The,Birth,Dream,Whoa,What,goin DIY The Birth of a Dream

When starting a new work at home business it is very easy to become consumed by it. We spend so much time trying to get the business up and running that we may end up becoming burned out and lose our motivation. There is so much to learn and Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;mso-style-noshow:yes;mso-style-parent:"";mso-padding-alt:0in

“Whoa! What’s goin’ on?” I shouted. “Feels like there’s a volcano erupting in me!”Wide-eyed, Jerry stared at me with dropped jaw. He’d swear I was just kiddin’ ‘cept my body was starting to bounce erratically up and down in the booth. We were enjoying blueberry flapjacks at a cowboy café in Cottonwood, Arizona. Then mayhem broke loose like a scared calf in his first rodeo rink.  Maybe the trigger was the conversation? Not your usual country breakfast fare. I was reciting to Jerry all I could recall of the “I Have a Dream” speech of the late Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I had a very profound, visceral dream the night before of the electric atmosphere of the massive throng at the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in 1963. Growing up in a white Detroit suburb and dropping out of school at 14 to play hockey, Jerry had never heard the speech. So, innocently, I was recounting King’s spine-tingling words when I began to shake uncontrollably. A wave of ecstasy swept through my body—and through my being. Some church folks would call it “the rapture.” All I knew was I was quaking so wildly that I popped out of the booth and onto the floor—where my movements resembled all the signs of an epileptic fit. I saw the cashier pick up a phone—no doubt to call an ambulance. Luckily for me, Jerry had the heft of the former Detroit Red Wing hockey stud that he was. He easily lifted me onto his shoulders and whisked me out of the café before some good-intentioned doc could pump me full of drugs.Once I was in the safety of my truck, I realized that I was filled with spirit—specifically the spirit of Martin Luther King, Jr. I felt blissful, afire with joy. I wasn’t frightened or even perplexed—simply amazed and filled with awe. I was most definitely in a state of grace. I took hours to gently—though reluctantly—return to a more normal sense of my being. And then Jerry and I took off for our fourth day in a remote canyon near Sedona.Jerry and I were on a mission. A calling to lift the ancient veils cloaking our true spiritual identity and nature. After years of running from the awareness of who we really are and our real power, we decided to isolate ourselves in a secluded canyon wilderness for as long as it took to unmask the truth! Far from the distractions of modern society, we prayed that we could intuit—or better yet, directly experience—our true connection with our real Selves, each other, God—and St. Germain and Jesus, our two closest spiritual mentors.For the first three days (daze!) not much realization arose. We meditated, swam, wandered in the wild—and had little insight to show for it. But on the fourth morning, after my energizing rendezvous with Dr. King, we were both finally opened enough to receive our aspiration for the journey.After clearing the air with an angry verbal exchange fueled by our joint frustration, Jerry and I found ourselves face-to-face with Jesus. We could see, feel and hear our friend in his spirit form.Directing us to sit in the crystal-clear, spring-fed stream, Jesus shared with us for hours many powerful ways to shift our creating attention, and open our heart and other charkas. Every so often he would lift a handful of water and pour it over our heads. I realize now that he was casually baptizing us with this natural holy water—washing away the old and flowing in the new. Jerry and I began to radiate warmth and light from deep within our bodies. We felt blessed and inspired. As dusk drew near, Jesus bade goodbye, inviting us to share with others what he had shared with us that momentous summer day. Being a seminar leader my whole life, I whispered, “What shall we call it?” Jesus replied, “The Dream.” Jesus suggested we offer the tools he gave us in the spirit of “The Dream—a Gathering of Equals,” invoking a space in which people come together as equals in love, power and wisdom. A time dedicated to empowering each other to own their inherent compassion, strength and knowing.Shortly thereafter, Jerry and I invited our closest friends to Sedona for the first Gathering of Equals. Thirty folks came from around the world. Together we intuited how to proceed each day for four days. Of course, it was very magical, fun and effective. On the second day, an old friend of mine all the way from Vermont sensed that I was on to something fresh and exciting. Lydie called to see what I’d discovered. She gathered our second group two weeks later in New England. And for the last fifteen years, the gatherings have come together by word of mouth, funky flyers and the sacred whimsy of synchronicity.I’m inspired to write about the origin of my Dream at this time in our collective Earth journey when there is a renewed sense of cooperation and common purpose in our country. In the spirit of my adventure, I suggest at this time, “Gather your dreams. Gather your power. Gather our de-light-full shared destiny!”