DEEPLY AWAKE: ENTANGLED “Miracles”
By Kathy Vik 8-17-14
Last night in the shower, I got to thinking about miracles. I like the shower almost as much as I like driving. Funny stuff comes to me. I was aware, made aware, that I needed to go to church today, and I was then reminded about what I was told about miracles. I soaped, I rinsed, I listened, I laughed.
I remembered having been taught that the word miracle symbolizes an event which makes no sense, is outside of the realm of what is deemed possible, and sort of smacks us upside the head, saying any number of things. You are not alone. There are things going on you don’t know. Your details matter to us, here, here is a cool detail. All those things.
This morning, I set the alarm, woke up, and decided, nah, I don’t wanna go to church. I needed the sleep. I turned over and did just that. At 9, I woke up fast, hard, and it was then I felt so so different. I understood, no, I have to go to church. Not an option to stay in bed. I threw on my summer uniform, shorts and a tshirt and sandals, and walked in at 9:55, knowing I was where I needed to be.
The sermon was on miracles. Much of what he had to say was review, and that is very helpful for someone like me, because I forget, sometimes. He reminded us that we get caught up thinking an end product or situation is the miracle. We get caught up in the fear that not knowing the hows produces. We forget, in essence, that we are in the middle of a miracle, right now. Right now.
The last folks to be on the stage were a bunch of guys from the church choir. They’d done a mash up of a song I’d performed with a chorale in Downtown Denver, to a packed house. I thought, hmm, singing I can do. Choir I know. I need more friends. I should do that.
So, I auditioned. I nailed it. I was a ray sunshine. And I like that so much about myself, anymore. I really am a ray of sunshine. I like making people laugh, and open up. I found I was doing that everywhere I went today, on campus.
I wound up in the community center, looking for food but there was none. Instead, there was a guy doing aura readings. I had mine done, and I think he took pity on me, because I get to have a full body scan tomorrow, for free. A little jammed up, let’s say, my energy was. And so, I get o go get worked on tomorrow. While in line, I met three amazing people, each of whom have my card, and from whom I have promises of future enjoyment. I have no doubt I have made at least one fast friend today.
I layed down for a nap today and was out like a light. Forty minutes later, my friend called from Alaska. She said, Something just happened and I knew I needed to tell you, because only you would understand. She’d been asking for a Raven feather. She wanted to bring one home. And so, the prayer went out, and she got on with her day.
She’d just collected a basket of raspberries, and looked up and saw a raven. It was on a wire or tree, I forget. And she said the raven was preening itself. She felt it look at her, and one of its feathers fell from its body, spiraling down to the ground. It fell point first into the ground, like, “Here, you wanted a feather. You don’t even have to go looking for it in the grass.”
We marveled at her delicious connection with the animal kingdom, and I am always in awe at how much she is loved by nature. She is a shaman’s shaman.
I think that if I told some folks the above, they would say, my god, you live in this amazing creative whirlpool of synchronicity! And others, they would shrug and tell me I make too big a fuss over little details. I think that’s a riot, anymore. I like that synchronicity has, built into it, deniability. Miracles are as bountiful as you wish them to be, I think.
And maybe the shift, this shift or change I feel can be explained using the idea of miracles. I feel, especially the last couple three weeks, that it has been a time of shift, of reorganization and contemplation, and of putting down, just laying it down, these old horror stories I used to tell. Of exclusion, of being bad mouthed, of not fitting in, not being liked or seen.
That was a big deal for me. I mean, in essence, the question has been, how do I love those who do not love me? It’s odd to admit it, might seem weird, but I have begun to think that it is best for me to imagine that everyone loves me. They are afraid to show it, or don’t know how, or I do stuff that turns them off, but, everyone does.
Please let me tell you that along with this review and release thing I have been doing, alongside it I have seen two other things happen. One, I am being hit by waves of love so divine and thick I am moved to tears, I tremble, I weep. One of them when on for four hours, and I was able to have a lovely meal during it all. But it was intense, and I knew as it was occurring that I was being changed, altered, by it. Made lighter, I felt. During the meal, int his amazing soup of love, I had a weird experience I would like to tell you about.
