Or Could That Be His Secret
"Any thought that occupies our mind becomes true for us and tends to turn into action." Émile Coué
I'm having one of those out-of-body experiences, floating unbound and unharnessed beside the Pacific Coast Highway. I watch Larry managing the gears like a pro as we zoom along the majestic coastline of California in a gunmetal gray 911 Porsche. There I am, a tense smile affixed to my tan face, white-knuckling the door handle while Larry, as if Josef Newgarden, speeds past five cars on the wrong side of the road to take the lead.
My word, this car has some kick to it. We went from zero to 60 in seconds. I can feel the wind in my hair, the wheels vibrating through my seat, and how the tires hug the road as we skid around the bend as if this was the Indianapolis 500 instead of a leisurely weekend drive.
There is really no beginning or ending to this story.
But that does not matter. The story is not about the incredible views, a high-performance car, or the hair-raising experience of being one of Larry's hostages, I mean passengers, while test-driving one of his dreams.
It's about manifesting the life we want in a world where your thoughts define your reality, and 8.2 billion people struggle to do the same. All I can say is thank God we all don't want the same thing.
All human beings have an innate wisdom about how to get what they want and need. Have you ever observed an infant tutoring its mother on when it needs to eat, sleep, and be changed?
How do we get what we want? It's not as complicated as we think, especially if you're single-minded and know how to create a ruckus.
I have envied Larry's ability to manipulate reality for years, so recently, I have been stalking him, observing his every move as if an apprentice hoping to secure a job. I watch what he does. I listen to his speech and mannerisms. I figure I can adopt the ones that fit and ignore the rest. I notice how relentless he is when he wants something, the intensity of his focus, and the way he interrogates people for information, but most importantly, I observe how methodically he drives (pun intended) his ideas from fantasy to reality.
Remember when he wanted a new truck?
For months, all I saw on his computer screen were trucks. He went to the local dealerships and read everything he could get his hands on about the best styles, models, and performance reviews. I listened to him cross-examine everyone who owned or used to own a truck. He plotted, visualized, researched, imagined, obsessed over, and then selected his dream truck. We drove all the way to Nevada on my day off to get in touch with his dream, and it's now parked in the driveway.
The same techniques applied when we were looking for a lake house, remodeling our kitchen, or landscaping the yard. He manifested his retirement, exiting the workforce on his terms after 40 years on the job, and off we went to tackle the El Camino de Santiago. He even convinced me to tackle RAGBRAI on a tandem.
Guess what?
He has a new dream.
For the last several months, all I have seen on his computer screen are 911 Porsches. He has contacted owners and dealerships nationwide, and random people have been calling daily with offers and information. It's alarming to witness this man in action.
Larry asked me the other day, "What do you think about taking a quick trip to Carmel? We could stay at the Mission Inn, grab a nice dinner, maybe hike along the coast, look at some houses."
He knows this is one of my favorite getaways. I say, "When do I need to be packed?"
"Well, I'm glad you asked. Let's work backward."
"Backwards? From what?"
"From when we need to pick up the car and when we need to return it."
"Wait. What car?"
"I was thinking (he already rented the car by the way) about renting a 911 Porsche, taking it for a test drive, see if I like how it maneuvers."
"And what if you like it?" (See, I have not approved this purchase. At least not this year, maybe never, and I know exactly what he is doing. He's trying to get me to buy into his dream with a trip to Carmel, kick-ass accommodations, an exquisite dinner, and a sleek drive. After forty years, I know how this man operates.)
"Information is good."
"But it's not an approval."
"We're at the gathering stage."
"Are we now?"
"You need to be ready in thirty minutes."
"So the car is already rented."
"Just trying to save us a little time."
So I threw some pajamas, a toothbrush, jeans, and a sweater in a bag. I jumped in the shower, slipped on my new black dress and a jeans jacket before slathering my exposed skin with sunscreen.
We picked up the car in San Mateo, headed to Half Moon Bay for some clam chowder, and drove an incredible high-performance Porsche along the winding coast to Carmel. The weather was perfect—in fact, it was on the warm side.
Can I just brag about the West Coast for a minute? It is gorgeous, adorned with steep cliffs and massive rocks that thwart the crashing surf. Exquisite redwood groves guard the forests to the east, and the beaches are lined with driftwood and soft sand. You can smell that salty air. I especially love how the water meets the skyline in the distance; all you can see is a faint line dividing these two worlds. It's a stunning drive, and even more so from the openness of a convertible.
Now, if only I were driving.
We made it to Carmel in record time (shocking, I know), drove directly to the Mission Inn, dropped our bags in our room, and walked a mile or so into town. We stopped for a martini at La Playa, an exquisite cocktail bar overlooking the ocean, before returning to the Mission for dinner.
It was karaoke night, and Carmel's wannabe singers came out to play. Watching them vie for time with the microphone was a lesson in persistence and tenacity. I chatted it up with the locals, hoping for a glimpse of Clint Eastwood, who owns the Mission Ranch. It is rumored that he has a private table at his disposal.
If you were wondering, he loved the car, and honestly, I did, too. But more importantly, I appreciate being part of the manifestation, how he moves an idea from reverie to reality with relentless focus and drive.
He's relentless, and that's his secret.
Sometimes, I don't know what I want. That's when I think about the things that make me happy, including blueberry pie, coffee, and pork. I pursue my inner joy, being the best person I can be, guarding my heart, my center, and my source of peace like a mother bear. I hold on to gratitude as if it were the only hand within reach. And honestly, that hand is always within reach, and that's good enough for now.
Here's the thing—I think we can not only change our lives by visualizing something different for ourselves, but our reality is actually quite pliable. You can mold it, if you will, with focus, intention, and a relentless pursuit of your dreams. According to Kenneth S. Cohen, the image is the inner form of things, the primal idea from which physical reality later manifests.
It's what we did as children when we were only limited by our imaginations and our ability to pretend we could be whatever we wanted to be. I'm no Cinderella and have no fairy Godmother (although Nancy is close), but I have a prince who doesn't like to fail.
For Larry, the real joy is in the journey. When he steps into his vision of owning a 911 Porsche, he turns the key, and the engine of his imagination roars into life. It's the key that opens those elusive doors, and maybe that is the secret to this life. We can change the world one thought at a time. It's how we're designed. But it does beg the question, where do our ideas come from? There is only one future, and it's the one you create with joy, perseverance, gratitude, and a deep alignment with the gardener, you know the one, who generously seeds our dreams.
I'm Living in the Gap, pursuing an exciting future, and hoping you'll share your recent obsession in the comments.
PS We have no plans to purchase a 911 in the near future. It's still an idea and one that both of us have not bought into—yet.
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