One typical day, I took my dog to the local park before work and let him run off-leash as all the other dog owners did during off-peak hours. It was about 98 degrees at 7:30 in the morning, and the park sprinklers had just turned off leaving a wet, and in places a muddy, mess. Elysium Fields is how my dog perceives such a scenario on a hot morning. He runs after the pigeons, chases any toy that is moving, runs alongside other dogs, then dives head first into the muddy stuff. He then rolls over repeatedly until he is properly coated in mud. It looks like so much fun I ve often thought I d join him, but my ego prohibits dog-like behavior amongst my neighbors.

The day in question saw him cover himself in mud and then run over to a woman sitting quietly under a shade tree with her Cocker Spaniel. Not only did he join them in his exuberant fashion, he decided to sit on her lap. Her mere 110 pounds were overwhelmed by his 85 pounds, not to mention the mud and his love of affection, so I ran over and apologized while attempting to get him off her. Fortunately for her, he did the puppy thing of letting me make an ass out of myself by chasing him around her.

Little did I know, in a few weeks time I would learn much about an angel through this woman. Getting to spend time with her was easy, as for some reason our dogs adored one another and liked to run in their own pack.

The weeks passed and I saw her now and again we waved or said hello. About three weeks later, my dog muddied himself again and went over to sit with her under the shade tree. Knowing his love of the lap, and how he persuaded people to dish out affection, I ran over to rescue her, but she waved me off and said she was fine.

We said hello, and then she said, “How do you get him home when he s like this?”

“I throw a towel over him and put him in the backseat. It s no big deal.”

We walked to our cars together, and when I opened my car door, she gasped. “That s disgusting.”

The next time I saw her September 11 had passed and we chatted about it politely for a few minutes, then the conversation turned towards the families who had not only lost loved ones, but also lost an income. I was appalled that the federal government did not step in with major assistance to show the world how we as Americans respond in a crisis. A country that gives time and money at a grass roots level would certainly care for its own.

“It s the same for people who work all life long and then retire. We should take care of them as a country. And be proud to do so,” I said.

She replied, “A famous angel once told me that we will naturally return to poverty, though the minority will always be wealthy.”

I did not know what to think of that, but later recalled a statistic that most people over the age of 65 in the USA lived pension check to pension check.

She added, “Most of us are unconsciously poor, and since our behavior stems from our thoughts, it makes sense that most people are in debt and broke. Even highly paid people rarely have any money.”

I smiled, and said, “What s a famous angel?”

“The Archangel Gabriel,” she replied. “I have heard this angel speak to me most of my life, and I still don t trust a word he says. But whatever he says always happens. He always turns out to be right.”

“You can talk to the angel Gabriel?” She smiled. “Will you just ask him right now how the hell I can make a ton of money and quit working so hard?”

She said, “He tells me this. You deserve to be rich. You have to be rich. That s one huge rule for all of you people. To understand that if you want to be enlightened, if you want to invite your higher self to come down here and to experience the life you choose, you have to be rich because you have to provide for yourself. You have to. You are the King. You are the Royal inside.”

I just looked at her like she was jinxed, or possessed. Who talks like that? She s a heretic. In a past life she would have been burned at the stake.

“Imagine this,” she continued. “What if God calls you on the phone and he tells you - I m going to be your guest this weekend. What would you do then? How would you greet him? How would you do it? What would you prepare for God? If God was to visit your house? Would you cook the best meal? Would you put the best linens on the bed? Would you clean the house? Would you create the most fantastic experience for your most beloved guest? Would you do that?”

I had no idea what to say. I remember thinking, “She s going to hell for thinking like that. I mean, isn t that against the law or something?”

She smiled and said, “Well, what would you do? God is coming to your house on Friday. What s your plan? Really. What would you do?”

I laughed awkwardly. “I don t know. But if it was really true, I d buy a new house, new furniture. Hell, I d buy some great food. I d make it special. Is that what you re getting at?” I shrugged my shoulders. “I d buy some new music, I don t know.”

“Well, that is what you have to do for yourself,” she stated firmly. “You deserve to be rich. Being poor is a disgrace to God. You believe some archaic religion that was designed to impoverish you, and you still subscribe to it. That s pathetic. You are royalty.”

