This is a story about love, friendship and “earth angels”. It may sound a bit like a Lifetime orginal movie, but don’t fall asleep just yet. It’s probably more interesting than you think.
I left my rather lucrative (or at least stable) job with an internationally-recognized GPS company back in July of this year. I cashed out what little I had in my 401K, and I set off to fulfill a lifelong dream; to work for myself and make my name as a writer.
I’m not one of those people who receives joy out of working on what I like to call “the cube farm”. I can’t stand the “norm” of endless corporate meetings, and I don’t like punching a time clock (though I have no problem putting in a full 8 to 10 hours a day of good work – please mark that difference). I don’t believe we are truly fulfilled by these kinds of jobs. Honestly, I think a gardener, a farmer, even a teacher, has a more fulfilling job if it’s something they’ve “chosen” to do. More often than not, people take work simply for the paycheck. While that may seem okay to “the masses”, it’s not okay for somebody like me. I desire fulfillment at a deeper level than a bank account.
Sounds crazy, huh? I walked away from a well-paying job in a down economy. I had a lot of people tell me not to do it (mainly my family). They’ve seen me walk away from promising corporate careers before, they know my temperament, and yet I’m “expected” to fall in line with society.
Fast forward. I completed a book that I had hoped would be the foundation to create enough money coming in while I could write more prolific things. “Personalities of the Tarot” was released in late September. Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought through the niche market aspect of the book (metaphysics, etc) and marketing/promotion. I went through a self-publishing house, but I couldn’t afford their high-end package that included mass-marketing. I’m on my own. Let’s make one thing very clear: I’m not very good at promoting myself. I’m good at what I do, but I’m not a salesperson or promoter.
Needless to say, book sales are dismal (with over 1,000,000 books published in the U.S. every year, my book is literally, one in a million), and I’ve had chronic problems with the publisher. I’m still waiting on my packaged books to be able to complete a book-signing at my local Bookman’s.
The money ran out last month. Around that same time (though not because of it), my significant other moved out. I updated my resume, and I sent it EVERYWHERE. I even ate crow and sent it to people that I didn’t necessarily want to. Beggars can’t be choosers after all. I needed money to keep from losing my house (a rental), be able to pay utilities and feed me and my two kids. Thankfully, my middle child is working full-time, and she can help out a little. My son, on the other hand, is in his first year of college.
I came to the decision to sell some of my things in an attempt to make my rent for November. I gave up some of my favorite material items that I felt defined me (like my mannequin, vinyl record collection, etc.). It was hard, and it made me sad at first. Then I remembered my piece on clearing out the old, and it became my mantra. It began to feel good to get rid of things that I had spent so much energy being attached to. Luckily, I had a couple of friends looking out for me who were interested in what I was selling.
I just barely made rent, and I was able to buy enough groceries to last us a week. I possibly could have made more, but local weather precluded me from being able to do a monthly art festival where I could conduct card readings (and make anywhere from $50 – $75 AFTER my $50 space rental).
I had a tiny bit leftover to purchase cake mix and a small gift for my daughter’s 20th birthday. I felt bad that I couldn’t do more for her. And since I had paid rent, my next concern was how I was going to cover my home utility bills.
On Sunday, November 6th, I was cleaning up my space where I meditate and work (it’s the open entry area to my home). I ended up creating an altar where I decided I would do “manifestation work”. I have an area where I read and learn, and I have an area where I do my own spiritual prayer/meditation/card readings, but I created a completely separate area just for manifestation.
In this case, I needed to manifest money. I strategically placed symbols and talismans of what I wanted to bring into my life. Some people might call it a spell, some might call it charm, and others call it manifesting. I prefer the latter (it’s more innocuous and less “offensive” a word I guess).
For the past several years, I’ve wanted to move to Hawai’i. It feels like “home” to me, so I had to include bits for that manifestation including pieces of coral that I had gotten there on previous trips. I want to make enough money to be comfortable. I don’t need to hoard money, I don’t need a treasure chest full of gold and jewels. I just need to pay my bills and be able to eat healthily, so I placed tarot cards relating to money on the altar. I placed certain stones and crystals on the altar along with a Ganesh talisman. Ganesh is the energy that is the remover of obstacles and the bringer of prosperity. I placed my books on the altar as well because I want my writing to be my income-producer.
After everything was placed where I wanted it, I prayed, and I listened to/said the “Gayatri Mantra” for several minutes. I lit a white candle, and I prayed that when it burnt down, the energy would be out in the Universe and (hopefully) returned to me.
Now please bear in mind that I hadn’t shared my financial woes with many people. Certainly not with my family, and with very few friends. I didn’t want to burden anybody because I felt that since I had made this bed, I must lay in it.
Around 24-hours after my manifestation ritual, there was a knock on my front door. I didn’t really hear it, but my dog Hazel did. She began barking at the door. I opened the front door, and nobody was there, but there was an envelope on my welcome mat addressed to me. I picked up the envelope and walked out to the street looking up and down trying to find who had left the type-written letter. Nobody there.
I came inside, and opened the envelope to find a small picture of angels flying over the earth. Imprinted on the picture was, “Please know that you are loved, not by one, but my many.” The picture was wrapped around a feather (a personal symbol for me that I am no alone in the universe – a few friends, and now everybody who reads this, knows this). There was also a type-written story on a single sheet of paper (you may have heard it before). It goes as follows:
The only survivor of a shipwreck washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him, and everyday scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming.
Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions. But one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky.
The worst had happened; everything was lost. He was stung with grief and anger. “God, how could You do this to me?!” He cried.
Early the next day however, he was awakened by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him. “How did you know I was here?” asked the weary man of his rescuers. “We saw your smoke signal,” they replied.
It is easy to get discouraged when things are going bad. But we shouldn’t lose heart because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain and suffering. Remember, next time your little hut is burning to the ground, it just may be a smoke signal that summons the grace of God.
Inside this envelope was another envelope folded over. When I opened it, there was enough cash to cover my most major bills! And then I cried.
I cried because my (immediate) needs had been met, obviously by people who cared about me. I cried at the fact that my prayers had been answered in a most unexpected way. I cried over the love that was anonymously left at my doorstep. I cried tears of surprise and joy.
The package was obviously left by a friend (or friends) who loved me and had an idea of what I was going through (though I doubt they know the sheer gravity of my personal situation). Nobody had been in my home to know that I had set up the altar, and that in itself was so amazing to me. Especially when I went back and looked at the cards I had laid out which included the 6 of Coins (unexpected material gift for a job well done), the Wheel of Fortune (just what is sounds like), the 10 of Cups (emotional fulfillment and joy shared with friends and loved ones), The World (a sense of wholeness) and the King of Coins (the actualization of the material).
Yesterday I celebrated my daughter’s 20th birthday, and I was able to provide her favorite Chinese food dinner! Today I paid my bills, and today I write this story.
While I won’t mention the names of the people I believe are involved, just as you anonymously left the letter on my doorstep, know that I love each and every one of you for the role that you played in helping me when I was really down.
I’m still searching for work, sending out resumes en masse on a daily basis. I have a “test” this Friday with a psychic hotline. I believe I will get the job (as it was a psychic who told me to apply – and no, she doesn’t work there), and I believe it will cover enough until my writing begins to pay off.
I can’t thank my earth angels enough for looking out for me, and I believe that being a good person really does return the energy eventually. I’m certain that what you’ve done for me will be returned to you. I hope you, too will be blessed with the good fortune and love you have bestowed upon me!