I had a great lesson in the power of my beliefs this morning. As usual on final layout week, I spend extra hours at the computer, creating and revising ads, opening mail, logging in payments, seeing who’s paid and who needs to pay, playing phone tag with a dozen new advertisers getting last minute details, making last minute adjustments to design and layout. So I work well into the night and get up early to begin again. And this morning was no different. I woke up groggy, wishing I could have just a little more sleep, but excited about doing the final touches on the magazine. I note the time on the wall clock – 6:20 am – and sleepily make it into the office. I go over my To Do List and begin making my way down the list. I check email and get a final ad. I respond to a few emails. I place the ad and am about to begin my Table of Contents when I notice my eyeglass case next to the keyboard in front of me. My eyeglass case. Empty, of course. Not because I have them on, but because they’re in the living room next to the couch where I slept last night. Hmmm, how can that be?
I usually wear contact lenses; I use the disposable kind that I wear for a month or more at a time. Only a few times a year do I take my lenses out and wear my glasses for a few days. I’m near-sighted and my vision is a minus 4, meaning without lenses, I can read a page held 10-12 inches away, and everything farther away than that is a nice, hazy blur.
I’d been working so hard that I’d forgotten I’d taken out my contact lenses and put my glasses on. Obviously I took my glasses off before falling asleep. Upon awakening, I’d forgotten about them and assumed my lenses were in, as usual. I saw the clock six feet away at 6:20 am. I did paperwork and computer work, sleepily assuming I had my lenses in.
The moment I saw my eyeglass case, and realized I didn’t have my glasses on – and contact lenses were out – I could no longer see the words I’d typed on the monitor and the clock was a blur. And no, I didn’t sleep with my face scrunched into the pillow, squishing my eyes into a shape that let me focus. I slept face up, leaning back in a recliner.
The only thing I did different was to believe and expect that I – as usual – had my contact lenses in and could see fine, and behave as if that were so. Wow, huh?
Wouldn’t it be neat if we all went to sleep tonight and woke up forgetting that we’d ever been unhappy, forgetting that we’d ever had money worries or bad health? Wouldn’t it be neat to wake up and all we could remember was that we loved and were loved, that we were vitally healthy and strong, that we had everything we wanted?
It’s a nice thought isn’t it? It’s something nice to daydream about when you find yourself worrying.