When making a phone call we would rather not make, we are inclined just to go through the motions. As a perfunctory gesture, we allow the minimum amount of rings before hanging up, relieved. Compare that to a determined approach, with a clear intention to get hold of someone. To connect. Feel that feeling and you will notice another one close by: the feeling that your success is inevitable. (Don’t get cocky.) The phone barely rings, the person picks up and the connection is complete.
Something similar is described in the first two paragraphs of a journal entry from 14 years ago: ‘The Lifecycle of Development’. It explains how Karaj had worked on a particular document of mine because of my strong intention for him to do so. Interestingly, I did not tell Karaj of my urgency when handing him my work; but I knew I wanted it done as soon as possible. Later, when he sat down to do his evening’s work, my document fell out of his bag. He was a man who took note when such things happened, so he prioritised my work and was able to give me his feedback the next morning.
Another instance comes from the early days of a distance relationship, at a time when every minute together was precious. I was due to take the Sunday night train from the Netherlands back to Frankfurt. But we wanted to spend more time with each other, so we looked at prices for the early train on Monday. It was her idea and she wasted no time in exploring the options. Her enthusiasm, positivity and resolve engulfed me, as it always did. We had high hopes of bonus time together, but the cost of a new ticket was too expensive to justify. Common sense prevailed and I made my way to the station.
Half an hour after leaving Amsterdam, the announcer’s voice informed everyone that there was a fault on the line and the train would terminate at Utrecht. Furthermore, there would be no chance for me to get home that night. I smiled to myself as I reached for my phone, excited to share the good news. As I queued with the other passengers, to collect our apologies and free tickets for Monday’s train, I observed the difference in people’s reactions. Some were clearly hurried and unhappy, while others accepted their fate with a deep breath and a shrug of the shoulders. I stood patiently, beaming on the inside and wishing I could calm the irate among us by sharing some of my good fortune.
I took the train back to Haarlem and she was there to meet me. The memory of her bounding toward me is as clear today as it was on that Sunday evening. Somehow it felt as though we had won. As if the purity of our intent had been enough to change the world.
It’s possible, of course, that both examples were just coincidences; each one a chance occurrence. But if you accept the premise that coincidence played no part, then a different world opens up. One in which you have more power than you thought. Moreover, when that power is focused and you understand the process, a calmness descends, allowing you to appreciate a more in-tune version of the world. It’s a moving experience because, when we observe the effects of clarity and intention in such a way, we can almost feel ourselves evolving.