I had just returned from a small show featuring a singer/songwriter, and enjoyed it in the company of about 30 people, 1/3 of whom I knew personally. Some I've known for a while, some not that long. But I realized that I was surrounded with people whose company I enjoy. Part of that is what they are reflecting back about my consciousness. I feel appreciated.
Which is a roundabout way of saying my consciousness is in pretty good shape these days, at least around the other aspects in my hologram.
I've always prided myself on the interesting, unusual friends I've attracted over the years. They come and go but they're always interesting. Now, there have always been some people I've attracted that caused me heartburn and stress, but that was just chalked up to being a necessary part of living. Maybe it's only semantic, but there was still a feeling pre-BL they were all separate in a way, as opposed to seeing them as reflections of myself. I had done something "out there" to make them like me (or irritate the crap out of me), as opposed to, I had changed something within to manifest them.
I drifted back to a story that has stayed with me for more than 40 years. Back in third grade, when trading baseball cards really meant something, a classmate told me he had a Sandy Koufax card he was willing to trade. I was excited. Koufax was one of the all-time great Major League pitchers and I couldn't wait to get my hands on the card.
The next day he met me on the playground.
"You got the Koufax?" I asked.
"Nope. Forgot it. Bring it tomorrow."
This "Waiting for Koufax" routine went on every school day for what in my memory seems like months, but in real time may have only been a few days or weeks. I'm sure I eventually stopped asking, or he and his family moved to Waukesha. I don't remember. But what I did remember was that I was gullible. I could be taken advantage of by someone or something out there. (As you read on my home page, I even thought Robert Scheinfeld would take advantage of me. Maybe that's why I became a journalist, so I could nail the bastards.)
That leads me to the lack of appreciation egg, which sits in the basket next to the gullibility egg. (Eggs are "issues" for the unitiated.) The other long-running soap opera in my life has been feeling a lack of appreciation. No matter how well I did something, how much I achieved, how dedicated I was to whatever illusory "cause," how well I treated a girlfriend, friend, colleague, enemy, I was never good enough.
In the last seven months, Post-Busting Loose, I see things differently. As I began doing the process and appreciating myself and my power, voila, the supportive aspects started showing up in droves, and I mean droves. Within three weeks of reading the Money Game, I had manifested a weekly meeting where I met 10 other dedicated BLers.
I attended Robert's retreat in Sedona in April where I met another 80, many of whom I am still in touch with.
In business and through business, I've created a couple dozen people that I am now working with on various projects, and whom I trust implicitly and reflect back to me much appreciation.
When I decided I wanted to write screenplays for a living, a partner popped out of the hologram, without me even asking. I have two great writing partners now.
Out of the blue last week, a former business partner from whom I've been sort of estranged recently, called me for drinks. We engaged cordially for two hours. (Margaritas do help that process.)
And I must make mention of my dozens of Another Way and Facebook fans. I've received unqualified praise and support for what I'm doing, so a big round of applause for yourself.
There is a rumor that my grade school will be hosting a 40-year reunion next year. Wouldn't miss it for the world. I still have all my hair, which in my mind trumps a Ph.D or a medical degree. But most importantly, I'm going for the Koufax card. How do a Frank Robinson and Boog Powell sound?