Manifesting your dreams – or just a good cup of coffee :)

I had the privilege of working with my first mentor about three years ago. She instructed me to read The Slight Edge by Jeff Olson, then she asked me to write out my biggest dreams in all their glorious detail. At the top of the page I printed the following words:

My dreams are REAL. They are INEVITABLE.

I wrote out my biggest dreams in five different areas: travel, health, money, relationships and career. I read these dreams out loud nearly every single day, and I watched the magic start to happen. I caught the manifestation bug and became a student of Napoleon Hill and Wallace Wattles too. I have listened to their books more times than I can count, and I continue to listen in order to keep my mindset strong.

And guess what? Those dreams I wrote out three years ago – the ones I thought were the end-all-be-all of my life’s ambitions? I have outgrown them.

And now I’m ready to PLAY BIG.

Are you ready to play?

I am willing to bet you are already an expert manifester…

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Here’s my take on manifestation, #WiselyWild style:

My cohort has been in an absolute tizzy about her manifestation skills. She was brooding again this morning, trying to figure out where she is going wrong. “I need to figure this out!” She needed help. I needed coffee. So I started the process of getting my coffee ready.

It suddenly occurred to me. We are already expert manifesters! We manifest coffee every single morning. What can we learn from manifesting coffee that we can apply to leveling up our game? I studied my proven coffee manifestation process step by step. Here is what I learned:

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1. The coffee begins as just an idea in my mind. It is not yet a physical reality when I first think about it. It exists only in my mind. But the existence of that idea is a necessary first step. I can never manifest coffee if I don’t first think about it.

2. Once the thought seed is planted, my heart springs forth with desire. My heart says a hearty YES! to the idea of coffee, and that YES! becomes desire. The more I think about the experience of my morning coffee, the more I want it. Very soon, it becomes a burning desire. I must have coffee.

3. Once I have a burning desire for coffee, I have to take action. I have to want it badly enough to actually act. There are a number of factors working against me – I’m groggy, I don’t feel like making it, it’s too freaking cold to get out of the sleeping bag, etc. My desire for coffee must be strong enough to overcome all that stands in my way.

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4. Once I decide to take action, I must gather together the appropriate supplies in order to begin the process of manifesting a beautiful cup of coffee. I will need grounds, a filter, water, a kettle to hold the water while it is heating, a heat source to boil the water, fuel to furnace the heat source, a light to ignite the fuel, and a mug to contain the piping hot, finished product.

5. Having gathered my supplies, I move according to the laws of brewing. I pour the water into the kettle and place the cap on it. I channel fuel into my camp stove. I light the stove and place the kettle over the flame. I place the filter over my mug and fill it with coffee grounds.

6. Having taken all the necessary action, I WAIT. I wait with faith and purpose. I believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that coffee will be manifested. I believe that soon I will be sipping on my freshly brewed coffee, my hands curled around the warm, toasty mug, my nose inhaling the nutty, earthy aroma. All of my senses are rapt with anticipation.

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7. In this waiting space, I have total freedom with my thoughts. I can choose to think things like:
* Why is this taking so long?!! Hurry up, coffee!!!
* I have better things to do than sit here and wait for coffee.
* Why do you hate me, coffee? Why do you have to make this so difficult?
* I am going to die before this damn coffee is ready.
* Why the hell do I want coffee anyway?

8. None of these thoughts are going to do anything to alter the laws of brewing. It is going to take as long as it takes for the coffee to manifest.

9. However, my attitude about coffee manifestation has the power to alter my experience with coffee. I could be anxious, frustrated, and angry and decide that coffee isn’t worth the effort. Or I could be giddy with joy at my impending bounty. Either experience is a choice I am totally free to make.

10. Knowing how much I love coffee, and knowing that I am a pro at manifesting coffee, I simply wait, trust the process, and know that my desire will be delivered and that it will be oh so glorious.

11. VOILA! When the time is right, my coffee dreams become physical reality. And it is so rewarding that I go ahead and make a second cup.

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Turning my project back into a #journey

I caught myself in the mirror, and the sight surprised me. I stood there, squared into the reflection, my eyes wandering over and taking in what I saw before me. This is not the old, familiar image anymore. I can hardly believe this is me. I move a curious step closer, take a deliberate breath, and then I slowly let it out again. I see the face of a 44 year-old woman attached to this body, the lines of consternation and time are evident but graceful. I am drawn further in toward the mirror, toward the reflection of this face, tilting my head and regarding her more closely still. Deepening laugh lines play at the corners of my eyes. I smile and make them come alive again.

“You are doing this, Sonya,” I say out loud to the person behind my eyes. You are really doing this. I gaze deeply into her and catch the glimmer of the person I always wanted to be. I knew she was in there. I didn’t think it would take this many years. I didn’t think it would be this hard. I regard her carefully, looking even more intently into her eyes.

Bloodshot? I take a step closer, until my nose is almost touching the mirror. I tip my forehead forward, now looking from under my lids, rotate my head to the right, rotate my head left, and back to center again. I lift my chin and draw my eyelids wide and back. Tiny red rivulets run from the bright white outer edges toward the morning blue center. Why are my eyes so bloodshot?

I had turned this trip into WORK.

I have a dream

I have dreamed of being a writer all my life, and now I am chasing that dream with all that is in me. This trip is not a year-long joyride. It is serious business, and it has a deadline – Thanksgiving. I am reinventing my life, and there is no time to waste. I’ve leveraged everything I’ve got, so I’ve got one shot to get this right. My future is on the line, and I went all-in on the flop.

