DEEPLYAWAKE By Kathy Vik
“Real To Me” 1-26-15
And now we come to my favorite topic, or one of them, anyway. Reality, personal and consensus and collective, and what is, in the end, real?
I really do not enjoy the idea that there are parallel dimensions. Tracks, with different outcomes. I mean, the math alone is boggling.
I was asked once to consider the possible every single time I come to a fork in the road, and maybe I have even done a chart, Pro’s and Con’s for some decision, ok, then, imagine, not just the big decisions, but all of them, each and every one, there were different things you could have chosen. Always. And imagine that all the selves that made all those decisions, the decisions you said no to, or yes to, that all of them gather. It would fill an auditorium, a big one, a stadium, goes the thinking.
I don’t know, some of the thinkers, the way they present it, it just seems tremendously boggling, and a little unnecessary, really.
But, sometimes I catch myself thinking thoughts such as these. Who is the real me, I ask myself, sort of detached, not panicky, but curious. If I have lots of things going on, lots of storylines and, say, grooves of decisions which have formed another me that I can’t see, then, which reality, past, present, future, it all seems so irrelevant, but, will the real me stand up, please.
A random thought, really, but one that is important, I think, to this discussion. I am very much wanting to discuss how this weaves into my perhaps peculiar thinking about y body, and I do think they need to be linked, because, in the end, it’s a way to know what’s real.
I have been dealing with focus, and it has become very dramatic, the contrasts, and the merging, how some of the bigger me is being able to be expressed. I am here to tell you, there is something that has shifted. It feels good, and it all ties in, I promise.
It’s all a bunch of metaphysical wanking, at a certain point, all this reality stuff. So, ok, it’s a nice theory, something to take with you on a trip, say, but, how does it freaking apply to this life I lead, the one where laundry must get done, bills must be paid, so work must be done. That one. Not this airy fairy mumbo jumbo one that takes the edge off when the one with clothes and debit cards still kicks my ass sometimes.
But see, that’s just the thing. That’s just it. That mean world that never showed me much in the way of hospitality or encouragement or support, that world is not quite so available to me now. I find that my interactions surprise me, pretty much a lot of the time, just as they did when Sam had been a new born, Mom had just died, Dad, Mary and I were all crazy, in our own way, and raw, and it would have been so easy to break him like a twig, break everything apart, everything was so bad, there, and yet, my dad would come around, and I was howling inside, but, I could not help but be kind and thoughtful toward him. I was much like I am with everyone anymore, but, to start, it was just him, and I tell you looking you right int the eye: It. Was. Involuntary. And oh the things I endured as he howled, and the things Mary and I dealt with as sisters, but also as wives and mothers. Rough time.
But, there it was. I asked my friend Diane, what do I do about this? I feel so dishonest, but I cannot help but be kind. I feel all soft and something just makes me say these things. I am lying, but it’s really comforting and I like it, it’s genuine. That’s the thing. It feels genuine, and I never ever act really dishonestly. I don’t know how, but I can withhold. And I just can’t with him.
She told me that she didn’t think I was being dishonest, and that I should just go with it, because the things that are happening because of it are good. Give yourself a break, she told me.
And, see, now, it’s like that a lot, because, I am not as cut off from, I guess what I would have to label as the source of the kindness. I think that is what is happening.
On Sunday, I told Diane what it was like to stand on that riser at 6:30 in the morning, at church, a half day’s singing to do, and then, the chores and obligations kept coming. I thought about it first thing, how it just seemed like a day of heavy lifting, and I examined that, as I lay, and eased into the day.
Is it really? I wondered. Each activity is something I like, even, love, but then, there were a few that I can’t stand, and, anyway, the day stretchered out and it seemed, from that vantage point, in the dark, and then later in a darkened auditorium, I anticipate fatigue. I sort of let resentment ride along side me. Huh. Isn’t that interesting. It’s sort of like a companion, this gentle, persistent resentment.
So, I considered that maybe I need to rethink this, and even though I really really do not like to run for hours on end, I like stillness and quiet and being entertained, and just generally being reflective, but, so? Who says I am diminished by having seven activities instead of two? Who says I have to dread being busy?
I like the admonitions, “Stop Glorifying Busy,” and have seen in in others, perpetual motion machines, always accomplishing, doing, doing, doing. Just not my style. I think it’s an avoidance tactic, and I enjoy solitude and thinking enough to just shrug and let busy people be busy. Just not my style.
But, really, now, all of my days are busy, although some open up and I can lay down in them, unexpectedly, which is nice.
