I Went to Toastmasters and Accidentally Manifested World Peace

A wee bit of hope in a world gone mad
 
“What are you looking forward to? 
Emer? Do you want to take this one?”
 
I’m at a Toastmaster’s meeting. I’m a guest, so I don’t expect to be asked to partake. But sure, why not? I think, as I head to the top of the room. I already know what I’m looking forward to; getting away from all this rain. The meeting is smaller than usual, due to the weather, and the rugby match in Paris. 
“I’m sorry to do this to you, but I’m looking forward to my break in the south of France next week.” 
I expect laughter, but they just look at me expectantly. That’s pretty much all I’ve got; I was planning on feeding off the energy in the room. There’s a polite cough. I need to find something more interesting to say. 
“I believe it’s raining there too, so I’ll probably just sit around a medieval town drinking rosé.” 
Nothing. A couple of them smile encouragingly at me.
 
During the coffee break earlier I more or less boasted about how I ran a drama school for thirty years and public speaking was something I actually taught, but now my life is lacking creativity and I could do with some discipline. The truth is, I’m bored. I miss teaching. I miss making things. I miss speaking to a crowd. 
 
Something more: I miss making a difference. 
 
It sits with me for the rest of the evening, and again this morning I think: What are you actually looking forward to, Emer? 
And I remember.
 
In fact, I have spent time whittling down exactly what it is I really want, so the manifestation of that is what I am looking forward to. I’m sorry now that I lost an opportunity to share it with an engaged group of nice people. 
 
The creation of the one true thing I wish to manifest came about when I happened upon a social media post about Nikola Tesla, the visionary inventor whose work shaped the modern electrical world. Tesla was fascinated by patterns and frequency and some would say obsessed by the symbolic power of the numbers 3, 6 and 9, which he believed pointed to deeper laws of the universe.
 
“If you knew the magnificence of 3, 6 and 9, 
you would have the key to the universe.”
 
I’ve read that Tesla would walk around buildings three times before entering, and structured much of his life around numerical patterns. The post I found suggested a manifestation practice inspired by this fascination: write your intention three times in the morning, six times in the middle of the day, and nine times in the evening. Use pen and paper. Choose your words carefully. Do it for at least thirty days. Sixty would be better. And God forgive me, but I was so desperate for a better world that I did it.
 
I understand manifestation. I live my life by the Law of Attraction. I get how writing something down or speaking it aloud enforces the energy of it. Had I been using this method for the things I normally want to manifest – an unexpected windfall, or a publisher wanting my book, for example, I might have stuck with the programme; reinforcing the desire in such a way, like a mantra, would encourage me to put in place the steps to make such things come to pass. I would have a certain level of control, in other words. But the one true thing I wish to manifest these days seems not to be in anyone’s control, other than the puppet masters that have been playing their game for a very long time. 
 
I want world peace. 
 
But not peace at the cost of freedom; not peace because we have all learned to shut up and put up; the wars are over but we are all enslaved in the drudgery that is life when you’re in the bottom 98%. 
 
I want peace on earth and goodwill amongst all men. 
 
Do I exclude the rich white men, the oligarchs, the billionaires, the puppet masters? Can I believe that one day they will be overcome by a sense of fair play and good will, happy to put everything they have stolen from us back into the pot for all to share? I don’t know. That’s not how manifestation works; I don’t need to work it out. Better that I don’t try to. I simply need to be clear: 
 
I want peace on earth and goodwill amongst all mankind. 
 
To safely ensure that everyone I love is part of that, I go one more: 
 
…and my tribe and I are safe and happy.
(I include “and I” in case I’m expected to sacrifice myself for such a lofty dream.)
 
Believing that the children of the world are safe is a warm and glorious feeling, and it feeds magic to the manifestation. 
 
I want, I desire.
I ask.
I accept.
The simplicity of it all can be frustrating. 
When I ask that an agent or a publisher approaches me out of the blue, and says,
 “Emer, I hear you’ve written an amazing book.” 
am I to wait patiently for the magic? Or should I plough on regardless, adding my work to the rich tapestry of slush piles all over the British Isles? 
 
Clarity: know what I want.
Consistency: don’t keep changing the goal posts.
Conviction: do I really believe a publisher is going to approach me?
 
If I did believe that, I would get a warm, fuzzy feeling in my very bones; my heart would lift. The excitement as I wait for the call would be palpable. 
 
The world has driven me to an extreme: I am so horrified, so backed into a corner by the debauchery of men that I have no other path than to go inward, to the divine part of me that can and will grant my only true desire, and I am grateful. 
 
Grateful for the peace it brings me. Grateful for the refuge of hope. 
I love that it is impossible to hold a dark thought and feel grateful at the same time. This is a guidance system that sets my cart right, time and time again. Abraham Hicks calls it ‘The Rampage of Appreciation’. I could be stuck in traffic on a miserable day, surrounded by idiots who can’t drive properly, or I could count my blessings. 
 
I’m grateful that I have this reliable old car. I’m grateful that I don’t have to commute in the rain. I’m grateful that there’s a gap in the clouds and the sun is poking through. I’m grateful for this coffee, I’m grateful that I can afford it, I’m grateful that I have a husband at home that I forgot to buy coffee for, I’m grateful that he won’t mind.
 
I’m grateful that there is peace on earth, and goodwill amongst all mankind, and my tribe and I are safe and happy.
 
I write it three times in the morning, six times in the middle of the day, and nine times at night, FOR NINE DAYS. I get a mild cramp in my hand and, on the morning of day 10, a voice in the back of my head tells me to put the pen down now. It’s instilled. It has become a mantra. Never mind 3, 6 and 9. Didn’t Tesla die alone in a room, broke and undervalued, under dubious circumstances? I’m not saying 3, 6, 9 isn’t sacred. But I understand that I need to believe in what I’m asking for. 
 
I have clarity now, about what I desire. 
I ask, by giving thanks that it has already come to pass. 
I accept, by basking in the warmth of living in it; how good it feels to know that the babies are safe, that the young girls are left alone, that the people can go about their lives without torment.
 
There is peace on earth and goodwill amongst us all. Even the angels said so, and they always come to me when I need them.
 
Imagine, if you read this, and decide to make it your mantra too? Ah, that adds an extra lump of coal to the fire! It’s a hug, it’s a blankie. The warmth of humanity after all. It makes me smile. I believe it. I look forward to it, and it is here.
 
Once more, my friends, with feeling:
 
I’m grateful that there is peace on earth, and goodwill amongst all mankind, and my tribe and I are safe and happy.
 
And here it is.