Late last century, my sister Elizabeth invited me to join her for a seminar just south of San Francisco on the last weekend in March.
Some kind of stupid meditation shit called Light Body.
I was willing to pay $1000 for the seminar, hotel, and food to visit with her. But not another $1000 for the round-trip ticket.
I clearly stated, “I’d love to see you, but I can’t afford a $1000 airplane ticket.” It was a strong commitment. A boundary. An intention?
It wasn’t a goal-intention like writing six days a week.
It was an unequivocal, “Elizabeth, I’m not flying to see you. I can’t pay for that flight.”
“Just manifest it, Suzie,” she said.
Although “manifesting” currently trends on social media, at that time, I’d only heard of it in theory, not application.
She said, “It’s easy. Meditate on the situation. Envision it as Light and move the Light around, then birth it into matter.”
Birth it into matter?
What the fuck are you talking about?
I was quite stoned, easing my anxiety from my corporate job repairing computers for IBM, pretending to be a man. I was a corporate wo-man.
I’d wear a two-piece suit, pantyhose (I know!), and proper pumps while carrying a tool bag. At this point in my career, my experience afforded me a foundation of solid confidence, because I knew I could fix anything.
I found this confidence exhilarating. It marked a departure from the I’m-just-a-housewife self-doubt.
But in my heart, I longed to stay home with my 6-year-old making popsicles. Smoking pot after putting my little girl to bed eased my pain.
So I listened. Elizabeth explained her intention to show me how to manifest my flight. Using her meditation skills, she’d “manifest” a free Delta Airlines (at the time I ONLY flew Delta - was that an intention?) roundtrip ticket from Tampa, Florida to San Francisco, California.
She rang me later, practically euphoric because she’d succeeded and it “clicked.” She was convinced she would see me in a few weeks.
Blissfully stoned, I chilled to her ridiculousness. But, I had no idea…
The following morning, my manager called me into his office. Would I like to lead our team in learning Hewlett Packard (HP) printers? A huge service contract with HP was about to be announced.
In my line of work, that typically meant flying to Atlanta, taking a repair course for a week while desperately missing my child, condensing the course to four hours, and teaching it in small classes to my colleagues.
Tired of my single mom, anxiety-ridden life of trying to be the best man I could in an estrogen-driven body, I said no. I was sick of the heartache of missing my child.
My manager favored me because my metrics like inventory management, travel times, fix times, etc, reflected positively on him.
However, not my colleagues. As one of only two women in Tampa’s 105-member “customer engineer” team, I worked twice as hard to get half the respect from my peers.
I was sick of it. Let some white guy do it.
Later that day, I wondered if this Hewlett Packard opportunity might be what “clicked” for my sister. Even though I made fun of her, I’d witnessed enough over the years to verify her connection with the higher realms.
I called my manager, Chet, (I know! That was his real name!), and learned the repair class was south of San Francisco, close to HP headquarters.
Oh my God. I asked him if we could request the last week of March. No, but we could request the first quarter, which was more than halfway over anyway.
Sitting in his office, we requested my attendance at the HP printer school in San Fran for the first quarter.
Three business days after my sister’s elated insistence that she’d see me in a few weeks, IBM paid for my Delta Airlines, round-trip ticket to San Francisco.
Remarkably, my assigned HP repair class was the last full week of March, ending Thursday at 5 pm. The Light Body seminar began the following morning, only a 25-minute car ride away.
I could hardly believe it.
This class was the only IBM school I attended where I didn’t apply what I learned. The HP contract fell through, so I never worked on this particular model, which was the size of a refrigerator, only my height.
In another unusual twist, I was paired with an IBM-designated roommate. This lovely lady insisted on driving me to the Light Body seminar, saving me cab fare.
At the Light Body seminar, I achieved, for the first time, a lucid meditative state void of mental chatter. I learned to “be” my experience, with no internal dialogue.
I’d read about this magical state, but my caffeine-fueled ADHD brain, operating at lightspeed, blocked it.
My sister intended to illustrate how to consciously “create reality.”
She succeeded.
I’m still tightening up the I-create-my-own-reality practice.
But I know the universe delivers when I co-create a clear intention with my higher self. It’s Divinely orchestrated.
Incredible storytelling! I want so much more!
What an experience! Onward and upward.