“Are you rich?” I asked.

She laughed. “No. I would never listen to an angel, or disbelieve the church.” She kept laughing. “But if I ever do listen, I ll really enjoy life and live a wonderful life.”

At that point I was feeling uncomfortable and was ready to leave, so I started walking towards my car. Little did I know, she later said she got the same response from everybody.

However, I also felt better. I felt relieved. I felt less burdened in a mental way.

“I don t know about all this, but I ll be thinking about what you said for a few days,” I said nervously.

“He just said: That is how you should be treating yourself. At all times. With every single thought of yours. That you re God. And how would you think if you learned right now that you are God? How would you feel, and act?”

I chuckled. “I d quit my crap job, for starters.”

“Then quit your job. That s your higher self responding to your ability to live your life as you choose.”

“Unless my higher self is going to pay the mortgage, I ll just keep the job.”

It is important to anachronistically interject right here that we spoke of this issue for the next six months. And my income for that year was double my previous year, and I worked more freely than ever. The following year, I earned $399,000 at work, and over $200,000 through investments. I came to learn that making money is not the definition of being rich, and that being wealthy has its pros and cons.

Over those six months I asked her many money questions, getting rich questions, and wealth questions. I felt, as I listened to her, that I was ignorant in all three areas. We never got into the law of attraction, the secrets of getting rich, the wealthy mindset, and all that personal development stuff. She frequently said that we could all be very wealthy and live as we choose - read, watch tv, work less, goof off, have toys, take lots of vacations - and it would be easy. The hard part was the same hard part they taught in church: faith. But her definition of faith had my head spinning. It seemed what we were told about faith was impossible. That s not faith, she said. We were never expected to believe in something like idiots. Our brains were not wired that way.

During the winter months we spent less time together. It didn t get light until after 7:00 and I had to get to work. Because of the cold we walked and talked.

“Making excess money always seems so hard,” I said one day. “I d love to go out and buy a motorcycle, pay cash, and not think about it, ya know?”

“Of course it s hard. It should be hard the way you think about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It s out there for you,” she said waving her hand towards the horizon. “It s for somebody else. It grinds against your values and your upbringing. You must struggle. It s part of your religion. Life must be hard, and mysterious, and full of dramatic struggle or you re in trouble, right?”

I could not deny it. If I had a million bucks I d do what every other middle class American would do. I buy a few things, then I d buy a lot of things for my family and struggling friends. Then, like a lottery winner, I d be broke.

“That s your mindset,” she laughed. “Broke. Start thinking about being together, whole, and wealthy, just for a minute, and tell me how you feel.”

I had told her many times that just hearing her talk about what she described as “the Archangel Gabriel stuff” made me feel good. And it did. The feeling around her was different. I felt liberated. I dreamed more readily. I laughed more easily.

“Are there steps on how to be rich? Like a get rich scheme that you re privy to that you would share with me?” I was smiling, but I meant every word of it. I was sick and tired of working so hard to be broke.

She grimaced and nodded. “Of course. It s easier to be rich than it is to be poor. It s like living in a world of gravity and forcing everything up, and fighting for things to stay up, and thinking constantly about why they won t just stay up. And advertising about how great keeping things up is. And writing books about being up.” She threw her hands in the air, and said, “Keep everything up today and you ll know what I mean. Being broke is hard to do.”

“What about the people that live in an impoverished place on the Earth?” I asked eagerly. “Are they screwing up like me too?”

“It probably wouldn t be impoverished if the people living in the rich places didn t live they were poor.”

I thought, “That s crazy.” But given more thought, if people lived like they were rich, money would flow from banks. Water supplies would be cleaned up. Food sources would be developed. Inventions would flow towards areas where they were needed, not just where profits would be earned.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “What else. Aside from the gravity idea, what can I do today to make more money? I mean, can I do something to really put money in the bank now?”

“Sure. Think about it that way: how to put money in the bank. Not, I need to put money in the bank because I m broke. Or, I want to fill my empty bank account with money.”

She stopped talking. I waited. My expression welcomed more information.

“What?” she said. “That s it.”

