I recorded Jennifer giving me her message.
It was shot with a compact camera, to record what she said.
I will put it up on Vimeo for 24 hrs without password protection, if you're interested in taking a look.
Remember, this was videoed just for me, so I had a record of what she said. Not usual professional standard…
I was doing my video diary last night.
I do a video diary every night. I just sit in front of the camera and recount what happened during the day, and how I feel about it.
Often it's a ramble.
It's unprepared, unstructured. But honest and heartfelt.
I don't know what I'm going to do with it all at the end of this Dallas experiment –
It's for myself more than anything.
The Indian astrologer said keep a diary, and that's what I'm doing.
But last night, as I began to talk to camera, a quote entered my head:
“The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run.”
It's a quote by Herman Melville, from Moby Dick.
I read Moby Dick maybe forty years ago. I remember at the time writing that quote down in the front of my diary.
I don't have a good memory.
Too much red wine.
Yet last night, out of nowhere, that quote came back to me.
That's weird.
Okay, now it gets whacky.
You thought it was whacky before, right?
Nup.
Now it gets really whacky.
My wife Jennifer woke this morning to tell me she had things she needed to discuss with me. Whenever she says that I think: Uh oh – what have I done wrong?
We both got busy getting ready to go down to breakfast, and in the lift down to the lobby I asked her what did she want to talk about?
She’d forgotten.
We walked to a small cafe around the corner and while I was having breakfast she zoned out – then she started writing furiously.
I didn’t think much about it, but later she told me what had happened. She’d “asked” to get the messages again, and they were given to her. And she wrote them down verbatim as quickly as they came.
She doesn’t like to call it channeling. She describes it as getting downloads from her Higher Self. She thinks it’s weird. But she trusts it.
Interestingly, what Jennifer read out to me is not her usual speech patterning, or language.
So this is what she read out to me, from her scribblings this morning:
This is what came to her this morning.
Messages that she was told she had to give to me.
What do I make of all this?
I don’t disbelieve.
I am open to all possibilities.
Joni Patry is very credible.
As an astrologer she’s built up a massive client base, in the US and internationally, because she’s so damn credible.
Yesterday I sat opposite her and I listened as she read from my charts and told me things that would soon happen in my life – things which were completely overwhelming.
And yet possible.
That’s the scary thing. It’s all possible.
I’m now looking around Dallas wondering what it would be like to live here for the next eleven years.
I’m not saying I would do it, I’m just saying I’m quite capable of doing it.
Why not change your life on a dime?
Why not do something completely crazy and unexpected?
Why not follow your intuition?
How do I feel about all this? I feel somewhat confused. I mean, supposing these two astrologers are right? Supposing what they told me unfolds as they’ve said it will?
They both believe it will.
Do I?
Well, that’s the big question isn’t it, because if I don’t believe, it will never happen.
It’s like what Tinkerbell told Peter Pan – “The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it.”
Today I got a second opinion on my Indian astrologer’s prediction.
Some days ago I gave the Dallas based Vedic Astrologer, Joni Patry, my exact time and place of birth – the same details I’d given Dr. Bhatt.
Joni is one of America’s most renown astrologers. She’s written several best selling books on astrology, and she really knows her stuff.
She told me that over the past thirty odd years, all her predictions have proven to be correct, within the plus or minus of a person’s free will.
Today she told me things about my family – my children and my mother – that were bang on. Stuff she could not have possibly known. Very specific things, not generalisations.
She was uncannily accurate.
And her reading of my future today was consistent with Dr. Bhatt’s – although she was more specific. I won’t go into details here – that’s for the film. (We filmed the whole reading.) But it was amazing. She said she was amazed. She’d never seen a chart like it.
She said that all I had to do was keep following my path intuitively, as I’ve been doing, and these predictions would come to pass.
She was certain of it.
She also said that Dallas was the optimum place for me to be for at least the next 11-12 years. She said 2015-2018 was when it would all start to happen for me.
I talked to her in depth, on video, about astrology and how it all works. Vedic Astrology, as against Western Astrology, is a very complex science, and yet she was able to explain it to me in ways that I could understand.
She spoke passionately and knowledgeably, and it was a terrific interview – yet for me it was completely overwhelming. Because I’m starting to believe that it could come true…
A couple of you have alerted me to a world wide campaign to express grief over Phillip Hughes’ tragic death.
You tweet with the hashtag #putoutyourbats, and post a photo of a cricket bat.
I didn’t come to the U.S. with a cricket bat, but I brought my Aussie cricket cap. In the footy season I always wear my Swannies cap, and in the cricket season (which is now in Australia) I always wear my Aussie cricket cap when I travel.
Here is the picture I posted just now –
I woke up at 4:42 this morning.
No sounds from next door woke me.
