One of the greatest proofs I have seen of the life visioning process to date has been the manifestation of a check for $21,000 in a time when I was surviving on donations, determined to prove one could change their outer circumstance by applying the right spiritual technology to change their inner state.
It was very challenging, as I was working with a damaged laptop and sleeping by the side of the road in Topanga, California, going to the local coffee-internet shoppe Mimosa’s to get work done while studiously applying the ‘Manifestor’ techniques of Agape Ministries ‘Life Visioning’.
I was living in my truck at the time, which I affectionately called the magickal land of ‘Carnia’ (often considered the parking lot to Narnia). Daily, I would sit in the back of the truck, grateful to have a roof over my head, and invoking the principles of Manifestor consciousness, weaving and re-weaving the vibrational timbre of financial abundance into my field.
After weeks of inner work, I received word from my birth-family of an insurance policy that had been taken out in my name which was being dissolved. As it was, I was ordained to receive a check for $21,000, happening just as I made my way with the vestiges of fuel left in my track to witness Reverend Michael Beckwith at the Agape Minitries in Culver CIty, thankfully the same suburb of the vastness of the City of Angels where my birth family was gathered.
Arriving at their doorstep, I had hoped it would be an easy transition. That I would receive the cheque and be on my way, yet such was not to happen. As I entered, it was as if I stepped into a war zone of emotional assault, one member of my family posturing themselves as an ally, offering to assist me in cashing the check while screeching declarations of my character, framing what I considered a boddhisatvic Life of service, proving the underlying constants of God’s Love as if I were some crazed and homeless indigent.
Such was a great sadness as I witnessed this being scream at me, their words flickering between offering assistance in cashing the check and proclaiming how they would now control the finances and thus, I presume by their definition, me.
Unwilling to lash out and thus perpetuate more suffering, I quietly invoke ho’ponopono under my breath, taking responsibility for my portion of the distortion which lay atop the Love that aches to be heard. I resolved that there must be a lesson. They claimed I had disregarded their reality. This was True. That I had left their home abruptly at some point in the past, a thing which I had done in answer to the same timbre of aggression, and it had caused suffering. Also True. Beneath the surface of what things seemed to be, I felt a tangle. A knot work of threads of circumstance that wished to be freed. It was terribly painful. The olde wound, of feeling unseen and unappreciated by my birth family, expected to dim myself to a carnival of emotional politics, flared. As only a fool would give control of one’s financial boon to a being filled with such judgment and misperception, I apologized for any misconduct on my part, and resolved that I would simply receive the check and cross that bridge when it came.
Leaving the scene, I decided to celebrate, spending the little bit of money I had to see the film Moana in the same classic theatre Paradox Pollack had shared with me during the screening of Dr. Strange a month or so earlier. Upon returning to my truck-slash-apartment, I discover that my wallet has disappeared. After an extensive session of hospital-grade cleaning of the truck in search of the wallet and a return to the theatre, I now sat with no wallet, no money, and only the promise of a check waiting to be delivered, whereupon I would figure some way of receiving the boon.
Such would prove to be difficult, as in my trust in God’s unfoldment I had burned my bank accounts and credit scores years earlier, subsisting on the grace of a PayPal card and donations while on the Quest. Yet in the fullness of time, while I still lie in the back of my truck and drank coffees at Mimosas in the sacred Topanga canyon, the check arrived.
A celestial supermoon marked the event as I coincided with brother Niekko Chin to receive the check. Now that I had it in my grasp, I felt capable of achieving that most precious of things, a home to stay in, a place to set up my desktop computer, and to continue my work on the Mythica, once, of course, I found a way to cash it.
In the following weeks I encountered what could only be considered an ‘L.A. Story’. Without a bank account and no home to call my own, I was penniless, the check for $21,000 etching a hole in my pocket. In virtuous effort I went to the bank I previously burned, offering to pay off a portion of my extant debts in exchange for the ability to open an account once more. They refused. I then went to a credit union, who informed me I needed a place of residence. Finally, I went to the bank the check was written from. Upon hearing the teller inform me that it would be no problem, I endorsed the back of the check, and slipped it beneath the bulletproof plastic … only to have it returned a few minutes later with the statement that it was too large to cash and “oh, you could deposit it into your bank account!”.
So there I was. Toes poking through holes in my socks, even the memory of a shower a distant echo of a distant dream. I felt as if I were in a script for a spiritual comedy, in which I now had an *endorsed* check for $21,000 in my pocket, a thing which, due to my signature on the back, anyone could cash.
Eventually, my mother showed graciousness, appearing in the field in an act of maternal virtue. Despite her own reservations (and what I considered an equally erroneous judgment of my actual character) she agreed to cash the check in her own accounts and funnel the money to me through PayPal. Because she is an honorable woman who keeps her Word, I made sure to secure the agreement that there would be ‘no questions asked’ regarding my use of the monies. With the arrival of the money came easement, a place to stay, a new laptop, and a ticket to the island of the Gods where I could continue my good work.
Over time, I would come to see the arrival of the check, like all aspects of the Quest, to be a proof of the underlying causality of our circumstance. It was not enough, in my estimations, for there to be the ardent visualization of my desire through Manifestor consciousness. Such was not the only timbre of what wished to be resolved in that knotwork of circumstance. As well as Abundance, there was a necessity of Forgiveness, both of my own Self and that of my birth family for our errors in perception. There was required Faith, and good humor, to deal with the loss of the wallet, as well as the humble taking of counsel from brother Niekko. Most of all there was Grace, as events unfolded to prove that God is Good, and that our Quest is supported, if only we may stay the course.
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