My Life Story
The worker that had gone with me just stared at it with me, and we just stood there, numb. We turned around and went back home, and when I was back, I told my son that we needed to pray. During the prayer, my son started to weep, but I was completely numb and didn’t feel anything. The next morning, I tried to contact the insurance company, and they sent a construction crew to estimate the damages. They had just sent one person, and nobody else. He started to cut apart the drywall and remove all the wood floor, carpet, and cabinets before setting up at least ten fans in the house for seven days to try to dry everything. The process was so slow, and it made me very nervous because I had a tenant waiting to move in. After it was dry, the construction company sent someone for an estimate, and it took more than two weeks for it to be completed.
As we made the drive back and forth to the property in Orange Country, I cried every day and every time we went. I came before God, and I couldn’t figure out why this had happened. This house was supposed to be a miracle house, and I had written an article about it, how this house had come to us miraculously, and now this had happened. In my head, I kept asking why this had happened. It didn’t make sense why this would happen to me, to increase my burden.
I was now financially, physically, and mentally stressed. Even though I was in such a frail state, I still kept searching for why this had happened. Gradually, I understood that this was a life experience I needed to go through. I needed to help myself to be peaceful during all of this. One day I finally realized that miracles are not only material but are also spiritual. And during this near month-long period of dealing with this house and its water damage, I managed my stress and realized that a lot of miracles had happened during then.
For example, someone told me that one of the other construction companies said that it would take at least three weeks to fix the damage, and I told myself that I didn’t have three weeks, just one. Miraculously, I found a cabinet person that helped me do the cabinets in a few days. A worker slept in the house and worked day in and day out by himself to fix everything. It was a bittersweet experience, but we managed to finish repairs within ten days, and the tenant moved in in time. Looking back on it, I realized that this was the most valuable experience I’d ever had. Through the struggles and the stress, the Voice told me I needed to learn this to truly find peace.
Towards the end of last year, one of my friends that came to visit me. Five years ago, she came here to make a film for a spiritual search. I helped her to interview inspirational speakers and translate them.
This time when she came, she had finished editing the episodes into a short film, and now she was looking for people to buy it. She had always been a soul-searching person, and she told me with confidence that her energy level had reached over 700. I was shocked, and I couldn’t imagine how she could achieve such a level. She told me that my energy level seemed to be low and that I should speed up my journey and tries to get to her level. Since she was talking about the energy level, I picked the book from my bookshelf by Dr. David Hawkins, called Power vs. Force. However, I didn’t put in much effort into studying it carefully until the beginning of this year.
Later, another friend asked me what my energy level was in 2017, and this time I was surprised that a similar question had come up. I knew I had to look for an answer, so I started to reread Dr. Hawkins’ book.
Here is his story:
Dr. David Hawkins was a sought-after psychiatrist for decades in New York City. He left his practice at age 38 after contracting a near-fatal illness, and while praying for healing, a bliss state befell him—prompting him to leave behind his “personal self” and merge with “an Infinite Presence of such unlimited power that it was all that was.”
After spending seven years in a cabin near Sedona, meditating and studying, he reintegrated into society and has been astonishingly productive ever since. For nearly 40 years nonstop, he has been writing and lecturing around the globe about higher consciousness. At the core of his research is the radical notion that consciousness can be mapped on a logarithmic scale using behavioral kinesiology, nonlinear dynamics and particle physics. His seminal work, Power vs. Force, introduced the concept that truth is subjective and about one’s level of consciousness.
In his book, he used kinesiology to measure energy levels, and using what he knew from his 30 years of study; he concluded that we all have energy. Not just human beings, but also plants, clothing, books, cars, and even abstract ideas like videos, music, thoughts, and emotions. He gives us the different energy levels here.
As I was staring at this chart, I realized that if a person’s energy level drops below 250, that their emotions become negative – they feel more emotions like anger, grief, fear, and shame. It dawned on me that the reason I could not write the last chapter of my book – Enlightenment, where I explain how I received it from divinity – last June, was because I had a hard time gathering my energy to write. As I was trying to get inspiration, I kept hearing a message about peace. I ended up writing an article about peace, but I still didn’t get it at that time. Ever since then, I’ve just had the feeling that I need to be at peace. I thought I was doing better once I started trying to tune out unwanted noise like politics, and decided to stop complaining, but I still could not bring myself to write. I didn’t have inspiration and wasn’t moved to start to write again.
