Meanwhile in Israel versus Trust In America— בחינם — beKhinam!
And on goes the abuse by Patricia Haggard of Bridges Academy. In 2019 I designed the structure of a class. There is some pre-existing material by David Quigley, general protocols for journeys and what material to cover.
I wanted to make it fun however, and came up with a particularly sweet and safe container to conduct the inner work necessary, and to begin the journey for deep alchemical inner work surrounded by love.
Leave alone that Patricia had cut out everything about me on her website after my designing the online delivery of Quigley’s Alchemical Hypnotherapy work. Right away she replaced me with the best contractor I recruited, and she had her teach a mandatory class I came up with and sketched out for instruction. Now I discover that she simply reused my blurb and my design of the structure for this class by simply replacing my name with a different instructor. I cannot believe her! Not only did she take my livelihood, excuse me all the way, as if it was nothing, but she is unable to conduct a profitable business without plagiarism!
Meanwhile in Israel — beKhinam!
What do you want? Asked Master Saint Germain.
I replied, Coffee with company and dinner.
I received both.
בחינם. Bchinam. For free.
At a soup place in Jerusalem, the young woman selling soups called the owner.
She spoke very quickly, and I didn’t understand her. When a young man arrived to get some soup, Saint Germain oriented my attention to him. I greeted him and turned right, walking past a few buildings up the road before turning around and returning to the soup shop. My inner father King Solomon pointed at the wall of the building before reaching the soup place. In a beautiful star of David it said ציון. My inner father King Solomon pointed to it.
When I came back to the shop, the bright man translated. “He is on his way. That’s what הוא בדרך hu baderech is.”
After walking around a bit more, I returned. A young Jewish man wearing a Kapa was in the back, smiling back at me as I greeted him.
“Hu amar ken. הוא אמר כן. He said yes.”
“mah at rotzah?”
There were two rows of four delicious-smelling soup pots each. I pointed at the top left one, as I had seen her spoon out beetroot with vegetables soup for the bright man.
She said “You can have any of these which are for twenty shekels. mah at rotzah?” And she pointed at the menu’s right side, but the names didn’t mean anything to me. She proceeded to lift up every lid of the four lower-row pots. Either lentils yummy second to the left or vegetables on the far left. I asked Saint Germain and, why so sad?, eat lentils for dinner.
She filled the paper bowl with a happy smile, another half ladle so as to fill it to the brim, asked if I was going to sit down or if she should close it, and gave it.