DEEPLY AWAKE COFFEE TALKS By Kathy Vik
“My Sweet Body” 1-23-16
I’m going to divide this essay up into a blah blah, I know some things about stuff and here is what I know, kind of thing, and a personal thing, but, fuck it, I want this said: I am not your authority. I am my authority. So I am going to tell you about my sweet body. Secrets about our relationship. Things that definitely make me weird.
Now, I know, there are people riding this globe at the moment who understand the body like I do, so I know that I am not unique. But, I will tell you, I have yet to encounter anyone who believes the stuff I do about how my body works. And because I am an inquisitive and mischievous soul, I have always, and I do mean always, experimented with my body, and have been overjoyed when I see it respond.
I do think that I can and should divide this up a little, but I will start with an overview, some key points as to beliefs, and their integration.
I want to start with things I have always just known. There are many things I have come to learn, but there are some key things I came in understanding.
First, the body is our friend, and our creation, our gift. It is magic. It’s too complicated to be understood in purely rational or technical way, and it should be fairly obvious to anyone paying attention that it is impossibly complicated, far beyond the ken of we who inhabit this flesh. It heals itself, it fixes itself, it’s always on my side, it protects me and even when it’s sick, it’s helping me.
I would think about feet, even as a kid, though this thought has become progressively more profound, but, my feet have walked steps since babyhood. These feet. And yet, they are not these feet. Those feet are long gone. The idea of my foot remains, and my left idea has a big, hard callous on it.
It gets deep, and with thoughts like that as a girl, well, it was more a thrum, although I have had arguments, deep, stormy, nearly fatal ones, with my body too. So, although I might have had a profound cellular knowledge or love of the human body as a younger person, it was when my innate woke up like it did that I began to understand about healing, how it is done, and the energetics of illness, how tied illness is with core issues of conflict, identity, meaning, within us.
I have been around “disease” my whole life. I can give you dizzying list of diagnoses and how the people with them generally behave and think, and what their issues are. I know how diseases behave, what you can expect from them, as a rule. I know how different diagnoses kill, and how to prepare for the end. I can tell you, by standing in the doorway, quietly observing someone sleeping, so very much about them. Sometimes, I encounter someone, and I understand they are nearly dead, and this has been the most jarring. It helps me to remember, in the moment, how precious each gesture, each thought is, how much they matter.
In 1986, I had a series of lessons at a nursing home in which I had to attend a lot of classroom-like meetings about patients, and i heard, with routine regularity, a voice in my head. It had been coming through for a long time, but I never trusted it. It confused and it scared me, to be honest. So, this nursing home experience served as a graduation, in the end, or a way to feel permission, because this had been happening with regularity all my life, but this situation was formal, and ithelped immensely.
In these long, grueling, clinical meetings, there would be a clinical situation described, a stumper, or I would be asked a direct question about a clinical matter for which I had no answer, and this voice would come, and this push that I couldn’t ignore, but often suppressed, at first. I would hear the answer, and then I would play dumb, and I would be told what I had just heard.
That happened a lot. I got a lot of practice, independent learning. Then, in the mid-90’s I got to ask The Teachers about it. They told me I had been a physician in Atlantis. Of course, at the time, that’s all I could grok, but it was good enough for me. They suggested that I was advanced in my skills, and that that one was back, to help. Before I had The Teacher’s help, in meditation, a name had come. Magartha.
I know now what I was, and what my name means. My understanding has grown as I have. But this served as training, informal, then formal, to help me along. I know that now.
And so, I have always known things about people and situations, that others do not immediately appreciate. It is a gift, and it is one that cannot be given by a university. When I realized what I was able to do, and know, I decided it was silly to go back to school, to learn things that were elementary, when I could understand anything, given application and interest.
This relationship has developed roundly, verdantly, and it is something I am proud I can offer others. I know how to help. And now, that my sweet body woke up, I understand more about how to heal.
I think the normal definitions of healing are pretty condescending, actually. Healing almost seems to imply a helplessness, and that has always bothered me. Because it is not the healer who heals. And this central conundrum has played with me all my life.
When I was receiving a healing on a massage table, I understood better how this all works. I was in deep meditation, and my reality was completely altered. Symbolic, Visual. Somatic. Auditory. Overwhelming. Cohesive.
