DEEPLY AWAKE COFFEE TALKS By Kathy Vik “Changeover” 12-2-15



Changeover” 12-2-15



There are not that many pages left to the book titled “2015,” and although a landmark year, I will be glad to put this one to bed.

There have been moments, this year, when I have felt full, satisfied, complete, and in those shining moments, I always have a thought. It’s just a brush of something on my cheek, as a realize that things are really pretty good. And it’s this: I remember, in that singular solace of peace, all the years I wanted to feel this but couldn’t. And all the sadnesses and problems not feeling good caused, and how much I didn’t want to feel crappy. And I feel such compassion for those who are not grooving, and I feel humility, for seeing it just a little more whole.

I feel a responsibility in this joy I have, in those moments it hits me, this new thing, this life, it was not just bestowed on me. I worked for this. I struggled and I got rid, and I moved around, sometimes roughly. Hours, Days, Weeks, Months of solitude, reflection, writing., when added up. Actively deconstructing and reconstructing my inner and my outer realities. It’s been work, but, it seemed to me, it was the only work worth doing around here.

I have been aware, lately, that I am bringing out different things in people than I used to, because I am presenting differently. Folks no longer see me as fat. It’s funny. It’s such a part of my thinking, my narrative, and my excuses. I am beginning to realize people like what they see when they turn their heads and look at me, they are not displeased. That alone is taking some getting used to.

I realize daily how hard I am, and how discompassionate I am at times. I see it so clearly, and my thoughts are so much more available for monitoring. I have had discussions with my team on this point, and I am being told that this is a gradual and gentle rewrite, with the goal of softening a countenance which hardened and turned brittle without the flexibility that compassion brings. And so, I have humorous admonitions going on in my head at times, instructing me as I am interacting, helping me soften, pull back, give, joke.

But, it’s not all personality retuning and refinement. There is more.

I had a dream last night, and dreams, for me, they are rare. It was such a surprise, so vivid, and I knew, without a doubt, that I had been visited by an old friend. I know now things I did not know last afternoon, and I understand that I should hold no fear, none at all, going forward in this life.

And so, I end on that note, because I am finding that I am floating, the last couple of days, so entirely certain that very soon, I am in for another escalation of joy, of juiciness, of homecoming.

And it has nothing, now, to do with any one individual, or situation, or success. That’s how I want to close, and what I need to explain to myself.

In 2012, when I quit work and began to identify as a writer and a futurist, an ascensionist, I had a vision, for what I would like my life to feel like, how I would like to feel in my life. I’d get this hit of excitement, and then the images would come. I was and am drawn to the festival lifestyle, and the lifestyle, and to the arts. I wanted there to be dreadlocks and twinkle lights, psytrance and weed, gender equality and sex. I wanted music, and responsible sweaty, intense rebellion. I wanted laughter, so much laughter. And I wanted joy.

I imagined a life where my abilities as a conversationalist were celebrated, and I had a man there who loved me like crazy, as I did him. I saw, in this future of mine, so many friends, and eccentrics, and movement, and purpose, and happiness. Just, happiness.

At the time, I was not living that life. I weighed over 300 pounds. I was coming off of heavy meds and needing CPAP. I was sour and bitter and insecure.

And then I was loved.

It started with a trickle, and, looking back now, it was more powerful, and purposeful, than a frigid mountain stream. I was loved, and it set my bones straight so that I could walk, and it breathed life into something that had turned nearly inhuman, it felt, at times, so dark, so untouched I had been.

Through this great act of compassion and creativity, I found a path that has led me to the fairgrounds. I liked the path, and through a series of odd circumstance, I began walking the path in earnest, alone, several months ago.

The path has led me home.

To the place of festivals and twinkle lights, dreadlocks and house music. To friends. To lovers. To belonging. To community. To laughter and music and feeling like I might want to stay here for a while.

Although I am crying as I write this, I understand very fundamentally that there is nothing to grieve. And although I was understanding that before last night, I know now that it is true. There really is nothing to grieve.

I am sitting here in my bed, suddenly aware of how much love I have been given, and I’m laughing as the tears roll down my face, indulgently shaking my head at how much love I have been swimming in, while screaming at the top of my lungs how I am drowning from disregard.

I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s that soundproof booth I inherited, that funny thing in side of me that makes the sound and sensation dull, makes everything go blank, convincing me quite physically that I am isolated and alone.

It has made me appear hungry, needy, even, but I am convinced that even this, with me, is just a cumulative thing. I have always thought, there is going to come that one shining moment, that one singular instant, when everything is going to make sense to me, and I will finally FEEL it.

This morning, just before writing, I thought about that, this hope I have that something will happen, inside and outside, a clang, an event, a word, a deed, something that will make things click, and help me to understand just how loved I am, and just how much love I have given others, how the love I receive is really simply a return on an old investment. And I am getting there. But, I am going to allow myself my cumulativeness, and just be ok with being slow, and needing to be convinced. I have been blessed to be among those who are more than willing to forgive me my needs.

As above, so below. As I love and accept myself, as I let myself off the hook and allow myself experience, I see it and I feel it in my world. I am understanding the law of reflectivity better now, no longer seeing it as a sneaky indictment system, but rather a just one, a true one, a system which demonstrates a universal law, we get what we give.

I am invested, after so many years of pulling away and not caring. I had a mantra, I’ll admit it, it came to me in 2007, and I have said it daily, I think, ever since. And it is: I Don’t Care.

This is a mantra worth changing, one that had been relatively invisible until the last months. As I have seen it in operation, I have become aware of its destructive power, and I have stopped saying it. It is not true, and it brings to me things that are unpleasant. I do care, a lot. A whole lot.

I am glad it is now December.

The visions of hippies and music and freedom and creativity, they are no longer visions, or even potentials. They are friends. They are acquaintances. And I am happy. I am so happy to be here. In this month, the final month of this year of intensified duality, I am thinking it might be time for new visions, new voices and dreams to call me, new creations. I start with feelings, and I have been working on this next for a while.

And that is how I wish to close. To tell you, I know this doesn’t end. It is creativity itself. I feel the spark of creation when I think on interacting at work, at home, with my loved ones, with my world. I can do it better, I can reach more people, I can be more clear, more of a blessing. And I can have anything I want.

What do I want now? In 2016, 2017?

It’s a blank. I don’t know. I have much of what seemed like a fantasy three years ago. I think using December to consider what my heart is calling me toward is best. I have better tools now, a keener focus, and a softer heart. I know I can have and do anything I put my mind to. I am glad I talked this through. I can hang out in the void now, and ask for the next. I am ready. And it’s only 10 days until the 12-12.

I hope you know peace today, within. I hope you feel certainty about your right to be here, and happy, and feeling just as good as you can tolerate. I hope, if things are sucking, that you are not taking it too personally, and yet, you are not taking the sucking as normal, or anything you should learn to enjoy. Sucking sucks.

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