With so much at stake, I defaulted into tackling this trip like I had tackled every other lofty goal in my life. I was using all of my familiar masculine energy: being driven, gritty, strategic, relentless; wrestling my dreams into submission. I demanded the most of myself every day, marching my way across the country, monitoring my pace, cracking the whip at my to-do list. Morning pages – crrrack! Affirmations – sssnap! Hike the canyon – pop!pop! Fuel your body – crrrack! Choose the next destination – sssnap! Drive on – pop!pop! Make camp, Bunk down, Day complete, Now sleep! I said SLEEP. EXECUTE, SoldIER!

I had regimented myself to maximize my odds for success. I hated it when my circumstances would not comply with my regimen. I was frustrated if Justice was moving too slowly, or if she was stopping and sniffing too often. I was irritated if the McCafe did not supply the public outlets I needed to charge my laptop. I lamented when the Internet did not reach my campsite. I seethed when a technical hiccup erased the newsletter I had spent two hours working on.

Week 13 #1000Miles1Year #50States

Week 13 of my project (to log 1,000 foot-miles across all 50 states in 2017) took me into Texas. I contemplated the state mindfully, deciding where I wanted to concentrate my time and attention. I had never been to the Gulf area, so that was quite appealing to me. However, Texas is a BIG state, and I knew that the deeper I drove in, the longer it would take to drive back out. Did it really make sense to go all the way south to the border? I calculated my drive times and fuel expenses for several route options. It was entirely illogical to splurge on my resources and spend my time in the Gulf. But my heart argued with my head.

North Padre Island

I arrived in Corpus Christi, crossed over the Intercoastal, and continued several more miles out to where I would camp. It was a beach site, located on a thin stretch of sand, nestled between Mustang Island and Padre Island National Seashore. Under adverse weather conditions, this tiny strip of land would be fully submerged under the mighty Gulf waters. But today is far from adverse. It has been sunny, the temperature in the upper 60s, a persistent coastal current streaming over the shoreline. The orb of the sun is hypnotic, embarking on its descent behind the dunes, kicking up pinks and purples behind her. I study the high tide line and pitch my tent beyond it, spreading out my footprint amid the grassy dunes but maintaining a direct sight line to the sea.

The shifting sand is a baby-fine granule and feels silky under my feet as I load my sleeping bags and pillow into the tent body. Rain is not expected tonight, so there is no need to cover my quarters with the nylon fly. The mesh top alone offers a 360° view of what will soon be a starlit sky.

I bemoan the fact that my camera battery is dead, as my last three McCafe stops did not yield a single public outlet. Shame to miss photos of this amazing place, so I snap a few with my smartphone instead. Internet and cell service are totally sketchy here, so I sigh, and settle into the tent rather unplugged. I face south toward the crashing waves, sit up tall and cross-legged, and finally breathe in deeply, purposefully, trying to let it all go. Here I am, Gulf Waters. What do you have to teach me?

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#Sunriser

I rose with the sunrise the following morning, raised my head and my phone to catch a photo or twenty. I have spent leisure time on other beaches, Atlantic and Pacific, and I was anticipating the pacifying, rythmic echo of the waves crashing one after another: ka-churrrrr, ka-churrrrr, ka-churrrrr… But the waves sound entirely different today. Here the wind is blowing so relentlessly that there is no lull between the crashing of the waves. The current just pummels the shoreline continuously, so the waves ROAOAR more like a constant whirring jet engine. My tent concaves politely under its pressure.

I decide to spend the whole day right here and log our miles strolling up and down the beach. As the sun continues to rise, and with it the temperature, I throw the rain fly up and over the tent body, snap it firmly into place, velcro it tightly to the tent poles, and tie back the sides, creating a little cabana for myself and Justice. I envision reading and writing to my heart’s content in this retreat from the heat. This will be a productive day.

The wind increases early and steadily. Seawater hangs thickly in the air, such that I taste its saltiness when I lick my lips. The fine-grained sand is picked up easily and carried swiftly by the current, so a layer of grit clings to everything it graces. My sleeping bags are covered in it. My glasses, cell phone, lantern and car windows are filmy from it. I cannot bring any books or writing materials out into this. Work is thwarted once again. I spin the hair around my face and pin it into tiny buns to keep the ragged strands from blowing into my eyes. The dazzling sun, the warm, moist gale, the roaoaring waves lull me into near listlessness. I finally find the time to meditate, something I have been meaning to do for weeks.

A turning point

This time was a critical turning point for me. Obliged to slow down and truly drink in paradise, I frankly realized I had turned this epic journey into a project. I had even started *calling* it a project! And I had assumed the project manager mode instead of allowing myself to be a journeyman. I was not really nourishing myself. I was not giving myself time and space to be present, to be impacted, to be changed.

There were things I wanted from this journey, other than a career change. Beauty. Creative. Spirit. To become more connected, feminine, and free. To find my voice, my message. Where was I making time for these?

It was all too easy to stumble. I am all too good at being a project manager. I have no idea how to just let go and be a journeyman. What if I get it wrong? What if I miss some critical detail? What if Thanksgiving comes and I just end up broke, with no leads and no dream because I neglected to create and execute a viable strategy?

Then again, what if I gain the whole world and lose my soul? Isn’t that what I have been searching for? And wasn’t the land calling out to me?

I am venturing into new territory, on so many levels. I don’t know how to do this. The person I have always wanted to be is right here, making her debut. But I can’t make this happen. Intuition tells me this only comes about when I allow myself to be unmade. I need to stop following my regimen and start following my bliss, and permit that joy to do its own special work in me. It does not need my planning to accomplish this. It does not need my execution. It needs me to be more open, receptive, and paying my attention to Beauty. Creative. Spirit.