
TL;DR: The author describes an advanced Positively Focused client who spent a year and a half waiting on a vice president title his company kept withholding. Told to stop chasing it and let the universe handle the details, he did nothing for three weeks. A handwritten card, a selfie and a LinkedIn photo did the rest. Five weeks into the new role, fresh contrast is already showing up.
For a year and a half, my client did the job of a vice president without the title or the salary.
His company kept promising it, then kept moving the date. Meanwhile they handed him the work a VP does, including layoffs across departments he oversees, and none of the designation or money that comes attached.
He got frustrated.
Good. That frustration was doing exactly what frustration is for.
Contrast is how you find out what you want
Most people treat a situation like that as a problem to solve. A better way to see is what we call “contrast” in the Positively Focused practice. Contrast is how you clarify what you want out of what you don’t.
He didn’t want to perform at the VP level while being paid below it, and he didn’t want to keep doing what that company kept asking of him. Both preferences got sharp because the company kept pushing on him. Without the pushing he’d have stayed dissatisfied and hopeful in equal measure, which is where most people live for years at a stretch.
So through the spring, summer and fall, I worked with him on one thing: leaning in the direction of what he wanted.
And I told him what hardly anyone wants to hear: I told him you don’t get to decide how it arrives and you don’t get to decide when it arrives.
Your job, I told him, is to clarify what you want, line up with it and use your positive emotion as the indicator that you’re lined up. That’s the whole assignment. After that, you watch the universe arrange the cooperative components.
He assumed the title would come from his current employer. But I knew better. The contrast he kept generating there was too consistent for that to be the place, so it was going to happen some other way.
The boss who left with a regret
His boss, who I’ll call Marcus, went through his own churn, left the company and took a bigger role at a much larger company.
Before he left, Marcus wrote handwritten thank-you cards to a few people. My client was on the list. Marcus also carried something out the door: real regret that he hadn’t gotten my client promoted before he left. It weighed on him.
A couple of months later Marcus reached out. He wanted my client to come work for him at the new company, at the vice president level. Now, understand what that required: Marcus had signed a non-disclosure and a non-compete on his way out, yet he reached out anyway.
There was no way my client could have engineered or predicted any of that. Meanwhile, he’d been thinking his current employer would deliver what he wanted. Not so.
Marcus got him into interviews to grease the skids, one with the president and one with the CEO. Both went well. Then everything went silent for three and a half weeks.

The three weeks of doing nothing
This is where the story gets useful to you, reader. In session, my client asked whether he should reach out to Marcus and find out what was happening. Reasonable question. Most people would reach out and call it initiative.
I told him no. Don’t reach out. Let the universe take care of it.
Here’s what took care of it.
The former CTO of my client’s company flew in from California for a high-profile meeting, walked up to him and said he’d been carrying a card from Marcus around for weeks and finally had a chance to hand it over. It was sealed, and he had no idea what was in it.
That same CTO likes taking selfies. He pulled my client into one and announced he was sending it to Marcus, and my client’s first instinct was that the whole thing seemed weird before he went along with it. Marcus replied inside a minute, from Germany, saying something cheeky about taking care of his guys.
That same day my client sat down at lunch beside the incoming CEO of his current company, who remembered him from prior M&A work and greeted him by name. A photo of taken of my client and the CEO reached LinkedIn, because modern executives travel with camera crews now.
That night someone close to him suggested he text Marcus. He said no, because he had a feeling the selfie was going to do a thing on its own. Two hours later a former direct report he hadn’t spoken to in five years messaged him out of nowhere. Why now? Your picture on LinkedIn, the guy told my client.
At 5:48 the next morning, a text from Marcus arrived. “Been a while. Let’s catch up today,” it said.
They talked at 9:30. The delay had been money approval, the title and HR friction over a layoff in a similar configuration. Then Marcus told him those previous conversations had been the interview. Everyone was on board. Open the requisition, apply to it, take a couple of personality assessments, done, Marcus said.
Three and a half weeks of silence, and my client did nothing in any of it while every piece assembled itself. He said it to me in session better than I could: “I couldn’t have forced it if I tried.”
And he’s right. Had he tried to orchestrate the pressure that got Marcus moving, he’d have gotten a polite reply and nothing else.
This holds in corporate America too
People assume these spiritual principles belong to gentle lives: meditation, art, relationships, somewhere soft. Here’s a senior director inside a major international manufacturing firm using the fundamental spiritual principles underlying how physical reality works, and getting a vice president position out of a company he doesn’t work for yet.
Today, however, he’s five weeks into the new company, and he’s enjoying snapping into it. He’s also running into significant contrast there.
That’s exactly right. Every time you reach a new level of expansion, contrast shows up at that level too. It has to. The contrast waiting for you at the top of a climb is the fuel for the climb after that, the same way his frustration at the old company was the fuel for this one.
He’s still struggling a bit with that concept. Yet, he’s enjoying the insights it’s producing. That’s what an advanced practitioner looks like.
And that’s the power of All That Is. It’s the same power you have. You are that power, focused into a body. Tap into it and things you want arrive without you doing anything to make them arrive.
My client did nothing. The universe moved a CTO across a continent, seated a CEO next to him at lunch and put a fire under his old boss.
Life is good, and it gets better the more you know how this works.
Some of my clients are masters, and this one was recently designated an advanced practitioner. You can be too. Reach out, or go here to become a client.
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