What the Passing of Dr. Wayne Dyer Taught Me about Living

By Jill Hope

I’ve never cried over the death of a public persona before – someone I didn’t know personally, but only through his work, his art.

But that’s exactly what happened when I heard the passing of someone who was very influential in my life – Dr. Wayne Dyer.

(Before I go much further, the following thoughts have a vulnerability rating of 10 on a scale of 0-10. But I can’t NOT share this. There’s an important lesson here for all of us.)

Dr. Dyer’s words first came to me through his books when I was feeling very lost in my 20’s. I had lost my connection to myself, the one I felt so strongly as a little girl.

I had lost my feeling of inner power. The one I regularly relied on as a child.

I was disconnected, floating around, working in a retail job in a small city, dating the wrong men, struggling to pay my bills, and drinking. A lot of drinking. I guess it was to drown out my realization of this lost connection to my soul.

In the thick of it, I discovered one of Dr. Dyer’s books – Real Magic. It became my bible.

With every word I read, my soul screamed “yes”. I knew I was reconnecting with my truth. The one I had lost somewhere along the way between childhood and becoming a young adult.

I devoured his words, and as I did, I felt stronger, more empowered, less like a victim. I started taking control of my life, rather than just letting life happen.

My inner fire had been reignited, with much thanks to Dr. Dyer.

I began to allow my internal guidance to call the shots. I traveled, married the love of my life, birthed my child, left the corporate job I had once been thrilled to have after leaving retail, and started my business.

While I continued to read Dr. Dyer’s books, I grew less dependent upon them. I started to depend more upon myself. I had grown. I was growing.

Now that I had my own business, which was in large part built upon the teachings of Dr. Dyer, I wanted to share with others what I had learned. I wanted others to reconnect with their fire and teach their kids how to live their truth.

I had decided to reach out to Wayne. I had a proposal for a project I wanted him to be a part of. In fact, I knew he HAD to be a part of it.

I connected with someone at Hay House who was affiliated with Dr. Dyer, and who promised to get my proposal to his business manager.

This was a surprising win, given how new my business was, and how new I was at running it. I was thrilled and filled with one great big YES! I knew this was the right path for me.

But then the voice started. I hesitated. I started to doubt myself. Why would the ever-so wise, ever-so wonderful, ever-so busy Wayne Dyer consider a project by little, unaccomplished me?

I retreated into myself. I brought my walls in a little closer. Those walls that had expanded as my concept of myself and my life expanded.

I told myself “someday…” I told myself I wasn’t ready. But that I would be SOME DAY.

I told myself I would know when the time was right, and then I’d reach out. Now couldn’t possibly be that time.

Over the years, I would think about my project, and how I would secure Dr. Dyer’s participation. Someday. When the time was right.

I never reached out. I never asked.

This man, who was such an inspiration to so many, has now moved on.

My opportunity to thank this great man, to possibly work with him, has passed. I am heartbroken that he is no longer here to guide us.

As I sat with this shocking and heartbreaking news, I was reminded of a parallel experience my mom had a few years back.

Growing up, I remember how much she loved watching the television show “The Price is Right”. She used to talk about what it would be like to be a contestant on that show and to meet Bob Barker, the host at the time.

On an almost weekly basis, she would talk about getting on the show, meeting Bob. She was so certain this would happen, that her dream became my dream for her.

Well, the years clicked on and just like me, she didn’t follow through on this dream.

Bob Barker then passed, and because he was one of her primary draws to the idea of being on the show, her dream passed as well.

As I realized the stunning similarity between our dreams, sitting in my sorrow over the passing of this great man, I knew there was a lesson here. We both lived and breathed our dreams in our imaginations, and we both let them pass without taking action.

The lesson that’s almost deafening to me in its clarity is this: When the inspiration hits you, act. The time is right when the idea comes. Not someday. You’re ready the minute you have the idea. An idea whose time has come is an idea that’s been birthed in your mind.

You may not feel ready, but the idea is ready and it has come to you to happen through you.

Where did we ever get the idea that there is some magical “right time” for things, if that time isn’t when the idea is born?

It doesn’t mean the actual idea has to happen in full right then. But it means some action needs to occur in the direction of the idea. One step on the path to allowing it to happen.

For me, that one step would have been completing the proposal and sending it out.

For my mom, that one step would have been researching how to go about becoming a contestant.

Our dreams can’t happen if we don’t take that first step, despite that little voice that tells you all the reasons why you can’t.

I will forever be in deep gratitude for Dr. Dyer’s courage in following his truth, and taking action on his dreams. For sharing his wisdom, in his way. And while I regret that I didn’t act on my dream of working with him, I will now accept and incorporate the lesson that came to me in his passing. That our dreams are meant to be acted on now. That we must take the first step now if we ever wish to fulfill our dreams.

Be Sociable, Share!

This entry was posted on Monday, August 31st, 2015 at 11:05 am and is filed under Goals, Self-esteem. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.

Leave a Reply

 
npnguestblogger