The Knowledge: The Power of Knowing How Life Works - Brossura

Saunders, Don

Brossura

ISBN 10: 1452553882 ISBN 13: 9781452553887

Casa editrice: BalboaPress, 2012

Riassunto

The Power of Knowing How Life Works; is a true life experience. "The Knowledge" has arrived through me, for "you", explaining to all of us the facts about "How Life Works" The missing piece of the humanity puzzle has been found. I am referring to the understanding of how everyday life works. I leave open all religious and scientific possibilities for you to apply, as you see fi t. My only goal is to share "The Knowledge" that has arrived through me for "you" Have you ever wondered how the universe began; how our physical beings manage the maze of life, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE DIE? I am able to provide for you "The Power of Knowing How Life Works" An intriguing new look into where your thoughts, feelings, beliefs and emotions reside and how your thoughts control the world you live in and create your reality. On November 17th, 2009 @ 6:24 AM wide awake, no dreams, no near death experience, I was provided "The Knowledge" that will answer all of your questions. If you think the answers have previously arrived, ask yourself a simple question: "How is it working so far" We have poverty, war, greed, depression and confusion throughout the world. The prisons are bursting at the seams; people are losing jobs, their homes, and their dreams. You too can possess "The Power of Knowing How Life works", the issue is; will you be open enough to accept "The Knowledge" www.thepowerofknowinghowlifeworks.com

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The Knowledge

The Power of Knowing How Life WorksBy Don Saunders

BALBOA PRESS

Copyright © 2012 Don Saunders
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-5388-7

Contents

Acknowledgements..............................................xiA Message from My Sister......................................xiiiThe Box.......................................................xvForeword......................................................xviiIntroduction..................................................1My Experience.................................................14The Beginning of the Universe and Science.....................32The Bergabada Phenomenon......................................36Birth and Death...............................................63Negative Environmental Influences.............................74Bergabada and the Law of Attraction...........................87The Power of Positive Choices.................................101The Box (Again)...............................................143Meditation Moment.............................................145Bibliography..................................................147Testimonials..................................................148

Chapter One

My Experience

When and Where It All Started

I was born in 1953 in western New York to a mother in her 40s, who made some positive declarations about my future; she declared that I was born to change the world. Now, that in itself is no surprise. Every mother wants her child to be successful, so maybe it meant nothing; unfortunately, she is no longer around to ask.

At the age of 10, standing on a pile of freshly mowed hay, I decided that I did not want to spend my life working on a farm. Not that there is anything wrong with that. It doesn't take a farm boy long to realize that farm work is hard and is never going to get any easier. I knew then that I wanted to work at a job where I wore a tie and a nice shirt. The place to do that was in the largest city closest to my hometown; Rochester, New York. I knew that I was going to get a job there with a big company. I knew that I was going to be somebody and do something with my life.

I stated my life's vision aloud to all the other guys: "I am going to go to work for the largest company in western New York."

At age 10, I had lots of time to grow up and, at that point, I didn't know what a powerful statement I was making. Nevertheless, I went about my life and knew that no one was going to stop me from success.

I had set my course.

Lying under the Country Stars

As far back as I can remember (somewhere around the age of 8 or 10, and continuing until I left home at around 17 or 18), I spent the majority of my summer evenings—sometimes with my friends but mostly by myself—doing what the cowboys did: I slept under the stars. The houses back then had no air conditioning so, if your bedroom was at the top of the house with no air circulation or fan, the heat was stifling on those hot, humid summer nights.

On those warm summer evenings, I had no tent, just a blanket spread out over the ground. I would lie back, looking up at the stars, the moon, and the beautiful country sky, which overlooked western New York. On a clear evening, you could see nearly every star in the sky. Country skies are illuminating and powerful; there are no city lights to contaminate the brilliance from the stars. I tried counting the stars, but that became a futile effort. I also watched many other unique objects in the universe. Those nights provided some of the most peaceful, calming moments of my life.

