The Universe Is Listening

Pain and sorrow or the boundless abundance of life? It's really your choice.

What if I told you that everything is your choice? You could walk out your door and get run over by an SUV or ... you could meet Steven Spielberg? Which would you choose?

A few years ago, I heard an interesting theory. When you go to a restaurant and order a caesar salad without anchovies, you're confident it will arrive because you ordered it, right? Well, the universe works the same way. Every thought is an unconscious order to the universe. So, if you think, “I’m broke” or “I’ll never meet a guy,” the universe hears you, makes no judgments, and delivers exactly what you ordered.

No money. No man.

I had been trying to figure this stuff out for years. I threw the I Ching. I went to "really gifted" psychics and could always be found in the self-help section of the bookstore. I did EST three times. I read "The Secret." I even tried drinking my way into enlightenment.

I came from the old school of your thoughts become your feelings, your feelings become your words, your words become your deeds and your deeds become your destiny. But I really liked this idea of “putting your order in to the universe,” so I went to Staples, bought a waitresses' guest check pad and started writing down “my orders” and dating them.

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On July 8, 2008, I scribbled: “Steven Spielberg is going to see my film and he’s going to call me.”

Three weeks after I placed this particular order, I was having lunch with an old colleague from advertising. We were sharing stories about his father’s experiences during WWII in France, and my friend's father who was a Holocaust survivor in Auschwitz and the subject of my short film. When the lunch ended, I said, “Steven Spielberg is going to see my film and he’s going to call me.”

I left the restaurant in Chelsea and having no particular place to go, meandered to Soho, where I ducked into a store to get out of the 90-degree heat. It was empty ... except for Steven Spielberg, who was trying on a jacket!

“I was just having lunch and said, 'Steven Spielberg is going to see my film and he’s going to call me,'" I told the world's most famous director. The whole exchange took less than 30 seconds, we laughed and enjoyed the delightful serendipity of New York and life.

Two months later, September 27, 2008, I was careening off the planet with fear and worry, negative thoughts dominating my mind about loss of my career, divorce, debt and so on. To make matters worse, it was the day after the first presidential debates.

I was on my way to film people at an arts festival, asking who they thought won the debate. It was a desperate audition to do man-on-the street interviews for a radio show. Great idea, huh? Video on the radio. I took one step off the curb, and an SUV came out of nowhere and nicked my ankle, splintering the bone in my leg. My camera fell to the ground still rolling and you can hear me yell out to the EMS, "If you cut off my Prada pants, I’ll never forgive you.” I didn’t walk for a year.

So here’s the moral of the story: Two days. Two choices.

Ask yourself, if you were born into this day — who would you be and what would you choose? Would you choose a day of pain, sorrow and regret, lugging around the baggage of failed relationships and missed opportunities? Or would you come into the day with the endless possibilities around each corner? Saying “yes” to the boundless abundance of the universe, which sometimes includes bumping into Steven Spielberg?

It's really a no-brainer.