It was like I woke up from a deep sleep. Loud and clear the question “What am I doing here?!” popped into my head. Closely followed by the thought, I want to be coaching, not here.

Four years prior, proudly displaying my framed “Certified Life Coach” certificate, I set up shop as an entrepreneur who had finally found my calling and was on my way to fulfilling my potential. Starting my own practice didn’t bloom as quickly as I had imagined, and I went to take on part time work at a local hotel to support my new venture.

The thing was, this intention of getting hired for a part-time job quickly swept me into a series of full-time, high responsibility roles: hotel events manager, then assistant hotel and restaurant manager, and after maternity leave while I had my first baby, I was welcomed back to the hotel with a sales manager position created just for me so I could balance work and new baby life.

Although I had continued to coach on the side during these years, it was minimal compared to the vision I had set out with and the impact I really desired to make. I wasn’t living the life I thought I would be living.

This sudden and unexpected epiphany as I walked down the corridor was what I needed to get myself back in alignment with living my life in a way that felt truly fulfilling and authentic.

Soon after, I registered for another coaching program where I could refresh my skills, gain some new ones, and get back in line with the direction of my dreams. To put my gifts where they really created the most impact, where I felt most fulfilled.

Building my coaching practice was not an overnight feat, but I already felt more purposeful and lit up with the direction I was going.

I believe my foray back into the world of hospitality and working with the people I did at the hotel was a necessary step in my journey. I grew more confident in my abilities as a leader. It was a surprise to me, but it turned out to be a divinely timed side route that ultimately brought me back to my calling.

My life could have turned out differently. I could have stayed “asleep,” going through the motions of the well-worn path in front of me. I could have decided it was easier to stay with the consistent paycheck and be in the “known,” in my comfort zone. I could have turned a blind eye to the yearning for more purpose and fulfillment.

I’m so grateful that I allowed that question “What am I doing here?” to be my wake-up call to get back on track.

I invite you to get curious and ask yourself the same question. Putting judgement aside, what response do you hear? Are you on track with living a life that feels fulfilling and purposeful? Are there any changes, shifts, or tweaks that you’d like to make?

The post Finding My Way Back to Purpose appeared first on TUT.

When I was around the age of twenty, my mom came to visit me at my apartment. She said, “I came today to tell you something about your brother.” I blurted out, “Let me guess: our uncle is his dad?” She said, “Yes.”

BOOM—there it was, that feeling. I had seen them together over the years and always wondered why they had a similar look, so it seemed on a cellular level I felt the truth. My mother’s face was astonished as I am sure she thought she and my dad had hidden it well all these years.

What made this especially maddening was that my brother had died in a car accident two years before. I asked, “Did he know?” “Yes, he knew six months before he passed away.”

My brother had started to get to know our uncle and had discovered the secret himself and approached my mom. My brother wanted to deal with this in his own way before talking to me or our dad. Sadly, he died before to being able to do that.

Fast forward: I’m 53 and have decided to get a DNA test. Why? I wanted to know more about my heritage. Mom knew I wanted to pursue this and made a comment about how I would not get to really find out anything since I needed a court order for any specific details.

See, she was from the generation where that would hold true, but not now with DNA testing prevalent as it is nowadays. It was then I said, “Speak up now if you have something to say.” She chose silence.

When I ordered my DNA test, I paid for information about both nationality and family tree. When I received my test results, I was so excited to review the nationality I initially forgot about the family tree.

When I finally remembered to click the family tree tab, everything changed. At the top of my tree, my uncle’s name was listed as a parent/child relationship. Yes, he was in the system. Wow! My mind was blown! My thoughts raced. Does nobody know? Why wasn’t I told?

For anyone who has had a revelation like this, it is at this moment that you realize that everything you know is now different yet the same. You feel a sense of loss with your identity. I recall looking in the mirror and thinking, Who am I?

I do not share this story for pity or sympathy, as none is needed. Once I took the time to process and move forward, I found remarkable hidden gems that may help others.