I guess, on Sunday, I came to the conclusion, before that first performance, that I wanted to be busy today, and I was in perfect balance, actually, and I know when I get out of balance and I ask for help, and then I go on and I’m fine.
It’s just like things untangled a little. And the funniest thing happened.
As the morning proceeded, something that had been sand in my shoe, and sometimes my eye, this thing that I have puzzled over and puzzled over, it just, somehow, became clear. I laughed as I understood, finally. What relief.
Maybe it was in taking out the trash, that clutter of resentment, anticipatory fatigue, the mantra of “I’m gonna be tired,” and, mostly, just focusing on the here and now, but with lots of thinking really good thoughts, like what I am looking forward to doing, and how nice everyone looks, and just lots of appreciation all around.
And since then, I have been in that place most of the time, balance sustained, and gentle, and this solid sense of high regard, and once again, I hate to admit it, really, but I will tell you, these states, the good ones, not drug induced, and maybe even not palpable within, only obvious when conversing with a cashier, or patient, or boss. There is a mindfulness, now, and that same person is back, seeing the person in front of me with a heart that can only understand and love. That’s it. That’s it. And, it feels really good, and it’s a good place to live. The people are nice here.
I used to say, it brought me a queer pain, when I sensed discord in another, if things were really bad. But, through these years I have worked really hard on this, oh so many essays about it, reflectivity and social interaction and all that, because, in the end, this was my source of pain. Separation. Displeasing. Oh it doesn’t feel good, not in that state. Heartbroken and disappointed, perplexed nobody’s picking up the beat, and instead, tings just don’t make any sense at all, how people act. This applies to everyone. Just, everyone. Police. Presidents. Friends. Bosses. Puzzled and confused and just exhausted, I have to retreat sometimes. I did that. And then, Sunday. Sunday.
I told Diane that, my thoughts on the risers, so many I had, and she said, oh my god, you lived what the lady who wrote A Year Without Fear described for Sunday. She read it to me. It was about doing what is in front of you with willingness and cooperation, moving through whatever is presented with grace, and understanding you called it to you do to this.
Well, imagine that.
It echoed, and it’s funny how, now, I know of so few people whose lives are on an even keel. I told Diane a story, and it’s brief, a paraphrase of a Kryon teaching, actually, but very apt for the times I think we are in.
Imagine that your furniture is alive, and has a will of its own, and it begins to rearrange itself when you’re away at work. You come home, and everything is different. There’s basically three choices, for most. One is to take a look around, say “fuck this,” and move, and then stay put. No more of that. No way. Then there’s the people who react with panic and fear and anxiety, jolted daily by the furniture’s obvious sense of style and humor. And then, there’s a group who comes home every night, looks around, smiles and says, “far fucken out.” This group can see there are patterns to it, things that are always the same, the rules, I suppose, and they get familiar with just going with it.
She just said, wow. That’s exactly it. Everything changes every day.
So here’s the thing, and it’s a long essay, perhaps too ambitious, because it encompasses a lot, but, the idea here is that I think there is something new and pretty phenomenal on the way. Kryon has been banging this drum for a while, and it’s been getting clearer, what he is saying, as we approach this event.
I am not an event person. I had great anticipation for something immediate, or noticeable, happening on the solstice of 12. Like so many others, when it passed as a day usually does, oh, don’t be coy, there are so many of us who felt gypped, a little.
I thought about that this morning, how, if what is coming is a gateway, well, I can’t get too worked up about it. It’s a marker. It’s rough, on its timing, maybe, in that, it may take time to catch up to me.
And then I remembered what happened three days later, on Christmas Eve. How I saw something that changed me more than any of the other sparkly stuff. Something I know is real, and that I cannot deny, that God is love, and each of us are part of it all, we, each of us are also made of love, and it’s all there is. I was forever altered, as I realized, the only reason any of us are here is because we are all so madly, desperately, completely in love with each other. That’s all there is, and it’s visual, it has sound and it is overwhelmingly real, it’s beautiful, palpably beyond beautiful.
But, it didn’t happen on the solstice, see?
Prefacing what I want to tell you is important.
This is a Kryon heavy essay, but there’s a reason for that, and I need to do it. Last Sunday, after so many hours of science, and just, wonderfully, beautifully complex and fascinating ideas, there was a channel. In it they addressed a question that had been asked to Dr. Todd Ovokaitys. If there were a way to transmit quantum energy and raise the functionality of the DNA, would everybody change?
