Welcome!

As I looked back, the little girl was excitedly pointing at us, try­ing to get her mother’s attention. The mother was looking down the street, intent on getting where she wanted to go, but the old man had noticed the child pointing and was staring in our direction. From the blank look on his face, I could tell he didn’t see us.

We weren’t going straight up, but one way, then another, like leaves fluttering in the wind. I don’t know why, but we both started to laugh. I let go of Jeanie’s hand, and we began turning sideways, then facing up, then down, all the time going higher. Below, I could see cars rushing by on six lanes of Route 315, many houses, and a surprising number of trees.

A few years earlier, I had been up about three thousand feet, strapped to a hang-glider. I had looked down and seen nothing in my visual field holding me up (in a plane, there’s that reassuring seat and floor). I had thought nervously, What in the world is keeping me from dropping like a stone?

But I had none of that sensation here. There was no questioning: Will I fall? Why won’t I fall? I was just caught up in the beauty of the Earth below. I was completely in the moment, feeling an incredible sense of bliss. We seemed to be heading toward where I work, when we began to separate, and Jeanie started drifting to­ward where she works downtown.

Quickly waving good-bye, I wanted to yell, “I love you,” but for some reason I couldn’t speak—and then her tall, slender figure be­came a speck in the distance. I was still moving toward work, but where the zigs and zags had been relatively short before, I now went in one direction for a longer period of time. As I crossed over the I-270 beltway, the view was magnificent. I had gone up on a hill near there in the past, but this time it was more dramatic, amplified by my intense feelings.

On the other side of 270, I drifted over the office building where I worked, which started me thinking about having to go in. Instead of des­cending, however, I began going higher. Rather than being afraid of falling, I suddenly had a rush of worry that I couldn’t get down, and started zigging and zagging, fast and erratically. The movement felt quite uncomfortable.

I tried to calm myself by thinking of things I liked about my job—when in doubt, appreciate. As I did this, I started to slow and be­gan to drift down. In about five minutes, I settled on the flat roof of the one-story building. But I didn’t want to be on the roof. I had wanted to land in the parking lot. I was still above my work, so to speak, and that wouldn’t do. Looking around for a ladder, or even people I might hail, I saw no one and nothing with which to climb down.

There are two open, interior courtyards in my building. I had landed near the one I usually cross when going to the cafeteria. I liked to go through there, even when it was cold, because it had plants and I liked breathing the outside air. I decided I would try to drift down into the courtyard. (If all else failed, I could jump onto a small tree, but that wasn’t very appealing.) I focused on intending to fly and could feel myself begin to float again. When I was sure I wouldn’t drop like a rock, I drifted over the edge and into the court­yard.

Amazing. Same familiar courtyard. I could see people having their morning coffee in the cafeteria, but no one was braving the weather. Opening the door to my side of the building, I walked to my cubicle.

I didn’t know what to say to anyone. “Hi, I just flew to work. What’s new with you?” So I didn’t say anything. I just had this Che­shire grin as I tried to work at my computer all day. When I called Jeanie in the afternoon, she said she could take a bus home from downtown and then pick me up. She had landed in the topiary park across the street from the hospital where she worked, and no one ap­peared to have seen her. She hadn’t said anything to anyone at work either.

On the way home, we just kept repeating things, like, “Wow,” and “I can’t believe it.” I told Jeanie about landing on the roof, and we talked about how beautiful everything looked. We also discussed the little girl and the fact that the old man didn’t seem to see us. We didn’t know what to make of that.

We were both over­whelmed. Talk about a major change. Cook­ing at home, or even being out with people in a restaurant, felt too compli­cated. We stopped at Flying Pizza to pick up a pie, and I laughed nervously looking at the name over the store window.

We didn’t know what had happened or whom to tell. I tried to fly again in our living room that evening. About a foot off the ground, chills went up my spine. I dropped to the carpet, and Jeanie and I looked at each other in shock. We sat quietly for a while, side by side on the couch, trying to absorb the enormity of what we had expe­rienced. The rest of the evening, we just did our usual chores and went to bed. The next morning we drove to work.

Jeanie worked in the library at a medical center downtown and normally picked up the paper every morning. She called me excitedly

shortly after eight. There was a picture of us in the Columbus Dis­patch, on the first page of the Life & Arts section. Actually, there were two pictures. One was a long shot of two specks high over Route 315, and the other seemed to be a close-up of the same photo, showing two people who looked like us. You could see the edge of my mus­tache and my short, light-brown hair, but wouldn’t recognize it as me. Jeanie’s back was fully turned, and she was mainly distinguish­able by her almost waist-length, dark-brown hair, blown like a giant halo around her head. The caption read: People Flying Over Columbus?

