Read the book: «Discover Your Destiny with The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari: The 7 Stages of Self-Awakening»

CHAPTER 1
A Spiritual Emergency

Life does not listen to your logic; it goes on its own way undisturbed. You have to listen to life; life will not listen to your logic, it does not bother about your logic.

—Osho

I could feel the coolness of the metal against my head. How could it have come to this? I was actually sitting in a shabby motel room with a gun pushed up against my temple, ready to squeeze the trigger. Sweat was pouring down my forehead and my heart was beating wildly. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. No one knew where I was. No one seemed to care anymore. I had nothing to live for. So I was preparing to die.

I could see the headline of my obituary right now: “Dar Sandersen, international hotel entrepreneur, divorced father of three, dead at age 44—by his own hand.”

But as I closed my eyes and said a final prayer aloud, something unexpected—no, miraculous—happened. I began to feel dizzy and fell to the floor, the gun dropping out of my hand. As I lay there, motionless, a blinding white light began to fill my body. But before you dismiss my story, please know that I’ve always been a very grounded and reasonable person. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I’d always chuckled on hearing stories of the mystical, deeming them flaky and irresponsible. I didn’t—and still don’t—talk to angels, nor do I run my life according to the daily position of the stars. Yet, I cannot discount or deny what happened to me in that motel room only twelve months ago. Was it an experience of the divine? Was it a spiritual awakening? Was it simply a physical reaction to the extreme stress I was experiencing? Truthfully, I do not know. What I do know is what happened there set into motion a series of events that have transformed every element of the life I once knew.

The light grew brighter and brighter. Soon, my entire body began to shake, as if I were experiencing a massive seizure. Sweat flowed out of me in torrents as my arms, legs and torso trembled on the cold and filthy floor. This continued for what seemed like an eternity. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, came these words that pierced the deepest part of me: “Your life is a treasure and you are so much more than you know.”

That was it. Once these words flashed across my mind, I stopped shaking. I just lay there, in a pool of perspiration, staring up at the ceiling. I had never felt such internal peace in all my life. I was completely in my body, fully within my heart. Life is a treasure and you are so much more than you know.

After a while, I slowly rose to my feet and packed up my belongings. Something deep within me had shifted, though I can’t explain it—I just felt it. I no longer had an interest in taking my own life. Maybe that voice was right—maybe I did have much more within me than I was currently aware of.

Generally, when we face hard times, we think the way we see the world reflects the way it really is. This is a false assumption. We are simply viewing the world from our hopeless frame of reference. We are seeing things through sad and hopeless eyes. The truth of the matter is that when we begin to feel better, our world will look better. And when we return to a state of joyfulness within, our outer world will reflect that feeling to us. I’ve learned that the world is a mirror. We receive from life not what we want but who we are. I’ve also learned that there are seasons to our lives and painful times never last. Trust that the winter of your sorrow will yield to the summer of your joy, just as the brilliant rays of the morning always follow the darkest part of the night.

I no longer was a desperate case, feeling sorry for myself. I no longer saw no way out. Some sort of power had been returned to me that day. And though my life was still a mess, truth be told, I had begun to know that I possessed the power to improve it. For some reason, I trusted that help was on the way and that happier days were coming. Little did I know how wonderful this help would be and how beautiful my life would become. But before I get into these details, you may be wondering what circumstances led my spirit to fall into such a state of decay that I could even consider taking my own life.

Only a few years ago, I thought I was living the life everyone dreamed of. I had a lovely and intelligent wife who loved me deeply. I had three healthy and happy children who excelled at all they chose to do. I was making more money than I could have ever imagined, as the owner of a string of hip boutique hotels located at sophisticated hot spots around the globe. Movie stars, the fabulously wealthy and the glitterati in general were among my clients. I traveled to exotic places, accumulated many toys and became fairly well known, at least in the market-space within which I worked.

Then, one day, my entire world fell apart. I arrived home late after a business dinner with the vendor of a property I was interested in buying. Rachel usually left a few lights on for me but, on this night, the house was completely dark. It made no sense—it was only ten o’clock. Where was Rachel? Where were the kids?