On those nights, the universe belonged only to me—or at least it felt that way. As I lay there, I proclaimed my plans and stored them in my mind. There was no way I could have understood any of the theories, philosophies, or scientific explanations that pertained to how life works. I was a poor country kid, never exposed to that kind of thinking. I was doing what I now understand as manifesting my future and asking pertinent questions that actually would lead to "The Knowledge" being delivered with amazing details and clarity.

"How Does This All Work?"

As I looked up at the evening sky, I always asked, "How does this all work?" Some of you may have asked that same question once or maybe numerous times in your life; however, I asked it every day of my life—every day.

I don't remember expressing this question to any specific source; in other words, I never asked, "God, how does this all work?" I simply asked the beautiful country sky. I never expected any kind of answer, but it seemed like a fair question to ponder when no one else was listening (at least I thought no one was listening).

A Vision Before I Met My Wife

Something quite remarkable took place the day my best friend Mike and I were driving around town. As we passed a white house, I looked at Mike and he looked back at me. It felt as if time had stood still.

"I'm going to marry the girl who lives in that house!"

Without hesitation, and still looking in my eyes, he said, "I know! I know!"

That experience may not be so strange in most cases, except for the fact that I truly did not know if a girl even lived in that house, let alone someone I knew.

Later, I asked Mike if he remembered what had happened.

"I think I remember something like that, but I don't really even remember driving down to the village that day." (Actually, we both knew that he had because his younger brother's friend told on Mike and, of course, his brother then passed that information along to his Dad.) We were then back to walking for a while as the car sat in the garage.

I later realized that I had experienced what Native Americans spend hours in sweat lodges trying to attract: a "vision." I have never had another one since then, but I know it was a vision.

How do I know with all my heart and soul that I had a vision? Well, one chilly Saturday, when I was a junior in high school, we had a football game. After the game, this girl (the captain of the cheerleading team) and I (the captain of the football team) were at an after-game party. She had a fight with her boyfriend and I offered to walk her home—right up to that white house. I did not tell her then, but I knew that I had just walked my wife home for the first time. At the time of this writing we have been happily married 39 years.

Terrible Accidents

At the age of 16 or 17, I lost seven good friends, including Mike, all in separate incidents. We lived in a very small, rural town with graduating classes of around 50, so losing seven friends was tough for many of us. When this happened, I started including these events into my daily question of "How does this all work?"

I held daily conversations with each of these seven deceased friends my entire life. They were one sided conversations of course but they took place none the less. I asked them if they had the ability to send back some input please feel free to do so. I still had no expectation of ever receiving any answers. Now of course I realize; that is not how it works.

Choosing the Fork in My Road

My parents had worked hard to build a public campground out of our 50-acre hay field. Dad said he built it for me; the reality was that he did it for himself. However, now that I was 18 and finishing high school, and was old enough to start the process of taking over the business, he wanted me to stick around and help run things.

He made no demands about it, but it was obvious that he wanted me to keep his work alive. He used subtle comments like, "I have no money to send you to college" and "Why go to college when you have a business already in place for you?" Ouch!

Those environmental roadblocks are typically present in your daily life, as if someone were grabbing you by the collar from behind and pulling you backward.

I chose to go to college. At around the same time, I was a drummer with enough talent to become a professional musician. I was dating my wife and, instead of staying with the music, I chose to focus on a steady job and paycheck.

I decided to get my business degree, go to work in corporate America, and raise a family. I also continued to play drums on weekends for extra cash and, in my later years, was a member of a rock and roll band, which once opened for the Beach Boys while my son was attending West Virginia University. (Hey, we all need our 30 minutes of fame!)

I graduated from the first two years of college with an associate degree. I then went to work as a summer employee at the same company I had envisioned at age 10! They hired me full time and offered to pay for the rest of my education if I would go to school in the evenings and work for them during the day. I was able to finish my four-year degree by going nights and weekends. This accomplishment was another powerful manifestation from my childhood as I was the first of eight children to receive my college degree. I had set obtaining a degree as a goal for most of my youth—another great training exercise.

