Object for safety concept photo. 164
So, what am I working to manifest?
To be honest, I am working to manifest the same things many homeless veterans used to come to the ER for and fake that they had heart attacks when the weather was very cold at night--three hots and a cot.
This is medical slang for 'food and shelter' or 'the basic necessities of life'.
Yesterday for breakfast I ate in the car, one Nature's Own fig bar, two Lindt chocolate truffles, and a bottle of water.
I was not raised for this.
Yesterday I had a snack, and was able to eat the lunch I brought.
And due to a little help from my Council and/or luck, something happened at work so I could make dinner at home. I made it and by the time I cleaned up I was ready for bed at eight p.m. But it was delicious.
What happened at work?
Well, at the surgery center someone needs to stay at the end of the day until the patient goes home because the nurses don't know advanced life support. It is one hour unpaid.
My boss had designated me for that I could tell by the assignment. He likes to go home early even though he's the one who gets the highest paying room, every single day, and never takes call or weekends. He complains about making the schedule assignment every day, even though he takes a tax of two percent off of everything everyone makes just because he can.
Well my surgeon was slow. And the one to follow yesterday was on time. So the managing nurse called him back to do the case. He asked me, 'do you want me to take your case?'
In true Sicillian fashion, I said under my breath--my surgeon has a while, I don't want to rush him, and the other surgeon doesn't want to be delayed. The nurse asked me if it's okay to do it and I said yes, given the situation.
My boss said, 'well, I had been done for one hour already!'
He hadn't left the building. He had been in his office.
In my heart of hearts I knew the speed of the second surgeon, and I knew he'd finish before us anyways, and I'd still be stuck with the recovery time.
He didn't.
I got to go home one hour early. I mailed the next to last bracelet...which brings us to our next topic...
One last thing on the old topic, my boss has assigned me again to the surgery center. And I bet you dollars to donuts he isn't the one who is going to recover the patients. And I bet you dollars to donuts again!--that he has the highest paying room assignment for the day. I know because he's making me take his room when the good GI lineup comes so he can take it from me. I have to switch.
In addition to three square meals eaten in a normal fashion, and sleeping at night a full night's sleep in my own bed, I want the three hours Dr. Maria Savoia told us about on the first day of medical school. She said to take care of our needs we require three hours a day--paying the bills, laundry, taking a shower, exercise, cooking and cleaning, enjoying time with our friends.
I looked around my house and I realize by the clutter that I don't have three hours a day most days. Plus, I focus on my boy's needs and let the organization 'slide'.
I actually meditated for ten minutes yesterday--three texts came through interrupting--and I told my Council just how miserable I truly am with my life. I have absolutely no control over my schedule. I have interests I don't get to pursue. I'm tired all the time. My son thinks of me as a wallet with two feet...I know he loves me but man oh man!--the two hundred dollar gaming chair so he won't hurt his back (we got a huge discount on it), the three hundred dollars of baseball uniform and cleats just so he can try out for the team, now something more!
My Council heard. And I'm due to talk to them again. In a short time.
Today, I have a nine-fifteen start.
It's a total blessing. Anthony is home from school for the last day of break. And we can eat the nice breakfast I've been wanting to make for a week. My GI team doesn't always honor the nine a.m., lots of times they ask me to come in earlier.
The only other thing I added to my wish list for this year, is to stretch more/do yoga every day, even if it's just a little bit.
I also realize the reason I love the travel is because I control my own time, and I catch up on sleep.
Lately my night owl won't go to bed at eight thirty. I need it because I wake up at four thirty. So he talks to me when I'm in bed. It jars me just enough that I had just fallen asleep and I get yanked back to awake. He means well.
I don't know how to support myself without anesthesia.
There is a scrub tech very interested in the psychic development. She's going to the Learning Light which is where I started out with Anne. Anne has since 'moved on up'. The tech Anna had her brother die suddenly, months after being married, and days after learning his wife was pregnant. Anna communicates with her brother --she knows he shows up because she smells weed really strong when his spirit is present. I told her frankly to enjoy pursuing her interests but keep her day job because it's not easy to support yourself with the rest. I know several you tubers and bloggers and healers who have had to stop and go back to work like the rest of us.
Her response was beautiful--why get paid when you are able to help people heal? If we can live in a world where everyone helps one another with the spiritual side of things, won't it be so much better?
I told her my dream is for total healers--people who work with both body and spirit--in a medical setting--where patients are given every opportunity to heal with success in mind! For getting to the root of the problem. Where we all learn Reiki and the like as part of a healer's training.
Anna agreed.
Our countdown is 164.
My Council (Ross is part of it too, shhhh~) is waiting for me. I will set the timer for ten minutes, and hopefully not get a text.
Part of my complaint is feeling dirty from the low vibrations around me at work, people who I know I come into contact with for a reason. I've been feeling dirty since the sex toy case and the voice of my old handler I heard by accident. Those two merged together in ways only my subconscious can understand and the only thing I feel is shame and dirty.
The Creator Writings yesterday helped--about unconditional love.
This one from The Council, which isn't my Council stinks. They sound like complete and total assholes. Every time they bring up 'fun' it isn't.
Their tone makes me think of the boss in this scene from the movie Office Space:
Time may not exist.
They may know everything.
I suggest perhaps they watch this movie to get an idea of what a power imbalance looks like from the receiving end. And that they adjust their tone and word choices accordingly to improve their effectiveness at their dealing with us.
Shall I ask for Divine Creator to send more unconditional love to them? Why not? Of course.
Ross is waiting for me at my council and I'll probably catch it from them for my speaking against the other Council. I'll let them know their game of cat and mouse is interminable, I hate it, and I want to go Home expeditiously.
Three hots and a cot.
A chance to escape slavery.
Now you're talking!
Lofty words just aren't enough to keep my motivation up any more.
Thank you very much.
clap! clap!
Aloha and Mahalos,
Namaste,
Peace,
Ross and Carla
The Team