I walked inside and turned on the lights in the entrance hall and the kitchen. Only silence greeted me. But on the kitchen table was a note in Rachel’s familiar handwriting. It read:

Dar, I’ve taken the kids to my mother’s place. I do not love you anymore. I’m sorry. My lawyer will call you in the morning.

Nothing can prepare you for a letter like that—nothing. Although I had pretended that my marriage was working, I knew we had drifted apart. All the time away from home, traveling and doing business, had been time stolen away from my marriage and family, and the love we once knew was gone. I had also pretended to be a good father and, from the outside, I probably seemed that. But the wise souls of my children knew the truth. Even when I was sitting right next to them, I wasn’t really there. My mind never left the business and emotionally, I was unavailable. I guess the truth is that I was an extraordinarily selfish man back then. I believed the world revolved around me. No one else’s needs and no one else’s feelings mattered nearly as much as mine. I wanted to be rich. I wanted to be recognized. I wanted to win. And in the process, I lost what was most important.

The letter and the divorce litigation that ensued ripped my heart out. I was forced out of my own home and began to live in one of my hotels. I could see my kids only once a week and every few weekends. I began to drink heavily and gained an embarrassingly excessive amount of weight. I had always been ruggedly handsome and very fit, but that all unraveled. I’d wake up with searing migraines that would not leave me until I doused them with alcohol. Thankfully, I did not lose my business. I’d been smart enough to put in place a first-class management team who, out of loyalty to me, ran the show while I was busy licking my wounds. Sure, I’d attend the odd meeting and close the odd deal. But, mostly, I was home alone, sitting in a dark room listening to old Billie Holiday songs and having long conversations with Jack Daniels. This was the misery that eventually led me to that seedy motel room I told you about. But you should know that this was the misery that also led to my salvation.

I have discovered that pain and adversity are powerful vehicles to promote personal growth. Nothing helps you learn, grow and evolve more quickly. Nothing offers you as big an opportunity to reclaim more of your authentic power as a person. Our human eyes view it as a negative experience. This is pure judgment and behind this false belief is pure fear. You see, suffering occurs when something happens that we did not want. It occurs when life gives us something unexpected, some new condition. And the appearance of a new condition in our lives, whether this means an illness or the loss of a loved one or a financial setback, means we must change and leave the old, the shores we once clung to. We are asked to let go of what we expected and, for a human being, letting go can be frightening. We are afraid to leave the safe harbor of the familiar and the known. We resist traveling to the unknown places our lives sometimes lead us towards. The very thought of doing so scares us. Behind all resistance to the new is fear.

But there is nothing to fear. This universe of ours is a far friendlier place than we realize. A boat that never ventures beyond its moorings will never be damaged, but that’s not what boats are made for. Similarly, a human being who never dares to walk out into the unknown spaces of his or her life will never get hurt—but that is not what human beings were designed for. We were made to experience the growth that comes from visiting foreign places as travelers through life. Our wiser eyes know this truth and see change and suffering for what it really is: a caring physician that comes to heal the sick part of our selves. Suffering serves to deepen us. Suffering comes to help us and causes us to know who we truly are. Suffering cracks us open, forcing us to let go and surrender all that we have known and clung to, like a little child on her first day of school, afraid to let go of her mother’s hand and walk alone into a classroom full of new friends where she will learn so many new and beautiful things. The unknown is where “the new” exists and the new is the only place in the world where you will find possibility. And every human being is hardwired to run towards possibility and potential in their lives. We were all designed to be great. So how can you say suffering is bad when it is the very thing that makes you better? Yes, the human side of us feels the pain as we endure it. That’s natural. But this pain will eventually subside and a richer, stronger, wiser you will emerge.

“Fear not the unknown, for it is where your greatness resides,” said a very special teacher of mine, one whom you are about to learn much about. Most people spend the best years of their lives in the place of the known. They lack the courage to venture out into foreign territory and are frightened to leave the crowd. They want to fit in and are afraid to stand out. They dress like everyone else, think like everyone else and behave like everyone else, even if doing so doesn’t feel right to them. They are reluctant to listen to the call of their hearts and try new things, refusing to leave that shore of safety. So they do what everybody else does. In so doing, their once-shining souls begin to darken and wrinkle. “Death is only one of many ways to lose your life,” said adventurer Alvah Simon.