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Proof For The Magic.
Submitted by: Catherine G.
I live in Quebec, Canada, outside of MontrealI recently retired as a daycare centre director after 34 years of looking after little ones. After my son's motorcycle accident in 2015 I re-evaluated my life and my aspirations and decided to retire early to get the wheels started to begin my dream of opening a Farm Animal Sanctuary. I moved to the country in September 2016 and this is where I am now.
In January 2016 I started reading The Magic. I felt I needed a boost, guidance to continue to believe in gratitude. After my younger son’s motorcycle accident in April 2015, my spiritual beliefs had been shaken. Eventually as I faced my loss and what it had brought to me, my beliefs were reinforced and I was on the way to a greater spiritual awakening.
In February my older son invited my daughter and I to join him and his wife in Columbia for my birthday. They live in South Africa and my daughter and I in Canada, so it was kind of a ‘meet halfway around the world’ discovery trip. We all looked forward to seeing each other. We were to meet in Cartagena.
At the time I had reached day 27 of the 28 days and I was determined not to let the lengthy flight to Columbia get in my way. I felt buoyed up by the previous 27 days of The Magic. It was like floating in a very peaceful, happy place. I had enjoyed the whole process and wished that those feelings could last forever.
When we arrived in Cartagena we took a taxi to go to the hotel where we were to meet my son. So eager were we to see him, we flew out of the taxi into the hotel where he was waiting at the reception desk. After a few minutes the hotel manager asked us to finalize registration and asked us for our passports. It was at this point that I realized that in my eagerness I had left the plastic folder in which I had placed all our important documents, including passports and return flight tickets, on the back seat of the taxi. Did we remember the taxi’s ID number? They have them painted on the outside of their cars. Of course not! Did we remember the make of the car? Absolutely not. We had stood in line outside the airport and taken the next cab available. So there was no way of retracing a call or order for the taxi or anything of the sort. Panic started to set in. The hotel manager called the airport taxi number and left our information in case someone reported the lost passports. What were the chances of that happening? A Canadian passport is a very valuable commodity.
The only thing to do was to return to the airport and see if could lodge a request in person. As we rode in another taxicab back to the airport I stopped any negative feeling and entered a completely calm and trusting state of being. It was easy. It felt real. I felt I was indeed in a magical place and that everything would turn out alright, we would find the passports.
Now, you have to know that Cartagena’s principal mode of urban transport is taxis. There are hundreds, no thousands of yellow taxis filling the streets and probably thousands more coming in and out of the airport. My son was already planning how we would have to go back to Bogota, more than 1000 km away, to the Canadian Embassy and all the complications it would entail. I just stayed in my amazing bubble and trusted completely that the passports would be found.
When we arrived at the airport our taxi driver who was very sympathetic to our cause took us to the office outdoor stand where the taxis are managed. He stopped and went to see the person at the desk. There were yellow rivers of taxis moving in and out of that area. I got out of the cab to go and give more information to the person in charge and as I went around the back of the car I looked a little further up the street and saw the taxi driver whom had driven us to the hotel!! He was walking down the street towards the stand. He immediately recognized me and asked if there was a problem. Of course he had found the plastic folder, he explained! He had placed them in the trunk of his cab for safekeeping. Regardless of the fact that he had failed to report the missing passports which he claimed he did not know were in the see-thru folder, I had found my passports and return flight tickets. Just like that!
Out of the hundreds of cabs coming in and out, that particular driver had parked his car up the street and was walking down towards us at the same time that we had arrived at that spot and had stepped out of the car. That was not a coincidence. That was The Magic. And here I had the proof that it exists.
I was already grateful for so many things before that little incident but I was now given the gift of The Magic and my gratitude was and still is boundless. I unconditionally believe in The Magic of gratitude. And I thank the Universe for so much and for having offered me wonderful proof of the infinite possibilities we can create.
Thank you! Thank you Rhonda Byrne for having shared The Secret and The Magic and so much more. I strongly recommend reading these books and putting in practice the steps of The Magic. Just the ecstasy of the state of gratefulness is a true gift in itself.