channelled message from Oliver received on 8/3/17 at 4:44 a.m. ET US.
We all manifest. Whether we are aware of it or not, we create with every thought, every breath. I was divining my reality way before I called it that. I labeled it déjà vu, synchronicity, coincidence, and chance. I had no idea I was doing it! Or… maybe I should say Source was (is) doing it, through each one of us.
As I see it, Source, whatever that is to you, IS this existence, and all existence; past, present, and future. It IS this place we call reality, and all dimensions of same in all realms and experiences. Source is, as Tesla deduced long ago, energy, frequency and vibration, and IS for the pleasure of itself. As we are each sparks of the Universe, we are Source, have the resources of Source and create like Source. Again, we just aren’t use to calling it that or perceiving it that way. Reason? In my opinion it is purely conditioning. What we are taught. And, since most cannot or will not allow the idea that their parents, teachers, government, places of worship, or other of authority would lie, or mislead us in any way as to the beingness of all, we continue to support the programming from which we hope to escape.
Alas, we continue to create even under these interesting circumstances.
I was led to this topic today after watching a video that landed in my feed from some young chick I’ve never seen before. The topic was manifestation, so I checked it out. That video runs just under 9 minutes and is at the bottom of this post, in full, if you’d like to watch. Therein, the vlogger, Lexi Wolfe, shares three stories of what she calls “inadvertent” manifestation. In other words, creating shit without realizing you’re creating shit. Her experiences include meeting a famous Aussie actor while at a workshop in England, where she lives, how an apartment found her when she wanted to move out from home, and something about her car. Cool stories. They reminded me of my own experiences pre-awakening, that I’ve come to realize since are clean examples of me creating my reality simply by thought, strong desire, and allowing. Let me share two 30 year old tales from 1987/’88 with you now.
The first occurred in April of 1987. That’s when I moved from Indianapolis, IN to New York City. I’d moved from my hometown of Muncie, Indiana when I graduated from Ball State University in May or June of 1982 to Indy for my first job as a paralegal for the law firm of Rubin & Levin (see Gold building photo on left). From there I moved in with my then, long-time Catholic boyfriend, one of 9 kids (born within 7 years – two sets of twins) in Cincinnati, OH. That’s where his father had relocated and that’s where we ended up to be near him. Montgomery, OH to be exact. I worked in Cincy, but commuted from Montgomery. Gorgeous suburb. Lucky me. From Cincinnati I moved on to Chicago, IL. Oak Park, to be exact. From OP I moved back to Indy for a short time to assist my mother with family business, and in April of 1987 I moved on to NYC where I live nearby to this day. That’s a lot of traveling. And, had I not had a guy break into the house I was renting and hold me captive for hours I may have continued living in Indianapolis. But, he did and so I left, months before the trial. At that time in my life I was in flux. I’d recently left the firm of Bingham, Summers, Welsh & Spilman, working mostly with the son of Senator Birch Bayh, a gent destined to step into his father’s shoes in the years to come, Evan Bayh. I’d left the firm once the “incident” happened and I missed a lot of work and I didn’t wish to explain to everyone what happened. So I left instead, opting for new and uncharted oh-mighty-dollar lands with an insurance company in its legal claims division.
I moved from that house in the Broad Ripple section of town to an apartment on the other side of Indy within days of this incident – only returning to retrieve my belongings and to accompany police investigators to the “crime scene.” I had to get out of there and start again. But once settled in my new residence I still felt adrift. The firm I was working for at the time was going through a transition and I felt shifts were in the air, so, feeing the way I did anyway about being in Indianapolis, and knowing my work with mom was complete, I took an afternoon to explore my options. I called two of my girlfriends with whom I worked at Traveler’s Insurance in Oak Brook, IL. One who had moved on to a firm in downtown Chicago, the other who had moved to NYC to be with her long-time boyfriend. Made sense! She was spending so much money on red-eye, weekend, air fare she could have bought a small island somewhere with the money saved. I asked each the same question, If I moved there today (chicago or nyc) how long would it be before I got a job as a paralegal. Beth from Chicago said 7 days. Kim from NYC said 3. I was on a plane the next day to NYC and three days later I had two job offers, and two weeks later I lived in New York City (on 116 Street between Broadway and Riverside Ave., just 1/2 a block from Columbia University).
