approximately 250 pages
The Whole Banana: The Law of Attraction on the Rocks with a Twist is a book the that demonstrates the Law of Attraction from a practical standpoint. It chronicles my move across country from the time we first decided to move from snow country to shortly after we arrived in our new dream home in the high Arizona desert. It does this with entertaining and funny stories, some that demonstrate Law of Attraction principles and some that don't. It is a chronicle of me getting what I want while living the principles I expose. Watch the video below for a better feel for the book.
The Kirby Method
Today I gained a new respect for Kirby the Wonder Dog. I've always liked Kirby, I guess, in spite of the fact that he out-sleeps my cat by 4-5 hours a day and doesn't play in any manner. He's oblivious to chipmunks and rabbits 10 feet away. If I were to be honest, what I would say he is just super-focused on “Oh my God, oh my God, I can pee on things.”
He's so cute no one can kill him.
There are however, two reasons I would rather he was not around me.
- He omits olfactrons that are not in the wanted column of my experience. It's everything: his breath. His body odor. He lets out bunkerbusters that silently thump the floor and spread out in an invisible mushroom cloud just before burning the hair out of your nose. I know he doesn't mean it quite this way, but he quietly sneaks up and goes to sleep under my office chair, and waits until I notice. When the smell wafts up, I hold my nose and swear under my breath accusingly, and in return he looks at me with goo-goo eyes.
- He is allergic to flea bites and he scratches. Poor guy can't help it. The thing is, when he scratches he thumps the floor with his hind foot so it sounds like someone is outside insistently knocking on the door. And he does it over and over and over not stopping ever, knocking knocking knocking for 35 minutes straight until you just want to pull your Cowboy Action completion 12 gauge 1987 Winchester Riot Gun out of retirement and...did I tell you he was cute?
He's mostly an indoor dog. He likes going on walks. Other than that and going to the bathroom, there's not much reason to go outdoors. It is much easier to sleep indoors. Oh, I invite him when I go to work in my remote garden office under the maple tree. Mostly he refuses. Unless I have a plate; then he beats me to the door. Today that plate had a roast beef on rye.
So I ate my sandwich and Kirby gave me the goo-goo eyes. I'm mostly immune, but I was either feeling good or feeling guilty and I shared. Soon the cat showed up. I gave her a piece, too. Mostly she doesn't care what I'm eating, but she liked the roast beef.
So the three of us had a roast beef picnic.
The cat realized we were done, got up, and continued her rounds. Kirby, now that the food was gone, started off as well. I called him back. I know it is unfair, but the cat is territorial and was walking her perimeter. Kirby, on the other hand, is unidirectional. He'll take off and if I miss his leaving, I'll get a call a couple hours later and have to drive a mile or two to collect him.
Kirby was disappointed, because no doubt he thought it was a good time to go back inside and sleep. But he did the thing that felt better and started chewing grass. I went back to writing.
And then it hit me.
The all-too-familiar smell of dog poop. Kirby had planted a big one about 10 feet upwind of my remote office, between me and the garden. Cursing, I got my things together and headed back inside, Kirby tailing me with a satisfied bounce in his step.
Now, I'm pretty sure Kirby didn't pull out an iPad and write an algorithm to calculate the exact coordinates and mass required for his deposit to induce my relocation, but it did the trick perfectly. He did what felt better--unloaded a grass- induced crapload—and that got him what he wanted: a nap inside.
He has Law of Attraction down pat. He focuses on taking a nap in his bed, and then lets it go. Then he wanders around doing whatever seems like the thing to do; in this case, he notices some grass that didn't get mowed and chews on it. He then does the thing that feels like relief. No, not here. Not here. Not here. Here. Then launches a 24 inch spread of turds in an array for maximum effect.
Much more efficient than what we humans do. If we were Kirby and we were told we couldn't go inside right now to take a nap in our bed, we might think something like this:
“I never get to take naps when I want. Sometimes I think he just wants to spite me. It's like my mother--she never let me do anything. Treated me like a child. But I've done a lot of inner work since then, so I thought I was over this. I'm not a bad person. And it's not like it hurts anyone else for me to take a nap; I mean, what skin is it off of his nose. Look at him just sitting there writing, like he is the most important person in the world. Well, fine. I'll wait here, but I don't have to like it. See if I do anything for him. The sonofabitch.”
And then we would emit the best passive-aggressive vibes we could muster.
All-in-all, I think Kirby's way works better.
Anyway, if you hear someone talk about the Kirby Method, although odds are you won't, it refers to these three easy steps:
- Feel into what you want, and as soon as you have that clear feeling go on to something else.
- Do the next thing or think the next thought that feels better.
- Crap in the yard.