1. Realize your parents are human.
   Mom and Dad weren’t always parents. They were just humans trying to maneuver this world and yes, they may have stumbled and not made the choices I would have, but at the end of the day they deserve a little grace. I learned that my parents had decided to just live life and bury these facts from me and my brother.
2. Allow yourself the time to process.
   The information that you know deserves its own time at its own pace. This is a lot to process, so be gentle to yourself during this time. Everything has changed, but has it?
3. Do not let your brain fool you.
   Everything that you have experienced in life up to this point is not a lie. It can feel that way when you have a revelation, but it is not true. In my situation, I had a great childhood, and I was loved. That was real; it happened.
4. Find new connections.
   Once I learned about my DNA truth, I sought out new family members to have conversations about what was revealed. Was this hard? Yes. Was this a touchy subject? Yes, however, I felt it necessary to quiet the audience and discover my own truths.
5. Acknowledge divine timing.
   I took a deep dive into self. Why was this happening to me at this stage of my life? I acknowledged that divine timing is everything and this was my time to learn and discover. I made a choice to not dwell on the “what ifs.”
6. Search for hidden gems.
   What a gift to have a new family that wants to connect and learn about each other! It is even exciting to see those strange little quirks you have being mirrored right back to you.
7. Discover and explore.
   DNA test results are fascinating. I love learning about unfamiliar cultures that my nationality test revealed. You may even take a trip to connect with a new family member.
8. Empower yourself.
   Up to that moment decisions had been made for me. I felt empowered to choose what I wanted to do with my newly discovered information.
9. Forgive.
   This is the hardest, but it is invaluable to your own growth. At the end of the day, its humans being imperfectly human.
10. Open your heart.
    If family are willing to discuss, I invite you to consider opening the door to open-hearted conversations.

The post 10 Lessons I Learned from Discovering Family Secrets appeared first on TUT.

To accomplish anything, I visualize my goals, do affirmations and then “send out ships,” which is my euphemism for taking action. It’s easier to think of sending out a ship than making a sales call or going to a networking meeting.

There have been times when I have done all the shipping I can think of in hopes of achieving my goals: building ships, sending out ships, dredging ships up from the bottom of the sea, rebuilding the ships, or hiring new crews. All to no avail. None of the ships came in loaded with treasures.

I try to decipher whether I should keep trying or know “when to fold ’em.” Is this goal not for me after all? Am I supposed to give this one up? How am I to know?

For months, my agent Lisa and I searched for a publisher for my book. Many rejections and several almost-deals later, I still didn’t have one. Meanwhile, a friend from my writers’ group had the most glorious success. She prepared her proposal, met with nine publishers, her book went up for auction, and she got a six-figure advance! 

I was truly happy for her and celebrated her success. But I couldn’t help asking God, “Hey, what about me?”

I was willing to do whatever it took get a publisher. Lisa told me that most of the publishers disliked the original page-a-day structure.

So I revised the proposal and rewrote the book as an eight chapter narrative. I changed the packaging and paid to have a matching cover design for my audio and video tapes. The new packages went out to publishers, and once again, Lisa and I waited.

Meanwhile, I had a conversation with God. I asked God for a Sign. I told Him I have done everything I knew how to do, and now I needed Him to clearly show me if this goal, this book, was meant for me or not.

I let Him know that I was here to do His work and that I was willing to get my poor human ego out of the way and give this up, if that was what He wanted me to do. But I needed a clear Sign whether or not to keep trying.

Exactly two days later, an editor at Sourcebooks called to say she was interested in my book. We discussed the narrative version and then she asked, “What’s this page-a-day book that your agent told me about? She says everyone in her office uses it.”

After I described it to her, she said, “I want to see that book.” It wasn’t long before I got another call from her: “I just got out of an acquisitions meeting, and we would love to publish your book!”

And you know what? They bought the original page-a-day version! 

God’s on duty 24/7. He’s just waiting for you to ask.

Today’s Affirmation: “Thank you, God, for giving me perfect time, money, love, luck, and health at all times now.” 

From The Wealthy Spirit by Chellie Campbell

The post Sometimes You Have to Ask for a Sign appeared first on TUT.

AS A BOY

I remember, as all kids must, being asked, “What are you going to be when you grow up?” As long as you have an answer (mine was “fireman, policeman, astronaut”), everybody’s happy.

When you don’t have an answer, no matter your age, 7 or 70, it’s as if alarm bells sound: “Oh, Mike doesn’t know what he’s going to be when he grows up. Mike, don’t you know you can be anything? Anything you want?”

