September, 2024 (MCC Chicago)
What I Got from Reading Manifest Your Destiny (While Sitting in Prison)
Back in September, while I was incarcerated and likely facing trial for a federal fraud case, I picked up Wayne Dyer’s Manifest Your Destiny. I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for when I started reading it—maybe some hope, maybe a way to quiet the chaos in my head, maybe just something to get me through another day behind concrete and steel. But what I got was more than I expected.
This book isn’t some genie-in-a-bottle nonsense about just thinking your way to a better life. It’s deeper than that. It’s about aligning your spirit with the source of life itself—God—and surrendering control in a way that creates real change from the inside out.
That hit me. Because at that point, I had no control. Everything felt up in the air—my freedom, my future, my reputation, my relationships. And all I really had was time, regret, and a lot of silence.
But Manifest Your Destiny helped me shift something internally. Not overnight. Not in some big dramatic “aha” moment. Just slowly, steadily, it started working on me.
Here’s what stuck with me most:
1. I am not my past. I am not my charges. I am not my shame.
Dyer talks a lot about how who we truly are is not defined by external labels or circumstances—but by our inner connection to the Divine. That hit different when you’re sitting in jail with the word “fraud” hanging over your head. I had to wrestle with the idea that maybe—just maybe—God still sees me as something more than a screw-up. That maybe this part of my story isn’t the end, but a turning point. I am still worthy! And I have to honor my worthiness in order to receive.
2. Intention is everything.
The book is built around the idea that our intentions create the direction of our lives. Not just what we want, but what we’re willing to become to align with that intention. I started asking myself: What kind of man do I intend to be from here on out? Not how do I survive this, or fix my image, or beat the system. But who do I need to become if I want to walk in truth and integrity—if I want to live a redeemed life?
3. Stillness is not a waste.
When everything in your life comes to a screeching halt, it’s easy to feel like you’re losing time. But Dyer challenged me to use that stillness to reconnect with God—not in a religious sense, but in a soul sense. Prayer started to change for me. It wasn’t asking for things, it was listening. It was surrender. It was owning where I’d been and daring to believe that grace might still be possible.
4. I don’t have to hustle for redemption.
One of the hardest things for me has been letting go of the idea that I have to earn my way back into being “good” again. I’ve always been a fixer—a doer. But Dyer reminded me that transformation doesn’t come from striving. It comes from alignment—from surrendering to what’s already true about who I was created to be, and choosing to live from that place every day. Even when I fall. Even when I don’t feel it yet. I just have to trust the wisdom that created me.
5. Visualizing the life I want isn’t wishful thinking—it’s choosing a direction.
I started taking time in that prison to close my eyes and picture the man I want to be. The kind of father I want to be. The kind of partner I want to be. The kind of follower of Christ I want to be. Not to escape reality, but to claim it, spiritually first. To align my thoughts, my words, and eventually my actions with something better than what got me here in the first place.
I didn’t come out of that experience magically transformed. I’m still on this path. There are still consequences. There’s still uncertainty. But I’m not the same guy I was before I opened that book.
And more than anything, I believe redemption is possible—not just legally or socially—but spiritually, deeply. That God still works with broken people. That I’m still loved. And that who I’m becoming matters more than where I’ve been.