Just me woke me.
This room is impenetrable.
And huge.
And clean.
And it has hot water.
And toiletries, and big fluffy towels.
But it lacks story.
The other room at the Shady Oaks had story.
And story is important to me.
It’s my life.
The people yesterday at the Thanksgiving lunch were so generous and kind to us – Jennifer and me and Rachit.
Rachit is a wonderful young man.
He’s quiet and respectful and he emanates such a gentle calm energy.
And his observations are always incredibly insightful.
He will often give me a perspective I’d not considered.
Joni Patry, the Dallas Vedic Astrologer, is heaven sent.
She’s taken it upon herself, within her own very busy schedule, to help me get my film made.
She believes in it whole-heartedly.
The cosmic rays have put us together for this endeavour, I have no doubt.
And for that I’m incredibly grateful.
I’m finding that Texans are very warm and friendly people.
I love Dallas.
I asked Jennifer yesterday if she could live in Dallas for eleven years, which is the period the Indian astrologer said would be most beneficial for my cosmic rays.
And she said yes.
She said she loved Dallas. And she could happily live here for eleven years.
Me too.
Some people said to me, before I left Australia, that they pitied me having to spend time in Dallas. Someone even called it a “boring, ugly, and hideous place.”
I don’t know how they can say that.
For a start it’s not ugly. It has to have one of the most spectacular skylines I’ve ever seen.
The architecture of some of the buildings downtown is simply breathtaking.
And the wealthy suburbs I drove through yesterday were as beautiful as any in Beverly Hills or Bel Air.
But I also find incredible beauty in the poor parts of town. The places some of you might call hideous.
I find not only aesthetic beauty in these places, but beauty in the human spirit.
Yesterday, Thanksgiving Day, we had breakfast in one of these poor parts of town – in a Mexican taco joint where a full breakfast costs $4.95.
Across the road, a cafe called Norma’s Cafe was offering free food to anyone who turned up. There were lines around the block. Hundreds of people, most of them Mexican.
Families came with cardboard cartons for the food that was being given away.
What generosity of spirit.
I see beauty in that.
It’s now Day 6 – Black Friday in America.
Black Friday is the post Thanksgiving shopping day, when all the stores give big discounts and everyone goes on a shopping binge.
Like the Boxing Day sales in Australia.
Evidently it’s a mad scramble to pick up bargains.
A frenzy.
Really, it’s fear.
Fear of missing out.
Fear of lack.
But there’s no lack.
We all have everything we need.
And if we don’t, it will come.
It will come faster to those of us that don’t act out of fear.
I know that.
Our fortunes did a dramatic turnaround today.
It turns out the hotel that our benefactor has arranged for us is regarded as the top hotel in Dallas. The Adolphus is grand luxury. An elegant historic hotel right in the centre of downtown. We’ve gone from one extreme to the other.
Our shift from the Shady Oaks Motel could not have come at a better time, especially for Jennifer. She woke up sick this morning – not from any ailment, but from the foul energies of the place. Also, the one good thing about the Shady Oaks for me – the wifi – stopped working. It was time to go.
I won’t reveal our benefactor, or the circumstances that led to us shifting digs today – you’ll have to wait for the film for that – but the timing was truly freaky.
It could not have happened any earlier because our benefactor had been overseas, and didn’t fly back into Dallas until the end of our Day Three.
First thing Day Four I got a message on my cell saying: “I will not have you staying in that HELL HOLE one day longer. I am coming around right now to get you out of that miserable dump!”
And that’s what happened.
So here we are, in luxury at the top hotel in Dallas. Exactly as the Indian astrologer had predicted. He’d said that after three days, I would be taken out of my cheap motel and accommodated in five star luxury.
Please understand that this has not been orchestrated by me in any way. This is all happening outside of my control, or my knowledge. I was gearing up to stay in the Shady Oaks for fifteen days. But I have also been open to whatever opportunities might present.
Today – Thanksgiving Day – was spent with a lovely family in a beautiful part of Dallas. It’s the family of Texas’ top Vedic Astrologer, Joni Patry.
Joni has to be one of the most gorgeous generous people you could possibly meet. She’s married to Daniel, a former chef who ran one of the most acclaimed French restaurants in Dallas.
Needless to say the Thanksgiving meal that Daniel cooked today was magnificent. The Patrys had their family at the luncheon, and it was a wonderful experience to sit and talk with them on this special day.
Again though, the Indian Astrologer’s predictions were bang on – that after three days I would no longer be eating cheap food. Today I feasted.
After lunch, we drove to Daniel’s sister’s place – passing through the Bel Air of Dallas. The mansions were extraordinary. The word palatial is selling them short.
Over there lived the founder of Walgreens, and over there lived one of the major shareholders of Exxon Oil. Oh and Ross Perot lives down that street.
