DEEPLY AWAKE By Kathy Vik
“Tie Dyed Warrior” 6-23-15
This is a fascinating topic, one that I find is often much more dear, much more active, in my life, than some other themes, power, and its abuse. Yep, I think all of us are seeing this displayed quite starkly, these days. The abuse of power.
To say this is a theme, a life theme, would be accurate. To this day, I remember so well, Marge, my mentor, my old boss, coming up to me in the storage closet, as I put away the medicines that had just arrived for the facility. I was her Director of Nursing. I don’t know what possessed her to do it, but we were talking about some such, and she just stopped time, like people do sometimes, looked me in the eye, grinned, and said, just, don’t abuse the power given you. It’s the only rule. You don’t want what happens if you do.
She wasn’t threatening me, she wasn’t vaguely trying to tell me that she suspected me of wrongdoing. Rather, she was reminding me of something The Teachers had been harping on. Power and its abuse.
They explained that the one who abuses their power has a much greater karmic debt than the one who is abused. I think that’s true, because, to be freed from the charge of the behavior, catharsis is required, as well as others’ release. Tall order.
However, what I have since come to understand, the old maxim that a bully can only bully a willing participant, so not agreeing to the bullying is the only way out, this is indeed true. It implies, however, an even deeper truth. The whole scenario, bullied and bullier, the whole set up, it’s in one level of consciousness. Stepping out the it means you have stepped out of the agreement field.
The weird thing is, I feel it as less of a threat now than in times past. It’s fascinating and it’s interesting, but it is not harmful to me. And that is counter-intuitive, considering that, in many ways, authority in general has begun to run amok.
Let me explain what I did about a year and a half ago.
I put bubble around my car. I refresh it from time to time, but only when I am feeling insecure, like I might bring it on.
The bubble makes my car impossible for bullies to see, for predators to find interesting. Even a cop following me won’t notice. As I pass, they need to suddenly look down, or, they have a thought about how sweet their mom is. Whatever. But, they don’t notice me.
And I have no fear now. It does not effect me. I believe in my bubble, because I can see it, and because it doesn’t hurt anything, and it’s kind of funny, and very useful.
And, maybe that’s the Pygmalion effect, and maybe that’s high physics. Until there are machines to verify, most will just consider me eccentric. Which is fine. Enjoy paying your tickets.
And the weirdness, the invasivness of authority these days, their sense of entitlement and their love of armaments and surveillance, I think it’s the Pygmalion effect, too. Let me explain. In Denver, the place is wired for sound. There are very few places where there are no cameras. Everything, restaurants, streets, everything.
At this last Pride parade, it was so much more professional than twenty years ago, and it was huge, well organized, and yet, there was this yellow vested police presence. They bunched up on somebody, at one point, about five of them, just someone on the curb, and I saw people recoil from the scene, moving away, the feeling of danger hanging in the air for a minute or two, until the cops un-bunched and dispersed, roving, looking, scanning. It’s just amazing to me, we have these thugs bullying people coming out to wave at people riding on old fire engines, half dressed, smiling in the hundred degree heat, celebrating their sexiness and their various f’awesome life truths, gyrating to music.
In the parade, there was a group protesting a young Latina lesbian murdered by the DPD. I stood and gave a silent peace sign as they passed. They are tangling with the darkest part of our collective psyche.
The police had a couple groups marching. I didn’t give eye contact, and noticed the place got silent as they walked through. Fuck off, bullies. You can’t make nice in the parade and go back to beating and killing people the next day. Doesn’t work. It’s bullshit.
And so, the threat that I used to feel, and the fear that came with it, the prison planet mentality, the Alex Jones/David Icke/Coast to Coast axis has been broken for me. I no longer see those in authority who are obviously lost having any authority at all over me. They are not applicable to me.
They used to be.
It got under my skin, still does, in my field of work, to see those in positions of authority not mind their authority, but, you see, there is a reason for this too.
What is the truth behind the truth, the unspoken peg on which this portrait hangs?
Here is the truth. I think I have been driven, for a very long time, by a shadow portion of myself that I did not even know was so potent, who really did not ever believe that she was at all important. Being someone who believes herself completely powerless. It’s a koan, it is a paradox, it is a lie and a truth and a portal, and that is all. It is a life theme.
And, let me be clear as to why. It’s time to explain it, once and for all.
I think there are very many people who have this same thing, but, if I’m the only one, so be it.
Being psychic. Receptive. Sensitive. Now I see, in some journals, it is abbreviated into HSP, Highly Sensitive Persons. Introverts. Spectrum “disorders.”
I like that there is a lot of research on this,
It is highly isolating and alienating to be aware of things that no one wants to admit to, no one wants to discuss, but are the very things behind decisions and behavior and all the rest.
There. I said it.
It was nothing less than disconcerting, seeing this big cloud above our heads, in high school, in the corridors. It wasn’t all the time. I had a teacher who helped me with the volume of things. But, to be aware of stuff that others are not, with no verifiable proof, often not even to myself, just this free floating clocking of people, well, it’s a lot to manage.
It’s not like I can see their issues, necessarily, but I can feel them, only because I can feel how they feel. It is a liquid sort of movement to it. It’s why socialization and work is hard, or had been. Often being with those whose words and actions do not match their greater feelings. It’s a fact of life, because no one can explain themselves fully. Once I figured that out, things got a lot easier.
Understanding that everyone, myself included, have huge-ass blind spots in our make up, and cannot comprehend certain things we ourselves are doing or seeing, learning this made a lot of difference to me.
