The Benefits of Smile Magic for Personal Development with the El Paso Dyer

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The smile magic of El Paso Dyer is a fascinating concept that emphasizes the power of a simple smile. El Paso Dyer, a renowned motivation speaker and self-help guru, believes that a smile holds great potential to transform not only our own lives but also the lives of those around us. According to Dyer, a smile is not just a facial expression but a reflection of our inner state and attitude towards life. It has the ability to uplift our spirits, elevate our mood, and bring about a positive shift in our overall demeanor. When we smile, we not only radiate joy and happiness but also attract the same energy from the universe. Dyer suggests that smiling is a form of self-care that should not be overlooked.


The Falcon was the same car in which my dad had taught my mom to drive, the station wagon, three-speed manual transmission. This was the car she used to drive her two boys to swimming lessons, and church, and to my appointments with a string of different doctors; and to the beach; surf mats and Styrofoam surfies and whining Freddy, maybe an annoying friend of his. The factory installed (optional upgrade) roof racks were now pretty much rusted in place.

This was the car she used to drive her two boys to swimming lessons, and church, and to my appointments with a string of different doctors; and to the beach; surf mats and Styrofoam surfies and whining Freddy, maybe an annoying friend of his. A predicted swell, this gleaned from other surfers and pressure charts in the Marine Weather section of the newspaper, hadn t materialized, and a south wind was blowing.

Magic seaveed the wall

Dyer suggests that smiling is a form of self-care that should not be overlooked. By consciously choosing to put a smile on our faces, we signal to ourselves and others that we are open to receiving the blessings and abundance that life has to offer. It is a powerful tool that can help us navigate through challenging situations and overcome obstacles with grace and optimism.

Is Seaweed Actually Magical? And…

…and another “SWAMIS” cutback. FIRST, here on the Olympic Peninsula, buoys, designed to help ships not sink or crash, somewhat helpful for surfers trying to determine if some portion of some swell might find its way into the Strait, have been ripped from their anchors, set adrift, lost, found, or, we don’t really know, put out of service. Putin? One theory. None of the downed or drowned bouys have been put back into service.

SO, surfers in, say, Seattle, have been relying on surf forecast sites before making a decision as to whether to invest the increasing amount of gas money, wait in line at ferries, face traffic slowdowns if ‘driving around.’ NOW, it must be mentioned that there are always waves of some sort or shape or size on the actual PACIFIC COAST. Almost always. AND the most characteristic condition on the Strait is flat. Flat with east wind, flat with north wind, flat with south wind, flat and somehow blown out with west wind.

STILL, surfers get desperate. So, trying my best to glean something positive from whatever sources I could, I went up Surf Route 101, looking. I wasn’t alone. More to not get skunked than to satisfy my surf lust, I ventured into calf-high curlers, my fin popping across rocks. PERHAPS BECAUSE I had paddled out, three more adventurers joined me. PERHAPS BECAUSE they had believed some forecast site, I passed many surf rigs on my way back down Surf Route 101. NOT ONLY THAT, but a friend of mine texted me, asking if I had scored bombs. AFTER ALL, Magic Seaweed was saying…

NOW, maybe it got awesome. Somewhere, for some brief period. MAYBE. YES, I did look at various forecasts. Not looking good for the Strait. Depressing. I must now upgrade my most recent session to “Pretty good. Didn’t break a fin.” Again, there are always waves on the actual ocean.

The rocks at Swamis, someone dropping in on someone. Taken from some hotel brochure.

MEANWHILE, I am trying to find some time to continue cutting my manuscript for “Swamis” down to a reasonable and, hopefully, saleable length. Tightening it up. I am up to the days after Chulo is beaten and set alight next to the wall of the SRF compound. This is a (copyrighted) version from the second completed draft. I might mention that, if you have any experience surfing on the west coast, you know (a snippet of a quote from Miki Dora about Malibu) “The south wind blows no good.”

CHAPTER 14- SATURDAY, MARCH 22, 1969

Three full days after Chulo’s murder, the burn-scarred section of the wall was back to white, visibly white even in the minimal pre-dawn light. I wasn’t sure if I had actually slept. I got out of bed at four, got to Swamis early enough to park the Falcon in the choicest location; front row, ten spots from the stairs; the optimal view of the lineup.

The Falcon was the same car in which my dad had taught my mom to drive, the station wagon, three-speed manual transmission. This was the car she used to drive her two boys to swimming lessons, and church, and to my appointments with a string of different doctors; and to the beach; surf mats and Styrofoam surfies and whining Freddy, maybe an annoying friend of his. The factory installed (optional upgrade) roof racks were now pretty much rusted in place.

The difference was the Falcon was now my car. A surfer’s surf wagon. Hawaiian print curtains hung on wires, a “Surfer Magazine” decal on the back driver’s side window, a persistent smell of mildew. Beach smell. With my boards now shorter, I usually kept them inside, non-hodad-like, but, for several of the reasons a hodad would do it, I kept the nine-six pintail on the roof for a while longer. “Just in case the waves are really small,” might have been one excuse.

A predicted swell, this gleaned from other surfers and pressure charts in the Marine Weather section of the newspaper, hadn’t materialized, and a south wind was blowing. Cars with surfboards were passing each other up and down 101. Surfers were hanging out in parking lots and on bluffs and beaches, talking surf, watching the few surfers out at any spot bobbing in the side chop. Maybe it would clean up, maybe it would actually get bigger. And better.