Below the pictures was an article by Joe Blundo. He frequently writes humorous columns about politics gone awry in the capital of Ohio. In the article, he mentioned that he had been walking out of a coffee shop the previous morning with one of the Dispatch photo­graphers, when he thought he saw two people flying over 315. Then he went on to relate the pictures to “soaring” local taxes, and how some of the money could be used to bring in more visitors—or were they fly­ing in themselves?

My reaction, however, was: someone saw us! Not just anyone, but a well-known journalist, someone we could talk to. Jeanie and I de­cided we wouldn’t try to go to the newsroom. What had happened was too strange to discuss with a group of reporters.

A month earlier, we had been on a cruise to Hawaii with an Abraham-Hicks seminar. One day, when Jeanie and I were returning from an excursion on Maui, we really wanted to talk with our friend, Todd Powers. The only problem was, we had no idea where he would be on the eight-story ship. We decided to focus our thoughts and im­agined meeting up with him. Not five minutes after boarding the ship, we were walking down the corridor to our cabin, and there he was. So we decided to see if we could use the same serendipity to rendezvous with Joe Blundo.

After work, I met Jeanie downtown near the Dispatch offices. And wouldn’t you know it, as we walked down Broad Street, there was Joe Blundo. He looked just like the little picture they print next to his sto­ries—slender face, dark, curly hair, mustache.

We quickly walked up to him, and I announced, “We’re the people in your picture.” At first he didn’t know what I was referring to. He looked us over for a moment, then kind of half-smiled and tilted back a little, like, I need to get out of here. Then I think his reporter’s in­stincts took over. He pointed to a nearby Starbucks and asked if he could buy us a cup of coffee.

Jeanie and I both had hot chocolate. I don’t drink coffee, and Jeanie doesn’t like caffeine late in the day. Joe got coffee. (I had asked him if I could call him, Joe, and we were now all on a first-name basis.) After we settled ourselves around one of those too-small, round tables, Joe asked bluntly, “How did you do it?”

It didn’t seem like he meant, How did you achieve this amazing feat of flying over Route 315 without any known means of propul­sion? It was more, How did you make it look like you did this? I ignored this distinction, but I had to think for a moment. Frankly, I didn’t know how to answer him. I finally just said, “No resistance.”

I thought, that’s at the heart of it. As I was processing how eve­ry­thing got started (lift-off), I remembered being in the moment, ener­gized, and in a really good mood. I loved the wind in my face and Jeanie next to me. We were playfully weaving around the people in front of us, and I remembered thinking, “Wouldn’t it be fun if we could fly?” As I looked at the old man, I could feel myself floating off in a mini-daydream, and the next thing I knew, Jeanie and I were ac­tually leaving the ground.

So I tried to explain to Joe about resistance, and allowing the energy of the Universe to flow through you, but I could tell he wasn’t hearing it the way I was meaning it. He kind of scrunched up his face in response and said, “Can you do it again?”

I thought a moment. Then I talked about how we all hypnotize each other into believing we can’t do things, and how it takes effort to get out of those limitations. So, basically, no, not with people around me sending me messages that, This Can’t Be Done. Maybe sometime in the future, when we aren’t so blown away by it, but not now.

As a reporter, Joe talked to a lot of politicians. So he was used to keeping a dignified expression when things were being said with appar­ent sincerity, things that probably would not be considered truthful by ordinary citizens. He did so now. It became apparent around the table that Joe was not going to be calling the Dispatch troops for the scoop of the century. On the other hand, we seemed like decent people. We weren’t trying to sell anything or wanting free publicity.

Whatever that picture in the Dispatch represented was not going to become clear to him that day. He was okay with this. And, reluctantly, so were we. As we walked away from the coffee shop, I turned and could see Joe looking at us down the street. I really wanted to show him something that proved we were real. Trying to relax and lift off the ground, all I could muster was about six inches. Then I would come down again. It looked like a cross between jumping and floating. In the distance, I could see Joe mov­ing his head so he could get a better look, but he didn’t take any pic­tures, and we didn’t expect to see him again.

I wanted to try flying at least once more, just to prove to myself it really happened. So that evening we went to the park across the street from our condo. I wanted Jeanie to fly too, but she was content just to watch me enjoy myself. I went into a light state of medi­tation and fo­cused on flying, then let go of her hand and began to drift up until I was above the trees. I can’t explain how incredible that feeling of flying is, flying free.

