I believe in a whole slew of crazy-ass shit.
I believe in a benevolent, intelligent energy that pervades, sustains, and guides reality. I believe that this energy gives clues for us to follow. And I believe that if we clear our minds, listen for clues, and follow their guidance, we will manifest abundance, live in dharma, and become free. Can I get an amen?
I like to practice by listening for the little clues that are easy to follow. Is it the red or the blue boxers, today? Which parking spot do I grab? Shall I have tuna, or the chicken salad?
Sometimes messages come in unlikely places—like a casino. Recently, I was at Mohegan Sun in Connecticut for a friend’s bachelor party. Everybody but me was a Wall Street trader or analyst. They all got a big kick out of the peace, love and brown rice yogi of the group.
Why did the energy speak to me that day? Perhaps it was a clear and incontrovertible way of proving itself. Or maybe it knew that I needed 3,000 bucks.
I was at a roulette table, when a block of numbers became brighter than the others. I put a few chips on those numbers. Sure enough one of them came in, and I made $36. The croupier cleared the board and called for new bets. A new section became illuminated. I placed my bet and won—again, and again. A few more spins and I was up $4,240.
Then the illuminations stopped. There was no way I was giving up and cashing in, though. I was having visions of an early retirement. So I squinted and searched, and kept losing, until I peeled myself away. I left with just over $3000.
I went back to the casino several times over the next few months searching for the numbers to light up. They never did.
The casino and the tuna and my boxers are good practice. Asking for and then following the illuminations, clues and messages makes them show up louder and more frequently. And the smaller experiences are practice for the big ones, the ones we really don’t want to hear. Time for a new job, time to move on, is my guru for real? The smaller ones prepare me for the next time the clues tell me to go on a pilgrimage, quit my job to write a yoga memoir, or build a really big ark.
I believe in some crazy-ass shit. But I’m pretty sure I’m right, and I’m pretty sure that you should believe, too.
Editor Tanya L. Markul
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