That’s the problem! Too many choices. Along with the implication you could choose wrong! Every year the world changes so much. Wouldn’t it be a travesty, we reason, if we choose poorly? What if next year the internet goes in a new direction, making our career path crystal clear. Maybe we should just wait and see what happens…

AS A MAN

Despite my fun answers as a boy, I grew up to become a certified public accountant, which, of course, was my choice, and frankly was a great thing for six years… until I wanted more. Not knowing what that “more” would be, I decided to force the answer by quitting my job at Price Waterhouse without knowing what was next.

Suddenly, the funk was on. I was 29 years old, without the self-confidence that came with working for a prestigious global firm and struggling to define myself to the world. For a long time, I wondered if I had just made the biggest mistake of my life, leaving a salary that in today’s dollars would be six figures.

For months, unemployed, I snooped around for business opportunities, looking into franchises, attending fairs and tradeshows, and reading Fortune, Forbes, and similar magazines for inspiration. Nothing turned up.

Meanwhile, my brother had several freelance jobs working at Universal Studios in film production, and was simultaneously receiving monthly royalty payments of over $1,000 for T-shirt designs he had created back in art school!

Fortunately, while I was green with envy, my mom had a vision, and she urged, nagged, and begged us to start our own T-shirt company: “Mike, you’re the accountant. Andy, you’re the designer, and I’ll join you doing whatever I can to help!”

I couldn’t really argue with her. Humbled, desperate, and in a fear-induced paralysis, I remember getting on my knees and praying before bed at night, “Dear God…”

After a wickedly slow start, our little T-shirt company had a great run (selling over a million T-shirts!). By the tenth year, as trends were declining, we liquidated to avoid going out of business. Ugh! What happened? I’m almost 40 years old, and I have no career momentum? I’m starting over again… and I don’t even know what I’m starting? 

People talk about seeing no light at the end of the tunnel. I had no tunnel. I did have, however, enough money to coast for two years… but my mortgage was many times larger than my savings. So, I worried and wondered if the best of my life was behind me, with seemingly nothing in front of me.

I’d wonder: What did I do that I shouldn’t have done, that could have avoided this seeming catastrophe in my life? Or what didn’t I do that I should have done, that could have avoided this nightmare? I remember thinking: Maybe this is the way my life was supposed to go (as if some things were predetermined, not).

Humbled, desperate, and once again in a fear-induced paralysis, I remember getting on my knees and praying before bed at night, “Dear God… I have no idea how I’ve created the mess I’m in, but I know what I want! I want enough money to not worry about losing my home (and then some).

I want to have a rocking career, although I have no idea what that might be. I want to live the rest of my life surrounded by friends and laughter. And I want to start traveling again, internationally, please.” 

Those were my wishes: 

1. Wealth and abundance 
2. Creative, fulfilling work 
3. Friends and laughter, and 
4. Traveling internationally, again 

I most distinctly remember punctuating that prayer with a rather abrupt, if not annoyed, “You figure it out!” Not that I was angry at God. I was angry at myself for feeling so helpless.

LO AND BEHOLD, A MASTER PLAN EMERGED 

Do you notice a common trait among my four desires? They’re generally stated! Not that I had any idea of what I was doing at the time. It most certainly wasn’t because I was clever. I was desperate and scared, having micromanaged the heck out of everything up until then, which at the time had seemed the most effective way to live deliberately.

I had already worn all the hats that seemed to suit me, but they no longer fit! I couldn’t think of what else to ask “God” for, in terms of details, so by accident, not knowing any better, at the end of my micromanaging rope, I got general! (Now I know, focusing on the “big picture” is step one).

In the days and weeks that followed my nightly bedside prayers, I instinctively knew (as do we all) that I had to maintain some sense of optimism and buoyancy. How might one do this?

Vision boards! Reading favorite empowering books kept on my nightstand! Creative visualization! Fun pictures stuck on my refrigerator! Using affirmations! (Now I know, maintaining optimism and buoyancy is step two).

In those same days and weeks, I also instinctively knew (as do we all) that if I wanted my life to change, I had to show up in the world and take action. Get out of the house. Doing anything is better than doing nothing.

