خاتمه

AFTERWORD

What You Can Expect with Psycho-Cybernetics

Congratulations, you’ve reached a new beginning. No, not the beginning of this book—but rather, the beginning of a new you, an ever-evolving you. Just think, this book was first published more than a half century ago—yet the principles and techniques are just as valid today as they’ve ever been. And they continue to inspire people and change lives all over the planet. Each day, people from all over the world come to psycho-cybernetics.com, subscribe to our list, and/or send me emails telling about their positive experiences. It’s truly awesome to be part of this journey with you.

To close out this book, I’d like to cover a couple important “signs” that you may, over time, begin to notice in your life when you regularly implement the daily practice of Psycho-Cybernetics—in particular, using mental imagery in a relaxed state.

First, you will begin to notice that the calm, relaxed state you put yourself into before using mental imagery will grow stronger and you’ll carry this calmness with you throughout the day. If you ever miss a day, you’ll definitely notice a difference and will want to immediately get back on track.

With each consecutive day of practice, your ability to picture and feel positive will also increase. Over time, this leads to a feeling of being in flow. Yet this flow doesn’t come if you only read the book or practice once in a while. It’s the “daily bath” you take in the principles of Psycho-Cybernetics that makes the difference.

Second, you’ll note that Psycho-Cybernetics, unlike other self-help systems, does not tell you to set a deadline for the goals you want to achieve. This does not mean that having an end date attached to your goal is wrong—but it may be wrong for the goal. There are goals that are helped with timelines and goals that are hindered.

The purpose of mental imagery is to give your Creative Mechanism a goal to move toward without inhibition or tension. You feed this goal to your brain and nervous system with imagery and emotion. If you attach a definite date to the goal, you may actually clog the mechanism and cause a jam. You’ll know if you’ve done such a thing if you begin to feel tense or nervous about whether or not you can achieve the goal by the date you’ve set for yourself. Some people who have set financial goals and put dates of accomplishment by them can’t figure out why they’ve gone into a negative mental state. Oftentimes it’s because they have trouble believing they can achieve the financial goal by the date they’ve set.

Based on my own experience in this matter, as well as all the people I’ve coached over the years, I believe anyone would be better served without the rigid time frame. You could just begin to imagine the goal—and feel good about having it. You could imagine what you want, and when the action steps come to you, you follow through. Once you’ve taken these actions, you make progress. You may be surprised that you feel better and achieve your goal sooner than you’d expected. Why? Because you never had to fight a belief about when you were going to achieve your goal. You only had to convince yourself that you could and would achieve the goal. Your automatic guidance system never got jammed.

Third, in the beginning you’re better off picturing a short-term goal or project—as well as something that tends to be emotionally charged. Picturing something you’d like to create in a day or a week is better than having a goal that is a year or further in the distance. Play around with this process and have fun with it. Start with small stuff before tackling the big stuff. In this way you’ll build confidence in the process—and in yourself.

Fourth, over time, as you use mental imagery on a daily, consistent basis, other mental skills may begin showing up in your life. What type of skills? In Psycho-Cybernetics, you will see how many times Dr. Maltz referred to parapsychology and the work of Dr. Rhine of Duke University on skills like ESP, clairvoyance, telepathy, and so on. Based on the number of times he mentioned it, as well as the fact that he mentioned it at all, I’m willing to bet that the topic was of deep interest to him. I’m also willing to bet that Dr. Maltz wrote about these topics (albeit briefly) because, with the daily practice of mental imagery and feeling, his sixth sense, and all that goes with it, improved dramatically.

Why do I say this? How can I make such a bold statement? Because it happened to me. I began having intuitive flashes, sensing things at levels I didn’t believe were possible for me, doing healing work on others, and so on. And this happened of its own accord. I did nothing in the beginning to make it happen or even to learn more about it. In fact, I was actually a bit frightened by the reality of these seemingly unreal experiences.

As Dr. Maltz said in the beginning of this book, he was reluctant to discuss or talk about many of these experiences because “if I presented some of the case histories and described the rather amazing and spectacular improvements in personality, I would be accused of exaggerating, or trying to start a cult, or both.” Even so, I believe now is the time to open these other abilities to those who’d like to pursue them under the umbrella and direction of the Psycho-Cybernetics Foundation Inc.

