In a Matter of Seconds: A Story to Empower Yourself Into Love, Success and Manifestation

By Victoria Vives Khuong

How to thoroughly and successfully heal oneself by expanding ones consciousness beyond societal conditioning and other programming with a deep healing step by step process and many sharings about true life experience results from my own journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evolve Global Publishing
• Release date: Feb 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463787649

Victoria Vives Khuong

Victoria is a champion of truth and consciousness. Her diverse and colorful history gives her a unique perspective and keen ability to connect with people from all walks of life and also pierce the confounding veils of ambiguity and misdirection that are so frequently employed by the powers that be.Raised in the ghettos of Spain, as a multi-ethnic child, by a single mother, Victoria grew from her experiences with poverty, racism, sexual abuse, congenital problems and social stigma only to achieve high levels of health as well as success in the entertainment industry. In the midst of a series of severe life trials culminating in a near death experience, a spontaneous kundalini awakening, and involvement with occult societies while exploring metaphysics, healing and martial arts, she left her old life in Spain to forge a new one in the United States.With minimal English speaking skills, no money, and no support from her family, Victoria hustled her way off the streets of Hollywood with brute determination. Through a series of profound learning experiences she discovered her true calling as a herald of truth.International Speaker/TeacherREIKI and Karuna REIKI Master TeacherShaman Practitioner and TeacherMartial Arts and Action Actress​Singer/Songwriter​Crystal Healing​Radio Host

Book preview

Alive

Seconds in the Matter

You know how they say that your life flashes before your eyes when death is imminent?

I feared for my life, bleeding profusely from freshly torn flesh, desperately clawing my way out of the gutter. My life did not flash before my eyes.

The pit bull had mauled me and was rearing for a second attack as it growled and snapped at the air, as though imagining reaching his goal. I could hear the chain, holding it back, whip taut as the beast lunged at me. Its blood-crazed eyes seemed to roll back momentarily with every froth and fang-riddled snap of its jaws.

The physical and emotional shock, along with the deep gashes on my right forearm and left thigh from the pit bull’s initial attack prevented me from getting up and scrambling to safety. The dog’s owner was nowhere to be seen.

It was just me, the bloodthirsty dog that had been left carelessly tied to a short post, and my frantic hurricane of thoughts and emotions; a mix of base survival instinct and scenario crunching, calculating my next move. Oh yes, and of course, as I was on a busy Hollywood street, there were all the apathetic passersby who hurried on, all the while averting their eyes, ignoring my cries for help.

It was a bright sunny day in the year 2006, right at the intersection of Sunset and Vine, in Hollywood, California. The heart of the city where the American film industry was born. It was a prolific town where many walked, where many wandered. Some chasing their dream to make it onto the big screen, the next television show, the next gig, their claim to fame... Some just visited, mesmerized by the delights offered by the flamboyant people and the rich history. A few, most likely the minority, had actually been born and raised there.

I had left a promising career in Spanish television and traveled halfway across the world to recreate myself in the Land of Opportunity. Despite what many might say, America sets a certain standard by which so many European nations compare themselves. Most Americans may not know what is going on in Spain, but American trends and sociopolitical affairs are always a hot topic in Europe. Freedom of expression, progressive values, limitless opportunity—America is the world’s melting pot of cultures and ideas; a bubbling crucible, however tenuous, for the frontier of human achievement.

Never would I have ever, in my wildest dreams, thought I would find myself fighting for my life in this way, in this place.

I cried for help, as I never had before, fearing that the predator would tear itself free from the short post it was loosely tied to. Already terribly wounded, I would not be able to fight it off or flee. There were horrifying images in my mind of what could happen. Would I survive this?

I loved dogs and at that moment I was in such stupefaction that I could not process that man’s best friend would do such a thing. Until that moment, my experiences with dogs were so safe and positive that it was impossible for me to even imagine being attacked by one—unprovoked, no less.

My mind was racing, spiraling; my body was frozen in terror; my shoes and purse were strewn across the ground between myself and the dog, and I was physically, mentally, and emotionally unable to push myself up and escape.

Have you ever felt so miserable that you thought that nobody cared, and your life had no value? At that moment, I became intimately familiar with that feeling. People overtly ignored my pleas for help, giving only the slightest, most imperceptible of glances, downward in my direction, before quickly looking elsewhere. Some, chit-chatting with friends, paused only for an instant before resuming their conversations as they hurried on. This is what it felt like to be nothing. To be a worm drying up on the sun-baked sidewalk and looked upon with disgust.