Everything looked so beautiful, again heightened by my feelings. I love to do somersaults in water, so I began to roll forward slowly. No resistance. Going into a horizontal position and stretching my arms out as far as they would go, I twirled like a human corkscrew. This made me a little dizzy, so I stopped after a few rota­tions.

I flew several lazy eights, like a radio-controlled airplane, and wondered if that’s what I looked like. People aren’t out in our park much in January, and I didn’t see anyone. I wondered if many people would even be able to see me. Children, probably. Joe is a reporter, so maybe he’s more open to novel information.

There is a story of Spanish ships arriving in the New World and the natives not being able to recognize them in the distance because such large floating structures were totally out of their experience. I smiled to myself—people will probably think I’m a model airplane or a kite.

Looking down, I could see Jeanie smiling at me, sending me love and joy. She could see me. Her warmth was like a magnet draw­ing me to her. I made a suave landing and gave her a big kiss. Then we walked home holding hands.

PURCHASE OPTIONS

15. Meet the Press

*****

Mike Lemonick from Time and the fellow from News­week had really done their homework. It appeared that reporters from their magazines had already interviewed a number of the people who had been at Perkins, including Bob Peters and a few of the regular Thursday class members.

Mike knew about Abraham, and even some about the Law of Attraction. He asked, “How do the channeled theories discussed in your class fit in with your being able to fly?”

I didn’t have the impression Mike believed in the validity of channeling. Rather, if Jeanie and I did, he wanted to know what we thought. “Understanding the Law of Attraction doesn’t enable one to fly physically. If it did,” I smiled, “lots of people would be flying. As I indicated before, I don’t really know physically—and I can’t prove—what specifically led to the breakthrough. However, I don’t think it would be wrong to say that it was the culmination of a life­long desire to learn and teach conscious reality creation.

“At the same time, I wouldn’t tell someone, ‘Study how your thoughts create your reality and you’ll be able to fly.’ Well, that’s not entirely correct. It’s correct in terms of physically flying, but there are so many ways to fly. I’m still learning to attend to my thoughts my­self—if I were better at it, we’d be doing this on a beach in Hawaii.” There were a few chuckles.

“As I’m sure you know, just the fact that Jeanie and I are flying opens the possibility for others. It’s like a very high level of keeping up with the Joneses. I’m sure there are a lot of people thinking right now, ‘Hey, if this ordinary-looking guy can do it, I should be able to do it.’ So there may be others soon who fly spontaneously like we did. In any case, I have no doubt this is the future of our species. Many people’s thoughts are going to be focused on this, and it’s just a matter of time. If you’ve looked into the Law of Attraction at all, you’ll understand why I’m saying that.”

David, Mike, and the fellow from Newsweek were most inter­ested in the possible means of propulsion. Since we had already crossed the channeling hurdle, I decided to tell them about some comments I had found that Seth made about inaudible sound. “As you know, Jeanie and I can’t talk while we’re flying. This leads me to think we’re making some kind of sound with our throats that we can’t hear.” I read them a quote I had copied from Seth Speaks where he talked about previous civilizations using sound to move things.

******

The woman sent by AP and the fellow from the LA Times seemed to be entertainment reporters, and they began asking very different questions. The woman looked at both of us, “How do you feel being the only people on the planet who can fly?”

I looked at Jeanie. After a moment, she said, “It’s wonderful. Eve­ryone dreams of flying.”

I waited to make sure she was finished, then added, “Someone had to be first, and I’m glad it was us. I love that we can fly. I like the fact that it will probably make us rich. Being famous is a mixed blessing, however.” I smiled a bit ruefully, “We can probably get good tables at restaurants, but folks may stare at us and come over while we eat. Neither of us ever wanted to be famous in the sense of being recog­nized wherever we go. However, if it gives us the op­portunity to share the ideas we love, that’s great.”

“What are the ideas you love?” she pressed. It was more than simply asking.

“Basically, that all of us create our own reality through the thoughts we think. Once people understand they can control their thoughts, and through that determine their experiences, there is no need to be afraid anymore. This makes for a very different social expe­rience. We wouldn’t need armies, jails, or large police forces—not because of some Pollyannaish belief in the goodness of others, but because we would realize we don’t need to protect ourselves by trying to control others.”

She looked at me in disbelief, but I didn’t stop. “Have you ever watched the news for even a half hour and made a list of all the things we’re told to be afraid of? Terrorists, thieves, viruses, storms, almost every kind of food—it’s a wonder any of us is still alive. However, the reason we’re alive is that most of us are thriving most of the time. Thankfully, we only spend a relatively small portion of the day focus­ing on all the things to fear in the world.”

