Praying and the Law of Attraction
February 4, 2011
Whether it was an argument with a friend or a rude encounter with a stranger, my grandmother would patiently listen to my story and then consistently solicit the same piece of advice: Pray to God so that he may bless your friend.
As a child, it never ceased to perplex me. Why do such a loving thing in silence when the thirst for revenge was so bitter in my throat? Yet, I would reluctantly do so and as the years passed the reluctance evolved into genuine desire for the “enemy” to know love, happiness and compassion.
And then a strange thing began to happen.
Everything I asked to enter the lives of my enemies began to increase into mine! Regardless of career, romance or academics…deep and enriching relationships with loving and loyal friends were not only absolutely consistent but would multiply in proportion to the overall quality of my thoughts. By locking my conscious mind onto a more positive view of even the worst of people, my life became absent of enemies, and full of helpful and blessed friends.
Although the cognitive influence behind the quality of my life has always seemed like common sense, it was only until the past summer that I connected it to the law of of attraction.
And that moment arrived thanks to a package of scallops.
In the summer of 2010, this humble author was working at a low-paying internship in an expensive city. Being an amateur culinary artist, I couldn’t invest as much into the spices and cuts of meat needed for special dishes. So instead, I would allow myself to browse the colorful isles of Whole Foods and fantasize about preparing those expensive, imported foods.
Being someone with stubbornly expensive taste, the seafood section always had a magnetic pull towards me. Everyday after work, I would march into the store and- like a hungry child at a candy store- stare at those magnificent meats. Thoughts would race through my mind.
How would a French chef serve this to his customers?
Would there be butter and white wine involved?
Or a simple marinade of salt and garlic with parsley garnish?
What is the secret to making them succulent and tender in texture?
Daily thoughts normally contained inside the Whole Foods store eventually leaked into my professional life. It was only a matter of time before they dangled themselves in front of me while slaving away at a computer screen. The thoughts then evolved into a burning desire. By the end of the summer, I not only craved scallops but believed with my heart and soul that somewhere out there, some were waiting for me.
One day after having had had a particularly stressful afternoon at work, I was yet again browsing those isles and decided to purchase for myself some fruits that were on sale. The seafood section was there, as beautiful and appetizing as always.
But it would have to wait for another point in time. God, I would love to have some right now all the same. I know it’s not much, but I have been a patient and good person. I need some sign that you are listening to me.
No response. Of course.
I sighed in resignation and marched to the check out counter, paid for my peaches and walked home. The scallops may have been too expensive, but it was no reason to not enjoy the simple pleasure of a stroll through the park on a beautiful sunny day. On the way home I sung, skipped and smiled like a little girl to in hopes of putting the day behind me.
Later, while in the kitchen, I began unpacking my bag. Everything appeared to be there, but while picking up the bag to throw it away something made me stop in my tracks.
It was not empty! The grocery boy must have put them there by accident. Cautiously, I put it back on the counter and peered inside. Sitting there was a small white package all neatly wrapped and labelled, weighing about half a pound.
Fresh Scallops.
In that moment, all those Tony Robbin and Bob Proctor tapes began to make sense. If I could attract something as simple as fruits of the sea through the power of mind, surely there must be more.
And it had all started with a simple prayer years ago.