If you’ll recall from an earlier mention, Major League Baseball Hall of Famer Stan “the Man” Musial openly declared that he had the gift of ESP—he’d hear a voice telling him what pitch was coming when he was at the plate—and the voice was never wrong. Makes me wonder how many Hall of Fame athletes have a sixth sense for what is going on in the game that they don’t dare talk about.

It’s a fascinating topic of conversation at the very least. The way I see it, if the intuitive skills are showing up of their own accord, without your even asking for them or wanting them, then why not recognize this as a sign to learn more about these “gifts” so you can use them to help others and make your life better?

I’d like to close this afterword with a personal story you may find helpful in recognizing the freeing and healing power of forgiveness about which Dr. Maltz wrote.

In the summer of 1982, I was having the time of my life. I was happy. I was smiling. I was truly enjoying life. Yet, unbeknownst to me, I was only a few hours away from having a dramatic and traumatic experience; something that would scar me for life and change my face forever.

Along with a group of wrestlers and coaches, I had just returned to the University of Iowa after working a 14-day camp in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania. The following day a new camp would begin. This one would be 28 days long. I was excited to be working it—so excited, in fact, that in the early evening I went for a five-mile run with several of my teammates.

Afterward we sat in the sauna for 20 minutes, showered, and went out for pasta. Then we hit the bar for a few drinks. Back then the legal drinking age in Iowa was 19—and boy did I feel privileged. I felt on top of the world. After several drinks my good mood was further elevated. No one could touch me. No one could hurt me. I was invincible.

Next thing you know I’m involved in a fight and the guy I’m fighting doesn’t believe in rules. And so, after he tossed his beer on my shirt, I pushed him backward. He came back toward me and instead of trying to punch me with his bare fists, he grabbed an empty glass beer pitcher and threw a left hook. I did my best imitation of Muhammad Ali. I leaned backward to avoid the impact—but my agility fell short. He stepped through and whacked me across the right side of my face.

Glass shattered. Blood sprayed from my head as if it were shot from a fire hose.

I was laid open. The skin from my eyebrow, eyelid, and cheek hung down the side of my face. I lifted my long-sleeved T-shirt to my face, cushioned the dangling skin in my hand, and pressed it against my head to control the bleeding. My eyelid was shredded to ribbons. My cheek, upper lip, and neck were bleeding—and fragments of glass were nestled deep inside my eye and cheek.

I can still hear the horrifying screams of those who saw the blood gushing from me. I can still see myself being escorted outdoors.

An ambulance arrived within what seemed like seconds. The paramedics wrapped my head and rushed me to Emergency at the University Hospital in Iowa City.

In the ER, the doctors informed me that my face looked like a “jigsaw puzzle,” that I had glass fragments in my face and eye—and when they took a closer look, one doctor said, “My friend, somebody upstairs must have been looking out for you. You’re lucky you didn’t lose your eye.” Later on I was informed that I was lucky I wasn’t dead.

When I was lying on the table waiting to be stitched back together—a man showed up and called me by name.

I instantly recognized his voice. He was my coach, Dan Gable, an Olympic gold medalist, considered by many to be the greatest American wrestler and coach who ever lived. He was my childhood idol and role model—and now he stood next to me looking at my shattered face.

I was embarrassed and humiliated and could not hold back the shame I felt.

What an idiot I was.

As I broke down, Coach Gable looked at me and said, “What’s wrong?”

I was trying to formulate an answer—then the surgeon saved me by saying, “Coach, I think this is a traumatic experience he’s going through.” “Oh,” Coach Gable said. “I understand.”

That he did. When he was 15, he was in Wisconsin with his mother and father on a fishing trip. His older sister, Diane, was due to arrive the next day. She never made it because the night previous, a man had broken into the Gable home, where he raped and murdered her.

The agony from this experience crushed the Gable family. The mother and father didn’t want to live in the home any longer. A horrible crime took place there and the place, to them, was haunted.

Diane’s room was empty—and the pain of knowing this caused turmoil and fighting. Finally, sensing the family wasn’t going to survive if the fighting continued, young Dan stepped up and made an announcement.

“I’m moving into Diane’s room,” he said with his hands on his hips and his elbows flared like Superman.

Dan’s move saved the Gable family.

Now this same brave person was standing before me. He was a man, now with many championships and champions to his credit. He represented all the qualities I admired in a human being. I wanted to be like him. That was my goal all throughout high school—to be coached by Gable one day. And now, after one season on his team, I faced him with gaping wounds.