I continuously planned and plotted my future, which I had unknowingly manifested into my reality. For a country boy with no money, the offer of a full-time job at this company was like hitting the lotto.

I worked in the basement of the company, putting together notebooks for their sales training courses. I eventually worked my way up the ladder as the youngest sales rep they had ever sent out into the field. I was 21 years old and we were on our way to California. Leaving our families behind was very tough on my wife and me, but we were young and accepted the cross- country assignment.

Visualizing "Out Loud"

I can clearly remember an instance where I visualized my intentions "out loud." I was a rookie salesman, standing on a tee box at a golf resort in Scottsdale, Arizona.

I looked at my regional manager and said, "Someday, I want to be a regional manager, just like you. I want to live in a beautiful golf resort, just like this. And I want to have a beautiful house on the golf course, just like that one." I pointed to a small house along the course.

My boss laughed. "You can have all that. Just stay focused and work hard."

These days, I am sure that many country kids are exposed to golf and the ways of the world more than I was. However, if you grew up as a city kid, you cannot possibly understand how living in rural America kept you pure of thought and isolated. I grew up in the country where golf was never mentioned. We had no idea what drugs were, and we saw hundreds of acres of farm crops instead of golf courses.

The American Dream

From that point on, I was living the American dream. I always had a decent home and earned a good living, which allowed me to support my family. I had a great job, a nice car, and the potential for a lucrative retirement if I worked hard and stayed focused. I had two great kids and a spectacular wife with which to share it.

The company moved us six times—always to clean up a failing sales territory—but also rewarding me with more pay or an impressive title. I mentored new salespeople and eventually ended up as a vice president of sales for the western United States for one division of the company. During those moves—six cities, thousands of new people, and just as many perspectives on life—I learned about the diversity across America.

A Good Plan Gone Awry

It was a good master plan—right up until I was 54 years and four months old. When the company, to which I had dedicated my life for more than 35 years, decided that they were going to sell off my division eight months short of my 55th birthday, it meant that I was not going to be able to retire as planned. You had to be 55 for the formulas to kick in.

I would be losing a significant portion of my retirement annuity and all of my health and dental benefits. This was a simple case of posttraumatic job disorder—not funny for people who are suffering from it. It is deadly serious and needs to be carefully examined.

Even though the company had smacked me down hard, the management of that company felt that everything would be okay because we were all offered jobs in the new company, which had bought us out. They could sleep soundly at night thinking that they had done us all a favor. They could not have been more wrong in their assumptions. As part of the transition they made it very clear that we would be starting from square one, with no pension plans and no significant income at the end of the rainbow. We were up the proverbial creek without a paddle. Because they laid out the plan with lots of big, corporate lawyers, we had no legal recourse. I might add that the CEO kept his retirement and benefits in tact along with significant bonuses for carrying out the sale.

What about Retirement?

I was an older worker with no visible means of support. I couldn't retire, even though I knew it was what they were trying to force me to do, because I had no retirement income to allow me to make that choice. When my company discovered that it wasn't going to be as easy as sending me a signal that they wanted me to leave, they downsized my area of responsibility and set me up to fail.

At 54, I had achieved my vision from age 20. I was living in a beautiful golf resort in Nevada. (Please note that, after living in the resort for two years, I discovered that the developer was the same one who had built the Arizona resort where I had stood on the tee box with my new boss and proclaimed my "out loud" intentions some 30 years earlier!)

Without a significant retirement income, I had set myself in a position that I could not sustain. An additional and stressful problem was that the older guys in the company—all my good friends—no longer had the security of the "golden parachutes," so we had to hang on for our lives because we had no choice—at least that's how we felt.

Because I was close to retirement, living in a golf resort, and "assuming" that I had enough money in my retirement plan to give me a good life, I stopped visualizing my future because I thought I had reached my goals. I found myself in neutral mode.

