DEEPLY AWAKE: ENTANGLED By Kathy Vik “Coming Through” 11-9-14

DEEPLY AWAKE: ENTANGLED By Kathy Vik

Coming Through” 11-9-14

www.kathyvik.com

www.lightworkers.org/magartha

www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com

So long silence, a product of absence, made from adjusting, readjusting, adjusting again.

I had the opportunity of talking with a beautiful person yesterday, and we talked very little of daily life, and when we did, it was in relation to the truth and mystery of who we are, what we are here to do, our interests and abilities and countenances, the things that have been to our disadvantage at times, we both agreed. Similar paths, similar lives, wonderful connection, the starry kind, the kind that energizes and confirms and celebrates the secret things, the things hidden away, not revealed; things known, understood so deeply they need not be languaged. It’s this interior, this reality, we walked in, for a number of hours.

While I walked to my car for paper, I realized, you know, this is just meeting up with family. She feels lost sometimes, and so do I. And out of this sea of faces, we found each other, and can talk about things that usually go undiscussed, for good and obvious reasons.

So, I rejoined her and told her that, it’s just so nice to meet up with family, and I am so glad that we were both willing. She agreed, smiling. In the same boat, deciphering things that require an internal validation which is strong, in each of us, but gets turbo boosted with contact.

Later in the conversation, I expressed my relief for finally feeling better, and having had a bizarre, uncomfortable and internally unpleasant, sort of torturous week. Her jaw dropped, and she said, “Really? You too?” We talked about how it felt, what we’d experienced, what we did about it. She said that mid week she called a confidant, asking, hey, is it weird for you, and sure enough, same flavor, same strain of madness, gripping us.

You see, it’s that sort of thing that is helpful. Because, in the grips of whatever it is that comes over me, my oh my, it’s hard to get out of, and it’s isolative, silent, apart.

There are many ways to explain it, and what I mean by that is, I have heard some people talk about thought viruses, of bubbles of trouble that need to be burst and dispersed, and that this might be part of the shift that is occurring. I’ve heard the thought of some being willing or made for clearing for the collective, I have heard it called. At first, I found the thought so soothing, to feel I was not alone and that my discomfort had meaning. Matt Kahn has done a video about it, and that helped too.

But sometimes, quite honestly, these days, I prefer to think that I am just working things out in my little life, with my bent and funny personality bumping into things constantly, trying to figure things out, whimpering occasionally, “But, I just want to understand…”

I have lately realized that the feel of my life has changed. I stopped time in a way, in my life, became non-linearly oriented, moving from event to event, and not planning a thing. That suited me, god knows why, from 12 forward. Maybe things just seemed too up in the air, I really didn’t know what was happening to me, where I was going, just that there were big changes afoot.

And now, I feel as if the earth has solidified a little, and it feels really good to know that when I put my foot down, this next step, I can anticipate earth where it was before, that my leg won’t have to go swimming for land, and it won’t be brought up short and fast, land too close.

I see that the rhythm of my life has, gratefully, changed. It requires skill and focus and attention to function successfully now, and this has been a welcome, but big, change for me.

I spent 12 and 13 adjusting, disconnected from work groups, unable, unwilling to be accountable for anything more than the actions, thoughts and demeanor I presented patients and staff shift to shift. I barely tolerated being told to go get my shots or get my nursing license renewed. Allergic to authority, maybe, or maybe just tired and changing.

Now, I see that my attention must lengthen, and my caring must also expand. I had become very comfortable with just dropping in on someone in crisis, a shift here, one there, and then never seeing them again, not wanting to, bye bye, there’s always someone else in need. Always.

And now, through a series of weird and funny circumstances, I find myself being asked to care, to invest, to keep my eye on the ball and buckle down, to show up. That’s what this job entails. But it’s what my whole life is asking me to do, simply because, I think, I have found that doing so feels better than not.

It means kicking the guilt habit, and I was wrestling with that all week long. I had a couple of amazing epiphanies, things that I just needed to understand, they came clear in crystalline moments, and they still shine, I’m still walking straighter because of them. One of them was about guilt, and I got to see how it has laid like a blanket over so much, so much. A sidecar, and so, I found no psychological trick for its demolition, no mental back flip that makes the monster’s heart stop. Never do, really, once I finally get something straight.

Instead, it’s a simple acknowledgment, you know? I see things line up, how I behave and what I expect, how things worked out and how I interpreted it all, and I guess I just could see it, and I didn’t put myself down about it, just acknowledged it, realizing that’s a habit, something which no longer really applies, as I see fit.

And you see, that is the shift that I walked through, examining, reexamining, puzzling, but with such strong emotion, it was overwhelming at times.

I have had these before, and I don’t know what to do about them but just let them come. On the other side there is always a change, but it’s always an improvement.

So, am I dumping my garbage, doing collective energetics, solving koans, or could it be argued I am simply self obsessed and unnecessarily moody?

A mixture of it all, of course, perfect in my imperfections, of which there are many.

I thought about that last evening, after settling in at home. When in company with someone who is family, but a stranger, and it’s one of those things that is mutually felt and acknowledged, then, I get to see the contrasts, too, how different we are, how differently we interpret some things, and that we have had completely different life stories, have perhaps vastly different overall trajectories, missions, etc.

