Many years ago, I was in a terrible situation. I had to travel to a foreign country to handle a legal/family issue that I was very unhappy about. I knew about the trip many months in advance and that gave me plenty of time to worry, dread and project all of my fears and negative thinking into the future.
As the trip grew nearer, I felt a heavy blanket of foreboding overcome me. My usual “luck” in life seemed to evaporate. In my normal state, I breeze through life. People are friendly, they show up wherever I need help, doors are always open, and solutions abound. Yes, I get the parking places, courtesies, smiles, discounts, the last item in stock, the best view, the traffic free trips and so much more. This is my normal, even here in Los Angeles. When I travel, the seas seem to part to make the path easy for me. I love life and it loves me back.
Not this time.
I went to France (a place I’ve spent many splendid summers and even had a storybook wedding). I love France, or at least before all the troubles associated with my marriage and life falling apart arose, I loved it. This time, from the moment I arrived, the most bizarre events ensued, things that NEVER happen in my life.
I like to be concise, so I’ll omit the small stuff (lost items, delays, dog poop, etc.) and give you the high (actually the lowest) points.
Villa 1
We arrived at the super-fantastic-gorgeous-lovely-villa we’d rented to make our stay more bearable. Instead of being what was pictured in the promo materials, it was filthy . . . and something dead was trapped in the walls. The owners were in London, it was August and there were no vacancies anywhere in town, so for two days we slept against open windows leaving the place as soon as we awoke.
My Room in the Flat
Finally, I found a wonderfully helpful vacation rental agent who luckily had a tenant cancel their stay at a lovely flat nearby. He was such a sweetheart. When I looked into his eyes he always shied away and said something darling like, “You’re so beautiful, I can’t look at you.” He was so wonderful that he personally transported our luggage from the rotting villa to our shiny new apartment.
We settled in and went about dealing with the reason for our trip. Every single day was terribly stressful for my family. My life with my former husband’s family was ending. It had been a wonderful experience and I loved them with all of my being, but our relationships weren’t strong enough to survive the impacts of the tragedy we’d all endured. The pain was intense and the chasm too wide to bridge. I hated every moment of it.
On the third day, my son asked if we could go to the local McDonalds for lunch. He thought it would be cool to see the French take on American fare. I agreed and together we sat in the window of the restaurant overlooking the sparkling Mediterranean Sea. It was a healing moment; I looked into my son’s eyes, the same eyes that inspired me to become the woman I’d always dreamed of being, and knew all would be well if I could just get through this trip.
Lovely Med View
Just then a police officer abruptly grabbed the edge of our table and blocked my exit with his body. He yelled a tirade of sentences out and shoved a pointed finger in my face. Now, my French was decent at the time, good enough to navigate life alone in France, but I am not particularly adept at talking about crime, theft and arrests. I sat transfixed attempting to translate his words. In French, I told him that I couldn’t understand him. He called me a liar, I understood that. An English speaking North African man said from across the room, “He says you’re a thief and he’s taking you to the station. Go with him so he doesn’t have to force you.”
I was stunned! ME? A thief? Going to the station? Arresting me? What about my son? The officer began yelling more loudly, placing his hand on his weapon at his waist. I got up and two other officers escorted me and my son down the street (that was fabulous) to the police station. Once there, they tried to sort out what they would do with my son, a minor, when they booked me! An officer who spoke English passed by the holding area and I, employing every bit I could remember from international law and my in-laws, began explaining and tacitly threatening to cause a tremendous stink if I were not released immediately. I demanded a lawyer and a call to the embassy. I could see the dawning of insight come over the officer. When they realized that I was neither a liar nor the thief they thought I was they let us go. No explanations, no apologies.
I walked back to the sanctuary of our flat, determined to stay inside until our flight to Rome, in three days. Rome is my paradise. All is always well in Rome. Until then, I would do only what I had to do to address the purpose of the trip. Over the following three days, I left the flat once.
On our last night, just as I finished packing our things, someone tried to unlock the door to the flat. I’d bolted it shut, so they couldn’t. They began pounding on the door and yelling. Wondering how it could be possible for trouble to find me even here, I looked through the peephole. There stood a man and woman holding bags of what appeared to be groceries. Thinking it might be a robbery attempt (I was in that frame of mind), I told them to go away and I was calling the police. They yelled back, in English, “You get out of our house now! We are calling the police!” I could hear the truth in their voice. The last thing I wanted was the police coming for me. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew that the people at the door weren’t crazy or criminals. Perhaps they were the next tenants arriving early. I opened the door and the couple stormed in looking flabbergasted.
