A few minutes ago, I darn near fainted when I updated my Kindle publishing of Where the Birds of Eden Sing. My breathe came in little spurts, and my heart hasn’t settled down yet.

For the last three days I have been reading my manuscript. Finally, I found a way where I could see every missing dot, comma, quotation mark, capitals missing or where they ought not to be, missing letters, words, and senseless phrases. I read it on Kindle—or rather Kindle on my phone—my Kindle croaked.  With large print and a small page, the errors jump into my eyeballs. Have I caught them all? I don’t know. I’ve become slap-happy.

Here we go, a new revision…

I Don’t Need a Water Purifier, but I Need This…

Do you sometimes feel that your computer has a life of its own?

 Or maybe it’s the Universe trying to get through to me.

I had just written an affirmation on my computer, and the moment I closed that file, another file popped up on my screen. I had written it on One Note. Today. But I wasn’t typing in One Note. Where in the heck did that come from?

Written Thursday, October 11, 2018 11:56 AM

“How do we change our beliefs,” I asked my daughter as we pulled out of the parking lot from Chevy’s Mexican restaurant in Portland, Oregon.

 “I have a problem believing my book will sell, “I continued, maneuvering the Prius onto an already full freeway. “We have a guardian at the door of our subconscious, and when we say something like, “I’m going to sell a million books,” the Guardian throws it out.

 “The voice in our head says, ‘What makes you think that? You’ve never sold many before.’

  “Every time we try to get past the Guardian, he counters our request.

 “You can’t do that. You don’t have a great following. Your platform sucks, people don’t need and don’t want another book. Besides, people don’t read books anymore. And they have better things to do with their money.”

 What an obnoxious guardian.

 “I know the first line of receiving is believing it’s possible. But, we ask, ‘How do we believe in the face of conflicting evidence?’”

.My wise daughter countered: “Maybe you should treat the Guardian like you are a water purifying system salesman.”

 “What?! A water purifying salesman?”

 “Yeah, he’s trying to sell you this water purifying system, and you say, ‘No thank you.’”

 “Just let me show you this one,” he says.

 “I don’t need a water purifying system. “

 “’ Oh, you’ll like this one, and I need the experience explaining it. It’s only take a minute.’”,

 “I don’t have a minute.’”

 “’ Okay, half a minute.’”

 “Just don’t take no for an answer,” Daughter says.

 “Wow, what a concept, that just might work.”

 Beat the Guardian at his own game.

 We started laughing and remembering another time at a Chevy’s restaurant. We were in Rancho Santa Fe, California.

 Yes, I know much is accomplished with a glad heart, and not having a charge on a request makes whatever you want easier to achieve.  But when we really really really want something, the Guardian comes out dressed in full battle regalia.

 That day in Rancho Santa Fe, California, having completed our meal, and with glad hearts, we sat looking out a restaurant window talking about manifesting. Daughter dear had been testing the concept of manifesting: putting out a request, meditating on it, then waiting for it to show up. She had asked to see a purple bear.

Within a day, she saw a purple bear sticker on the bumper of a car.

 “Chances are,” I said, (I sound like the Guardian here), “we couldn’t manifest a train here for there are no tracks.

 Not a minute later, a big truck stopped for a traffic light and was sitting right outside our window. A huge tan tarp covered the back portion of the truck. The tarp was taunt and neatly ratcheted.

  On the side of that tarp written in big capital letters was one word: “TRANE.”

 We giggle every time we think of it.

 Believe in Possibilities.