I asked friends and acquaintances for help and guidance, knocked on doors, turned over stones, and rustled the bushes. (Now I know, showing up and taking action is step three).

I had a lot of sucky paths to consider, I guess we all do. But my least sucky paths were as follows: 

1. Go back into the corporate world 
   I polished off my accountant’s résumé and started sending it out, which soon made it clear that nobody wanted to hire me… probably because I didn’t want to be hired.
   
2. Dabble with creative writing 
   I started sending out Monday Morning Motivators to the small list of email addresses I had from the T-shirt business, which eventually evolved into today’s Notes from the Universe—sent to more than 1 million subscribers.
   
3. Become a webmaster 
   I created a website, designed my own “Ask Mike” section featuring questions I asked myself and answered, created some free e-cards, etc. and over the years, it evolved and grew into what it is now.
   
4. Explore becoming a professional speaker 
   I joined Toastmasters, spoke for free at Rotary Clubs and Unity Churches, and eventually decided to launch my own “World Tour”—traveling wherever I wanted and telling people about it through the Notes.

To spare you the long and winding story, the steps above led me to record my first audio program, Infinite Possibilities: The Art of Living Your Dreams, which has been a perennial best-seller since its release in 2001 (more than 250,000 CDs sold), and in 2009 the book edition was published, which debuted at #7 on the New York Times best-seller list.

The upward spiral has taken my breath away!

I’m now published by Hay House; I’ve spoken in 34 countries, on 6 continents, before hundreds of thousands of people; sent more than 1 billion Notes from the Universe; appeared in the bestselling book and DVD The Secret; authored 14 books (two of which are NY Times bestsellers) published in 25 languages. And perhaps, most incredibly, a few years ago, I finally got married and became a first-time dad. 

Whether you want to kick-start a new career, turn your passions into your livelihood, find your bliss, quit your day job, or create more joy and freedom in your daily life, you can do it (I did!) 

You are adored!  

What if financial independence is closer than you think? Join my FREE Workshop: Manifesting Financial Independence and Prosperity on January 29 at 2 pm ET, and discover how to shift your money story, eliminate limiting beliefs, and attract wealth in unexpected ways. Save your spot! 

The post How I Created a Fun, Fulfilling, and Financially Rewarding Life appeared first on TUT.

I once referred to these strolls as “medicine walks.” My daily double dose of extra-personalized therapy. A time to check in with myself, clear my thoughts, and empty my mind. Quite literally. I would speak out loud, placing my voice into the air as if the trees, the oxygen, the leaves, the root beds, and fallen stumps were psychoanalysts paid by the footprint.

I took these walks seriously, prioritizing them. They had gravity. They made a huge difference in my well-being. I mean, my being was well—much weller—because of them. They were as essential a therapy session, exercise class, or coaching episode.

This evening, however, the medicine has been dislocated. It’s out here, but I can’t quite drink from its noble cup. I’m still walking. Stagnant energy is the harbinger of anxiety.

I spot a playground with a zip line. A simple, small-town, public-park version. I hop aboard from ground level and ride for three seconds before being bounced back to the start.

Now, I have spent many a faithful hour pulling my kids on these ropes over the years. I have smiled and encouraged and cheered and soothed skinned knees. This time, though, it’s my turn.

I’m alone. It’s Tuesday evening. 10 minutes until soccer practice is done.

A voice within me: “Do it. You’ve never done it. This is therapy. This is recovery. This is a step on the road to wellness. This is life force on a wire rope. This is the medicine.”

All right then, voicey. I got nothing to lose, right?

I take the rope, pull myself back and let go. I soar, smooth and wild, young again, all here in one single place again. As I approach the end of the first leg of the ride—the “to” journey that will soon be met by a “fro”—my body begins to tense, bracing itself for the hit, the bang, the rebound, the wall.

That wall, you know. That place we fear we may be heading to. My body tenses. I’m fearing the worst. A hard hit.

I don’t slow down, though. I don’t give up. I’m reminded: How you do anything is how you do everything.

I relax and receive what awaits me. I do my very best to surrender.

Phwoosh. The swing hits the end…

I am returning towards the start. The wall wasn’t so hard after all. It was actually, dare I say, enjoyable.