I had experienced a lot of racism growing up in Spain, being the only black person in the neighborhood and one of the few in the country. I knew what it was to be looked at as being subhuman. But this was a whole new level. I could not, for the life of me, comprehend what was happening. Was this because I was black? Was it because I was a foreigner?

I was wearing a fine ivory dress I bought in London years before. Being in Hollywood, building my career as a performer, I always made sure to dress well, knowing that opportunity and connections could present themselves at any moment. I was fit, healthy and elegantly-dressed, so I ruled out my appearance as the source of the problem. How could people not have any empathy or consideration for a fellow human being in dire need of help? Even calling an ambulance for help, if nothing more, would have been appreciated.

Could I really not count on anyone?

It was a life or death situation and it was painfully clear that I was on my own; nobody was going to help me.

I had two choices: succumb to the torrent of fear, pain, confusion, and accept that this could be the end of my physical existence—or I could change my destiny and live.

It is during extreme moments like this that we, as humans, can demonstrate our true potential as architects of our reality. At that moment, I knew that I had the power inside, in my mind and heart, to turn things around in a matter of seconds.

I knew that dwelling within my terror would end in certain death.

Something within me switched on and time slowed down to a crawl. Although I did not see my life flash before my eyes, I was somehow able to access an invisible web of possibilities and suddenly achieve an understanding of my place in the universe. This was familiar; this is what all of my past experiences with the unseen realms of infinite potential had lead me to. I understood now the myriad of subtly and intricately complex chains of events and intertwining threads of energies, possibilities, and decisions that made up my potential future.

It was all so clear.

My labored breathing, rapid heart rate, and wounded attempt to retreat would accelerate and excite the dog’s predatory instincts. It was a pit bull; a dog bred for fighting and known for its aggressive nature. It knew I was crippled and it would go in for the kill. I could not let that happen.

I was a warrior and I would fight with mind, body, spirit, and every possible fiber of my being.

I found the eye of the storm within, calmed my body and centered my thoughts. I remembered the Metaphysics mantra I loved so much. I call it the Miracle Mantra because the results it facilitated in my life have been nothing less than miraculous. I bless the Angel in this situation and I ask him to show up right now. It was the perfect tool to concentrate my thoughts and energy. My life depended on my focus, it was all I had and so I gave it all my attention: I bless the Angel in this situation and I ask him to show up right now. I repeated this again and again. As I reigned in my emotions, the terror of a horrible death and the accompanying images in my mind abated and began to turn into hope.

No more crying out loud and, instead, just speaking to the Universe. This was not a fight of wits or of tooth and nail. Nor was this a passive appeal to faith and salvation by way of an external entity. This was a battle within myself to understand and connect with my true nature as a part and reflection of the Universe. I was creating my reality by default and this was simply another test, or perhaps an opportunity to take the reigns and create my reality by sheer force of will and purpose. It was an opportunity to rise above limiting beliefs and experience myself as the master of my destiny.

In no time, there he was—my angel had arrived. He wasn’t the bright and shiny celestial being that some would expect of an angel.

Worn out blue jeans, wrinkled t-shirt, unkempt blond hair, he reminded me of my friends who I worked so hard to leave behind in my old neighborhood in Spain.

I grew up in Carabanchel, a district in Madrid boasting one of the biggest prisons in Europe at that time. It was an area with a history of violence, crime, and bloodshed stretching back from the Spanish civil war right up to my childhood. It was a rough neighborhood to say the least; Madrid’s very own ghetto.

My teenage years in Carabanchel were often spent with the Bad Boys; young ruffians usually up to no good. In Spain, alcohol may be consumed in open public spaces, no paper bag required, so it was not uncommon for my friends to be high on hash, or the occasional LSD or cocaine, with beer in hand. Once heroin arrived on the scene, death from drug overdose became another sad concern.

It was where I was born, but I had decided to free myself from the fate that many of my friends had accepted. I ran away and would never look back… or so I thought. As fate would have it, there was no more running, and I would be forced to face my past or risk my life.

This angel, who seemed the living reincarnation of all that I left behind, forced me to come to terms and accept that this was part of who I was. It was perhaps the part of me that was tough enough to help me survive this.

Now, this man was the only being with the courage to care, he was my salvation. A tremendously humbling experience.

He took his shirt off and tied it around my arm to stop the bleeding. As he held me in his arms I looked into his bright blue eyes and I saw Jesus. Keep in mind, I am aware that Jesus was not necessarily blond and blue-eyed, and yet I did grow up with a strong, conservative, Catholic influence.

Jesus, for me, despite my spiritual but not religious view, is a representation of love, compassion, enlightenment, and wisdom, among other things. That was the only thing I could see in this man’s eyes. I was hypnotized by his reassuring gaze as he told me all would