Story 18: The Exhaust Fan, Fifty Roses, and the Lightning Bolt

✳️ Questioning the traditional dream to chase total freedom.

✳️ Finding instant liberation by giving away our possessions.

✳️ Meditating to an exhaust fan ten years before Abraham suggested it.

✳️ A claircognizant flash that sold our house on the final day.

“What if we sold everything to travel Australia?”

That was the loaded question I presented to my husband, in mid-2007. After meticulously weighing the pros and cons of such a monumental, life-changing decision, we concluded: not yet.

But a seed had been planted.

Not long after, a program called Discover Downunder aired on the 9 Network, focusing entirely on the Australian caravan and camping lifestyle.

To us, it looked like a pure escape from the daily grind we were currently drowning in. It turns out that buying into the "Great Australian Dream" of homeownership wasn't quite the dream we had expected.

We constantly questioned, “Surely there has to be more to life than this?!”

Discover Downunder had our undivided attention. For six months, tuning into every single episode became our religion; we lived completely vicariously through the screen.

By January 2008, we felt ready to pull the trigger. Realising there are no guarantees for how much time we have left on this planet, it became a case of now or never.

                    I began the massive task of downsizing six and a half years of household belongings to fit into the confines of a caravan. Most of it we gave away for free to our close neighbor across the road.
                

With every piece of furniture and material possession that left the house, a profound shift occurred. I began to feel lighter, freer, and detached from the physical weight.

By April 2008, our home was officially on the market. A family member who was dating a real estate agent offered to list our property for a reduced, fixed rate. It felt like the universe was making things fall into place.

We held a home open almost every weekend, but as the weeks passed with zero offers, discouragement began to creep in.

By July 2008, we had reached the absolute final week of our three-month listing agreement.

In that moment of tension, an Abraham Hicks recording reminded me of the ultimate truth: feeling good no matter what is the work.

I decided to stop staring at the problem and lean into meditation.

Seeking isolation from our kids, I found a quiet sanctuary by hiding away in our ensuite bathroom. I put the toilet lid down, took a seat, closed my eyes, and zeroed in entirely on the steady hum of the exhaust fan.

It is interesting to note that Abraham introduced this exact method of meditation about ten years later—quieting the mind by focusing on the sound of a fan. They do proclaim to be following our data rather than us following theirs, and this was living proof.

The relaxing practice worked instantly, lifting my emotional frequency right away.

To further distract myself from the stagnant sale, I followed an intuitive impulse to get out into the front garden. I began pruning our fifty rose bushes, preparing them for the coming spring and the potential new owner.

I clearly remember it was a Thursday afternoon. As I was busy pruning, a vehicle pulled up and stopped right in front of our "For Sale" sign.

In that exact heartbeat, a claircognizant lightning bolt hit me like an instant flash of absolute truth. A sudden, unexplainable knowing dropped fully formed into my mind: the person in that car is going to buy our house.

And he did. On the absolute final day of our listing agreement.

The best part of all? In just six and a half years of ownership, our home had tripled in value. Our real estate agent had warned us that we wouldn't get our high asking price in that market.

We begged to differ.

When the buyer originally presented an offer $20,000 below our asking price, we stubbornly stood our ground in full alignment. No deal.

The buyer countered with the exact price we wanted. Sold.

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