I’m ready for round two. I hop on board and give myself an extra dose of momentum for the ride. Weeeeeeeeeee! This is fun! I hit the end and spin around, zooming back.

I prepare myself for a final ride before returning to motherhood, practice pick-up, and an erectly adult perspective on the world.

That voice again: “Close your eyes.”

Sure thing. I got this. I can do full-frontal surrender. Give me my medicine.

I close my eyes and set off straight. My body starts turning, my limbs creating one long line in the early evening air. Will my legs hit the frame, banging my calves into bruised submission? I’m scared. I peek, righting myself. Back in control.

That voice, though—it’s not done with me yet. “Walk to the start. This time eyes closed the entire ride.”

This is it. I’ve got it. I can keep my eyes closed. I can navigate the unknown—the perilous is only in my imagination. Fear is made up. Mind rubble.

Eyes closed. Hands on rope. Ass on swing. Feet lifting off ground. I am suspended. I am air. I am surrender. I am life in movement. I am free. I am joy. I am—on the ground.

Without knowing when the ending was coming, I lost my grip and was thrown off when the point of (no) return arrived. I am laying on the ground, shocked, embarrassed, confused. Well, no biggie, until…

I turn and see a pack of 13-year-old boys jogging past, their tauntingly eyes upon me. A wild pack of testosterone-fueled youngsters laughing at my pathetic perimenopausal body sprawled on the ground in a kids’ playground. On my own. I pick myself up quickly, dust off, and jog in the other direction.

Until I stop. Jogging, that is. Until I stop. Running, that is. Until I stop being ashamed of exactly who I am and how I am. Right now.

I turn around. I smile softly in the direction of the boys. I walk back to the zip line. I pull it to the start. I hop on, lean back, and close my eyes.

I surrender again. I know the risks, and I know that I can meet them.

I can fall and be seen falling.

I can suffer and be seen suffering.

I can become someone new and be seen before I’m complete, all bloody and half-assed in the cocoon.

I can ride a zip line in a kids’ park on a Tuesday evening with my eyes closed. The entire time. And be returned to where I started, stronger than when I left.

And so can you.

And so can we.

I love you. It’s true.

The post Fall and Be Seen Falling appeared first on TUT.

According to www.etymonline.com, the word diary has a Proto-Indo-European root, dyeu—which means “to shine.”

Contrast this with the word calendar which comes from the Latin calare meaning “to announce solemnly or call out,” harking back to the time when Roman priests would call out when they saw the new moon and from this, they would then mark out the rest of the month.

Several years ago, I was given a beautiful diary with illustrations on each page and with the full week spread out across two pages, meaning that each day had its own section, a space to fill.

Normally, I would have quite easily filled up each section with the usual never-ending to-dos that I could then tick off and feel a sense of accomplishment each time. But this diary was different. It was too beautiful to fill up with drudgery. It seemed to offer me more.

I decided to use this diary as an opportunity to put into every section on every page something I really loved doing so that whenever I opened this beautiful diary, I would see a week of loveliness stretch out in front of me, rather than a mess of admin, work, and appointments.

Nothing grand or flashy, just something each day that I could ensure I carved out time for to really enjoy.

There would be no cluttering up my little book of loveliness with solemn appointments and nagging reminders—those went on my calendar instead.

To make my week really shine, I would write down at least one shiny thing to enjoy every day:

• Monday: loose leaf tea in a teapot with a cup and saucer
• Tuesday: paint my toenails and put some cream on my feet afterwards
• Wednesday: come home from work the slightly longer way to see the daffodils in the park

That kind of thing. Simple things that didn’t really require much effort on my part and that I was sure to be able to find time for but would really make my day shine.

After a few weeks, I noticed a real difference in all areas of my life. A niggling health issue that had been troubling me resolved itself. My apartment looked different—brighter and fresher. I was eating different foods and really savoring them. That little diary brought the shine back into my life.

I am a stationery superfan and still make the distinction between things to put in my diary—things to make my day shine—and things to put on my calendar—the more solemn and less shiny necessities. I am not convinced that there could be any digital substitute to these, and if there were, I’m not even sure I’d want one.

Every day is a gift, and it’s easy to lose track of this when we fill it with clutter. So make sure you make time for at least one shiny thing to enjoy each day and see what transformations unfold for you.

