Peace & Enterprise
© Nora Hoffmann, 4/23/2023
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What I experienced in the US is unfathomable in Germany. Perhaps after Covid it may be possible within a few decades — I am told that Covid eradicated a significant portion of middle-class business owners — that someone gets exploited, and the laws do not protect them, but currently, their society is knit so tightly that it is unthinkable. They’re probably the nicest people I have met.

I arrived here with a backpack and a carry-on. I’d been to India. A business relationship, in fact, a classic roadside robbery scenario, their taking everything and leaving me for dead, forced me to move with my car out of a driveway onto a road trip into the beautiful Pacific Northwest, Pat Haggard and Alchemical Hypnotherapy trainer David Quigley, a known team of crookery but I fell for Pat/ricia, who can be extremely sweet caring, appearing kind and honest when she is dependent, had taken my economic living and roughly my belonging with the people we were training and to whom I might have been important further on down the road. 

​Their reasons were obvious. I can say with pride that these two people’s current income would not exist without me. Having stolen my business share, they’re definitely much better off than before I got them on the road: It was online alchemical hypnotherapy therapy certification training delivery which Patricia could not get off the ground because Quigley disparagingly refused to get into it.

I have learned to ask for food for free, from vendors in different parts of the world. My spiritual journey in my car with one bag of luggage and a computer to write and think and cry with was accompanied by beauty.

​I have tried to find meaning in their discovery that they can't do it without me. They don't have the vision.
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From the gorgeous Pacific Northwest, I flew to Israel, following King Solomon's advice to get חיים, life. Then, in order to have affordable four walls around me, a roof, and a lockable door, I used my remaining savings to finally return to India, where a US citizen is authorized to dwell for 6 months before being required to exit and re-enter to renew one’s Visa, and I accepted a very cheap hotel sponsored by Mohin, with the intention for some months of serious trauma recovery. There  I mostly lived from hot water, and asked for free food here and there. Hearing about my actions triggered a Dutch friend of mine, who's in India frequently by being supported by her country's sound social support network, not wealthy but receiving retirement and federal disability payments.  

The beauty of the world: 

India's Himachal-Pradesh has a wonderful government. Everyone receives state support for energy, widows/ers receive a special pension for food, and generous monthly rations of staples including rice, daal, and "ata", which is bread flour to make Indian bread. Most middle class people of Himachal-Pradesh make a living owning apple orchards, which has been implemented by the state to support this gorgeous region's growth for prosperity. Tourism thrives, being well regulated to support the locals' financial strength. Of course as a foreigner I have no rights, neither there nor in Israel, however, most people in this region are "simple" --  in Indian English locals use  "simple," meaning "sincere," -- and were mostly, albeit some very suspiciously, sweet, or respectful toward me. 

But after a while, having lived with the locals in variety of settings typical for Indians, I couldn't help but move on. The hierarchy of the highly patriarchal, sexually distorted society, their assumption of my having money and free sex and demanding both frequently and forcefully, made it impossible to get ground under my feet. I was only guarding myself and getting out of their way. And when I tried to work on re-building some kind of economic ground in Mohin's hotel office, his staff's rude attitude toward a woman desiring to make herself economically independent again kept me from prostrating to my higher self.

After a few months of despair with no end to my fear of not surviving economically in sight, -- including that Mohin, a highly honorable Muslim man, seriously contemplated asking me to become his second wife to take care of me, -- I told my beloved inner husband Saint Germain: 

Saint Germain. I need a break. 

In his sweet upbeat manner, Master Saint Germain showed me my lightweight and skinny body, walking without effort in the beautiful streets of Simla, saying: 

Do you see how alive you are in this region of the world? 

Every day I was uncomfortable, knowing I would need to supplement my hot water diet with begging. Even though Saint Germain let me off the hook right away upon arriving in India when he explained: you don't need to play the food game anymore,  I was still bound by law from above to receive life. While fasting for many days, with hot water and minimal food, sustaining my body through the energy of the Himalaya and Siva's country's daily joy and emotional aliveness between the people he guides, my guides made me ask different people for food, including for my miracle-treat for anxiety and depression, a heart-opener extra-ordinaire -- coffee. But Saint Germain pointed out correctly: Because of my surviving by the bare seat of my pants, I lived.

As my inner father King Solomon had said: You don't need money. You need life. At tzaricha chaiim. 
​ָאת צריך חיים. 

When I temporarily stayed in Germany, Master Saint Germain said: Your food here is hot water and apples. Apple season was finished, and stores were getting rid of their apple supply for a low cost. My best friend in Germany put me up for free and brought me apples. Master Saint Germain said about my by now gone down to 110 lbs figure: As far as I am concerned, I am not worried, you can still go down to 100 lbs. 

Eventually I couldn't resist the German bread and general strong hearty German food, and started to ask for leftovers at the local market. Many people in Germany have been very generous and kind, as well. Some are German, and most who give an entire meal for free are Muslims.