I had been looking down, an then our waitress came around, and I looked up. As I did so, my head seemed to spin so fast, it felt like it was coming off me. I didn’t have any body feelings, just my head spinning in that really really good spin, not the nausea-inducing spin of illness, but that wild spin of Something Good. I thought, jeez, if this doesn’t stop, I’m gonna have to say something. It continued, and then, boom, it was over. I felt happy, not scared, and I felt excited. It was later that I connected this high state of love with the spin, that they were connected. It felt good. Disorienting like when I find my awareness plopped into my body while it’s driving, and I do not know where I am for a moment. That happens more now than before. I like it, every single time.
Along with these waves of love, and the release I feel from past bondage, I am also experiencing, many times a day, being highly aware of my, for lack of a better word, heritage. Many times a day I am reminded of God, of angels, of my place here, that I belong here, that I am a blessing here.
I had understood from the blogs I read and the teachers I follow that these days, during and after the celestial events which have heralded release and change, that we were to be getting very very busy, our tribe.
Hard for me to believe, after spending the summer in a state of blissful surrender to non-action. I have been busy, don’t get me wrong, but I have not been in the world, shall we say. And I have not fought against that too much. Couldn’t. I know when I need to be still. I know when it is simple resistance and when my standing still is due to honoring the best part of me.
And so, waking from my nap, I was aware that this coming week is one of great movement, lots of action and change. Given recent developments, I imagine now that I may be busier than I had at first envisioned. And I do not feel that heaviness, that unwillingness to move. I feel joy, and it is not giving terror a piggy back ride this time. I feel open and ready and wanting to get off the dime.
After I wrote a piece called “Clarion Call,” I began to understand that what I am doing, and what the collective is doing are coordinated. It tickles me, every single time, when I put out a piece that just shines, and introduces stuff I have seen nowhere else. And then, I get on the blogosphere, and tada, there they are, newly written, pieces talking about the very same thing I just published. We are working together here, and I know that, and so, even when the work is daunting and harrowing, I know that we are all in this together, no longer alone.
I have learned, in the last few weeks, that I am as human as they come, as saddled with sad stories as the next guy, and yet, I have been diligent in my work. I have filled a notebook, I have written reams, I have dreamed and meditated and had open eye visions. I have felt and walked amongst my team, and I have come home in many ways, finding that my home is less cluttered, and there is less to clean up today than at any other time.
I remember a dream I had, the sandstorm dream. Working hard, like a mechanic, on the ground, focused, and then a sand storm comes whipping through. Nothing can be done but to protect one’s eyes and wait it out.
And then, after the sand clears, everything is out of proportion. Reminds me of the picture I’ll use for this essay, of a farmer getting around a building permit for his animals by constructing a huge table and chairs, under which his horses can rest. The chairs in my dream were huge, the tables, and everything was just way off kilter.
My team has told me, told us, about this proportion thing, and to not sweat it. I don’t even really know what that means, that things are out of proportion, but I do know how it feels. And I sense that proportion may continue to be weird, for the lot of us, but things are more workable now, more understandable, maybe.
This really is just a little note, a simple one, to tell you that I am feeling things come together, and the thing is that how they are coming together is miraculous to me. Going to church today, a simple act that I could have blown off, helped to pull things together, not only because the message was salient, but that there were people there who wanted to meet me, and who I am glad I met. After so long quiet, sheltering and preparing, perhaps, it was good to be reminded that what is happening in this world is co-creation, it is from coming together, sharing, learning, giving, growing that we change.
I am a solitary girl, I write, and so, I like to think that I can generate everything myself. I am self contained and sufficient unto myself. I don’t like the idea that I have to “go out there” to make things happen, but, I am not alone in this. Many lightworkers have spent lifetimes in just this position. Spiritual survival, it has been called. Cave living. Venturing out there, into the wild, where you can be hurt and cut open, but where one must go, in order to once again come back, into safety and warmth.