The post How to Shine 7 Days a Week appeared first on TUT.

Soup filled our bellies and our souls. Laughter was big in my house and Mom was the funniest. Most of those who met her thought she should have written a book or done stand-up comedy. Humor was always present, even in the direst of times.

In 2004, my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. He was 69 years old and had worked in a papermill for 42 years. Most of his adult life was spent in an industry that didn’t have OSHA regulations, so the diagnosis wasn’t unexpected, but it was certainly still surprising.

Mom and Dad both had wills; they had plans with a living will and they each had their own DNR wishes.

Dad was sick about 4 months before he even asked, “Is it cancer?”

Dad was coughing daily, and he wasn’t getting better. The doctor requested we get hospice to come to the home and help my parents during this time. They decided to get Mom and Dad a twin bed each so at least they could be in the same room together.

One morning my mom called me and said, “Your father was up all night with his horror stories.” “What horror stories?” I asked.

She said that he was talking about dead people at the end of his bed, and she told him to stop it because she didn’t like horror. I said “Mom, the poor guy has lung cancer; his oxygen must have dipped really low.” She replied. “I don’t like horror.”

Even in Dad’s darkest hours, Mom is still running a comedy show—a dark one but comedic just the same.

I built my home right next to my parents, so I walked over to chat with Dad, and he told me that he’d had a bad night. I talked with him a bit and then Mom said lunch was ready for them. I told them that I would take some laundry for them and bring it back later that day.

So, I went home and had lunch with my son, who was home during school vacation. After we ate, I decided to work on a painting project since it was a nice April day outside. Next thing I know, my mom is screaming to me to come over; my father had fallen.

When I got there, she was in the kitchen and said “Dad died. He fell and hit his head, and he’s on the bedroom floor.” I went to the bedroom and there he was. Sadly, he had passed.

I had never had to deal with someone dying at home before, so I asked “What do we do? Call 911?” Mom said yes and so I did. The paramedics came and saw that Dad had a DNR due to his condition, and they comforted us and contacted the coroner.

Soon, a police officer was at the door. He came to see what was happening and he asked questions. I told him that my dad was sick; he had lung cancer. I showed him the DNR, and then it happened. Mom declared “Oh, I hope it wasn’t the survival soup!”

“Survival soup?” The officer asked and reached for a pad of paper and a pen. Mom starts to rattle off ingredients, “Oh, its chicken broth, carrots, celery…”

The officer looked up and said, “It’s a soup?” Mom said, “Yes, it’s a soup. It’s just whatever you have in the kitchen for ingredients. Survival soup!”

I said, “I am so sorry, but yes, it is only soup. There is no foul play here,” and I chuckled because that is just the atmosphere that I was brought up in, and it only made sense for Dad’s last day be humorous.

For years, when Mom made survival soup I would joke that I wasn’t sure I wanted any, since I knew what happened to the last guy who ate it.

I’m forever grateful for the gift of humor as it has been the one thing that always helps me through the toughest of times.

The post The Gift of Soup and Humor appeared first on TUT.

As my hands traced invisible arcs in the air, this ancient practice spoke to me in a language beyond words. It whispered of a world within, a world rich with untapped potential and boundless possibilities.

With every breath and graceful flow, a silent dialogue began between my body and my soul, a conversation that beckoned me to delve deeper into my own essence.

It was as if each gentle movement invited me closer to my inner self, a self that had been hidden under multiple layers of societal expectation and personal fear. I began unearthing desires and dreams buried in pursuit of what I thought was “normal.”

Qigong was teaching me that Qi, the life force within, was not just a stream of energy, but a torrent of potential, waiting to be harnessed. It was in these moments of embodied presence that I discovered the strength to step beyond the familiar.

Each session was a journey in itself. The once intimidating prospect of embracing my individuality transformed into an exhilarating adventure. I learned to listen to the subtle cues of my body and mind, understanding that true strength lies in vulnerability and openness to change.

Once seemingly impenetrable, the walls of my comfort zone began to crumble, revealing a horizon filled with possibilities.

As I progressed, Qigong became more than a practice; it was a metaphor for life. It taught me the art of balance—the delicate act of straddling the line between comfort and growth, tradition and innovation. This balance was not static but a dynamic interplay, much like the ebb and flow of Qi through the body.