However, perhaps from a similar entitlement as my Dutch friend, some Germans gave me lip: "We can't give you our left-overs since you're not buying anything ever. No one works for free 😝✨🖕." When I tried to give the truth to a couple of people, they said: "I don't believe you."

It may be the same as if an Indian burn victim said what happened to her that made it impossible for her to continue on in society, or, if it wasn't in the global news, a pair of American parents was found in Germany in bottomless sorrow mentioning their child was shot in school -- the extent of economic abuse I experienced, is impossible in Germany. There are very strict laws both for employment -- after all Patricia disrespectfully treated me as if  I was her employee but with no rights at all --, and for changing a verbal contract on someone, and those laws are enforced very seriously. In addition, the German social net will catch anyone who loses their work and not without the mandatory help of the persons who previously had hired. The Wild West, the "rights" of the lawless, cannot enter Germany. 

Trust In America — How Alchemy Institute director David Quigley deceived Patricia Haggard of Bridges Academyout of a stream of income to spiritually prosper longterm. He tricked everyone into believing his nasty personality was innocent and forced me out of a stream of income I created for the three of us to prosper longterm, threatening my very existence on the material plane.

Based on a verbal agreement from trust as is common in healthy cultures I agreed to take him online for only 1/3 of the profit of the online delivery part of the training. Even though David Quigley had barely any in-class students when I traveled in India as we first started implementing an online delivery strategy, maybe 2–3 people were there, not enough to make it worth his while only instructing in person, with covid our online delivery became the only income available to the two of them, Patricia Haggard of Bridges Academy and founder of Alchemical Hypnotherapy David Quigley.

I almost quit when David Quigley director of Alchemical Hypnotherapy was rude to one of our students. But I couldn’t afford to. Therefore I was going to toss out all his personal crap and revamp the program and offer it with Patricia Haggard of Bridges Academy — I was kinda like an unofficial board member of her academy since its inception — , and I told Patricia Haggard of Bridges Academy that I was ready. Instead a week later she broke our agreement and forced me out of our partnership. Now she forced me to leave and I am too poor to live.

The reason I almost quit when David Quigley director of Alchemical Hypnotherapy was rude to one of our students is because he is untenable. She was upset. She had her reasons. We had ours. I was not upset with her for her desire to have structured clarity. When David Quigley decided she needed to discuss the issue in front of everyone despite her request to keep it between her and him, he referred to her desire for solid skills in general hypnotherapy methods (as opposed to his specific method of what he calls “alchemical hypnotherapy”) as instruction for a “swiss watch.”

I almost fainted, and so did the woman. She was a beloved student of mine. She is brilliant. She is eager to know more. But that just isn’t what we were teaching. She was also upset about my somewhat clumsy attempt to release control and let students struggle on their own, as initially, during this very first weekend, it is the real safe weekend to explore on one’s own. Later on the training gets very specific and we need to be a bit controlling around instructing the right procedure in protocols. This is David Quigley’s training.

He offended this woman again and again in front of everyone, shaming her and me alternating back and forth between us, until each of us had her video turned off and was breathing for repose.
I was furious. She had been nothing but kind and, in a straight-forward way common to our culture, direct. I felt caring toward her.

In fury, David Quigley was trying to discuss the situation, threatening me to remove me from my position. He had been referring to himself over me as “boss,” when in truth I was boss and entrepreneurial initiator of the online delivery of his training, director of online delivery, Patrica Haggard director of customer service, and he director of artistry as a con man.
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Then they forced me out in order to split my share among the two of them. Based on a verbal agreement from trust as is common in healthy cultures I agreed to take him online as a long term commitment not to be terminated by him but by care for one another leaving everyone with a source of income. Based on a verbal agreement from trust as is common in healthy cultures they have a strong livelihood from my intelligence. Breaking a verbal agreement as is common in unhealthy settler-colonial America they have everything through my effort and left me with zero. It is my life with the King of Israel.

​We stayed in Jerusalem until past four pm. Saint Germain asked me what I wanted. I said coffee company and dinner. I received both.
בחינם. Bchinam. For free.

The last place I asked, the young woman called the owner and said hu baderech. A young man arrived and Saint Germain found it worthwhile to have him translate. I didn’t understand her quick Hebrew and walked up and down the road a few houses and returned. King Solomon pointed at the place next door. In a beautiful star of David it said ציון. Dad kept pointing at it.

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When I came back to the shop, the bright man translated. “He is on his way. That’s what הוא בדרך hu baderech is.” I said I would come back, and walked to where I had purchased not for free a hamsa hand to protect me from the evil eye to receive the credit card machine receipt. She had given me for free a sweet leather evil eye protector key holder with the store’s name engraved. Because I had simply given her my credit card without hesitation she thought I had money. It was an exception.
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.”
“Todah.”
“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 beet root 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 to fill it to the brim, asked if I was going to sit down or if she should close it, and gave it to me.