I was recently asked about my writing process and it occurred to me that I attempt to take too much credit for my thoughts, ideas, concepts, and teachings. If I’m being completely honest, I don’t believe that me, you, or anyone else has an original thought. Yep — get over it… you’re not original… and neither am I.

When I write, the God’s honest truth is that I have no idea where my thoughts come from. I’m clearly just a vessel for someone else’s muses. I sit down to write and the ideas just flow. The majority of the time before I put my fingers to the keyboard, I have no clue what I’m going to say. I sit there, close my eyes, wait… and hope inspiration strikes. And, it always does.

It’s as if I’m conducting a personal séance, begging for someone/something much smarter, greater, larger than me to whisper in my ear and just start dictating. Kind of like now… and the words begin to flow.

But whose inspiration is it? That’s the real question. Is someone from the great beyond sending me these ideas? Is a soul from my past life working its way into the present? I have no clue. What I do know is that when I wrote my first book Journey To You: A Step-by-Step Guide to Becoming Who You Were Born to Be, I had never sought to help anyone through my writing.

Sure, I had conversations where I was asked for advice and I’d suggest they try ‘x’ or ‘y’, but that was just talk… you know, two people hanging out shooting the shit. I wasn’t (and still am not) a therapist so, no matter what I said, I knew if they really needed help, there were much better options than me and whatever pittance of guidance I offered could be discarded at a moment’s notice.

But, there I was in front of the computer trying to create a framework others could leverage to live powerfully — with purpose and conviction — and become clear on what they are truly compelled to do. For some reason, was compelled to help others discover their inherent gifts and create a life they could be proud of and get paid extraordinarily well doing what comes as naturally to them as breathing… and I had no clue what to say.

So I started typing. At first, I wrote just random thoughts. Then, the thoughts developed into concepts. And, the concepts matured into a tangible process. A real, honest to God, workable process that may just be able to help someone.

And as I read back what I wrote, I thought, “Damn. This is pretty good. My hat goes off to whoever wrote this.” And, then I remembered that the words had come from me… from my mind… to my fingertips… to the screen in front of me.

Or did they? To this day, I can say with all seriousness that I have no clue where my ideas come from. I’m certainly not egotistical enough to believe that I possess a shroud of brilliance. However, I’m sane enough to know that I’m here, in this body, leveraging this mind and I’m definitely not possessed… but I am confused.

Where does it all come from? How do ideas manifest? And, perhaps most importantly, to whom do I give credit?

At times I feel guilty… almost an impostor pretending to be someone I’m not. I’ve resigned myself to accept the fact that ideas simply float around in the universe waiting for someone to snag them… to be their receptacle and bring the idea to fruition.

It’s kind of like when you invented a blanket with sleeves but did nothing about it and six years later you saw the Snuggie on TV… and proceeded to throw a brick at it screaming unintelligible obscenities that sounded reminiscent of “that was my idea.”

In the end, I’m thoroughly convinced it’s about being ready. So be ready to receive… and act. But, for the love of everything holy, please don’t take too much credit… 🙂