E-Squared: Nine Do-It-Yourself Energy Experiments That Prove Your Thoughts Create Your Reality (16 page)

Lab Report Sheet

The Principle:
The Dear Abby Principle

The Theory:
Your connection to the field provides accurate and unlimited guidance.

The Question:
Is it really possible to get ongoing, immediate guidance?

The Hypothesis:
If I ask for guidance, I will get a clear answer to the following yes-or-no question: _______________________________________________________________

Time Required:
48 hours

Today’s Date:
__________
Time:
__________

Deadline for Receiving Answer:
__________

The Approach: All right, here goes: “Okay, inner guidance, I need to know the answer to this question. You’ve got 48 hours. Make it snappy.”

Research Notes:
________________________________

______________________________________________

“Man, surrounded by facts, permitting himself no surprise, no intuitive flash, no great hypothesis, no risk, is in a locked cell. Ignorance cannot seal the mind more securely.”

—A
LBERT
E
INSTEIN
, G
ERMAN THEORETICAL PHYSICIST

EXPERIMENT #6

THE SUPERHERO PRINCIPLE:
Your Thoughts and Consciousness
Impact Matter

“The course of the world is not predetermined by physical laws … the mind has the power to affect groups of atoms and even tamper with the odds of atomic behavior.”

—S
IR
A
RTHUR
S
TANLEY
E
DDINGTON
,
E
NGLISH MATHEMATICIAN AND ASTROPHYSICIST

The Premise

Japanese scientist Dr. Masaru Emoto spent 15 years researching the effects of human speech, thoughts, and emotions on physical matter. Dr. Emoto chose one of matter’s four traditional elements—water—to see how it responds to words, music, prayers, and blessings. Using more than 10,000 samples of water, Emoto and his research assistants spoke to, played music for, and asked monks to recite prayers over the water. The samples were then frozen, and the resulting ice crystals were examined under a microscope.

In case you’re wondering what water has to do with anything, dig this: Water is present everywhere—even in the air—and since the human body and, indeed, the earth consist of 70 percent water, it stands to reason that if words and thoughts impact water on its own, they will also affect larger, more complex systems also made up of water.

What Emoto found is that when scientists treated the water “kindly,” by saying such things as “I love you” and “thank you,” the resulting water crystals became clear and beautifully formed. But when Emoto and his team talked negatively to the water, screaming such snide comments as “I hate you!” or “You idiot!” the crystals formed dark, ugly holes. When Elvis Presley’s “Heartbreak Hotel” was played, the resulting frozen crystal split in two.

In one photo, he shows how a sample from the dam at Fujiwara Lake, starting out as a dark and amorphous blob, is completely transformed after a priest prays over it for just one hour. The ugly crystal turned into a clear, bright-white hexagonal crystal-within-a-crystal. He also found that prayer could create new types of crystals that had never before been seen.

We in the West are not taught about energy and the power of our body/mind. Instead of being trained to tune in to our innate intelligence, we’re told, “Here’s a doctor. Here’s a nurse. When something’s wrong, consult with them.” Coaches tell us if we’re good enough to make the basketball team. Teachers tell us if our art is up to snuff. We’re taught to turn over our power to forces outside ourselves.

The Power of Perception

“My mind is a bad neighborhood I try not to go into alone.”

—A
NNE
L
AMOTT
, A
MERICAN AUTHOR

When I was born on February 17, 1956, my father took one look at me, lying there helplessly in my pink basinet, and announced to my mother that I was the ugliest baby he had ever seen. Needless to say, my mother was devastated. And for me, a minutes-old human being, it was decided that beauty—or lack thereof—was destined to color every moment of my life.

My dad’s life-changing indictment was prompted by my nose, which was plastered to my face like a roadkill possum. After my mother was in labor for 18 grueling hours, her obstetrician decided to intervene with a pair of cold metal forceps. In the battle between the forceps and me, my nose got flattened.

Gradually, the nose bounced back to normal, but my fragile ego remained disfigured. I desperately wanted to be beautiful. I wanted to prove to my father that I was acceptable and to make up to my mother for the embarrassment I caused her.

I scoured beauty magazines, studying the models like a biologist studies cells. I rolled my hair with orange-juice cans and ordered green face masks and blackhead pumps from the back of
Seventeen
magazine. I saved my allowance to buy a set of Clairol electric rollers. I wore gloves to bed to keep the hand-softening Vaseline from staining the sheets. I even clipped “interesting” hairstyles from the Montgomery Ward catalog, pasting them to the back page of my own personal “beauty book.”

This personal beauty book, besides the 50 heads with different hairstyles, listed my beauty goals: reduce my waist by five inches, increase my bust size by six inches, grow my hair, and so on. I even included a page with plans for accomplishing each goal. To reduce my waist, for example, I would do 50 sit-ups each day, limit my morning pancake consumption to two, and give up Milky Way bars.

Despite my well-meaning attempts, I remained less than beautiful. No matter what I did, I never could seem to get my looks together. How could I? My very existence centered around my dad’s ugly-baby statement. It was the first sentence about my life, the proclamation around which my very life revolved. To go against it would dishonor everything I knew—my dad, my mom, myself.