In the dance of Qigong, I found the rhythm of my soul, the courage to express myself, and the freedom to be unapologetically me.

As I was soon to discover, Qi Gong is about finding the extraordinary within the ordinary, the spiritual within the physical. It was an epiphany to see the world and everything in it in a new light, as light and vibration and frequency. To realize that energy flows not just around us, but within us, waiting to be recognized and harnessed.

Before long, as I embraced the lessons of Qigong, I saw its ripple effect. By stepping into my authentic self, I unknowingly lit a path for others. It was a powerful reminder that our personal transformation can be a catalyst for collective change.

Qigong, in its simplicity and depth, is a testament to the philosophy that within each of us lies the power to transcend our perceived limits.

True power is not an external force to be sought; it is a spark of the Divine waiting to be kindled. When Qigong puts us in touch with this power, it’s like waking up from a long slumber. It’s akin to when the sun pierces through the morning mist, revealing a world that was always there yet unseen.

It feels like a deep knowing, a certainty that emerges from the core of our being. It’s as if all the wisdom of the universe converges within us, whispering that we are more than our bodies, our circumstances, or our past.

When we tap into this power, we feel a sense of expansiveness that extends beyond the confines of our physical form. It’s an experience of boundless potential, where limitations dissolve and possibilities unfold like an endless horizon before us.

Qigong, a practice steeped in ancient wisdom, serves as a profound tool for transcending our perceived limits. It does so by harmonizing the body, mind, and spirit, guiding us towards a deeper understanding of our true potential.

It begins with a shift in perception, a decision to view ourselves not as victims of fate but as architects of our destiny. We begin to observe our thoughts and emotions not as absolute truths, but as patterns that can be changed.

Qigong reminds us that we are each a unique expression of the Divine, and when we honour that, our authenticity and individuality is a gift to the world.

Reflecting upon my decade-long journey so far, I see Qigong as a practice that keeps me aligned with my Higher Self. It invites me to step out of the familiar and embrace the mysteries of the Universe with an open heart and a curious spirit.

Through Qigong, we learn that our potential is boundless and that the only limits that exist are those we place upon ourselves. It’s a voyage not just of self-discovery but of soul discovery, where we find the courage to be our true selves.

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A while ago, while on a spiritual retreat in Thailand sitting in meditation, I had a series of thoughts: “Why am I doing this? I didn’t need to come all the way here to figure this out; I could’ve done this from my apartment.” That was before COVID-19.

Fast forward to sometime last month. My mind reminded me of that moment, so I wanted to explore the idea of “going on a retreat” in your own home. Could you get the same benefits from going on a spiritual retreat in your apartment?

The question seemed significant to me because of something else that happened to me on that retreat: After the initial anger state for having those thoughts in the first place, something in me changed.

I went gradually but quickly from anger to the realization that those very same thoughts of “Why am I doing this?” are what were needed in that moment for all thoughts to stop—giving me a glimpse of what can only be described as a state of samadhi.

And by definition, this was enlightenment—the moment everyone is constantly looking for, the peace of knowing that the very same thoughts you hated a second ago were the answers to all of your questions.

These were the words that I was looking for, this was what brought me to Thailand. I didn’t know there were “just” thoughts. I was expecting some sort of big revelation but the thoughts were enough. And that is extremely significant.

It is particularly significant in a post-COVID world. It’s been 4 years since the world was forced into isolation, creating a need for self-exploration and spiritual practices.

Habits are hard to build and very difficult to maintain, many of us have fallen back to our “bad” habits, or as I prefer to call it: a state of fear. And looking at the state of the world right now, there is absolutely no reason not to be.

And no matter what side of the spectrum (of life) you are on, one thing we can all agree on is that there was something mystical about 2020, or at the very least something radical came out of it. And I believe that it is the need for more love.

Something in us is not at peace; we’re all very afraid. Whether or not we can rely on our governments to keep us safe, or to do the right thing for that matter, we can all relate to that fear. Once we do that, we begin to see how easily anger and hatred might arise.

The conditions to see this is, I believe, what COVID-19 provided, and these are conditions that an “explorational” retreat might offer.

