It’s amazing how many of us have a story about Dr. Wayne Dyer. A favorite quote. A favorite teaching. A moment where we met him.
Because that’s the thing about Wayne, he was that accessible.
Voted the 3rd most spiritual person on the planet (behind the Dalai Lama and Eckhart Tolle), he was known by everyone. He was the ice breaker to spirituality. The way shower for those just dabbling and others wanting to go deeper into remembering who we are.
Wayne was the one I would recommend to friends who were jaded or skeptic to this ‘new age’ world, because of his ability to take ageless wisdom and break it down simply, for everyone to understand and in an easy to absorb, non-airy fairy way.
Not only was he wise, but he was kind. He was love personified. And he was patient and humble. And grateful.
When I met him in 2011 at the first Hay House ‘I Can Do It’ Conference in Vancouver, he opened the weekend Friday night with an inspiring, standing O (worth the price of the weekend ticket) talk. And then on Saturday, he returned during the day, just to meet people. To chat, get to know us, sign books, take photos and to hug.
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I’ve never been good at letting go. When I was young and someone called out for me, I would respond, “Hold On.” I never knew it would mean literally.
I still have memory boxes from childhood that my mom is convinced are filled with gum wrappers. Okay, in my defense they were really funny bubble gum wrappers (you remember the ones with the joke?) that were a gift and are now like retro…. Nuff said.
Recently at the Salvation Army, while dropping off some awesome things that had been in my trunk far longer than necessary, I stood there, pondering if it was really best to let them go… I mean, of course I need 3 pairs of Uggs. As if needing a healthy shove from an angel in overalls, a guy called out, “When you left your house it felt like a good idea. Don’t turn back. Now just go out and get more stuff.” Tail between my legs, I hugged my Uggs goodbye. #HugsforUggs
I’ve mastered the art of the long goodbye, watching my family until they disappear around the corner, soaking in every last essence of their aura, knowing that someday it will be the last time. Pretty morbid sure but it’s a coping mechanism I’ve adopted, and call me superstitious, I ain’t changing now.
I’ve lost family before, tragically and suddenly. It’s excruciating. Not just in losing the ones we’ve lost, but how it changes those left behind.
That kind of letting go is forced upon us, and can lead to patterns of abandonment, thereby shaping how we see the world whether we are aware of it or not.
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Often times we feel guilty taking the time to do what we love, to express our creativity and honour ourselves, because it feels selfish….like time wasted. Unless we have a set goal or deadline, we tend to put it off, thinking it’s truly only serving ourselves.
But that’s just the thing. It is serving. It’s opening you to that sacred, magnificent place within that’s often ignored yet begging to express the colours of your soul. And the world needs more colour. It needs more of us sharing our gifts and inspiring each other.
For me, writing is my happy place. It’s my meditation. When I write, my heart is open so wide, I feel invincible. Connected to everyone and everything, I feel love in my heart and purpose coursing through my veins.
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SERENDIPITY: means a “happy accident” or “pleasant surprise”; specifically, the accident of finding something good or useful without looking for it.
SYNCHRONICITY: is the experience of two or more events that are apparently causally unrelated or unlikely to occur together by chance and that are observed to occur together in a meaningful manner.
When you travel alone for a large amount of time, you think you are alone… except of course, for the etheric rope that connects you to the real world and your loved ones back home, now even more accessible with social media and skype. If you are anything like me, for the first few days, or weeks, you somehow look back rather than ahead, still tethered to their hearts, in a way so not to forget them, and more importantly, for them not to forget you. It is your safety as you clamber into the unknown. For when connected, you can tug on that rope, and know that someone will be there to pull you up.
So far throughout my European journey, I had been gliding between the two worlds, living part in the past, that is nine hours behind, and the other half in the present moment; hanging in the in between. And in order to truly experience what I needed to experience, I couldn’t hold on. I needed to cut the chords, and let go of my safety net once and for all.
There is a reason I chose to embark on this journey Mio Solo, sans a travel companion, other than a small stuffed elephant named Hope. (You never leave home without Hope, but more on him later.) For when you are by yourself, you are more open to the gifts of each moment. Rather than distracted by dialogue, you are an observer, taking in the surroundings. With each breath, a new mental picture and memory is absorbed. A new thought occurs, that is allowed because there is space in your mind, from the expansion of quiet. Soaking in the experience with wide, undistracted eyes. You become clear. Present. Undisturbed. A carrier pigeon for transformation, passing on the tradition to the family and friends back home, thereby also changing them for taking the courageous first step that they were somehow unable to make.
“We can choose to function at a lower level of awareness and simply exist, caring for our possessions, eating, drinking, sleeping and managing in the world as pawns of the elements, or we can soar to new and higher levels of awareness allowing ourselves to transcend our environment and literally create a world of our own — a world of real magic.” – Dr. Wayne W. Dyer, Real Magic
As a child, who were your heroes? What books did you read? Where did your imagination take you? And who did you dream of becoming?
If you were anything like me, you were whisked away to far off lands filled with chivalric knights on horseback, castles with moats, rolling pastures and enchanted forests, passionate poets, fairies, fair maidens and magicians; A place where only the chosen one could remove the sword from a stone. Where miracles unfolded within the blink of an eye, and believing in the impossible was the only way to be.
However, as we get older, we seem to tuck those dolls and dreams away into a trunk in the closet, or worse, a lockbox within our heart. We shut down and tell ourselves that it’s time to grow up and be realistic. Fantasy isn’t cool anymore. We have responsibilities. There is no time for Magic. Besides, we convince ourselves, it’s not real anyways.