I would wait. Waiting is as important a part of surfing as trying to be the first one out or paddling out before the best conditions hit. Just before. My shift at my weekend-only, for-now, job didn’t start until ten-thirty; about the time the onshores typically get going. Different with a south wind. Sometimes it would clean up as some weak front moved inland or simply fizzled. Sometimes.

If I went out at nine, I could get a good forty-five minutes of surfing; maybe ten waves or more. I had my notebook, college-ruled; I had the four and eight track tape player under the passenger’s side of the seat; a collection of bargain tapes purchased at the Fallbrook Buy and Save; and I could do what I always did, study. My father’s billy clubs sized flashlight, four new d batteries, provided the lighting.

Read, recite, memorize, reread. That was my system. Less important details fall off with each attempt to memorize. The facts and details best remembered, by my logic, would most likely be the ones on the tests. Any quirky anecdotes, something that amused me; yes, I remembered those, too. I had another system for multiple choice tests and standardized tests. Two of the four choices were obviously incorrect, fifty-fifty chance on the others. Best guest. The system worked surprisingly well, well enough that California’s supposed Ivy League university accepted me.

My father hadn’t understood why I couldn’t go there.

I was a faker, kid with a system; it never would have worked; not in that bigger pond, every student top of some class somewhere.

No studying on this morning. I had to sneak over to the crime scene, the wall that surrounds the Self-Realization Fellowship compound. There was (and is) a wrought-iron gate in the higher, arched (former) entrance, around the corner, facing 101. As with the other breakpoints in the wall, that section is topped with the huge gold sculptures, each one representing a blooming flower. Lotus blossom. They could as easily represent a flame, not dissimilar to the one on the statue of liberty, not dissimilar to the burn marks on the wall my friends had described.

The SRF compound is a place where people, on their own, go seeking enlightenment, a realization of the true self. Seekers, seeking.

At about seven-fifteen I did walk over. Had to. I expected more. I expected some instant and obvious explanation. There was a man by the wall, wheel-barrowing soil from a pile near the highway to the wall, raking it in. I had seen him before. Dark skinned. East Indian, I presumed. He was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, white, with faded blue workman’s pants, rubber boots, and heavy leather gloves. Most of his face (and I knew he had a beard) was covered in what appeared to be an overlarge (plain cloth) bandana, a standard bandana (red) around his nose and mouth, and a tropical straw hat (quite different from the cowboy style Mexican farmers and landscape workers preferred). He dropped the new soil around newly planted but full-sized plants.

There was no evidence that something horrific had occurred. The new paint blended perfectly. The plants looked… it all looked exactly the same as it always had; as it did even in the late 1950s, before I surfed, when my father took us there just so my mother could see the gardens.

If I blinked, I thought, it might be like taking a picture. I might remember details. I might remember better. Image. Catalog. File.

I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness the astonishing light of your own being. Your soul and my soul once sat together in the Beloved's womb playing footsie. Your heart and my heart are very, very old friends.
Smile magjc of el psso dyer

In addition to its individual benefits, a smile has a contagious nature that can ripple through social interactions and create a ripple effect of positivity. When we smile at others, we communicate warmth, acceptance, and kindness, which can make someone's day a little bit brighter. Moreover, a smile has the power to dissolve barriers and foster connection and unity among people from different backgrounds. El Paso Dyer advocates for incorporating smiling into our daily routine as a mindfulness practice. By consciously smiling at ourselves in front of the mirror, we acknowledge and appreciate the person we are becoming. Furthermore, he encourages us to engage in random acts of smiling by smiling at strangers, colleagues, or loved ones, even if they may be initially taken aback. By doing so, we spread the magic of a smile and create a ripple effect of kindness and positivity in our immediate surroundings. In conclusion, the smile magic of El Paso Dyer is a profound concept that highlights the transformative power of a smile. By consciously choosing to smile and radiate positivity, we not only uplift ourselves but also create a ripple effect that can transform the lives of those around us. With this simple yet powerful tool, we can navigate through life with joy, create connections, and contribute to making the world a better place..

Reviews for "Unleashing Your Inner Sparkle with Smile Magic and the El Paso Dyer"

1. Sarah - 1 star
I was really disappointed with "Smile Magic of El Paso Dyer". The story was predictable and lacked originality. The characters were one-dimensional and I couldn't connect with any of them. The writing style was also quite amateurish, with clunky dialogue and awkward descriptions. Overall, I found this book to be a complete waste of time and would not recommend it to anyone.
2. Mike - 2 stars
I had high hopes for "Smile Magic of El Paso Dyer", but unfortunately, it fell flat for me. The plot seemed promising, but it was executed poorly. The pacing was uneven, with some parts dragging on for too long, while others were rushed and lacked depth. The writing itself was also mediocre, with awkward sentence structures and repetitive phrases. I couldn't fully immerse myself in the story and found it to be a forgettable read.
3. Emily - 2 stars
I was expecting more from "Smile Magic of El Paso Dyer", but I was left disappointed. The characters felt shallow and lacked development, making it hard to care about their fates. The dialogue was also weak and didn't feel authentic. Additionally, the plot seemed scattered and disjointed, with loose ends that were never tied up. Overall, I found this book to be underwhelming and would not recommend it to others.

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