And, at the sink last night, thinking of how it’s always there, always, that we are each individual, each unique works of art, and so, the differences are as beautiful and mysterious as the similarities. Rather than feeling that old pull into aloneness and separation, I felt something new, a sense that the differences are the spice, the fuel, even, and make life interesting, really. Overcoming them, maybe, but, all the while honoring them.

We both said that we crested, and I have always loved the sensation, an internal one, but it seems the noise is finally gone, there is stillness where there was sharpness, edginess, and there are things here now that were not here before.

I think I would like to share a thought that Kryon shared, right before the crash, right before the dominoes fell financially. It was a good, sort of somber presentation, serious and staid, respectful and hopeful.

The story was about spiritual winter.

When spiritual winter comes, the leaves have fallen off the trees. They are bare, and one might think that what they might be saying is, “We know we appear dormant and lifeless and perhaps not attractive, but we ask you come see us in a few months. This is the process, and oh! We do not remain the same! We come back, more glorious and filled with life and vigor than before. Just wait…”

He urged us to remember that there are times when there is a freeze,and it is not time to move, it is not time to speak, perhaps. These winters, do they last a season? A week? A day? This is what I am wondering, if the intervals between shorten as the energy quickens. Maybe, maybe not…

But I think, when all is said and done, the sun came out for me in late October of 11. Since then, as I have written before, it seems as if the lights have been coming up and I see that I really do live in a new house now, just like they’d been showing me, and I’d been writing about. As I have surveyed my familiar, wonderful house, I see that all the light switches had been taped down, and I knew in a flash of realization, I’d done it myself, and I smile, every time I realise it.

I think when I lock myself out of my house, when I am shivering and consumed by thinking which is as instructive as it is intrusive, I guess I can learn to laugh at that too. Maybe people all learn in different ways, and some don’t need the internal attention I do. But, I was built to do it and then discuss it.

When one pops through, and is riding the clouds, I have always said, well, there will come a time when I will forget this and need to be reminded of this truth.

And this is the thought I want to puzzle on now. Why is it I say that? I have long seen these times of questioning and puzzling as something to be embarrassed about, (there’s that guilt), mainly because I don’t see anyone else needing it like me. And maybe I’m wrong about that too. Maybe I’m not the only one. Seems to me I have said that a time or two, right?

So, do I know anything new, do I have any ideas or advice to give you as a parting gift? Not really.

I have been given the gift of having a friend who reminds me of my worth, an active and verdant place where I am learning to just accept myself. That is what I wish to close on.

I have said it before, privately, that I find it puzzling and uplifting and surprising and funny that I can only do so much. I think I have believed that I have to do it all, I must have the peace within me, and, to be honest, to a large extent, it’s happened. But there are still rough edges and secret fears, things that make me stumble in confusion and pain. And it is these sore spots to which balm is applied, and I don’t know how it is done, but, I heal up. It has to do with just allowing, I think, just relaxing and believing it possible, after all.

I can see this principle in action repeatedly, then, in my life, each interaction just as powerful, just as meaningful, or with such potential, if only I can see clearly, get out of my own way, and be present. Giving that gift, which is perhaps the most profound one we can give each other, in the end.

To be blessed as I am, and aware of things that sometimes distress, well, that too must just be part of the bendy, perfectly imperfect tree I have become, the wind blowing me this way and that through the years, me interpreting the wind in my own way. At this is the point, of course, of course, I can always improve my skills, I can and do open to more and more of the good stuff, spinning off old patterning, old beliefs, old expectations and assumptions.

But, this is it, after all, me, here, tapping the keys, at 53, and oh, to I have considerable city miles on me, but I’m still smiling, still wide eyed and ready for anything. If I can’t get it through my head that I am enough, then no one can really do that for me, and yet, being given the gift of being accepted, it makes a template, something I had been incapable of doing effectively for myself, done for me, to show me how to do it for myself, and others.

I think this is a miracle, and one which as made my life better, richer. And it is part of a movement, a change, the tableau stretched out, tendrils leading to and fro, past, present and future meaningless, once again, as I can see how each and every interaction, each and every moment, they’ve always been there, waiting for me to appreciate. A head so full of guilt, rules, fear, it’s hard sometimes to see the simple, stunning beauty of each moment, and each person who graces my moments.

And I know, in the end, it is a relay race of sorts, each of us doing these deeds for others, each of us helping others as we move through our day, as we are helped by those we encounter.

It’s good to come through, it’s good, I think, to have the storms, too. The dissonance. The willingness to confront myself. To allow myself to do as I must, being who I am, now, an amalgam of experience and dreams. To dwell in the vastness of this now, to suspend the need for need, while maintaining a weekly schedule, caring for those who cannot care for themselves, tending to loved ones and adventures, seeking out a new rhythm, brought on by the clock, my work, my internal experience, a rhythm which reflects more certainty, more ease, and more peace, in the midst of the chaos some of it has become, or threatens to become.

This is the task at hand, the wood and water which I am glad to see waiting for me, after coming through.

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