As if waking up in the beautiful swampy southern city of New Orleans isn't enough!
With the smell of good ole Louisiana chicory coffee and the temptation of Creole Eggs Benedict with a sidecar of waffles can't get you up and moving , nothing will.
In September 1995, I was in New Orleans to meet a man. I had never met him before, but every fiber in my being told me he was someone I needed to meet. Seeing his picture over and over made me want to meet him even more.
Watching the clock and hurrying through my morning routine, I surely did not want to miss this encounter. I didn't want to be a moment late because I felt it would be seen as a sign of disrespect.
Breakfast was inhaled and the stiff coffee was absolutely necessary. After all, this was New Orleans; I wasn't about to miss the most important meal of the day.
Making my way through the hotel, where our encounter was to occur, I was hoping to get an early glimpse, just a quick peek of the man I was so excited to know.
No such luck! He wasn't in plain sight. Nothing. Was he really here, I wondered?
When I found the area of our arranged meeting place, I took a seat and just waited. I found myself wondering if he too was excited or just a little nervous.
Sitting there soaking up the noises all around me, catching words from distant conversations, hearing bits and pieces from passerby's, relaxed me.
Then all of a sudden, two double doors opened and this beautiful, elderly white haired gentleman appeared. He glowed, and not from some heavenly bright white light, but just from his sage and confidence.
He was dressed in a nice suit, sitting as tall as he could in his wheelchair. As his wife wheeled him towards the podium, the audience in the room rose to their feet and applauded his presence.
When he and his wife reached the podium, he ever so calmly locked the wheels of his chair and he gently stood.
With a sense of ease and softness on his face, and the security of wisdom etched into his face, he looked out to a sea of over 200 people and said these words; "Doctors make a living on how you choose to live."
He didn't say "good morning" or give a welcome. He just stated the facts.
As he stood there and fanned the audience with his eyes, without any hesitation, he said it again, "Think about it. Doctors make a living on how you choose to live."
And with that statement friends, it was the very moment that changed my life forever. That ever so calm and matter of fact statement is why I am an iridologist today.
My final word to you about meeting a man you do not know at a hotel; make sure he is the right man~
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