copyright 2015 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
Dad was in a much better mood today. After lunch we all huddled together in a makeshift area. We had carved the spot out of all the stuff in the living room. It was right in front of the fireplace, next to one of the refrigerators they'd brought over from the A-Frame. It was time for a family meeting.
Dad had come up with a new affirmation he thought would help us with what we wanted to manifest. We also decided on a specific date that we wanted this all resolved, on or before Friday. We had seven days to pull off buying all four parcels of the Farm back and funding our projects. Seven days, with twenty-four hours in each day, to pull off our Dream.
But we had no idea on the "how". We had no real definite plan because we had no idea how to make a plan for a long shot in total darkness. We had no clue how exactly we were going to buy the Farm back. We'd had a few people show interest in our Projects.
But to date, no one had stepped forward and said, "I think this is all great. What do you need financially? How can I help you?"
All we could do was continue to believe in our Dream. All we could do was constantly reaffirm what we wanted to happen, believe we deserved it, and believe it had already happened. That was it. Or that's all we knew to do.
Sure we've done mailings about our Projects. We'd done lots of mailings. We did mailings, stopped them, and restarted them. One moment we'd think we'd need to do a mailing, and the next we'd think that the Universe would point us in the right direction or bring the right people to us.
We'd sent one letter to one guy, T. Boone Pickens, a billionaire whom we found in the Forbes 400 [richest people in the world] Magazine. Amazingly, he had actually responded to our letter. Mr. Pickens said "No Thank You".
But he had responded! Then we decided to rework the letter, repackage the message, and send him another letter.
Maybe we could convince him with a second letter?
Poor T. Boone. By our second letter, he was starting to get a little irritated since he'd figured he'd already told us "No Thank You". It was a little funny. The poor guy kept getting letters from us!
Our question always was, do we do mailings, or is the Universe supposed to bring us the person/people/thing?
How do you know which one it is?
It's tough to knock on doors. In the sales business, they call it "Cold Calling" where you approach a complete stranger and try and sell them something. But it's even tougher NOT to knock on the doors, to stop yourself from doing anything. It's tough to sit there and wait for a miracle to come, as if you expect it at any moment to drop in your lap from the sky. You want the change, you want the miracle, but you're not exactly sure how to get the little bugger to manifest itself in your life.
How hard is it for the Universe to just shift some things around and reveal an open door to you?
How hard could that possibly be?
It would almost be insignificant to the Universe as a whole to move something that tiny, right?
Well, apparently, it was harder than we thought because it still hadn't happened.
Just about every day, I would ask, "What else are we supposed to be doing? What are we missing [if anything]?"
Good question that I couldn't seem to get an answer to, or guidance for. But every day, all throughout the day, I asked the question, over and over, again and again. I was hoping that I was going to receive some guidance, something, anything that would help. HELP ME DAMN YOU TO HELL!
Finally, after lots of letters, and pretty much no interest, we'd stopped doing the mailings. We had decided that the Universe was going to bring us the right person.
The dates of impending Doom were fast approaching for our Farm.
First we had Parcel A that had already been on the market, the A-Frame, for two weeks.
Larry, the realtor for Parcel A, had been calling my Dad saying, "Give me a call and let me know if you want to do this. I'm already getting offers on the property."
Then we had two weeks before our two other Parcels, C and D, would be auctioned off on the steps of the Courthouse, just like Parcel A and B had. Last but not least we had about two and half weeks to get all of our stuff off of Parcel B completely, the Glass House/Main House/Cabin before all our stuff went to the auction block or God knows where.
The clock was ticking, louder and louder every fucking day. But the miracle had to come if we believed long enough and with our whole hearts. It had to come if we called it.
"Faith is the bird that sings when the dawn is still dark."
Bengali Polymath, Poet, Nobel Prize in Literature Recipient 1913
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