DEEPLY AWAKE By Kathy Vik “Comparison” 6-17-15


Comparison” 6-17-15

So, there’s talk on the interwebs about new energy and new earths and all that new age stuff, and I am feeling differently toward all of it, and I want to tell you about it.

Something has happened to me, the last few days, and I would have to say that, after having gone through the bulk of it, it feels uncannily like a birth.

What I am struck with the last few days is this underlying, inarguable common sense that keeps coming through.

It’s as if my bullshit detector has turned into a sage, and there are no upsets now, without a nearly immediate resolution.

It happened Sunday. I spent the first half of the day in a storm, a stupor, of emotion, and then, once again, I meditated.

I don’t just sit down and meditate all that often, and it’s mainly because I like playing, and I like mess, and, I know when I sit down and steady myself, get with the lights and patterns and stop talking with words to myself, things just get good. They get good.

It’s really the common sense I want to talk about, because I find that I have no longer that screaming match going on in my chest and head, this split I have been appreciating for some time. It’s gone.

But, here’s the thing. I live in a construct which promotes struggle, and a reality which is by its very nature creative. For me, great creativity will always equal great aggression, the aggression evident at birth, the aggression of a willful soul doing something singularly, daringly theirs.

And, I like the struggle, I like the sounds and the sensations, but now, I don’t feel all that emotionally invested, I guess.

This is the lift, the change, the sage. This is what has changed.

I find it funny that it was only after I’d made my decision to leave a job that I was unhappy in that much of this started to percolate. I feel, often, now, as if a heavy covering has been taken off of my thinking. I can see it, often, glimpse it, as I do chores, as I drive. It’s layers of consciousness, and it is the sticky, slow, grinding, hard stuff that I realize, now, never was mine.

This has been a great revelation, and something that I am taking time out of a real work day to explain, express. The sticky, slow, sad, despairing stuff, I don’t see a way of owning it.

The emotions are like a whirlpool, and so engaging, so intoxicating, that it is a revelation to come our of it feeling whole, and yet, I have, and I do. I can’t call it crazy thinking, necessarily, because it is the thinking of our land, even of our generation, some of it, that slows me down and makes me sad.

I realize that much of this is individual only, and so, I would say, the biggest help here lately has been to give myself permission to not carry some of the burdens I have, up until recently, cuddled and coddled and murmured to incessantly. They never were mine, but I adopted them and loved them very very well.

I have my own, the beliefs which I then feel great turbulence when pondering, applying to myself roles or thoughts or expectations which feel godawful. It just didn’t dawn on my until the last few days that when I feel godawful, it’s because I am holding in awareness something that is not true, something that I am fighting against, resisting, and maybe I am fighting against a great truth, or a great lie, but, it is this fight that causes much of the emotional distress I felt.

So, lately, I have approached things differently, with much greater success. It comes down to liking myself more, to be honest, and not grudgingly. Enthusiastically.

Rumi said once, out beyond right doing and wrong doing there is a field. I will meet you there. I am aware that much of what I am now integrating is simply the duality which makes me dance and shake, the beauty of dark and the wonder of light, the pain of separating and the joy of union. These are opposites, and beyond them, this is what has been soothing me, counseling me, and steadying my thinking.

I see it, the deliciously wrong thinking of eternal punishment, I watched it play out in my own life, thinking, I have to get right with this. I have to make peace with not having, and not getting, what I think I want.

And I have.

This has been a central problem for me. I have been teetering between probabilities and between worlds now for quite some time. I have had opportunity to learn and grow, to be shifted in shape, size, content, even.

And now, I realize that some of the things that drove me to madness, some of the desires I had and needs I thought I was entitled to, they are gone too.

The great, deep dissatisfaction with my life and the way it played out, my biggest remoarses and most cutting losses, my simple successes and quiet unwillingness to remain still, these things are my altar and my magic.

I think part of my peace comes from having chosen the metric that suits me best, for measuring success and happiness this lifetime. I know there are some, but not many, who walk around with deep peace in their chests. And I am one of them, even when passing through my voluntary storms. I am one of them.

And I did not follow the script. I think every one of us who didn’t, who doesn’t, goes through periods of self doubt, because, it might very well be suffering, what They are doing, but at least They are doing it together, you know? But, I have not known that, in the physical. I have done it a different way.

And this is, in the end, what I come up with, over and over and over. It seems facile, so I keep thinking there probably is more to the thought, but there never really is. In the end, truly, it is about stopping comparisons. It’s from the compulsion to compare and contrast that things happen.

But, see, here is the flip, here it is in technicolor, and once presented, I can flee, start my day, take care of others, and myself, of course.

The flip is, I have compared my self, my behavior, my relationship status, my intellectual, emotional, sexual and financial pursuits against my peers, against other cultural and historical norms. I have compared my results, and I have compared my process. I have compared my body, my hair, my tits, my legs. I have compared my laugh, my visions, my hopes, my knowing.

I have done that, and, due to a shaky sense of “ego self,” I have indeed taken on many characteristics that weren’t mine, just so the comparison would be a grand one.

In the end I am left with such simplicity, such complexity, such beauty.

Maybe now, maybe just now, I can begin to appreciate others’ beauty, and their relative harmlessness to me, now that I understand that this comparison shit is over.

Here is the invitation that is open to me when I feel compelled to compare. First, I am comparing the outsides. Simply the outsides. A sum of moving parts, and an individual and unique story of someone else’s that I then think is so pretty, I decide to try it on as mine.

There’s no sin in that. I mean, shopping is fun, and mixing it up with people is too. Seeing what they have, what they know, what they can do.