Kryon’s response was good, I think. It did not address free will. It addressed something more important than even that. He said, there are those in the room who have worked with the energy, and have become antennae, so to speak, for such energy. And so, no, not everyone in the room would get turned on, but the ones who were tuned to that station could pick it up. It makes sense. It factors in free will at a soul level, and also of such traits as not really, in the end, giving a tinker’s damn the opinions others might hold about such things, you were going to do it anyway.
The drum that Kryon has been banging has been sounded by so very many, and they are in the scientific community, too, and there are so many interpretations to it all, but, something is here, and getting stronger, that is a game changer.
Now, I pay attention when there is a date that keeps coming up for me, or numbers, patterns, and in this case, I’m just one of the antenna, I think. Timing is less important to me than an events certainty. This one, I feel, is certain. I think it’s real.
Something is about to shift, or become available, to everyone, of course, but there will be some who will feel it more acutely, just as there are those who know when it’s a full moon without looking at the night sky, they just know. It’s real to them.
I took the day to review where I have been, these last three years, and especially, I reviewed what things were like for me in 12. Had there been a quickening? Had there been an intensification of experiences, odd goings on? I reviewed my essays from that time, last night. I thought about my experience today, and yes, I think there was a peak, a quickening, but I ramped up to it, beginning sporadically in the spring of 11. So, if it culminated on the solstice, and I got my package on Christmas eve, what might expect, as we hurl into as yet documentable galactic energy?
If you swung a cat, you’d hit dozens of writers and channelers with the same message. Things are changing. There is something coming. Prepare. It’s what The Teachers said, every channel was given with the intent that I apply it, that I get ready.
And so, equipped and sad sack reluctant, I did this thing, until I reached the 26th of January, 2015. And, I am prepared. I am prepared.
The world’s premier quantum astrologer, Michelle Karen, collaborates with Lee Carroll, and she layed out the chart for the coming equinox. Very beautiful day, and the way she explained it made me feel excited, and ready for a change. And then, she showed us the harmonics of the day. That is a chart with depth, numerologically sound, and it yields a number, a tone or chord, the astrological signature of a day or an event. I understood the equinox was important, but nothing really sticks. It’s a big day.
But then she showed us the chart for the date and approximate time of the next Lemurian choir, the Creation Choir, who will be singing at Uluru, Ayer’s Rock, on that day.
This I remember. The geometry beautiful, the meaning intense, the message, be prepared for a change.
And then the harmonics. And the numerology. The day winks and curtsies and growls with lurking power, as the numbers 4444 stand up and take a stroll. 4444.
Why is this important? Why am I thinking this is bigger than the equinox, in so many ways?
The Tibetan’s numerology is pristine, but all of esoterics knows about master numbers. 11, 22, 33, 44, on it goes. You know, seeing multiples on the clock? Little flashes of synchronicity? And there, on the day of the choir singing tones for the earth, for ours species, for our parents, what comes up? 4444.
11 is illumination. 22 is the master builder number. 33 is compassion embodied, personified by many, including Jesus. Ask a holy shaman, a wise one the meaning of 44, and they will say it has not yet been defined. It hasn’t been revealed. It is unavailable.
And the obscurity thickens, going up the scale. Who knows?
But if you consider DNA functionality in terms of percentages activated, or available, for experience, Kryon’s number is, currently, 33. My teachers echoed this, all their talk about DNA, they wouldn’t stop talking about it, and it all seemed so irrelevant and boring at the time! But they said too, humans have been in a stasis period, have been functioning lower than they can, and it’s the DNA functioning which determines what sort of reality one has.
And so, it just all clicked, and it’s nice to have such a lovely confirmation, when, the blogosphere has been abuzz here lately with this new energy concept, and Kryon has been getting us prepared for shift, a big one, an anticipated and benevolent one. Help. It’s help, and it’s on its way.
But t he reason I bring up the weird, all the stuff I did about 12, is because, I saw and felt and experienced things well prior to the event. I have been thinking on this lately.
Remember how, in 13, things got hard, and kind of weird? An odd year. It has been called the year of full moons, and that helped a lot, hearing that in July, thinking, well, only five more months of oddness.
And the oddness did extend for many of us until mid 14, but then, it seems the doors blew off and things started to get comfortable again. Blessedly odd, but, once I got my land legs, I tell you, it’s been great, and quite a rush.
I remember what Kryon has said, and it comforts me in these times of rapid acceleration, because I know he does not lie, and he speaks to me as only a few can. He reminds us that things are never going back to how they were. Ever. It’s not possible.