What makes this move significant, and a product of my creation is the TV show The Days and Nights of Molly Dodd. I recall getting drunk every weekend and staying that way from Friday night when I got home until Sunday night when I passed out to prepare for work the following Monday. The experience of Willie Johnson breaking into my house had really thrown me for a loop and I was struggling to make it through the times I was alone. I did it by drinking. Lots! And, when I drank I use to watch TV. One of my favorite shows, one that took my mind away, was Blair Brown’s Molly Dodd. I watched it religiously and recall it specifically as the opening credits piece always made me want to BE in the locales I was seeing. I wanted to walk the streets of NYC where Molly Dodd had (upper west side of NYC). I wanted to stand in the iron bell railed against the edge of the lower west side’s coastline. I wanted to be Molly Dodd, a quirky, clever, average sorta girl with lots of creativity and gumption. Little did I know I soon would.
I’ve shared that opening segment above so you could see what I saw. Now, there are a few interesting highlights to this story. First, I ended up living in the upper west side (near Columbia University), right off of Broadway where the restaurant you see near the close of the clip is located. I’ve even eaten there. I found it, and the other places you see sported there by catching specifics during show episodes where they are mentioned. That restaurant, specifically, is one spot Molly frequented to meet her girlfriends for coffee. Eventually, me too! Second, I moved to NYC in mid April 1987. It was that show that encouraged me to call my friend, Kim, and ask her that question posed above. In the looking up of a link to Wiki and/or IMDB for information to post in the video caption & above in the body of this writing, and to have a link to share to that data, I see that the first episode of Season 1 was shown on May 21, 1987!! What? How can that be? I have no idea. The Mandela Effect, I’d guess. But how weird is that? A show that was instrumental in the manifestation of my moving from the Midwest to the Big Apple simply by it’s weekly appearance, and my desire being lit by its introduction, engage that to the “Willie” matter, and marry it all to my employer motivating me to take action as a result of its wonky behavior in the midst of internal contrast, only to discover it was never, officially broadcast at that time and what do you have? Laughter! Another layer of knowing that all is a big pretzel and some times it is just best to take a big bite out of it and fuck the details!
In the spring of 1988 I rented a car with my then, live-in boyfriend, an Egyptian guy named Bahaa. He had finished a large portion of his college in Egypt prior to coming to the United States. His major: Agricultural Engineering. Suffolk County’s local college system had a similar major in that so my then fiancé wanted to drive out and check out the campus and the program to see if it might be a nice match for him to complete his schooling. This spring day we went traveling from Astoria, Queens to somewhere in the middle of Long Island. The trip was wonderful. I hadn’t been outside the City yet, so this drive was like a dream to me. And being in a car instead of public transportation… splendid!
After what felt like an hour we made it off the Long Island Expressway onto a service road that led to the college campus. (see screenshot with arrow showing travel route.) While on the street that opened into the main entrance, College Road, I recall the feeling I had and my exact thought. “I wish I could live here!”
Fast forward 10 years, to the fall of 1998 and that is exactly what happened. I moved about 1.5 miles from the spot where I felt my desire! That was after nearly a year of looking at Victorian’s from Jersey to the north Hudson River shores of NY and spots in-between. Right there. 1.5 miles away. What makes this even more interesting is that I didn’t even realize this had occurred until about another 10 years from the time I bought the house when I was driving down that same street, College Road, and had a déjà vu moment of recollection. I remember it so clearly. I was moved to the point of shaking and had to pull the car over to the side of the 4 lane roadway in order to compose myself.
Just goes to show ya, we create with every thought, every moment of every day. I eventually married the Egyptian guy, had a kid, divorced the Egyptian guy (lol), and moved into that Victorian house I bought on Long Island, built in 1876, a home divined by my own energetics, just for me 10 years prior, gifted by Source.
So, the next time you think “Boy do I wish I had ___________,” be sure you do because you WILL soon enough. Of that, I am sure.