The Relentlessness of Intention

“Uncle Thomas, you’ll get great seats to all my games.” That is the postscript on a thank you card I received from my 12-year-old nephew. He’s crystal clear about an intention to play in the National Hockey League.

Last fall, I began to sense that I wanted to up the level of financial support for my nephews dream. To date I had been supporting his dream by buying his skates and other equipment that was a little out of my sister and her families financial reach. I loved the commitment I had made.

For nearly twelve years I had built a great consulting practice, a very successful event production company along with a burgeoning integrative coaching practice. All of the revenue that came my way or that I had attracted never had a guarantee of returning, yet somehow I was always well taken care of. This inspired thought of upping my financial support was different, it centered on the notion of ‘secure revenue’. That was a little foreign to me.

So not unlike all the other things or opportunities I had conjured up by conspiring with the Universe I made an intention to create a more secure source of revenue and then promptly let it go. It’s important to acknowledge that many times, while calling on this energy, I’ve freaked out and never trusted it’s divine essence. I’m learning to love the part of me that freaks out.

I’ve become a student of the power of intention and know the importance of clarity, bound together with the action of listening to the Universe as the intention makes its way into my life. After all, the Universe is not about ‘no’.

Quickly and not long after whispering this intention to the Universe I received an invitation to produce a gala-speaking event. On the heels of that came a five-month contract to stage an international conference involving people from six continents and sixteen different countries.

With egotistical arrogance I remember scoffing at the Universe saying, “Close, but no cigar. Neither of these are secure.” I love recognizing when I become the biblical version of ‘doubting Thomas’.

In the meantime my nephew supports his team to win gold at the Alberta Winter Games and he suddenly receives an invitation to one of the world’s best hockey camps at the University of Notre Dame in South Bend, Indiana.

This young man has been in the NHL’s talent pipeline for some time, I come to understand. My appetite to increase financial support of his dream suddenly gets notched up a few degrees.

In the throws of completing the five month contract I had an interesting ‘job opportunity’ come into my sights. It is something I’d spend a couple of months researching and speaking to at least six different people about.

A few that I spoke to about the work asked, “What about your special event background, your coaching work and the freedom you’ve enjoyed by not being a full-time employee?” I noted the discomfort I felt even contemplating the impact on my life of letting go of the freedom of being an entrepreneur. Yet, I was reminded by my heart to trust.

I chose to apply for the job and went through two interviews prior to the five-month contract concluding. It wasn’t until one business day after the contract ended that I’d have a final interview for the position. That was on a Monday at noon, two days later I was on a plane to Honolulu for some well-deserved rest and relaxation.

In the spirit of trust and without a clue how I would cover the expenses of my nephew and his Mom I committed to paying the flight and hotel costs (with the support of some amazing friends) for Notre Dame. Again, my heart invited me to trust.

I received an email, about a week into my vacation in Hawaii, from the potential employer asking what number a Senior Vice President could call me on. The call didn’t happen on the day I was told it would.

Although I’d like to uphold the façade of “holier than though Thomas” and lie saying I simply scoffed off the missed call as a glitch, I didn’t. I freaked out thinking I screwed up or worse “they” found out something about me that would never have them even consider offering me this work.

On a Monday afternoon I picked up the phone in my friends condo, 38 floors above Ala Moana Beach Park, and amidst a conversation I heard the words, “We would love you to come work with us. There is no one better suited to do this job.”

In the middle of my excitement, on a sunny April afternoon, I remembered the intention I whispered to the Universe in the fall of the year before, “I want to create a secure source of revenue so I can more profoundly support the dream of my nephew to be in the NHL.”

My future boss, calling all the way from France, at the end of the offer of employment conversation, said, “We’re twelve hours apart, I’m so glad we’ve connected.” My next call was to my sister telling her my intention to support her son’s dream in a much bigger way.

I took a breath and quickly gave thanks to the Universe for the relentlessness of intention.