When I was in my twenties, I left Europe and moved to New Zealand. When I travel I don’t fit in easily and no matter where I am, I want to go home after a short while. But with New Zealand I felt differently. I felt home. The beauty of the landscapes was breathtaking: ancient rain forests hanging on tightly to rugged cliffs and overlooking the ocean below, sheep roaming free like dandelions across the sun-burnt green fields and majestic fjords embraced by thick rain clouds cutting deep into the sea. The entire country smells like freshly-cut grass and spring flowers after a warm summer rain. Every evening I walked outside my house in Auckland and looked up to the sky. White clouds were racing across the dark heavens. In between the clouds you could see the starlight shining through the dark floor of heaven, reaching us with the embrace of a little hope for the infinite. This became my spiritual home.
Sadly things didn’t work out well for me and after one year I had to leave New Zealand. I roamed the world back and forth for years and left my friends and family behind.
I felt alone, restless, with my emotional roots pulled from the ground by severe storms of change. I was always in a different place, and carried a silent desperation in my heart to find a little peace of mind and rest my soul.
Always on the run, I slept in cheap motel rooms or at some friend’s place, crushed in the arms of strangers for a night or two. I just couldn’t find peace of mind again. Every Christmas brought in my heart the low-burning hope that “maybe this year I will go back to New Zealand”, but this hope always came with the disappointing realization that it will not happen this year. I tried, I hoped, I prayed, but I never had the chance to go back to my spiritual home.
Three years later, I toured the United States with my movie and live shows, teaching people how to make their dreams a reality even if they start with almost nothing. I was driving on the freeway and told my partner: “Don’t you find it interesting that I teach others how to live their dreams, but I don’t have a home. I’ve been trying for three years to go back to New Zealand but I never made it. You know what: this year, no matter what will happen, no matter how much it will cost, no matter what I have to give up on, I am going back. No apologies, no excuses. I am going back to my spiritual home.” She smiled and said nothing.
I parked the car on a hot Friday evening in Phoenix, Arizona in front of the spiritual center where I was to have my next event. People started to walk in and the atmosphere was very friendly, but announced nothing uncommon. I walked on stage, shared the story of my expeditions to the North and the South Pole and then played the movie. I had seen it too many times, so I walked outside and sat down on the sidewalk for about one hour, thinking about nothing. I was enjoying the silent and soft presence of a huge, beautiful tree in the parking lot, when a man in his sixties showed up running, waving a piece of paper. He thought I was the guy selling tickets at the door so I just smiled and waved him in without saying a word.
The night ended peacefully and I walked back to my hotel room. When I woke up, it was already burning hot in Phoenix. I drove to the spiritual center and started preparing for my workshop when the same man from last night walked in the room.
“Are you the speaker?” he asked me speaking louder than appropriate for the context and looking a bit too happy, as if he was trying to hide something. I said “Yes” with an obvious questioning mind.
“This will probably be very strange to you, but I have to do this” he said looking straight at me with his deep blue eyes. “This morning I was doing my meditation, as I do everyday, and something curious happened.
I don’t understand but maybe it means something to you. I was praying and I’ve heard the voice of The Holy Spirit talking to me. It told me to open my eyes and go to the safe, take this money, and then drive to this event and give it to the speaker. To be honest, I don’t know who you are, and I didn’t want to be here today, but I had to drive all the way to give you this. Maybe it means something to you, I don’t know.”
And he handed me ten New Zealand dollars.
“Maybe it’s something God wants you to know, maybe it’s money to pay for the cab or something. I’ve never been to New Zealand. A friend of mine left these bills in my house a few years ago when he visited me. This morning I got them from the safe to give them to you” he continued.
I didn’t know what to say. I simply thanked him and put the bills in my pocket. We had never met before and he had no idea I’ve been dreaming of going back to New Zealand every day for three years. He had no idea I had made the decision the day before to go back no matter what. I had no idea why he drove all the away even though he didn’t want to. I felt an immense feeling of gratitude for the message. I just knew.
Nothing happened for another three months. I kept traveling restless around the world, doing live events and writing. One day somebody wrote me asking if I would be interested in doing an event in New Zealand. And then another. And another. And another. I just knew. I was finally going home.
His words still echo in my heart today: “The Holy Spirit told me to give you this gift.”
After three years, I am now back in New Zealand, touring with events and writing this story for you. Holy Spirit, thank you for your message. Thank you for carrying me back home. Dear reader, stay curious and stay open.
Even in our darkest doubts, Spirit loves us and has gifts for us. @DrDragosB (Click to Tweet!)
Whoever you are, wherever you are, you are loved.
Dr. Dragos
DR. DRAGOS – Internationally renowned scientist and filmmaker, director of the award winning documentary film, THE AMAZING YOU, featuring NASA legends, Rock stars, New York Times bestselling authors and the Angry Birds. Dragos spoke at conferences on five continents and his work has been translated in sixteen languages. Check out his new book: Sleepers. You can follow him on Twitter or FB.
Image courtesy of Luis Llerena.
