees. From back inhere somewhere, I look out,andIamawareoftheevents,thoughts, and emotions thatpassbeforeme.”This is where you and I

both live. This is preciselyhow you come to see yourlife more clearly than everbefore. Just notice, and thennotice who is noticing, and

remind yourself that this isyou,thisisyourtrueessence.I have noticed throughout

the writing of this book andreviewing so many of thesalientfactorsthatpushedmeup to a higher rung on theladder that the less IidentifiedwithwhatIwantedtoaccomplish,thefreerIwastoallowittomanifest.Justbysittingbackandobservingasan interested but unattached

spectator, I was frequentlyable to go way beyond evenwhatIwasnoticing.Thelessattached I felt to what Iwanted to accomplish in mylife,andthemoreIcultivatedthis idea of the witness, themoreIwasabletolookatthenext stage of my life with anew,lessworrisomevision.Ilovedwhatwasplacedbeforeme, but I had no attachmenttotheoutcome.

As I come to the end oflooking back at my life upuntil now, I’m grateful tohave been able to see somuch more clearly how andwhy so many of the events,circumstances, and teachersshowed up to guide me onthis path of self-discovery.All my life I wanted to feelthe excitement of being apersonwhowould and couldmake a difference in this

world. There has beeninvisible guidance there formeeachandeverystepoftheway, just as there is for youaswell.In order to access that

guidance, I encourageyou tomake a commitment to beabsolutely faithful to thatwhich exists nowhere butwithin yourself. This is thegreat secret for seeing evermore clearly and living your

life from a place of passionandpurpose.

—Love,IAMWayne

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

Dr.WayneW.Dyer isaninternationally renownedauthor and speaker in thefield of self-development.He’s theauthorofmore than40 books, has created manyaudio programs and videos,and has appeared on

thousands of television andradio shows. His booksManifest Your Destiny,Wisdom of the Ages, There’sa Spiritual Solution to EveryProblem, and The New YorkTimes bestsellers 10 SecretsforSuccessand InnerPeace,The Power of Intention,Inspiration, Change YourThoughts—ChangeYourLife,Excuses Begone! andWishesFulfilled have all been

featured as National PublicTelevisionspecials.Wayneholdsadoctoratein

educational counseling fromWayne State University andwas an associate professor atSt. John’sUniversity inNewYork.Website:

www.DrWayneDyer.com

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