Two or three months ago, I began the process of selling a property, and I had a hard time trying to sell it. It made me uneasy because of the financial burden. I thought that was bad enough, but at the beginning of 2017, it became worse but taught me a lesson.
It happened when my other property’s tenant moved out, and before a new tenant moved in when there was no one in the house. The sprinklers had started leaking, and since there was no one there, they kept leaking for a few days until my back neighbor saw the water dripping. We rushed to the house, and what was inside was beyond our imagination. The water had gotten everywhere, flooding the entire first floor, and had damaged the wood floors, carpet, and cabinets. I remember the night when we saw the water-stained wood, and I stood there not knowing what to do. I had brought supplies to try to dry the water, but never thought it would be so bad, and I will always remember that scene, of the water-logged floors and carpet beyond help.
To be continued.
I’ve been feeling stressed and like nothing is going my way because my job at Home Health Marketing was getting nowhere. I used to have at least 12 patients a month, and now I didn’t even have a quarter of those numbers. Some months, I had no patients at all. I was trying to look for another job, and my friend suggested auditioning as an extra instead of for parts. As an actor, we can go months with no auditions, so I tried to go online to find jobs as an extra, but there was nothing either. I feel like God was testing my patience and my endurance.
No matter where I looked, I felt that I was in a box with nowhere to go. No matter how hard I pushed against the walls or try to break them, they were solid, and I couldn’t move them. I only hurt my hands trying to do so. In the end, I just sat down with tears on my face. I’ve never felt so hopeless or helpless. I wanted to shout, but I didn’t even have the voice for it. I wanted to cry, and I still couldn’t speak, but tears started pouring. I just wanted a job. I didn’t ask for much, so why was it so hard?
These thoughts consumed my energy, like acid dissolving at whatever I was hanging onto. Eventually, I decided to give up. I put my head down for a while. All of a sudden, I saw a light on the ground. I looked up, and sure enough, above me, there was no ceiling. The box was open all along. It looked like someone was coming down with a rope to get me out of there. I felt like I was lifted out of it. With that light, I gained strength.
I decided that I would visit a doctor as part of my job. When I went in, the receptionist told me that she had sent me a patient a few days ago. I didn’t know that because my office hadn’t told me. Suddenly I was filled with energy, and I had a smile on my way out of the doctor’s office. While I was driving, I got a phone call from my acting agent. Her voice was full of excitement. She said that I got a callback. I thought, “That was a miracle, how could I get a callback so fast when I had only auditioned an hour ago?” She said that this was even better – this was for a movie I had submitted a tape for. I was more than excited; I was exuberant. It was so difficult to get callbacks for movie productions because they would try to get the best people from all over the country. I stopped my car and opened my sunroof, looking up at the blue sky. I told myself, “Get out of the box. Stay out of the box.”
Look up, and the box will not constrain you.
As long as I’m outside of it, the walls of the box can’t cave in on me. Yes, I can look up, and I will be lifted there. I will gain my freedom and my hope. I will achieve anything.
As I finished writing this article, all of a sudden I was reminded of a quote from the author of the novel The Moon and Sixpence, explaining the title of his book: “If you look on the ground in search of a sixpence, you don’t look up, and so miss the moon.”
Through the title of the book, the author, W. Somerset Maugham, transforms the words “dream” and “reality” into the image of the moon. Yes, indeed, if we do not look up, we will miss the moon – our dream which may one day be realized.
As an Asian, I know that we have a habit of giving cash as a wedding or birthday gift. I am no exception. I prefer to give some money because I do not have time to buy a gift from a shop. I also know that whatever presents I pick may not necessarily be what they like.
I have done the cash as a gift thing for many years now. So for my son-in-law’s birthday, I did the same, of course. Rushing out of freeway, I went in the bank a couple of minutes before closing time. I told the cashier that I needed two brand new one hundred bills as a gift.