• • •

Seven hours later, when I was finally able to look at myself in the mirror, I was scarred and swollen. My head itched badly—yet when I tried to relieve it with a scratch, I didn’t feel anything. This lack of feeling lasted six months.

After the stitches were removed, I knew I had to put what happened behind me and get busy training. I had a national title to win and there was no time to sit around wallowing in self-pity. So I poured my heart and soul into training and school and ignored what had happened to me. I never spoke about it. I completely blocked it out of my mind.

A lawsuit was filed on my behalf. I didn’t really want anything to do with it at first. I felt guilty about what had happened. I knew I had played a part in causing it. But my mother and father pushed forward with it because, as they told me, although I did some inappropriate things, nothing I did equaled the need for someone to split my face open with a glass beer pitcher.

Five years later, when the settlement check was cut, I received a whopping $16,000—one-third of which went to the lawyer. When the check arrived, I really needed it. I was fresh out of college, had a national collegiate wrestling title under my belt, had opened a business as a personal fitness trainer—and needed to get equipment to train my clients, not to mention money to advertise.

Fast-forward to the summer of 2007. Twenty-five years had passed since the bar fight—and yet, until that day, I was not fully aware that I still needed to turn this memory loose with forgiveness.

That morning, when I went into my mental movie house and got into a relaxed state of mind, I realized something strange. I could not visualize my goals. I could not look at past successes or moments of happiness. There was a hidden movie in my mind that was begging for my attention and it wouldn’t go away. It was a dreadful ghost from the past. It was the memory of me at 19 years of age, getting into a bar fight in Iowa City.

Twenty-one years after the fight happened I began to write and talk about the incident for the first time. I told people who attended my seminars about it in order to help them rise above their own internal scars. I wanted them to see that despite being “scarred for life” I was able to turn what happened to me into a positive. Yet each time I told the story I was unable to do so without tears of grief pouring out of me. There was still incredible pain locked inside my mind about the fracas—pain I had never acknowledged—pain that was begging to be transformed.

And so, on that morning when I was unable to visualize my goals, I decided to do something I had never done before. I would not just talk about being scarred for life, I would not just write about it. With my eyes closed I would go back in time and see everything. I would relive the event. I would sit on the floor in the bar and watch as the beer pitcher cracked against my skin. I would hang from the lights to get a different view. I would sit on a bar stool for another perspective.

At first I was amazed at all the things I could do with the experience. Then, when I saw blood spurting from my head and witnessed how I lifted my shirt to my face, I asked myself, “What are you feeling right now?” This question prompted an avalanche of sadness. With my eyes closed, still reliving the trauma and sobbing uncontrollably, I mouthed the words, “I CAN’T FIGHT BACK.” For the first time in my young adult life, I was put into a situation where I couldn’t do anything except wait to get medical attention. For a competitive wrestler and athlete, not being able to fight back was utterly humiliating. This reality stung more than getting hit. And at that moment, without realizing it, I began to create an internal scar. The one on my face paled in comparison to the one locked inside of me.

In the midst of deep anguish, as I sat on the floor continuing to relive what I believed to be a horrible experience that I thought I deserved, a voice of compassion and love came through the clouds. I’ve never written about it this way until now, but I believe the “voice” was guidance from Dr. Maltz, telling me, “Matt, you were 19. You made a mistake. Both of you made mistakes. Forgive yourself. Let it go. Forgive him, too. Stop carrying this pain around with you. You don’t need it anymore. Let it go. Bless yourself and bless the man who did this to you.” I began to follow the guidance I was being given. I pictured the man who hit me standing before me with the shattered remains of the pitcher in his hands. I saw and heard him letting out a loud shriek, apparently happy with what he had done. I looked at him and waved my hand at him in the shape of a smile. A big smile. I blessed him with a smile that I painted into the air between us.

Then the voice of guidance said, “Now look at the pitcher he’s holding . . . and turn it into a feather. A feather with ink on it. This feather is writing your ticket through life.” Then, just before I opened my eyes, I heard the voice again. “Matt, think how many people in the world have been put into a situation where they believed they couldn’t fight back. With the power of mental pictures and the feelings they create, you will show them how they can forgive themselves and others and greatly improve their lives as a result of doing so. Everything in life is a mental picture. Every goal you have begins as a picture in your mind. And anything you don’t like about yourself or your life can be changed by changing your mental pictures. Never forget: Even forgiveness is a mental picture.”