Before, I just thought everyone was lying, most of the time. I have had many of my blind spots pointed out, and this has helped to move things along, integrate things. As this happens, there is, I think, more congruence, and more flow, less of that at-odds energy I so often encounter in the work place.
I have a client and friend who, after a long session, looked at me, I at her, and we sighed, momentarily overwhelmed with the task at hand. We talk about ascension and off planet realities so simply and elegantly, the plan, the mystery to it all. But, sitting there, we were reflecting, both of us, on what we’d just shared, about this at odds energy. She’d just asked, why can’t there be fun that is completely light, and completely harmless. Why can’t there just be joy?
It’s a good question, a valid a true one.
I know it’s our natural state. I know how I feel when I am in the middle of flow, best word I have. It is an amazing thing, days and days and days of it, just, joy, just flow, just flow. And so, if that’s the case, what the fuck has been my problem, and why is everyone so twitterpated?
I think it’s why the police state looks ridiculous to me, the race wars getting stirred up are just fucking pathetic, and the politics is so cartoonish, so off point, so about stability of character and clear thought, because there is so little of it. It’s a special brand of crazy, and I really don’t think I’m the only one clocking it.
I can feel fear, this is very true, but, that generalized net of fear I used to be aware of is gone. It was a net of sorts, and it was tight. I watched Loose Change this morning, and I remember how tight that net was, how slidy things were that day, and how crazy they have gotten ever since. It’s been an amazing process to witness. Amazing. What people actively choose to believe to be true, what they believe to be possible, what they believe to be a benevolent government.
So, maybe it’s popping up out of the madness and seeing that it’s all just fucking madness. I remember one of the last scenes of the last Matrix movie, them in a ship, a plane, or something, and they pop out of this darkness they’ve been in, with the machines and the wars and the death and mayhem and catastrophe and impending death, and there are clouds, and sun, and it’s beautiful. Trinity’s face lights up, like an aha moment. And then, down they plunge. To finish things.
Isn’t that what we are here to do? To see the madness as superfluous yammering of people who are very afraid? Who have no business being in control? Who have been handed the keys to the asylum and asked to run it?
But, thinking on the government, come hook and crook, the virus has infected the lower house, and is prevalent everywhere. This mean spirited fearful hate talk, this quivering, hollering, lathered fear stuff that clouds judgment and makes us think small. The electorate voted many unbalanced people into positions of authority, and then act surprised when they start coming up with whack-a-doodle laws, scandals, sound-bytes and photos. And so much pure, unbridled stupidity. Hate. Exclusion. Stinginess. Where did these assholes come from?
As with the camera and police presence, just, everywhere, pretty much, and the nonsense passing as political discourse in this country is a devolution of critical thought and self care, self respect, and solid citizenship.
That parade did not need 6 cops for every city block, but there they were. And arguing with them could have resulted in bad things, seeing how jumpy they were, eager for a rumble. They did nothing but intimidate, and to remind us, hey- any one of you could go haywire, you’re lucky we’re around.
And that’s that damn Pygmalion effect. It is insulting to have such an insertive police/state presence and something that had very little chance of getting crazy. But, if it had, so the fuck what?
So the fuck what?
It’s obvious no one can stop a bullet without getting hurt, and bullets are fired from far away. The sort of mayhem that has gripped the national psyche, these random shootings, what? Will a bunch of cops stop anyone from malfunctioning? No. But, the presence reminds us that anybody could. At any time.
But, hey, have a great parade.
Just mind that you don’t do anything wrong.
So, this morning, sitting on my bed, I was thinking about the old days, and my old teachers’ admonitions, and how I have abused my own power.
One of the things my client friend and I discussed at length was just this, and so I will recap, and leave for another day.
We’d been reviewing, in a purely visceral way, as only two HSP’s can, the inner angst and suffering we have known, the inner conflict to accept ourselves and our awarenesses, regardless of what Their reaction would be. Speaking freely is a complete luxury for folks like us, and yet, there we were, doing just that. We looked at each other, I shrugged, and remembered, just then, what The Teachers had always said.
These gifts are not given to those without the innate ability to handle them wisely. They would remind me, quite a lot, actually, that knowings such as these, and abilities as we are given are also given with much in the way of responsibility. We are built to take it. We are built to know and demonstrate profound honor for it. We understand, and have felt in our souls, the vast responsibility which comes with our power.
That our power, our innate, individual, creator approved power, that of our awareness, our consciousness, and our ability to direct and use it, this comes with the inner strength to wield it with balance. And that balance is, of course, love.
A warrior has a shield, and a sword, and armor, it is true. A warrior understands that most of life is about walking around with a sword clanking on one’s thigh, working through and around the armor, and hooking the shield on one’s back, away from one’s heart. A happy warrior never has to wield the sword, never once, because they know the better way.
I have warrior in me, as do so many others. Maybe all of us are learning about our equipment, maybe that’s part of it all. But, I do know that there came a time when I shucked the armor and the shield, and I even laid down my sword. I put on my tie dye shirt, my skirt and sandals, and I decided I could do this bitch unarmed. I know I can call up bigger forces than a sword, if need be. But, so often there is no need. And, that’s the way this former warrior likes it.
So, maybe it’s about mayhem, and maybe its’ about the light/dark quotient, and maybe it’s about just not taking any of it too seriously, recognizing that what is on my facebook feed or tv is being pumped into my consciousness, not my daily walk.
And to the cameras, and to the police presence, and to those who, in their confusion, do shitty things to people just because they can, well, hey, we’ve all been there.
Just, snap out of it. There’s good flow here today.