It’s truly amazing how well people take care of their cars.  I used to
really care of mine as well.  Wash’er up at least once or twice a month, put
that shine on, show’er off.  Now I just cruise around in my scuffed up
silver Focus.  I like how it’s scuffed up.  After the Shift, the Focus had
an unfortunate incident where one of my neighbors must have decided that
backing up into my left (driver’s) side rear fender/bumper area was a good
idea.  Got her pretty good.  Instead of getting mad, I went another way.  I
decided to like it.  It was like me now.  Focused and scuffed up.  The Shift
had focused me, life had scarred me.  Long story, unnecessary here but my
left upper arm looks like I may have been bit by a shark (with some retained
titanium hardware to boot hah).  So for the past couple years I had thought
of myself and my car as reflections of one another (of sorts).  A couple
months ago I was thinking about THE main vehicle though.  Me.  I Drive Me.
Through the Shift I took the necessary steps to come into harmony with my
three aspects of Self.  I ingest only the most effective and efficient
Superfoods.  I take him on long drives (running) and conduct other levels of
vehicle maintenance and conditioning (strength training).  The computer
systems gets regular calibration tweaks (Lumosity, binaural beats,
affirmations).  The best thing I like most about my vehicle is.I love him.
Taking my time, waxing the surface, it is so clear that I see something
tremendously fundamental.  I see Me.  I see me looking at Me (daily
So one early morning waking up for work (around 0115ish), I heard the Voice.
He (Me) said, you (I) are (am) a Jaguar.  In general as it is I have a
cat-like personality.  I believe it was picked up by the cat I had in my
early developing years and as an empath, I may have taken on some of those
traits, but anyway, neither here nor there in this instance.  I received the
word, the word was I Am the Jaguar.  Not the cat.  The car (the body
vehicle) that I drive.  Later at work I found a picture online that I
printed out to have on the wall to remind myself that I am the Jaguar.  It
was silver and a convertible, very sleek.  I think it may have lasted a
couple days on the wall until I was reading about something and saw “black
jaguar”, knew in an instant I needed to change the picture.  As I am typing
this out (I love how the Universe continuously unveils things before me), I
just realized something.  The cat that I grew up with that had such a
profound effect on me from early childhood, George.  She was an all-black
cat.  I Am the Jaguar, and my engine purrs.