The Rule of Won Read Online Free

completely
imagine
you’ve already achieved some goal in your life, you
will
win it.”
    I can barely say two words in front of a group without swallowing my tongue, but he was chugging along.
    â€œThink about that,” he said. “Anything you want. Money, fame, friends. The universe has
everything
in it and enough of everything for everybody. Like the book says, the difference between where you are and where you want to be is inside you.”
    â€œRight,” I was thinking. “If the universe is really just a huge Wal-Mart and you’ve got unlimited credit, why doesn’t everyone
already
have whatever they want?”
    I didn’t expect him to hear me, since I was thinking and nottalking, but he said, “You’re probably wondering: If it’s that simple, then why doesn’t everyone already have whatever they want?”
    Now I added “a little too freaky” to the list.
    â€œIt’s because we hold ourselves back, set up our own failures. Because of bad experiences, bad teaching, or just bad expectations, most of us expect the worst from life, so that’s what most of us get. The universe
only
gives you what you ask for, so if you think about getting sick long enough, you’ll get sick. If you imagine someone beating you up often enough, someone will beat you up.
But
. . . imagine getting a new car long enough and that’ll happen, too. Imagine losing weight or gaining muscle, and you will.”
    Yeah? Funny, but I didn’t remember asking for the freaking school to cave in, or for All-den to be there to rat me out, or for everyone to hate me. I didn’t
want
any of that.
    â€œOur every single thought does not become instantly real. It takes time and effort. Plant the thought, tend the thought, and the event will grow. Our thoughts are either our servants or our masters.”
    Ethan picked up the book and shook it at us, like the words in it were water and he could shower us with them. “You don’t have to wonder or guess about any of this. We’re going to prove it all here, ourselves, by using our
mesmories
to
imanifest
our
craves
.”
    Even if I didn’t believe him, I was at least half following him until he started speaking in gibberish. Now I was like, “Do the who with what to where?”
    â€œLet me give you an example.”
    Please.
    â€œOn the back of the door to my room there’s a framed print of the
Proverbs of Hell
by William Blake. He’s this eighteenth-century poet I couldn’t care less about, but my mother left it to me when she died. When I wake up, it’s the first thing I see; the last when I fall asleep. I see it so often that wherever I am I can close my eyes and picture it just as clearly as if it were in front of me.”
    He closed his eyes.
    â€œRight now I can see the tear in the corner, a splinter sticking out the side of the frame, even the exact shape of a little apple juice stain above the ‘P’ in ‘Proverbs.’ This is called a ‘mesmory,’ a sense memory, something you can remember just as clearly as you can see. When you can picture your heart’s desire as clearly as I can that poster, it’s sure to be yours. Got it?”
    Got it. Maybe.
    He wrote quickly on the blackboard in neat block letters. “I’ve set up a private message board. Sign in with this password, real names only, and please don’t share it with anyone outside the Crave. I want everyone who’s interested to post Craves—things you want, but true things, maybe even things you think aren’t even possible. Anything, really. Sky’s the limit. Next meeting, I’ll pick one out and we’ll work on it together.”
    He turned back and gave us a smile like the one on Vicky’s button. “I don’t expect you to post your deepest secret desires. We don’t know each other that well. But if you want results, take it seriously, and keep it