“That s it? Where s the magic formula? Tell me specifically what I can do to bank some real cash.”

“I just did.”

I was starting to get irritated. I felt like she was withholding. And playing games when I was feeling very vulnerable.

“It s easy. You focus on you. You think about your life. You enjoy the thinking and go on about your life. In a few hours you ll start to feel better. You ll get some ideas, some actionable ideas.”

“I always do.”

“Yeah, but this time the ideas on what to do will be different. But just focus in the positive on what you want, and look for ways to get it. You ll be surprised. Your higher self knows everything that has ever existed. It knows of all lifetimes. Every thought Einstein ever had, you have. Every sound Mozart ever heard, you hear. It s law. Energy is never created or destroyed. This being the case, use your mind. Ask more questions, and listen. You won t be asked to do something crazy. Getting rich is easy.”

“You said you were broke too,” I said excitedly, in defense of my struggle.

“I am. But I ve seen a lot of people go from where you are to living well quickly on what I ve told you.”

As I mentioned, we spoke of these things for months. Over that time, I felt better about making money, having all my debts paid, having money in the bank, and most importantly, doing things I enjoyed doing. Work became easier. I was confident I would have money, so I relaxed and enjoyed myself. One weekend, I went out and bought that damn motorcycle I had to prove a point to myself.

One of the last days I was to see this woman, she said, “You re moving pretty soon. You bought another house, or something?”

We were walking through the park. It was a nice spring day and our dogs, now good friends, were off being thugs to the birds and rabbits.

“No. I hadn t thought about it,” I said.

Though I had offers of investments regularly, I was not a real estate investor. It was too slow to turn equity from a house into cash: there s my mindset! But more importantly, regarding her comment, I could not imagine not having her guidance to help me. Whenever we were together I liked what we spoke about, and I liked the way I felt. My vision was greater. My dreams were more colorful. I felt a deep confidence growing inside.

“You re moving soon,” she said strongly.

“If I bought a house, as an investment, I still wouldn t move,” I replied, feeling emotional about letting go, even though I had a history of moving every year.

“You re going to see if you can invest. Something great is coming your way.”

I think it was a few days later that a realtor friend called and said she had a $400,000 house that was selling for $200,000. That the buyer had walked away from a brand new house leaving the builder with inventory he could not afford to have. She said I had an hour to buy it as the builder s agent was calling every realtor in town. I bought that house, and I loved it. It was perfect. It had all the best upgrades. It felt amazing inside. And in the backyard was my very own swimming pool.

Escrow closed and I was eager to live in that house. Besides, it was closer to some good friends and in a better area for me: closer to hiking. It was no more than 3 weeks after the close of escrow that I moved into my new house. Before I knew it, two months had passed before I returned to the park to get that woman s telephone number. I really wanted to maintain our friendship. Unfortunately, she was not at the park that day.

Several weeks later, I made the drive to the park at the regular time, and again she was not there. My heart sank. She had become a life coach of sorts. Her wisdom was profound and practical. My disappointment was short lived as I had a long drive to work, and my cell phone was ringing repeatedly.

Several years had passed since I spoke to the woman. Every so often I d feel sad and wish I could walk with her to feel uplifted. She had an accent, and at times it echoed in my ears, though I never asked about. She was very attractive. I remember thinking that at times, though I did not feel inclined to ask her into a romantic relationship. Things were perfect the way they were. As time passed, so did the memory of her, though the feelings were always sweet.

Then the other day I went into Trader Joe s to pick-up a sandwich for lunch, and there she was, digging through the cabbage. I felt glorious. I felt special, as though what we developed had made its mark on our lives. Fate worked its magic on us.

I was so excited I ran up to her, and practically shouted. “Hi, how are you?” I m sure my smile would have frightened most people. “How have you been? You live around here?”

I realized I knew nothing about her.

She was clearly surprised to see me, and for a split second I thought I had gone too far. Maybe I was just another person in the park to pass time with?

“Well, I thought I lost you,” she said excitedly. “To make sure that doesn t happen again, do you want to go on a date?”

Dale Burks writes from experience, and the aforementioned experience has happened. Go to http://www.prosperitynation.net to learn more about the exciting wisdom of being wealthy and living rich.

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