Things went from bad to worse. By sixth grade, my eyesight weakened and I was forced to wear a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses. By ninth grade, when I finally convinced Dad to invest in contact lenses, a definite beauty booster, my face immediately broke out in a connect-the-dots puzzle of pimples. All my babysitting money went for Clearasil, astringent, and Angel Face Makeup. One summer, after I heard zits were caused by chocolates and soft drinks, I even gave up Coca-Cola and candy bars.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, my sister, who had the good fortune to escape both the forceps and the ugliness indictment, pointed out that my front teeth were crooked. Once again, I campaigned for family funds to install braces.

The sad thing about all this work and effort is that it was futile. I had no idea that until I changed the deep-seated thoughts about myself, I’d remain “ugly.” I could have exercised, applied makeup, and rolled my hair unto eternity, but as long as my dad’s indictment was the thought virus on which I operated, I was destined to be the “ugliest baby” he’d ever seen. Oh, sure, I made temporary progress. I’d clear up my complexion or grow my hair or straighten my teeth, but before long, something else would happen to resume the old familiar “ugliness.”

You see, my body had no choice but to follow the blueprints my thoughts had given it.

About this time, I discovered self-help books. It was an inevitable meeting. Any college freshman who thinks she closely resembles Frankenstein needs all the self-esteem boosting she can find.

I started with
Your Erroneous Zones,
by Dr. Wayne Dyer. I read Barbara Walters’s book on how to make conversation. I learned how to win friends and influence people, how to empower myself with positive thinking, and how to think and grow rich. All the reading eventually started to change the way I felt about myself. I actually started finding things I liked.

Even things about my looks. I was tall, for one thing, which meant I could more or less eat anything I wanted and not gain weight. And my thick hair was an asset. And my best friend’s mother said I had perfectly shaped eyebrows. Instead of looking for things I disliked, I started concentrating on things I
liked.
Like magic, my looks started improving. As I gave up the limiting thoughts, I began to see my own beauty. The less I chastised that poor little ogre in the mirror, the more she started to change. The less I
tried
to change myself, the more I changed.

Miraculously, my eyesight returned to normal. I was finally able to throw away the Coke-bottle glasses and the contacts. The complexion from hell cleared up, and my teeth, after months of using a retainer, began to match the even teeth of the other members of my family. In fact, the only time I felt grotesquely ugly was when I’d visit my dad and his second wife.

Although I didn’t realize it at the time, I was changing my “looks” during those visits to satisfy my dad’s belief about me—or rather what I thought were his beliefs about me. I now know my dad’s remark was simply an offhand comment. He meant no harm.

But because I didn’t know it at the time, I took his ugly-baby comment to heart and acted it out in rich, vivid detail.

Even the poor eyesight, which some might argue is a genetic propensity, was solely my creation. Nobody else in my family (there were five of us) ever wore glasses. Everyone else had 20/20i vision. Likewise, nobody else in my family wore braces. They all had picture-perfect teeth.

Anecdotal Evidence

“Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing. From this hour, I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines.”

—W
ALT
W
HITMAN
, A
MERICAN POET

Sickness is optional.
I should probably have my head examined for including this section in the book. You’ll notice I’ve hidden it in the middle of a long chapter near the back.

It’s not that you haven’t heard ideas like this before—that so-and-so’s cancer was caused by unresolved anger or that stress can turn hair white overnight. But what I’m going so far as to say is that we’ve been led down the garden path by a bloated, greedy medical system that has convinced us that disease is inevitable. I am not knocking doctors, nurses, or other medical personnel, 99.9 percent of whom are caring, committed, and well-meaning. No, they’re just as hoodwinked as we are.

What I’m suggesting is that the erroneous consciousness of all of us has resulted in major “computer glitches.” Instead of seeing sickness as a problem, something to correct, we accept it as a fact of life. We’ve all agreed to this arbitrary set of rules that says sickness can’t be escaped, illness is natural. Most of us can’t even imagine perfect health.

Long ago, our minds established this false pattern of perception. Once a mind thinks it can’t do some task (like unclog an artery), it informs the brain that it can’t do it, which in turn informs the muscles. The “virus” in our consciousness has limited our ability to utilize our bodies’ great wisdom.

But our belief in the inevitability of a degenerating body only seems real because we’ve believed it to be real for so long. Dr. Alexis Carrel, a French physician and Nobel Prize winner, demonstrated that cells can be kept alive indefinitely. His research proved “there’s no reason cells need to degenerate. Ever.”

“The education we all get is that we have no power, that we don’t know anything,” explains Meir Schneider, a man who cured himself of blindness, “but it’s not true. Within each of us is everything we need to know.”

When he was born in Lviv, Ukraine, in 1954, Schneider was cross-eyed and had glaucoma, astigmatism, nystagmus, and several other hard-to-pronounce diseases that affect the eyes. His cataracts were so severe that he was forced to endure five major surgeries before he turned seven. The last one broke the lens on his eyeball, and by the time he was in second grade, he was declared legally blind. So much for modern medicine.

When Schneider was 17, he met a kid named Isaac with a different message than that of the doctors and surgeons. Isaac, who was a year younger than he was, actually had the gall to tell him, “If you want, you can train yourself to see.”