So here's the deal. Many of us have discovered, in one way or another, the Law of Attraction. We've all been living with it for eons, but many of us are just discovering the myriad of ways we can harness it for benefit, while recognizing the vast array of ways we use it (consciously or unconsciously) for deficit. We've studied and learned and are now neck-deep in the practice of holding positive thoughts, emotions and vibrations concerning our goals and dreams. But, if you're like me, you might be just the teensiest bit disappointed once you've meditated and visualized on a goal for months and months, only to discover it still out of reach. Now, “disappointed" can be experienced differently from person to person. For me? It involves a lot of peanut-butter-and-chocolate ice cream consumption, days and days of pajama wearing, long hours on the couch watching reruns of Cold Case Files, while plucking out leg hair-stubble one at a time, the way frustrated birds pull out their feathers in an act of defiance and distress.

Byron Katie (author of Loving What Is) tells me to love What Is. Eckhart Tolle (author of The Power of Now) tells me to embrace the present moment as if I had chosen it, to treat this now as my friend. I love them for that. Their words of wisdom have been a life buoy, keeping me afloat in a mind full of fear and frustration. But then there's Mike Dooley (author of Notes from the Universe) and Rhonda Byrne (author/editor of The Secret) telling me I can have anything I want, if only I focus on it consistently and positively, seeing myself as already having it. So do I accept the present moment or seek to transform it? If I embrace What Is, am I giving up what is Yet To Be? How do I allow life to be as it is, loving all its warty, swarthy details, while endeavoring to morph it into something more attractive, more appealing to my authentic, abundant self? Should I be accepting? Or assertive?

Along my spiritual path, I’ve had moments of clarity when a sharply focused insight points a directive hand toward (using the words of Abraham-Hicks, authors of The Law of Attraction) my energetic escrow, those vibrant dream-come-true realities we're all marching toward. Then there are the moments of confusion and fear: muddled, worried thoughts that gnaw at the base of my confidence, undermining all efforts for transformational living. I recently had a moment like this.

OK, I've had many moments like this during the past decade of following these spiritual teachers. And that's the point, don’tcha think? I've been practicing my spiritual lessons for more than a quarter of my life and last time I looked in the mirror, I don't bear even the remotest resemblance to Ghandi. Every day, or most days, for the past two years, I've been focused on being a happy, healthy, spiritually astute, agented, published writer with throngs of fans who insist -nay, demand - I have my own TV show. But you don't see my ass on Oprah's couch, do you? No. Am I a balanced, evolved, spiritually aligned pied piper? Hardly. And as I type these words I remain un-agented. Unpublished.

But back to that recent moment. It's summer of 2009. I've been living in Taos, New Mexico for three years, somehow managing to pay the rent for two households after quitting my role as an artist agent in favor of a writing and stage career. Money has been tight. And tighter. Finally, like a big-footed stepsister shoving her paw in Cindy's delicate, glass slipper, the financial situation grows so tight I can hardly breathe. My mind is consumed by fear one moment, hope the next. I think I might bust. I cling to the life-raft words of my spiritual teachers, catching each panic-ridden thought before it grows into something overwhelming, turning my attention and emotions to what I can enjoy and appreciate. I practice and practice and practice watching my thoughts, tending my emotions, careful to keep an attitude of gratitude.

One month passes. Then another. Our finances support us, just barely. Part of me is grateful, peaceful in the present moment knowing there is nothing to fear but fear itself. And the other part of me? Is resentful, afraid. Jealous of the friends and associates living their dream, manifesting their abundance. My fear runs into the streets, pleading to the heavens.

"Why? What? Why don't you like me? What am I doing wrong?" And not too long ago, dressed in ashes and sackcloth, my legs covered in red bumps and looking a lot like prickly, naked chicken skin, I got an answer. Or an answer got me. Brace yourself. It's a little strange and definitely surreal when you hear the Universe answer you back:

"Lick the lolly."

Me: "Ummm. Huh?"

Universe: "Lick. The. Lolly."

Me: "Ummmmm. Sure. Right. Whatever."

I slink away from the Universe silently mumbling if you didn't wanna answer me you coulda just said so. You don't have to taunt me with 70's TV Laugh-In jokes. And then I see it, a vision:  A little boy in a cartoon world walking up to a wise old owl perched on a tree branch. The boy holds a Tootsie Pop lollipop. He addresses the owl, in a seeker-to-sage kind of way, in a grasshopper-to-master-snatch-the-pebble-from-my-hand kind of way, in an Angi-beseeching-the-Universe-as-Wise-Old-Owl kind of way, "Mr. Owl, how many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?" Mr. Owl grabs the lolly from the boy's hand and says, "Let's find out!" Then he proceeds to lick ‘til he can no longer stand it. One! Two! Three! Crunch! Apparently it takes Mr. Owl only three licks to get to the center.

But how about the rest of us?

