I believe that it’s important to accept all the money that comes your way. That means that you can’t see a penny on the sidewalk and walk past it. You’ll have to be consistent in your affirmation, and pick up each and every penny you find—even the horrible ones that are stuck to the pavement with chewing gum. The reason for this is that the collective unconscious, or Universal Law, as I like to call it, isn’t aware of value. If you affirm, “I am abundant; money comes to me,” and then see a penny in the street and can’t be bothered to pick it up, the message you put out by your action is not in sync with your affirmation; thus, you disempower your abundance consciousness.
Now, sometimes picking up a penny, especially when you’re with other people, can be embarrassing, for they don’t do things like that. They’re much too important to accept something for nothing. But the fact that it’s embarrassing is excellent training, for you have to go past that idea and act for yourself, not in accordance with what others might think.
Some years ago in London, I was entertaining a group of very important business folk from the U.S. I’d decided to take them to the ballet at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. I thought that this would be a nice, swanky way of showing them the top of the line. Now in those days, I’d been banned from driving for having too much blood in my alcohol stream, so I’d bought a Rolls and hired a chauffeur to get around the transport problem.
I had arranged for the driver, Slick Vic, I called him, to wait at the curb directly outside the Opera House so that at the end of the performance I could whisk my guests off to a late-night dinner.
Well, as we came out of the Opera House, I began to cross the sidewalk to the car. There to my left was a penny. It had been raining that evening, so the penny shone, reflecting the streetlights and the shadows of those lights. I hesitated, wondering what everyone would think as I groped around at their feet. Then I decided that an affirmation is an affirmation, so I went for the penny.
What should have been a graceful scoop turned into a fiasco. I hit the penny with my knuckles, and it began a long, loping run across the sidewalk, snaking gracefully in and around many an expensive shoe. At that point, I should have left well enough alone. But determined as I was, I refused to give up. I lunged at the itinerant coin and missed, winding up on all fours.
That night I’d chosen to wear a white satin suit, God knows why. But by the time I finally had the penny in hand, I had acquired most of the muddy water on that particular sidewalk. Meanwhile, Slick Vic had ushered my guests into the car, and they relaxed to watch my pantomime with restrained astonishment.
I was really embarrassed. And once in the car, I felt I had to offer an explanation. So I told my American friends that the penny routine was an ancient British custom that brought untold amounts of good fortune. They were fascinated to learn the ins and outs of the British culture, and one of them even began taking a few notes.
All was well until one of the blokes started to pin me down as to exactly how the “penny in the gutter” routine entered British folklore. At that point, I went completely over the top. I told them that it was a custom handed down from Elizabethan times. To make it real, I created a whole fantastic scenario with Elizabeth, Lord Dudley and even Walter Raleigh out of politeness, thinking that perhaps my guests were none too familiar with Dudley’s exploits. It wasn’t long before I had all three crawling across the floor of Hampton Court in chase of the Royal Penny.
Everyone was duly impressed with my knowledge of the more obscure parts of English history, as was I. I somehow felt that I had created a historic moment returning the “penny in the gutter” to its rightful place among the glories of the English-speaking people.
Notes taken, events chronicled, the conversation drifted to silence. As the Rolls glided silently through the night, taking us to our rendezvous with fettuccine, linguine, and Chianti Classico, I thought about the events of the evening. I must say that secretly, I felt proud of myself, damn proud. From time to time, I surreptitiously opened my hand to glimpse the great but muddy prize, while I mused that there’s no limit to abundance when you’re committed to going for it.
Excerpted from The Times of Our Lives: Extraordinary True Stories of Synchronicity, Destiny, Meaning, and Purpose by Louise L. Hay and Friends. © 2007 (Hay House)
Stuart Wilde is an author and international lecturer, and one of the real characters of the self-help, human-potential movement. His style is humorous, poignant, and transformational. Visit www.stuartwildeblog.com
Now, sometimes picking up a penny, especially when you’re with other people, can be embarrassing, for they don’t do things like that. They’re much too important to accept something for nothing. But the fact that it’s embarrassing is excellent training, for you have to go past that idea and act for yourself, not in accordance with what others might think.
Some years ago in London, I was entertaining a group of very important business folk from the U.S. I’d decided to take them to the ballet at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. I thought that this would be a nice, swanky way of showing them the top of the line. Now in those days, I’d been banned from driving for having too much blood in my alcohol stream, so I’d bought a Rolls and hired a chauffeur to get around the transport problem.
I had arranged for the driver, Slick Vic, I called him, to wait at the curb directly outside the Opera House so that at the end of the performance I could whisk my guests off to a late-night dinner.
Well, as we came out of the Opera House, I began to cross the sidewalk to the car. There to my left was a penny. It had been raining that evening, so the penny shone, reflecting the streetlights and the shadows of those lights. I hesitated, wondering what everyone would think as I groped around at their feet. Then I decided that an affirmation is an affirmation, so I went for the penny.
What should have been a graceful scoop turned into a fiasco. I hit the penny with my knuckles, and it began a long, loping run across the sidewalk, snaking gracefully in and around many an expensive shoe. At that point, I should have left well enough alone. But determined as I was, I refused to give up. I lunged at the itinerant coin and missed, winding up on all fours.
That night I’d chosen to wear a white satin suit, God knows why. But by the time I finally had the penny in hand, I had acquired most of the muddy water on that particular sidewalk. Meanwhile, Slick Vic had ushered my guests into the car, and they relaxed to watch my pantomime with restrained astonishment.
I was really embarrassed. And once in the car, I felt I had to offer an explanation. So I told my American friends that the penny routine was an ancient British custom that brought untold amounts of good fortune. They were fascinated to learn the ins and outs of the British culture, and one of them even began taking a few notes.
All was well until one of the blokes started to pin me down as to exactly how the “penny in the gutter” routine entered British folklore. At that point, I went completely over the top. I told them that it was a custom handed down from Elizabethan times. To make it real, I created a whole fantastic scenario with Elizabeth, Lord Dudley and even Walter Raleigh out of politeness, thinking that perhaps my guests were none too familiar with Dudley’s exploits. It wasn’t long before I had all three crawling across the floor of Hampton Court in chase of the Royal Penny.
Everyone was duly impressed with my knowledge of the more obscure parts of English history, as was I. I somehow felt that I had created a historic moment returning the “penny in the gutter” to its rightful place among the glories of the English-speaking people.
Notes taken, events chronicled, the conversation drifted to silence. As the Rolls glided silently through the night, taking us to our rendezvous with fettuccine, linguine, and Chianti Classico, I thought about the events of the evening. I must say that secretly, I felt proud of myself, damn proud. From time to time, I surreptitiously opened my hand to glimpse the great but muddy prize, while I mused that there’s no limit to abundance when you’re committed to going for it.
Excerpted from The Times of Our Lives: Extraordinary True Stories of Synchronicity, Destiny, Meaning, and Purpose by Louise L. Hay and Friends. © 2007 (Hay House)
Stuart Wilde is an author and international lecturer, and one of the real characters of the self-help, human-potential movement. His style is humorous, poignant, and transformational. Visit www.stuartwildeblog.com
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