“So you’re suggesting we have nothing to be afraid of? We could let all the criminals out of jail? We don’t need airport security?”

“I wouldn’t recom­mend forcing anyone to give up anything that made him or her feel secure. If we suddenly let all the criminals out of jail, people would be so afraid, they would draw negative interactions to themselves. However, if you think about it, many criminals aren’t in jail; they’re walking the streets.”

The fellow from the LA Times joined in, “If we didn’t have police forces, what would keep thugs from attacking ordinary citi­zens—good thoughts about them?”

“If you think about it, what keeps a thug from attacking you now? There are a lot of folks who would be happy to steal your wallet, and most of the time a policeman isn’t anywhere near you.”

“But police are a deterrent.”

“I agree. Police are society’s way of telling people, we don’t ac­cept certain behaviors. Most people go along with this. Those who don’t may be deterred, but they certainly aren’t stopped. All you have to do is read your own newspaper. Most of us break laws and get away with it, even if it’s only speeding on the highway. We get away with it because we mostly believe that breaking these laws is okay. Some people be­lieve it’s okay to break much more serious laws, and they get away with that. The only law you have to obey is the Law of Attraction.” Everyone was staring at me politely now, the way one might at an eccentric uncle.

20. The Tonight Show

*****

The hotel had a panoramic view of the city lights. We could even see the Pacific, though it was just a blank, gray spot in the distance. It was warm, and we were sitting on our balcony having a glass of wine when there was a soft knock on the door. I didn’t even hear it, but Jeanie did. As I walked over to see who it was, I looked at the clock. It was close to midnight. We were on a keycard floor and weren’t expecting anyone.

Through the peephole, I could see a young couple. They looked Hispanic. The woman was holding a baby. I opened the door and stepped into the hall. The woman said, “I’m so sorry to disturb you, but my …” She nodded to her baby. It didn’t look very happy. Jeanie had come up behind me, and I stepped to the side so she could see.

The woman spoke rapidly. “My husband works in the hotel. Our baby is sick. Would you give her your blessing? I know she will get bet­ter.” The couple looked both frightened and expectant. I thought briefly about trying to explain that the power was in their own thoughts and in their connection to their baby, but knew they wouldn’t get that—not here and now.

I took the infant in my arms, and she began to cry. I wasn’t used to holding babies. Rocking gently, I tried to quiet my energy as much as I could, but the baby kept crying. After what seemed like a long time, but was probably only thirty seconds, I said, “I bless you beau­tiful expression of God.” I looked at Jeanie to see if she wanted to hold the baby, but she shook her head. I gave the child back to her mother. “What is your baby’s name?”

“Angelina.”

The parents were standing close together. I put my hands on their shoulders and said, “Angelina, child of God, I bless your par­ents and give them the power to heal and take care of you.” There was relief in their eyes, but I added, “If Angelina doesn’t get better in the next hour, I want you to let the medical people help you. God works through them also.”

They nodded and said, “Thank you. Gracias. Gracias.”

We watched them go down the hall. “Whew.”

We went back out onto the balcony, and I finished my glass of wine in one swig. Earlier, in front of the hotel entrance, some people had walked up to us and laid flowers at our feet. They had said some­thing that I didn’t understand, I think in Spanish, and then left quickly. We had been surprised and didn’t know what to make of it.

Sitting on the balcony overlooking the glowing skyline, I won­dered out loud, “Do you think the couple coming up here is related to the flower people? I haven’t seen anything on TV.” When we had got­ten to our suite, I had briefly turned on the television while we un­packed. I had seen some shots of me flying but hadn’t noticed any­thing new. We didn’t know there was a video clip circulating on the Internet of me at Highbanks and when I was descending at Marlowe Airport, with the caption, “Has Jesus returned?”

We got a call from the front desk Thursday morning. Our driver would have to pick us up in the garage; a group of people in wheel­chairs and with other sorts of illnesses was in front of the hotel, along with several camera crews. I turned on the TV and saw them. “My God. That’s a national feed.”

There on CNN was the front of our hotel, a group of people by the entrance, and I could see wheelchairs. A reporter was saying that apparently a baby had been healed last night by the man who can fly. I looked at Jeanie nervously, “Maybe I should have just told that couple we couldn’t help their baby.” She didn’t know what to say. Then, I brightened. “Hey, the baby must be okay, or they wouldn’t all be there.”