So I’ve been taking 20-30 minutes each morning to connect to my intentions. In other words, I meditate on what I want to create in my life (money, relationship, health, etc) and I allow myself to connect to the feeling place of that vision.

This is how you create your reality. Align.

I’ve been doing it for about a month or so now and it’s been great to watch the magic return to my life — those out-of-the-blue experiences that go beyond anything your mind could have dreamed up…

Anyway, just yesterday I felt like I wanted to connect to my parents, especially my dad. It had been a while since I felt connected to him and the holidays got me thinking…

I wanted a cool sign to show up. No idea what form it would take, but I would know it when I saw it.

This morning as I looked out my window, I saw a little blue Toyota truck heading down the road. It was the same make, model, and design as my dad’s last truck. My heart soared at the sight of it. Just made me think of him and how much he loved that truck. You do not see many of these on the road any more. I had my sign.

Later in the day I went out and cut down our Christmas tree. I have one of those new stands where you just drill a hole in the bottom of the tree instead of fiddling with those twisty screws. So, I needed to drill a hole in the tree trunk. I couldn’t find the right size drill bit, so I began a half-assed search in my basement, opening old boxes hoping to find the right tool. I had an old box of some of my dad’s stuff, but alas, there was no bit or boring tool to be found.

But I did come across an old personal cassette recorder — a dictation machine. And there was a cassette in it. Hmmmn… I popped it in my vest pocket and continued with my day.

A few moments ago I remembered it and put the tape in a player. Maybe my dad would be on the recording? I hoped.

Side A.    Nothing.

Side B.    And there he is… He’s with one of his friends. Sounds like their driving somwhere in the rain. Talking about nothing important. If I know my Pop, he was secretly recording his friend as a goof, but I have no idea. The conversation does not matter.

But my dad’s voice does. As does his laugh.

I’ve not heard those sounds for many years now. It brings me great joy to hear them again.

I asked.

And I was answered.

Again.

Magic!