I went into a very deep, life-threatening depression. I eventually left on my own accord because the corporate life was destroying me, piece by piece.

The Storage Shed

I was fighting major depression over several things in my life: I lost my retirement income from a company sell-out, and my home property values devalued. Additionally, my company now (incorrectly) believed that I was too old to be a salesperson, I didn't have the GQ look they thought I should have; consumers' buying attitudes had plunged and my wife's retail outlet products were not selling due to an economic slump. All in all, my long-range future seemed quite bleak.

Feeling these stresses and worries, one day I headed for the shed where I stored my guns. I unboxed the guns and set them by my side. I sat there for what could have been an hour or so, rationalizing the pros and cons and trying to justify my contemplated actions: My insurance would provide my wife of 37 years the security that I could not seemingly provide for her.

I sat in the shed and held the not-yet-loaded gun to my head. Then, I had a major flash of reality: Would the insurance pay off on suicide? With that nagging question bearing down on me, I set the gun down and decided that I would check the insurance policy.

When I arrived back home to check the policy, my wife knew that something was seriously wrong. She forced me to tell her the story of my experience at the storage shed. Her reaction was not what you might have expected; in fact, it caught me totally off guard.

Instead of the hug and tears (which, of course, followed closely behind), she lashed out with the following yell:

"How dare you think that our 37-year relationship was about money! How dare you think that an insurance check is the answer to my future!"

I have lived on all points of the sliding scale we call "life," but I had never felt the level of despair that led up to that moment. Until you walk in someone's shoes, you can "care" but you can never really understand. I am now able to understand those in despair.

The Power of Tears

I was experiencing debilitating, life-threatening stress. I felt the intense physical gripping pain in my body that wouldn't let up. I found it hard to move, let alone breathe. I had constant headaches and was depressed every day. At the encouragement of my wife and doctor, and after disclosing the experience of sitting in the storage shed with a gun, I agreed to meet with a therapist for a couple of visits.

At the first session, the power of tears (unheard of for me because I am a macho, tough country kid!) allowed me to release an incredible buildup of emotional pain. I talked about issues that brought me to the "couch" in the first place.

On the way to my reluctant second meeting with the therapist—Monday, Nov. 16, 2009—I vowed that I would pull myself together and not have a similar, tearful meltdown during this session as I had the first time. When I got to her office, I proceeded to "the safe room," as she called it. The pep talk I gave to myself on the drive over didn't work.

The tears started again and I was more than a bit embarrassed. (After all, I am a man, and men "suck it up.") Although my therapist assured me at the first session that the release of tears was therapeutic and gave me "permission" to stop crying, with the second session, I brought tears to her eyes with my stories.

I shared the pain, which had lingered unspoken for almost 40 years, of losing seven friends in high school. I told her how the draft lottery placed me at 361 out of 365, so I did not have to go to Viet Nam. I admitted my lifelong guilt for not serving my country and, for a country kid, how that duty to my country was important to me. I also explained that I constantly wondered, "Why them and not me?" Why did I not end up in Viet Nam? (One of my friends had died of Agent Orange exposure.)

I wanted to know how this all worked but, of course, she could not tell me. Instead, she helped me realize that I had learned to "cope" with my unresolved feelings by never sharing that grief with anyone. With her help, I started to cope with my stress and depression.

My Homework Assignment

As I got up from the couch at the end of the hour-long session, she said, "Hang on! You have a homework assignment."

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Knowledgeby Don Saunders Copyright © 2012 by Don Saunders. Excerpted by permission of BALBOA PRESS. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Dettagli dell'edizione

• Editore: BalboaPress
• Data di pubblicazione: 2012
• Lingua: Inglese
• ISBN 10: 1452553882
• ISBN 13: 9781452553887
• Rilegatura: Copertina flessibile
• Numero di pagine: 170
• Contatto del produttore: non disponibile
• Persona responsabile: non disponibile