I am understanding that the safety and the warmth are in the cave, but also outside of it. It is what we have been told would happen, which I like, and it is finally feeling natural, which I rejoice in.
I am hoping that this letter finds you well, and hopeful. I am unconvinced that the stories we have told ourselves about our lives have been entirely accurate, and I am looking forward to seeing what happens as I let go of the old stories, the old definitions.
I like that I have lived a wild life, that of the Prodigal Son. The preacher today mentioned him too, and this remains one of my parables. I have good stories as a result of my travels, and yet, settling into this new peace, I know I do not have to be quite as wild, because I am not as haunted, and am not running away or to anything now, instead being happy to be in this moment. I am reminded to stay there, in times when I am raging and scared, and when I am content, and I am glad of these reminders. They help me to remember that maybe the worst is really over, and maybe the stories, now, can have happier endings.
I understand that there are a lot of unpleasant things going on, but, honestly, I feel nothing but relief when I hear about how crazy things have gotten. Finally, I think. Finally.
To close, I will remind you of what we were told, have been told, for a long time. That there would come a day when the lights would come up, and the darkness would be all the more easy to spot. In that time, sitting on the fence would become intolerable, and it would stop. Contrasts, scuffles, even minor wars might break out, but all of it would be quick in its energy, short sharp shocks of sudden awareness, which would allow us to move ahead without the same expectations.
I remember being told that in those days, there would be much fear, and many would begin to look for answers in unusual places, for them. They would start to be more open to the unexplainable, the hidden, the miraculous.
And in those times, there would be certain folks who would be walking around happy as clams, willing to explain, and to stand tall, comforting and helping those who were frightened.
The truth is, I have been, even am now, at times, the one who is frightened, the one who is cowering, the one riding the fence. And I have those who are big enough in soul and heart to help me, to comfort and soothe me when I need that. But I know, too, that I can stand in my heart, in my knowledge and simply smile, and love, that which I see. I can also be the one with kind words, and soothing ideas. I give. I receive.
I think that is the fun part to this. I always imagined that when those weird days were finally upon us that I would be some sort of monk, or teacher, and I would have a calm and happy countenance, harmless, like a little Indian monk, unassuming and gentle.
The truth is, I am loud, and I laugh a lot. I tell Jesus jokes and swear. I have habits some call “bad,” and have done things, oh so many things, that the uptight among us would love to judge. A prodigal, not a saint. A sinner, and yet, who better to calm the nerves of the frightened than someone who has thoroughly frightened herself, and put herself in situations which were terrifying, situations which I have now had a chance to review, and love, and honor, and release.
I haven’t done any of this alone, you know. I have loved ones who are with me, in the flesh, and loved ones who ride with me and speak to me in a tongue I cannot duplicate but that I know to honor and obey.
The miracles can come while I pad around my house in my underwear. The miracles can come while I am standing in line someplace. But, the miracles are here. They are here, with me, because I am in the midst of them. And you, dear reader, are one of those miracles.
I thought about my writing while listening to the sermon, knowing my work is done, for the most part, and that these writings may help those who are just starting out, as I was. To write now is harder, in a way, because there is less to complain about and focus on fixing. It’s more a review of the progress, a review of the miracles.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds, what will come of this work or any of my work, really, but I know that I have done what my heart and soul told me I needed to, and I am proud of myself for having done it, for having listened, and more, for having acted on my guidance.
And that’s how I want to leave you. Today, each of the people who I touched, who touched me, each of them said, You know, I wasn’t even sure why I needed to come today, and now I know why.
I am willing, now, to live this life, this weird prodigal, laughing life, and to do it by the seat of my pants, doing what I know I need to do, saying what I know must be said, and allowing that which must occur to play out. When the wobblies come, now, more than ever, I feel this bigger part of me, big, coming out of and through me, reminding me very loudly that I belong here, what my role is, what my value is, and reminding me of the core of it, that I love, and I am loving and I am worthy of this love. It has many expressions, and I only want to know all of them. Each a treat to a prodigal, each a miracle to those who choose to believe.