First there is thought ....

"Matter is the evolution of energy. First there is thought, then there is thought form, and then there is matter. Matter is only thought that has been thought upon by more." --- Abraham


I love this quote; I receive them daily by Abraham. Abraham has such a way with words, I’ve always loved the Abraham material. It’s one of the few sources of channeled material that I follow. I used to get readings at psychic fairs and things all the time back in the 80s. But when I started channeling my own angelic frequencies, I stopped paying attention to almost all of it. Lazaris (channeled by Jach Purcell), Abraham (Esther Hicks), and Emmanuel (Pat Rodegast) are the ones I paid attention to, as well as the Law of One material. The information rang so true … it still does. I still want to attend an Abraham event one of these days.


“First there is thought … ” says Abraham. “Thoughts are things,” my mom used to say. Of course she’s right. Moms often are. I am pretty careful about what I think, thanks in part to her stance on the subject. I’m even more careful about what I say. I learned this lesson in a really valuable & unforgettable way, once upon a time. (If I had to guess, I would put it in the mid-80s.) If you’ve attended any of my workshops you may have heard this story. I was driving north on Rt. 116 between Middlebury and Bristol. Probably right around the turn off to Bristol Notch I came up behind a panel truck, rather like a regular UPS boxy truck. This part of the road is all straight and flat, so we were trucking along, both of us. Well, then we get up aways where we start going around and over the New Haven river—curves in the road. This truck ahead of me isn’t slowing down much, I notice. Especially the nasty S-turn with the bridge in the middle—he blew right through it. So now I’m on alert. I had been through a couple of accidents in the preceeding year, and wasn’t interested in seeing another, even from a distance, so I started calling in my spirit guides and angels.


We’re heading through Bristol Flats, past the Johnson Lumber Mill, and I’m getting very anxious at the stop sign ahead at the 4-way intersection. North and south-bound drivers have stop signs there, the east-west bound drivers did not. The truck is still sailing along ahead of me, doing about 60; ahead of us is the intersection with our stop sign, and there are cars crossing in front of us, I can see them up ahead, going both ways. At some point—it gets blurry because I think I just leapt out of my body or something—I figured out that he wasn’t going to stop. Or even slow down. But the next thing I knew as he got almost to the intersection, I had my crystal wand in my hand and screamed, “He’s got to stop!” The instant I shouted there was a loud and prolonged screech of brakes. The truck slid past the stop sign, but came to rest before actually entering the intersection.


I had stopped myself, my heart pounding so hard in my throat it hurt. I sat there behind this truck, wondering what the hell had happened, and what was up with this driver, and thank god for miracles. I looked at the wand in my hand—a beautiful wand, it had a large crystal set in the top, as big as my thumb, protruding three inches from the copper tube, wrapped with navy blue leather. I loved that wand, it was my “car wand.” I had made it a few years before, and with its doubly terminated crystal, it was indeed very powerful. I had never, however, put it to this kind of test. So I sat there, breathing hard, trying to calm down, and watching the truck as it just sat there. There was no longer any traffic going through the intersection, all was quiet, and still he just sat there. After what had to be a couple minutes, the truck ambled across the intersection, still heading north. That’s the direction I was going, so I followed him.


On the other side of the intersection, in the middle of the road, the truck just stopped. Obviously, the driver must be either falling asleep or on something, and was probably freaked out right about now. I just sat there, waited behind it. I didn’t want to intrude on whatever thought process was going on in that truck. After a minute or two, a man got out of the truck. Looking very dazed and confused, he meandered over to stand at my window. I rolled it down. “Do you know where I can get a cup of coffee?” he asked. “I think you need a nap,” I responded. “No, no,” he mumbled. “I just need coffee …” He took off his bill cap and rubbed his eyes. “If you go up that hill there, you’ll go up to the village of Bristol and you can get coffee there,” I pointed for him. But he was looking back at that intersection. “I don’t know what happened back there,” he said. “I did not see that stop sign.” I got chills all over. He made to walk away. “Please take care of yourself, get some rest,” I said to his back. I thought about it all the way home… about the mechanics of what happened. “First there is thought,” says Abraham. I had been nervous and wary about the driver in that truck, but obviously I hadn’t thought about doing anything about it—really, what could I have done? No cell phones in every pocket in those days. But I could do something, turns out. I had a thought. And it was just the right thing.


I asked David Wilcock about it four years ago, when I was giving him a ride back to the airport after his keynote appearance at the annual convention of the American Society of Dowsers. In his talk he had explained about what the Russians call the “morphogenic field” that connects all of Life, this consciousness field of which we are all a part. “There’s only one of us here,” he often says.

“So when I shouted, holding the wand, I sent that vibration through the field and he got it?” I asked. I don’t remember his response word-for-word, but he said something like, with the force of energy behind my words, due to the intensity of the situation, and with my visualizing and intention for his stopping projected through the crystal wand, the thought form necessary to stop the truck was created. I certainly haven’t mastered the art of manifestation, but I keep at it. And I am ever grateful for that occasion, once up on a time, when I just might have helped effect the aversion of something terrible. (I hope the person that stole that beautiful wand from my car several months later is treating it carefully.)


“First there is thought … ” says Abraham. What are yours?