We've got that delicious nugget of a dream-come-true in the center of our life lollipop. We visualize, affirm, meditate, and hold positive vibrations each day as we see our dream before us, unfolding as our reality. And it's not happening. And it's not happening. And we keep on keepin' on and still it ain't happening. And we wanna kick the wise old owl out of the tree and pluck his feathers out one by one til he confesses he's a fraud. Or until he squeals like a pig and gives up the real means of getting to the center.

But as I see this 70's Saturday morning cartoon commercial vision in my head, I suddenly get it. Our life is the lollipop, and our dreams are, indeed, the chewy sweet nugget residing in the center. The only way to get to them, to reveal them, is to lick the lolly. This makes a groovy kind of sense to me, so before I go plucking The Universal Owl, I consider the lollipop strategy, step by step.

Step One - Before you lick, you gotta buy

Just like you'd buy a lolly in the convenience store before you'd open it up and give it a good lickin', (unless you’re my mother, who rips open candy faster than you can say Willy Wonka, and has been known to walk up to a grocery counter with five lollipop wrappers, an empty package of pinwheel cookies, and a shameless grin on her face) you have to buy your current reality, and own the fact that you've created it. Oh, I know. Many things show up in our lives that we refuse to believe we've created. "I did not create Snidely Whiplash as an ex-husband. I did not create a closet full of cheap shoes, seven pounds of cottage cheese on my thighs, a ten thousand dollar tax bill, a boss who's second cousin to Beelzebub or a daughter who thinks Daisy Duke shorts and black lipstick are God’s gift to women." But, ohhhh, yes you did.

I'm not going to get into the scientific findings that support the self-made reality tenement. Nor am I going to address the doctrines that encourage or deny the power of mankind to shape its destiny. Let us, instead, work with the premise of energy. We're all energy, and as such, we are constantly attracting and repelling, like magnets. We're also creators, making and unmaking the events and stories of our lives. As energetic creators, we have a choice in how we shape and mold our life. Florida Scott-Maxwell once said, "You need to claim the events in your life to make yourself yours. When you truly possess all you have been and done... you are fierce with reality." And, I might add, not only do you become fierce with reality when you claim your power as a creator, but your reality becomes fierce! As in Project-Runway-two-snaps-up-and-a-twist fierce.

You can't beat that with a stick. Well, you could. But who'd want to? I can think of many other things I'd rather beat with a stick. But not a dead horse. Who ever came up with that line anyway "It's like beating a dead horse." Why would anyone want to beat a horse, dead or alive? Horses are nice. And pretty. I'm sure there's a million and one other things that a horse would rather do than be beaten. Like eat dandelions. Frolic in a pasture. Run wild through amber waves of grain and stuff like that. You keep your beatin' stick to yourself, thank you. In fact, why don't you trade your beatin' stick in for a lolly stick? Much more pleasurable. And on that note, lick the lolly, part deux...

Step Two: Unwrap it, 'cuz the paper just tastes gnarly

We all grew up unwrapping things:  frozen dinners, birthday presents, lollipops. Our reality is no different. It, too, wears a disguise. Our lives might seem, in one moment, painful, bizarre, cursed, overwhelming, and the next moment our lives appear blessed, delightful, euphoric. But no matter how it seems, the truth is, it's all a disguise, and it's all temporary. Underneath the wrappings and trappings of life, there is soul. And that soul is neither circumstantial nor temporary. It is eternal. We must, if we wish to attract our innermost wishes into our reality, understand the essence of our soul and distinguish its presence underneath all temporal conditions.

It's hard to remember you are soul when you're stuck in traffic at 5:45 and dinner guests arrive at 6.30. Or your flight's delayed and seven hours later you board the aircraft only to end up sitting next to foul-smelling, shoe-removing, knuckle-cracking Dale the Shower Curtain Ring Salesman from Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Or worse yet, you walk into your doctor's office and she mentions the C word. You know the word I'm talking about: cunnilingus. And you haven't had it with your husband since Reagan was in the white house, and episodes of LOST make you feel found, Sawyer and Sayid battling The Others with their big sticks and bigger muscles, and you just know at any moment they're gonna hack their way outta The Island's jungle and into your own, blazing a trail of hot sweaty goodness from the TV screen allllll the way to your bedroom sheets. I'm not even gonna mention what it means to like that lolly. Instead, let's suffice to say that underneath the pleasure and madness, there is a soul that needs validation, and authentic expression. If you want your life-lolly to serve you, to reward you with its sweet center of dreams-come-true, you have to be willing to see beyond the disguises, take off the wrappings of the temporal and stand naked with the bare truth of soul.

Step Three - Define the center point

Most of us who've ever sucked on a Tootsie Pop Lollipop, (or a Blow -Pop, come to think of it, though I'm not touching that one with a ten-foot, dead-horse beating stick) are aware that chewy Tootsie Roll goodness awaits us in the center. After we buy it and unwrap it, we're all atwitter at the thought of the center.

