I still remember the elevator ride, butterflies doing somersaults in my chest, lips so dry my tongue felt like sandpaper. I wasn’t prepared. And I was always prepared. But this time was different. I was headed up to the Royal Suite at the InterContinental Hotel in Toronto to meet with Louise Hay. We were scheduled to discuss a book we’d write together about her life and our work, and we agreed to meet without an agenda. This is one of the things I loved most about Louise. She trusted Life. She k...