There has always been this nagging feeling to share a message that helps others. It probably doesn't help that many people, from family and close friends to total strangers, have encouraged this. Running alongside this deep desire to share testimony about how remarkable life can be is a fear in the lack of credibility to the message. It hasn't really felt authentic, until now.
I've seen over the last few years that when you not only step out of your comfort zone, but put full, unconditional trust in the universe, it responds. You become open enough to notice an unmistakable magic that permeates all experience. Life truly is remarkable, and I've seen it firsthand.
The message hadn't felt authentic because it wasn't lived yet. It was an ideal, and ideals are meant to be challenged. Otherwise, how would you know their value?
It isn't easy to challenge ideals. I'm always reminded of two very cold nights in San Francisco where I was hungry, begging for food. I was there after following an intuitive pull to travel up to the Bay Area from Los Angeles. A mother visiting from London with her toddler had picked me up on the side of the rode near Malibu and we rode up to San Francisco together. Everything up to that point felt like divine guidance, and then I was stuck. Not only stuck, but the more I reached out and begged, the more people ignored me. I became invisible. It wasn't the first time, but it was so significant because the ideal of a benevolent universe responding to unconditional trust had been crushed, and with it, another layer of arrogance.
Every personal ideal is rooted in arrogance. Being crushed under the weight of it futile self-importance opens the door to discover how tremendously okay everything is. It's a strange paradox to go through feeling abandoned to know beyond a doubt that you're not.
So my message isn't that everything is okay if you believe it. Believing might be a step, but it seems to me that putting belief into action really proves it to yourself that you have nothing to worry about. You have to leap in order to know you've got wings that come up from behind you, instinctively.