So what is your center point? What dream-come-true awaits you at the center of your life-lolly? We all contemplate success, harbor hopes, nurture dreams. But until we define our center, that vision of our someday-reality as a dream-come-true, we run the risk of being caught in reverie; a sort of someday-my-prince-will-come-Snow White well-wishing. Is it just me? Or did anyone else want to grab hold of Snow's shoulders and give her a good shake? Followed by a kiss and a hug and a wagging finger:  "Oh for God's sake, girl, grow a pair! Stop waiting wistfully by this wishing well and go find him you own damn self. And while you're at it, quit baking gooseberry pies for little men who don't know how to clean up after themselves. Learn how to ride a horse and wield a sword, and for heaven's sake stay away from controlling, jealous women who want to dip you in poison and steal your power. "

But I digress. We cannot purposely attract what we have not defined. Until we define our center point - that which reflects the highest vision of the grandest version of ourselves - we create our reality unconsciously. Pardon me for quoting the Bible when there are so many other fabulous wisdom-books out there, but Proverbs says it like this, "A people without a vision soon perish." It is the dream, the picture of us having what we most desire, which acts as a navigational magnet, pulling our reality toward it.

Step Four - Find the sweet spot

Life is full of surprises, and sometimes those surprises taste an awful lot like suffering or despair. Or twelve-day-old sushi in a castor oil ashtray. And while some spiritual teachers would suggest we go sit under the Bodhi tree and empty ourselves of all desires in order to avoid the yin-yang duality of joy and disappointment, I'd rather suck on something sweet. Maybe I'll sit under the Bodhi tree while I'm doing it, but you ain't gonna catch this girl livin' free from all desires. Why would The Universal Owl create frosted cupcakes and asiago cheese bread and lollipops if not for our delight?

So what to do when you're surprised with pain or trauma? Disappointment? Consider the sweet spots in your life. For what are you grateful? What thoughts taste good? What ideas or visions - or, to go back to the concept that we're all energy, what vibrations - create in you a sense of delight? This is the spot on your life-lolly you want to focus upon. Phillipians says it like this: "Whatever is true, noble, lovely, admirable…think on these things." I say it like this "Verily, verily I say unto thee: Find thou the sweet spot, then sucketh." (I'm a recovering Baptist. So sue me.)

 Our emotions are powerful things, far more powerful than we even know. Abraham-Hicks calls our emotions a guidance system, claiming that the more joy we have, the closer we are to our authentic selves, the part of us already living our dream. The more depressed we are, the further we are from our true core and our dream-come-true-reality. I can only attest to this truth from experience. When I dwell on my pain or disappointment, life tastes bitter. I may not even want to get out of bed some mornings, for fear that my lolly will taste like a battery acid tofu burger. But if I wake, even full of dread or despair, and can find a sweet spot? Even a small one? An itty bitty candy-joy that fills my mouth and heart with delight? Well, that in and of itself can generate the steam I need to get out of bed. Doesn't mean the pains and aches go away. It simply means I am not focusing upon them, and by doing so, they shift. The sour may be there, but the sweet spot calls me on. And as we all know, what we think on grows. Soon the sweet spot covers the entire lolly, and you're back to coveting and enjoying the sweetness of your life. 

Step Five - Lick the lolly

All the other steps lead to this one, and truly, this isn’t hopscotch, so if you wanted to, you could skip right to this one every time, because nothing works better or faster than loving What Is. Licking our lollipop-lives is our way of loving our selves and our creations. No matter how or when we created our now, whether we remember the thoughts and energies that drew this present to us or not, the only way out is through, and the only way through is love.

I know what you're thinking. "This sucks." And it does. I mean, we do. If we’re wise, we lick and suck and adore our present, the way a four year old adores his snow cone, the way this forty year old loves her Ben and Jerry's. When we embrace our lives and our selves, just as we are, we create a tremendous amount of shape-shifting energy. Just like the candy coating on a Tootsie Pop dissolves under the friction of our tongue, so, too, our life circumstances under the influence of love.

This means we are required to hold our dreams and goals in one hand, our now with the other, not prizing one over the other, but loving both. This mixture of allowing the present (the external events and circumstances of our lives) while cherishing the future (the internal nugget of our hope) acts as a catalyst on our lollipop, shaping and shifting it, until it reveals its tasty center.

You cannot bite it or break it or force it open. Life's lollipop must dissolve under love's embrace, until there is nothing left but your dream, tangible and real, ready to be consumed.

I don’t always lick the lolly. Sometimes I want to hurl it as far away from me as possible. Sometimes I want to run over it with my SUV, then smother it with paint thinner, just for good measure. But then I remember, and I retrieve it. Like today. Today I am licking the lolly, the unagented, unpublished lolly of my life. My bank account is thin but my heart is fat with love as I watch the sun set over the Sangre de Cristo mountains, the marigolds waving an adieu in the wind, the jeweled hummingbirds waltzing in midair, performing some kind of twilight pas de deux, The taste is sweet, so I savor. And is it just me? Or do I detect the lolly’s slick surface giving way to some chewy goodness? Maybe it’s just me. But maybe it’s my center, at last, come to fetch me.