It is in adopting another’s way of doing, or seeing, or valuing, where I think I have run into my problems. But, mostly, it’s in my take away.

All my life, I have put myself up, compared myself to others, and I have found myself grossly lacking in interest and proclivity for things others valued very highly indeed. In this lifetime, for me, a big one was coupling. Time management was another. Relating, this was my thing.

So, I would compare, and I always, always, always came up short.

It was only in ’12 that I began to actively refute some of the judgments that had been so happily and freely placed on me, ones that I began questioning and finally broke in half. The black sheep persona, the Weird One, the celibate, the freak, the shitty money manager, the dangerous mother. One by one, these judgments were brought up, by my reality, by my bigger self, and one by one I turned these into the paper tigers they were.

But I still walked around feeling incredibly less than.

I knew it was because the things I am really, really good at, most people don’t even acknowledge as real. I shrug. Fuck that, anymore.

Because, I am seeing, now, the value of my ways. I have secretly lived this magical, shaman’s life, and I have had many adventures, and, it is through this writing, and it is through my deepest as well as my most fleeting relationships that I have had reflected to me a sturdier worth than I expected to have been carrying now.

Prior to the sun coming out though, I got to interact in my reality in brand new ways, starting in ’12. I began to get out more, meet new people, engage. It was fitful, of course, because it still hurt like a motherfucker, being in the gp, but, I found ways to make it more pleasant.

I began to realize, just bit by bit, that there was freedom walking around with me, in my head.

I began to question things that I had decided, long ago, were true, and, it started out little, and got bigger. It was in inside job, and I found so much that sparkled, within me. And then, my friends started showing up. I began to encounter mirrors that didn’t scowl and growl at me, but instead offered chipper greetings, and heartfelt compliments.

Through this process, I began to appreciate that there was, indeed, I began to see a gp, and through those months, I began to realize that the gp consciousness did not have to be mine. And, now, in ’15, on this luscious June day, I can look you in the eye and tell you, it never was mine to begin with.

The best part about opening up is this sensation I would get, and still get, of excitement and just simple joy, running through me when I realize that things really can do done/said/though of in a brand new way. It takes someone doing it in a brand new way, and me paying attention, and then feeling a zing, a shock of good feeling, and recognition. Knowing, ooh, I want more of that. Being led around by innate joy, at times. I like that though, the jolt of the new, a new alternative to an old problem, an old conundrum.

And here I was, for years and years, thinking, if I could only fit in, if only I could do/say/behave/want what everybody else seems to, if I could only pass, then everything would be ducky.

I can pass. But I hate myself while I am doing it now, and hating myself doesn’t feel all that great to me anymore.

So, that’s the flip. Seeing myself in contrast, and instead of coming up short, liking what I see.

Having mirrors in my reality which reflect the softness and kindness that I am, underneath the prickliness this lifetime has produced, this has been the sweetest journey. And I don’t believe it ends. I think the path of self approval is one that I will be walking the rest of my life.

Maybe it comes with age. I think it does, for us, but, I know that when I look in my son’s eyes, he has this. He knows his worth, and he can compare himself without coming up bleeding and torn, like me.

So, yes, it is a worth thing, and yes, it is a perception thing, but, for me, just for me, it is more than this. Being able to see really beautiful and attractive and good things coming from this skin, this mouth, these hands, that’s a good place to start. Just, approving of myself.

The shifts have not been subtle. My meditations have not been all that gentle, in that, from them, I am seeing the patterning almost immediately, in my physical reality. I do not appreciate much of a time lag.

So, to sum up, I want it known that I love the gp, ok? But, the gp is high;y resistant to love, and they are suspicious and condescending and belittling toward the stuff that does not bear judgment or blame.

And that’s fine. I can mingle now. I can dance and sing and shake hands now. I feel like the judgments, the sticky, slow, dark shit that I swam in so very well for so very long, it is now riding above. Let me describe, to close, what I see, what I have been seeing, told to you in the words I like to use, those of light, energy, sound, movement, spacetime, creator. Then I have to go to work.

I have been having power surges lately. It’s in my chest, mainly, but these have been fully body, and the heat, the sweat, has been enormous. I have had a couple episodes of getting so much that I short circuit and vomit, in an altered state, unable to do anything but release. I have not had any more cardiac issues, no passing out or fainting, but, the energy has had that quality, and I have let my team know I prefer to do this conscious.

In mediation, focused mediation, I find that I turn into a fog of gold, and my thoughts are things, and I see patterns, bring back mandalas and great patterns that I can then see, just, now, I can see them, stretching out, colorful, beautiful, verdant and spilling with gifts and love and harmony. I see angular things and can sense round things, but I do not sense true pain, that truest of pain, that darkness.

And it is this that I see, the overlays, the sticky stuff, it rides above, like a cloud, and yet, it also runs alongside people. It is pervasive, but it is definitely thick and black, to me, and so, easily avoidable.

I have stopped running energy in a column, I find it clunky and silly. I feel energy in spirals now, and in patterns so large, so massive, so non physical, that I can see that everything is so interconnected that our sense of separation is truly laughable, such a human construct, such a lark in consciousness, and so absolutely voluntary.

And so, with these things in my vision, and a sense of calm about being able to appreciate it all, no longer questioning its validity but instead just wondering what else it can offer me, and you, this is a good way to end this time with you. I am glad to have gotten my writing groove back. I don’t feel as well when I am quiet. This is better. This is movement. This is evolution. This is, well, I smile. I shrug. It is sparkly and it is unusual and it is pretty, and it is just today. My today. Your today.

I hope yours is peaceful.

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