Excerpt from Wayne Dyer's new book, "I Can See Clearly Now"

  Here is an excerpt from my new book, "I Can See Clearly Now," which will be available on February 25 (http://promos.hayhouse.com/dyer/022514email/media.php):

It’s the middle of winter in 1959; I have been temporarily assigned to a brief tour of duty at Naval Air Station Patuxent River (NAVAIR) by Lexington Park, Maryland. I decide to put on my uniform and hitchhike home to Detroit to visit my mother, and especially my girlfriend, Linda. It is a distance of approximately 590 miles, and it usually takes 12 to 14 hours. Being in uniform generally means that someone will stop and give me a ride regardless of where I might be stranded. 

I set out on my weekend jaunt and catch a ride all the way to Washington, D.C. Several connections later I arrive at the Breezewood entrance to the Pennsylvania Turnpike. By now it’s close to midnight and the temperature has dropped dramatically. In the bitter cold I manage to catch a ride heading westbound, but the driver informs me that he’s only going as far as Butler, Pennsylvania. He doesn’t want to drop me off at the exit in the middle of the night because I’d be in grave danger of freezing to death—it’s well below zero, and the winds are blowing fiercely. I’m wearing a dark blue Navy peacoat, and standing in the dark unable to be seen by the drivers heading west on the turnpike could be disastrous. This friendly driver insists on dropping me off at one of the service-plaza restaurant stops on the turnpike just before his exit a few miles ahead. I agree. 

I head into the restaurant at around 3 A.M., get a cup of hot chocolate, and then head out to try my luck at catching a westbound vehicle—in the middle of the night, in the middle of what feels like nowhere, in the midst of the coldest weather I have ever experienced. On my way out to the ramp in the freezing darkness, I pass another sailor walking back to the restaurant. He has had no luck in securing a ride and tells me, “It’s bitter cold out there, buddy. I wouldn’t stand there too long; you could easily get frostbite if you’re not careful.”

I acknowledge him, wish him well, and head out to the turnpike. I stand there for 15 or 20 minutes—no luck. Almost frozen stiff, I decide to head back to warm up. When I enter the restaurant there’s only one person in the place: the sailor who spoke to me a few moments earlier, warning me not to stay out there too long. Imagine my surprise when I realize this sailor is my brother! 

Jim is stationed in Norfolk, Virginia. He too had decided to hitchhike home to see our mother and his fiancée, Marilyn, for the weekend; he too had been dropped off at the same exact spot. I had no idea that Jim’s submarine was even in port. I hadn’t had any contact with my brother in months, since his whereabouts on the sub was considered classified information. My own brother had spoken to me and warned me to be careful without even knowing that it was me. Together we stand in shocked disbelief at the mysterious forces that were at play in order to have this scene be a reality.

We meet the driver of an 18-wheeler who’s gassing up and tell him of the incredible “coincidence” that’s just transpired. This synchronistic event that brought Jim and me together in the middle of nowhere under these impossible conditions so impacts the truck driver that he drives us, out of his way, right to our front door at 20217 Moross Road in Detroit early on Saturday morning.

I cannot begin to tell you how many times Jim and I have shared the above story in the past 50-plus years. This event was deeply meaningful to the 19-year-old sailor I was. It introduced me to the world of synchronicity and the idea that there are no accidents in a world governed by a Divine intelligence. 

Today I look back at all of the events that had to come together perfectly for my brother and me to have that encounter in the middle of the night so many years ago, and I am no longer surprised. My life has been crammed full with these kinds of happenings—but this was the first big one that really caught my attention and changed the way I looked at things forever. I personally needed to be liberated from my own excessive rationalism at that time in my life.

In order to eventually write and speak about the world of Spirit I needed to know at the young age of 19 that there are no accidents or coincidences in a universe that is truly created and guided by invisible forces that elude rational explanation. I now see that we have no idea how anything gets created in this physical universe and that everything originates in something called Spirit, which no one can define or come close to explaining.

There is every reason to believe there is intelligence behind life. An intelligence that can keep the entire universe in perfect balance and create a rose from scratch, an intelligence that is in all things—“The spirit that gives life,” as Jesus said. This invisible intelligence can and does create miracles every second of every day. Bringing two brothers together in the middle of the Pennsylvania Turnpike is a minor achievement compared to creating life from nothing and assembling an infinite number of heavenly bodies to comprise an entire universe.