It was incredible.
Once again, I thought about how my circumstances have changed so dramatically so quickly. Two days ago I was walking around neighbourhoods where I was worrying about getting shot.
Now I was hobb-nobbing with the elite of Dallas.
Daniel’s sister is Evelyn, and her husband is Fred. They have a magnificent house – you could call it a mansion – and they generously invited us to a second Thanksgiving meal, a dinner, but we had to gratefully decline. Jennifer was still not well, and we had to go check into our new luxury digs.
Things are moving on other fronts. Financial. I won’t go into it yet, but things are now in process. This would not be happening had I not come to Dallas on November 23rd, and taken in the cosmic rays.
By the way, Nick the motel owner at the Shady Oaks came over and said goodbye to us as we were leaving this morning. He was sad to see us go, and I must admit I was sad to be leaving him. He was, and is, a wonderful man. He actually followed the car out and stood on the sidewalk and waved to us as we drove away.
That’s a memory I’ll never forget.
We checked out of the Shady Oaks this morning.
As I was putting the bags in the car, the man in the room next door drove up.
I went over and talked to him, and in fact ended up doing an interview with him for the film.
His name is Albert, he's a large man, and he confirmed that he's been living in the motel for eight years.
He lives with his girlfriend who never comes out of the room. Her legs are paralysed from high blood pressure. I assume diabetes.
We had an interesting chat.
He's a former serviceman in the Armed Forces, and now works in a warehouse. He's hoping that he'll retire soon, and with his retirement fund he'll have enough money to move out of the Shady Oaks and buy a house.
He's a deeply religious man. He told me he'd been an alcoholic and a drug user, but he was now off all that, thanks to the Lord. He thought astrology was the work of the devil.
He gave me a fascinating interview.
And as he walked away he told me he hoped the Lord would save my soul.
I hoped the same for him!
Right now I'm in a cheap Mexican joint having Heuvos Chorizo, waiting till I can check into the Adolphus Hotel, the five star we'll now be staying in.
And soon we'll drive to our Thanksgiving lunch, which promises to be a huge spread. Our host has invited some people whom she thinks will be possible investors.
So it's a big day ahead!
I woke up this morning at 4:24am – Thanksgiving Day in America – to the news that a young talented cricketer has died from an injury received in a cricket match.
His name was Phillip Hughes, and he was 25 years old.
My wife and I are avid cricket fans, and we’ve followed his career from the moment he burst onto the world stage with flair and prominence several years ago.
As a young batsman he was a prodigy. He was audacious, and thrilling to watch. He played gutsy courageous cricket with immaculate style.
And now he’s dead.
Two days ago he was playing in a Sheffield Shield game – a regular state level game – when he was struck by a bouncer. A bouncer is what’s called a “short pitched delivery” – a fast ball bowled to the batsman that bounces up suddenly and erratically – most often at head height.
A cricket ball is a lethal weapon. It’s hard as a rock, and fast bowlers send it down the pitch at close to 100mph. When the ball is a bouncer, the batsman has very little time to react.
Within the rules of cricket a bouncer is a legal delivery. It’s often used to intimidate and unnerve the batsman so that in subsequent deliveries he might make a mistake.
Phillip Hughes saw that this particular ball was coming for his head and he turned slightly away, to protect his face. The ball hit him on the back of his neck just under his helmet. It stuck the main artery leading to his brain.
Doctors later said that the burst artery immediately flooded his brain with blood. Evidently this happens very rarely, and is always fatal.
I haven’t watched the video of what happened – it would upset me too much – but after the ball struck him he stood still gazing blankly at the ground for a couple of seconds, then fell face first into the ground like a sack of wheat.
Those that saw it said it was a sickening moment.
Hughes was treated immediately on the pitch, then taken to hospital where he was put onto life support. Two days later – today Sydney time – he died.
It saddens me beyond words.
He was young, he was freakishly talented, and he always played with such grace. People who knew him said that he was a “good bloke,” which in Australian slang is about the highest compliment you can give a man.
Certainly watching him on the field he always seemed a gentleman. He came from a small country town and he exhibited old fashioned values of respect and decency.
Australia is grieving.
According to the newspapers I’m reading, there has never been such an outpouring of grief in my country to the passing of a sportsman.
Phillip Hughes was loved and admired by cricket fans. Certainly by Jennifer and me. I feel very sorry for his family and those that are personally affected by his death. But I also feel very sorry for the bowler. It wasn’t his fault. It was an accident. Yet he will live with it for the rest of his life.
At Thanksgiving lunch today I will be thinking of Phillip Hughes. And thanking him for inspiring me with his courage and flair and grace.
You’re a good bloke mate and we’ll miss you.
PGS - The Way 
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