So can you do conduct a retreat in your apartment? Yes, if you’re willing to compromise, which can also be included in your practice. Design a retreat around your schedule and for as many days as you like.

What came out of it for me is a reminder of something that I’ve always known: that love and hate are two of the most common emotions that we all share. Then jumping to the radical truth of our existence—that we all, at the very core, have love in common—becomes, though uncomfortable at first, obvious.

That led to another conclusion: fear and anger are just emotions. Another emotion is love. This was another truth that I realized in that moment, that day sitting in meditation in Thailand. If I can come to the same conclusion here in my apartment, it must be a universal truth. And most importantly, you can “achieve” those moments anywhere.

Love is really what bonds us all together and if we can remember it, maybe our experiences of these times can begin to become a little easier, giving us strength to show up a little more in our fight for the world to reflect more who we are, rather than our emotions. And maybe if we do that, we can begin to change the world.

This is radical love. It is enlightenment. It is us—it is within us, and it is with us all the time. To quote the movie title, it is everything everywhere all at once. We all have access to it. It takes very little effort but it takes practice, and so does love.

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Once upon a time—which is actually the summer of 2022—I was struggling with intense depression, and it was far from the first time. I had been plagued with depression and anxiety for more than 30 years and I felt like a victim to its comings and goings, never knowing when I would be plunged back into its dark waters and not knowing how to help myself purposefully exit that clingy sea.

This early July morning, around 2 am, I could feel myself descending further into dangerous emotional territory. There was nothing that a hospital could do for me; I had already been there. I was taking the medication and waiting for an increased dosage to work for me, which takes up to two weeks.

I had Abraham Hicks playing on YouTube constantly. Something of a much higher frequency, I thought, would certainly help. I had been listening to Abraham for such a long time, on and off, and I had always been impressed with their “rampages”—rampages of appreciation, rampages of abundance, of self-worth, of forgiveness, and so forth.

Previously I had figured out that the way those rampages work is to started right where the person is and then ramp them up with honesty and small steps. But it wasn’t until that July night that I applied that information.

As I felt myself falling, I knew I was out of answers. I could not descend further without danger, and I had no more tools or solutions I could think of. I was unwilling to fall further and thought that the worst was at hand. Then the idea came to me to try writing my own rampage, even though I had no idea how to do that.

I reached for a journal and a pen and I started writing. Whenever I came to a stop because I didn’t know what to say next, I heard Abraham say something on YouTube that was exactly what I needed to hear to jog me forward. It was so in alignment with my focus and my need!

This happened over and over and over again as I continued writing, focused intently on the page and on my own sensing and feelings inside my body.

I knew that this repeated help from Abraham was incredible, but I didn’t have time to stop and be amazed—I just kept writing, and in 10 short minutes I was no longer in danger! I wasn’t free of depression just yet, but even in those difficult moments the fact that I—myself!—had been able to shift my own emotional setpoint was absolutely mind-blowing to me.

For four days I just wrote and wrote and wrote, and by the end of it I had no more daily depression and anxiety. Oh, I still have to take the meds (that’s a next-step, I suppose), but my quality of life had just changed 180 degrees.

The next step was to embrace Mike’s visioning, now that I felt stable and whole. That was what I did, and life slowly started to get better and better as I began to allow more light into my being, my mind, my feeling body.

And now, in just a few short weeks, I am about to become a Certified Infinite Possibilities Trainer. I eagerly welcome this amazing training, the opportunity to meet a new tribe to embrace and be embraced by, and the change to develop my own training to offer to others who think they have no control over their lives but actually do.

And all this is happening because I have been willing to understand that “go for the goal” is too big. Instead, I go for the next relieving emotion/thought and turn to the self-supporting thought and vision.

Do not underestimate the baby step. Do not mistake running for speed as better—an error I have made in the past. Do not prize the race above the slow, appreciative walk. It is the small next step that is truly transformational; it is knitted to your authentic self, right where you are, and it very simply takes you to more of you.

That is how the divine works: If in the world it’s big, spiritually it’s small. If in the world it’s small, spiritually it is enormous.

In the words of a meme making the rounds right now: “When you slow down, you feel. When you feel, you heal. And when you heal, you grow. Sometimes slowing down is the most productive thing you can do.”

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