To make a twisted story short, the flat belonged to them, they had never intended to rent it, and the sweetheart who rented it to me, Mr.-I-can’t-look-at-you-cause-you’re-too-beautiful, was really Mr.-I-can’t-look-at-you-because-I-am-a-crook-whose-girlfriend-is-the-maid-at-this-flat-and-I’m-illegally-renting-it-to-you-while-the-owners-are-away-on-vacation. I spent the evening convincing the owners that I was not a criminal (2nd time in a week!) and begging them to let my family stay just until 5am when we could go to the BLESS-ED airport. They did.
My Home in Rome
At noon the following day, I reclined onto the couch at my favorite resting place in Rome. I had a cappuccino, a bouquet of fresh flowers and my family. The flight was perfect, everyone I met was wonderful, my Roman apartment was stunning and my life had returned to normal.
I wanted to blame it on the French, so many do, but I’ve had too many perfect experiences in France. It wasn’t the French.
It was me. Those months of dread and negativity projected into the future had constructed it all. The Uni-verse is not some cosmic vending machine returning to us what we want or affirm. It reflects back to us what we are.
This horrible experience taught me some of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned.
Change your consciousness and change your life. Pave the future with joy, love, hope, positivity and the ever-present possibility of miracles, magic and unexpected fortune.
Back and a little wiser.
Thank you for sharing this inspiring story. I am learning so much from you. Thank you so much!
It’s my genuine pleasure, Joni. Thank you for reading.
I very much enjoyed your story, Cynthia, and the reminder about the importance of monitoring our thoughts and striving to keep them positive and hopeful. You are a blessing and a ray of sunshine to me and to so many!
What a lovely compliment. Thank you, Mary. <3
Thank you so much I guess for just being you and being here. I am ever so grateful that I found you. You have been inspiration, hope, a shining star to guide when the day is the blackest black…thank you for all you write I have loved every word I have read.
I am honored, Julie 🙂
Great story! You always inspire me. Thanks!
Thanks, Sheila.
Cynthia, You are so RIGHT about this! I have been unemployed for 4 years, my unemployment benefits ended 18 months ago. Do I worry? Sometimes, but I keep faith, for every time I have a genuine need, it is met, and originates from the most unexpected places.
I know the difference between my wants and my needs, and it is amazing how many “wants” arrive at my door too.
My friends tell me they cannot see how I am so calm through it all… here I am with $20 and some odd change in my pocket until the end of the month. But they also comment on how my “amazing luck” a.k.a. the law of attraction seems to work in my favor.
I sleep at night in full faith that we live in an abundant universe, and that being thankful for all the lessons learned, even the hard ones, ultimately gives us the greatest insight and spiritual growth. The kindness one extends to others returns, just as unkindness returns to one as well.
Thank you for sharing. You are a blessing. Devon
Bless your wise heart. May avalanches of good overtake you <3
Wow, such an amazing ‘story’ (seems wrong to use that word, when it was a real life incident). So inspiring, you are so right when you say, “The Uni-verse is not some cosmic vending machine returning to us what we want or affirm. It reflects back to us what we are.”
I read this and then smiled to myself, determined that as of now I am changing my consciousness, not just talking about changing it!
Thank you Cynthia, for being so inspiring. 🙂
Gill xx
Thank you for reading it, Gil. This experience taught me so much! 🙂
Bless your wise heart. May avalanches of good overtake you <3
Thanks, Sheila.
I am honored, Julie 🙂
What a lovely compliment. Thank you, Mary. <3
Thanks I needed that!
Thanks I needed that!
TELL IT!
TELL IT!
POWER to you Coralie A Thomasson-Webb 🙂
POWER to you Coralie A Thomasson-Webb 🙂
“The Law of Attraction” IS true:)
“The Law of Attraction” IS true:)
No need to ask for forgiveness on that one, Cynthia. It’s most certainly applicable! 🙂
No need to ask for forgiveness on that one, Cynthia. It’s most certainly applicable! 🙂
Thank you, this is great!
Thank you, this is great!
Or being saved on a train from Paris to Lourdes, France…
Or being saved on a train from Paris to Lourdes, France…
YES that’s right, Elizabeth Peterson.
YES that’s right, Elizabeth Peterson.
I, Maria Radford, have just joined the International Circle of Friends of the teaching of Bruno Groening, last night. I have experienced this shift in consciousness and ended an abusive relationship for good. Simply and honestly, after reading Cynthia’s story, I have a better understanding of the whole episode and will never repeat the agonising experience again, thankyou, great blessings and much love, Maria xxxxxxx
But HOW do you change your consciousness? I am sad inside, and lonely. It’s not as easy as just “letting it go” or “thinking positively.” What is the secret to changing your consciousness?
It’s a little-by-little practice, or should I say drop-by-drop. Imagine a bucket of cloudy water. Every drop of fresh water makes it only a tiny bit better, but if you keep dropping fresh water in and reduce/eliminate more cloudy additions, in time the water will come clear. It requires trust and faith that it works, until you see it working. I used to have a very cloudy bucket and it’s worlds better now, so I know that it works <3