And this message is being repeated, and it is strengthening. Please do not apply what was to what is and what will be. Please don’t make that mistake.
I remembered that a lot today, its reality birthed on those risers, singing a simple song of coming into oneself. Reach for the light, the song goes, you might catch a star.
I grappled with what was real and what wasn’t, and it was slidy and hard, to be honest, when the changes were so evident within, but my physical reality mocked me and I walked around knowing I was strangely forever powerless to fend off critics who demanded proof, and told me that anything I might be thinking was meaningless without proof. Rove to me it is real, they sneered. And explain why you are still such a dick sometimes. I would shrug, and feel wounded, until, one day, I realized the demands for proof and consistency had more to do with them than me.
But it doesn’t hurt to have proof. It’s true. There is only so much delusion one person can sustain.
As my head clears, maybe because of the equinox, preparation, getting ready, ramping up again, maybe because it’s just time in my story to grow up more, who knows and who really cares? Every day, I have proof. Even the ones that seem to go on forever, an endless encounter with people needing from me, needing always needing. In the midst of it I can smile, and be grateful I am needed, thinking new thoughts, speaking softer and approaching more skillfully, everyone, but, mostly, myself.
If we are heading into energy that will allow us to move into the realm of the multidimensional as we butter out toast and drive to the store, then things are going to get fun. I don’t have to worry anymore. I’m in the home stretch. I want to go well beyond 44%. I want it all, yesterday. I am ready.
And, the above, it could easily be labeled lunacy, and, I’m really ok with that. It’s not for everyone, and it has taken decades to get here, to a place where I am cool with being able to do more.
Dr. Todd showed us the trailer for Lucy before we began our day last week. Lucy is someone whose DNA has been activated, and she is then able to do things. He said it is good to have the visuals, helps to make it possible, more real.
Although we live in a collective reality, the collective relies on each to do their part. And it seems that many of us are readying for a change, that may be as graphic and sensual as my experience on Christmas Eve, but which will perhaps leave a mark this time.
I remember coming to, after being very sure I was dying, and I remarked that it’s just a little disappointing, having such an experience, and not having a change, not looking different, or being different. I didn’t glow, I didn’t have wings. I wrote, in my journal, chronicling it as I was coming to, huh, looks like we have an undercover angel thing going on here.
I anticipate changes, because nothing else really makes sense. And this DNA stuff, it just makes sense. That the harmonics for the equinox would be stamped eternally with 4444, well, I’ll leave it up to you what it might mean. But, for me, it means I have access, then, after the tones have been sung, something I can participate in this year thanks to the mp3’s I’ll be receiving, there might be a sudden change, and there might be a sparkly experience, but, I’m open to a combination of this. I am open to more. I am open to going further, and having fun with it. This, to me is the fun part. The mundane stuff is made easy and bright with remembering all of this, as I drive, as I do chores, as I write.
I wrestled with it for a long time, the condition of my sanity, whether I could or should or even would believe this stuff. And now, it’s not belief at all, it’s more like my brain finally catching on to what has been going in this whole time.
All incremental, all gradual, for the most part, but, at this point, overwhelming proof already exists that something extraordinary has and is happening to me. Couch it in purely psychological terms it you must, but something within me has changed, and I am not who I was, and yet, I am. I’m just more.
It doesn’t have to be real to anyone else. Never did. I know everything is different, and getting better all the time, forevermore. I know every single person on this planet knows something’s up, and, because of that, there are roughly 7 billion explanations for why things are as weird as they are, as hard as they are, in some respects, as challenging as they are. The news alone is proof that things are changing.
There are enough of us feeling this, working as antennae, wholeheartedly and with singular devotion knowing this stuff, a community now of people who came to similar conclusions on their own, and sought out help, confirmation, information. And there are many who won’t or can’t are are not interested in listening to a word of it. It’s conjecture, speculation, fantasy. Honoring it is suicide. Quit now. Be normal. Ignore it, it’s just a bunch of hippie talk and will lead to bad decisions and follishness.
Oh, I know that voice well. I have done great battle with that strong entity, who seemed to get stronger the stronger I got. But, I have enough evidence for myself now. My doubter is satisfied. A restless sleeper and prone to waking up in terror, but, I know this one well, the one who puts a gun to my head and in sing song asks me what’s real now, bitch?
That one, I finally tucked him in, and he has stirred, but he has not awakened, and I really don’t expect him to. His work is complete.
It’s real to me.