I saw him take out two hundred dollar bills and lay them on the table. Suddenly, I heard the noise from the counting machine, and he took out a stack of bills. It was a lot, maybe over hundred of them. I was surprised and worried that he mistakenly thought I withdrew a lot. Softly, I reminded him that all I needed were two, but he just smiled at me and examined this stack of hundred dollar bills. He looked at each, and after a moment I could tell that he was picking the best and newest ones. Finally, he pulled two bills, looking satisfied.
Standing there, I was amazed by his action. It was just two bills, but he went the extra mile to find me the best ones from the stack. What a warm feeling he gave me. He may never know this, but his attitude has inspired me to do the same for the others. That is, to treat others from the heart and always go an extra mile to help them.
July 1st should be a special day for me. But for the last 21 years, I’ve never really paid particular attention to this day. Today marks the 21st year since the death of my husband. And today, I had an urge to visit his grave.
When I mentioned it to my daughter, she insisted on coming with me. She also suggested for me to go to church with her at Fellowship Monrovia, where she’s been going for the past couple months. She told me that the pastor was an excellent speaker and that every time she went, she felt lifted up. She felt very confident and energetic after service. Afterward, we would go to my husband’s grave. Usually, I would have refused. I haven’t stepped into a church for about 20 years. It didn’t mean that I didn’t have faith, as I still had my fellowship with God because I continuously pray and have the conversations with him.
But this time, I was moved to go with her. I was so glad and thankful that I went. The speaker today was a visiting pastor, and he did such a good job. He put bible verses into a real-life context and made it easy to grasp the meanings. I was so moved, and before I left, I went to hug him and the head pastor.
We went to my husband’s grave afterward. While there, we usually try to clean the headstone. It wasn’t difficult, as I had cleaned it the last time I had been there with my son and granddaughter, but we still needed to trim the grass around the stone. As I sat there, I realized that I could count on my fingers how many times I’ve been at his grave over the past 20 years. I felt ashamed that I didn’t go more often. The things my husband has done for me is more than I can imagine. Even just before he passed away, he gave me a gift. He tried to tell me something. I mistook what he said until a year later when I realized he was trying to tell me that he loved me. A few years later, I decided to write an article about how I fought for him to keep getting a blood transfusion from the hospital for three days so that he would stay alive, but he passed away only several hours after they agreed to keep giving him blood.
All that time, I thought that I had tried so hard to keep him alive. I wanted him to live so much, but he passed away anyway. When I finished writing, I realized that he had wanted me to keeping living. By fighting, he knew that I would gain the strength and energy to live on and move on without him.
But there was one more surprise he had given me that I did not realize. About a week ago, when I was praying with my son, I realized something about his death.
My husband had had surgery on his lymph nodes because they were enlarged. The operation, coupled with the radiation he was receiving, made his body very weak and the wound from the surgery never healed and sealed, so the blood kept coming out from the opening of the wound.
One time, when our church members came to visit, I had to pull up the sheet to cover his neck so they wouldn’t see the blood on him. A week before his passing, he asked me suddenly if I had been standing next to him. I told him I hadn’t, and I had been sitting on the sofa resting. He told me that he had seen Jesus then. I asked him what He looked like. He said that he couldn’t see Him clearly, but he knew He had had a warm and smiling face. Also, a couple of days before he left, two doves kept walking back and forth on the window outside of his room.
After my husband passed, I couldn’t understand why he had to bleed to death too. Hadn’t Jesus’s blood brought salvation and saved the people already? Why my husband? This question has lingered and never answered until recently.
I realized that this coincides with the topic of the last chapter of the book I’m writing: Who Am I? God’s message was that “I am God.” We all also have the heavenly character of God. He is our father, and we are his children, so we are God too. Even though I’ve finished writing my book, I still can’t accurately display what God is through it. Who am I to become him? How can I become him? After the realization I had last week, I finally got it.
What my husband did wasn’t a coincidence. He gave me the last gift, a lesson on how to become godly. He reminded me that Jesus bled too. He was doing what Jesus did. He taught me how to follow God’s footsteps. It doesn’t mean that I have to bleed to death, but I have to follow God’s steps to have His love and His wisdom. To gain our rightful ownership and to manifest His power. This way, we can live in glory as He did. I’m still learning, but I’m so thankful, after 21 years, that I finally got my answer. What a gift.