"You don't look like you've ever had a sick day in your life" people will say. If only they knew.
It wasn't many years ago when I laid in intensive care, a respirator breathing for me. Clinically, I had died. Doctors frantically shocked my heart into beating again, but only barely so that my breaths required mechanical support. That morning a team of surgeons had labored five hours poking through my abdomen in search of a tear from a routine exam of the previous day. Now I was fighting to stay alive. And the odds, as doctors analyzed, were only about 10%.
For the next nine months I laid in bed, barely conscious, tethered to appendages of tubes and drains and plastic bags.
When a new infection was discovered, the grim got worse. Specialists from three acclaimed facilities, including the Mayo Clinic, could do nothing to help.
It would take a miracle.
During that time I dreamt. Dreams formed on the dark side of sleep but often stayed with me in the awakening mist. Then the dreams changed. They became more like daydreaming. Then fantasizing. Then imagining.
Imagining was the first key.
I would find myself imagining the silliest things. Like who I should be. I imagined doing the sort of things the real me could do. I imagined standing upright, feeling great and taking long, deep breaths of the Cypress-scented air outside my window. I felt the excitement of once again running down the winding path to the end of my dock when a certain friend flew his Lake amphibian in for an afternoon visit.
As time went by my imagination grew so vivid that my skin would sometimes become moist with sweat as I saw myself heaving big blue tubs of newly printed tee shirts onto the steel conveyor that would glide the shirts from the 120ยบ end of my curing dryer into the sewing room where eight busy women would sew on collars and add appliques. We always manufactured the heaviest Holiday sweatshirts in July amidst the worst of Florida's heat and humidity. How ironic. But I loved my company and I loved the physical work, so my mind embraced every moment of it as though it was here, now.
Without realizing it, I was using imagination to construct an information pattern which could become a healthy life. I was fueling the process with love and gratitude. In other words, I was making a miracle happen.
But you don't need a near-death experience.
My first miracle came in the form of an idea. A quite simple idea. My second miracle was having a physician the likes of Dr. Rosa, the latest in a long line of specialists and the only one who had not yet given up and passed me on. So few doctors would have agreed to attempt my unorthodox treatment idea.
Five days later he performed the procedure I suggested and by the time I was examined the following week, the internal infections that had been eating me alive for most of a year were gone. Completely gone.
Whoa - miracles aren't random - they're created!
Since this experience I've grown to understand what really happened. I'm not a genius at new medical procedures, neither was Dr. Rosa there by accident. Miracles are constructed from imagination and fueled with gratitude. Miracles are not accidents of nature. Nor are they random.
And best of all, YOU have the ability to create them.
Explore the science of miracles at one of Pegi's "Making a Magical Life" workshops. Click on the "Events" tab for more information.
Pegi is Florida's premier Certified practitioner of Matrix Energetics as well as being certified in NLP and Silva Mind Method. She helped establish a college grant program for low-income students and has received awards for her efforts with the Florida Migrant Advocate Program and St. Petersburg inner-city school. Pegi has authored and created a line of higher consciousness gift books. Enjoy an excerpt at www.pegidahl.com