I thought that I could accomplish miracles.
I thought great and marvelous things
I thought of love, and conquest, I thought that life had some redeeming qualities.
I thought that I could find the silver lining in a storm cloud.
I thought of the rose instead of the thorn,
I thought that time could stand still when I really needed it too,
I thought that every condition was relative and when I was still, really still and quiet, I could summon whatever courage and hope I needed to confront the challenges with confidence.
I thought of many beautiful things, and I tried to emphasize them in the midst of tears, madness, worry, and fear.
I thought, heard, believed that I was equal to or more than equal to any task, all I had to do is believe that and set my mind to overcoming, conquering, figuring it out with superhuman patience, and calmness.
And with the empowering peace of calmness, I thought that the world could be an oyster, but I had to ignore everything and anything to the contrary.
I thought I could’t allow the negative prognostications of hasty anxiety spoil the possibilities that were potentially available for the taking.
I thought that the positive quality of my thought could change my perception of what would manifest and how effectively obstacles could and would be handled.
I thought that thinking was a quality that I could use to save myself from disaster, although it had to be used, exercised, disciplined, with persistent, optimistic, realistic, idealistic, rigorous, and all encompassing vigor.
I thought that creative thinking was my superhero power, enabling my mild mannered average persona, to become a transformative master of circumstances, and destiny.
I thought that with the right guidance, the right influence, the right environment, and the right goals, creative thinking could be my secret weapon.
I thought that I could be an invincible wielder of insightful revelations unaffected by inhibiting beliefs, and self imposed limitations, ever able to design perfect opportunities in this life.