Diane Mierzwik

June 21, 2009

The year I was a Dr. Dyer devotee, I typed up the phrase “the entire universe is conspiring on my success,” used clear packing tape on both sides as a poor man’s lamination and carried it in my pocket at Dr. Dyer’s urging. The talisman survived several washes when I left it in the pocket of pants being laundered. I truly believed that if I meditated enough on the phrase, my whole life would fall into place.

My drinking would no longer be a problem, which at that time meant I would still be able to drink with no problems.

I’d suddenly be able to afford the gigantic house we’d just bought even though I only worked part-time and really didn’t want to work at all.

I’d even have extra money to fix up that gigantic wallpaper-in-every-room, slipping-off-a-cliff home.

And I’d be able to spend my days reading and writing while money just flowed to me.

One morning as I sat outside on the deck and looked down the side of the cliff my house was built on 50 years earlier, I was at peace. I knew God had a plan for me and the entire universe was conspiring on my success. While I meditated, a lizard sidled up beside me and soaked up the warmth with me.

I held very still. I spoke silently in my head to the little guy, “Hey there. Sun feels good, huh?”

I got tired of peering at him and leaned my head back in my seat and felt how lucky I was.

When I reopened my eyes, the little guy was still there beside me so I spoke silently to him again.

“Hey, are you joining the entire universe and conspiring on my success?” I asked.

The little lizard did a push-up move, once, twice, then scuttled off, leaving behind a small, but noticeable turd.

That was his answer, to shit a big one.

Here I was with big expectations and convinced that everything in the universe was there to help me and this lizard seemed to be saying – “You? Hey, I’ve got my own success to worry about.”

A lizard shitting on your parade is humbling and it shifted how I saw what I considered my success.

It took a few more weeks before I washed my laminated talisman one last time and left it on the top of the dryer for months until I was ready to give it up.

Now the only thing I carry in my pocket at all times is lip balm, because dry, chapped lips are the epitome of a miserable failure to me.

This week I will be prepared for all life and lizards and dry lips have to offer.