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“Love is my sword, Goodness my armor, Humor my Shield.” -Unknown

Every week, I’m able to look at a program which tells me who has unsubscribed from my email newsletter. Inevitably, there are 3-6 people each week that “off” me. I never say anything, knowing I’d best respect others’ privacy. And understandably, there are too many of these email newsletters. Sometimes, I myself will unsubscribe from another person’s newsletter.

Last month, I received an email whose subject line read “WTF.” I’m literate in the language of texting and wanted to see just who might be reaching out with such a bold greeting. (WTF commonly stands for What The F-ck) The body of the email read as followed:

Dear Yeah Dave:

I must admit I’m a big fan of your newzletter so when I saw that you unsubscribed from my email newzletter, I was quite upset,. I don’t know who you think u r but after much thought, I have decided that I hate you. Sorry I just had to vent. I don’t really hate you but what kind of bastard sendz out his own newsletter and kant find the time to read mine. Please resubscribe to my email newsletter or I will squash your ballz. I wont’ really do that but just do it pleez.

Your Fan, Bruce

After reading that email,  I locked my doors, put my alarm on “Away” so that the motion sensors were armed, held my girlfriend tight, and called an uncle in Milwaukee who I’m almost certain has ties to The Mob.

What is this world coming to?

The uncle in Milwaukee told me, “Just get in touch with the psycho that emailed you, and f–ckin tell him to come to your yogurt class and I know a guy who knows a guy in LA. He’ll show up and take care of business.”

“It’s a yoga class,” I said, correcting him.

“I f–ckin know what is.”

“But you said ‘yogurt’ class,” I reiterated, nervously.

“Yogurt, yoga, all you people are the same.”

He hung up.

*****

On Wednesday July 9, I showed up to my 2:30pm yoga class and sure enough, a beefcake mafia type was in the back. This guy was late 20′s, huge muscles, buzz haircut. He wasn’t really doing yoga. Rather, he was looking around protecting me.

I went up and whispered to him, “Buddy, no worries. I’m not scared. You can leave. I’m fine on my own.

“Io non parlano inglese,” he said.

Shoot! This guy was straight off the boat and didn’t speak a lick of English.

I tried again gesturing with my hands, “Everything ok. No problem.”

“Zio Mike mi ha detto di proteggere voi.”

Oh no, I thought, he said something about Uncle Mike. He’s definitely here to kick some butt.

About halfway through class, a sweaty dude stood up to motion me to “cut the heat.” He was too hot.  But the symbol he used was the “slice across the throat” before pointing to the heater on the ceiling. The beefcake saw the symbol, stood up, and made a beeline to the sweaty guy. I intervened just in time and told the beefcake to get back to his mat.

This was nerveracking. I just wanted this class to be over.

A few moments later, another guy in class stood up to go the bathroom. This guy was having a great yoga session and made a signal to me as if shooting a gun which then turned into a quick thumbs up as if to say, “U da man, great session!”

Again, the beefcake saw this symbol, jumped off his mat, and made a beeline toward this guy. Just in time, I intervened and told him to get back to his mat.

What a nightmare.

Finally,  class ended and a few students approached me to shoot the breeze. Oddly enough, one of the students was a guy I’d not seen before. He held out his hand and introduced himself as Bruce.  He was wearing a disgusting green Boston Celtics t-shirt.  My heart dropped.

“I’m the guy that you sent you that email,” he said.  “You can unsubscribe, but you can’t hide.”

Bruce began to form a karate chop with his right hand but he’d picked the wrong day to mess with a red-headed Italian Jew. The beefcake forcefully slung Bruce over his shoulder and left like a hawk having scooped its meal from the river.

*****

I’ve since learned a valuable lesson. I don’t need to call Uncle Mike to take care of my business.  From this point forward, I’m gonna look to Uncle Wayne. Wayne Dyer that is. Wayne once said how he’s not afraid to hitch hike because he puts out good vibes and attracts good things. Of course, when I told this to my overprotective mother, she said, “Wayne Dyer? He’s still alive?”  Yes, Wayne Dyer is alive, and yet again, he has an amazing point. Shift your vibration. Fearful vibrations are a magnet for psychos like Bruce, not to mention people who key your car or steal your identity.

Over the next few weeks, you’ll see a haze over Beijing when you watch the Olympic Games. It’s not too dissimilar from the haze of fear covering your mind and obscuring your heart. Burn through that haze and one thing will be crystal clear. Peaceful, loving thoughts and vibrations are the most powerful attractor and the most resilient armor. So next time you receive a threatening email from someone intent on ‘squashing you ballz,’ your best protection is not a beefcake bodyguard, or a 22 round semi-automatic rimfire rifle, or a Mace Silver pepper gun with 25 foot range. It’s clearing your mind, opening your heart, and parting the sea of fear to reveal a natural state inherent in every human being. Marianne Williamson said, “In our natural state, we are glorious beings. In the world of illusion and fear, we are lost and imprisoned, slaves to our appetites and our will to false power.”

Oh yeah. One more thing. Always think twice before you unsubscribe.