Johnny’s black skin began to leak color into mine, and then, we were both brown. The music switched in the player, and it was tropical, birds, and flute music. We were elsewhere, then. The air was cooler, and we were in India, in a grove.
He was at my right hip then, and his hands, and my body, at the contact point, was light, these ultra-fast liquid tiny, converging tubes of light, crackling and lovingly warm and totally perfect. His hands felt like gloves, and I found it very curious that he was having to wear gloves to touch me. But then I realized I had something covering my light, too.
All I really cared about was when his light and my light came together, I felt something come alive in me, something bigger than I was before. I was able to somehow address that hip thing, and then, all the images came, and the event, and the sense, and my part in this magnificently powerful and complete block.
As with my dad, as I may have mentioned, I saw pain as purpose, I saw the dividends of the lessons, and I saw the depths from which the creation blossomed, and its necessity, and, therefore, the spell was broken. I couldn’t be angry anymore, and I had to feel humble. All this happened while I was getting a nice massage, by a guy who has worked with me twice.
Since then, I have been better at owning my shit, and following through on my New Year’s Resolution, which I will not say anything more about until I feel like it. I realize how fucking indirect I am emotionally, how slippery, how Piscean. I have seen nothing but shadow here lately, and some of it has been icky, but, I feel like there is a clean up underway, a final clearance, sort of, because, with each octave rise, with each willingness to be kinder and reveal more, and try new things, I realize what I am doing is just being a better human.
And my body responds to this. My body has become so responsive, so fast I am seeing changes now. I made an agreement that I want to have the last of this extra flesh come in, ride inside, take a break, because I think smooth would be very pleasant. And because it would please me, and delight me, my body is responding. It’s really that simple, and that miraculous, and that unbelievable.
It comes, I think, form believing that the body is something more than we give it credit for, and it has an innate intelligence. So, I will do a little blah blah, a little list of things I know, absolutely, and some of them you will laugh at loud at, which is so cool, you don’t even know. Laugh along, really. But, it works for me.
Before I do my list, I want you to know I am a bit more open about this stuff at work, anymore, and the reaction is actually pretty amazing. Although there are many things I will just never say in polite, uptight company. Here we go.
- The body needs sunshine. Cellularly, we need the sun. We eat because we live on it, that is the nutrient. SO, highly processed food has very little sun in it. You have to eat a lot of it to feel satisfied. Steak has more, but the grass the cow grazed on has even more. I think it has less to do with eating animals and more to do with eating for sunshine. Animals don;t mind giving up their flesh, I don;t think. And I think how we are treating them is evidence of our consciousness. No loving people would treat defenseless, giving animals like that for food. They would slaughter them with honor and mindfulness. We don’t. We are retarded right now. I go for days on Chlorophyll and water, I don’t like eating, all that much. But what I choose to eat, I adore, and love, and am grateful for, so, it nourishes me. It could be a Kit Kat, it could be a Vegan delight. Doesn’t matter.
- That being said, the body is a biochemical, electromagnetic biological machine of sorts, with patterns, geometrics, algorithms, probabilities and situations that are hard-wired into the system. To negate the need for proper nutrition seems a bit absurd, and listening, really listening to the body is necessary, when flying like this. This means following urges, culinary, but otherwise, too. This is, of course, the nexus of health.. emotional and intellectual merge, what is called congruence.
- That being said, I find that new agers especially act out their fear of death with bizarre rituals, borne of myth that is based in pseudo-science. I think fussiness is fussiness. I think that we are safe in our bodies, they are our friends, and I find this community, in particular, to be highly fragile in their views toward their own health. There is a strange mixture of self care and fear. And this is broken by realizing one’s own energetic power over the situation. You do realize, don’t you, that you can eat or drink pretty much anything, and it won’t hurt you, if you understand it can’t. I insist on hold my vaccinations. I come to agreement with the chemicals, and let my body know that this is harmless, it knows what to do. I have an agreement with my water. My body ignores the fluoride. Water is our friend, not our enemy. I drink and eat for taste and pleasure simply because I know that’s what my body responds to best. So, I sort of eat like a billy goat and I am not fussy. I am puzzled by those who are, though I am in agreement that being mindful of one’s body is a good idea.
- When I am sick I am having a profound talk with my inner reality. Always. Always. Always. It’s a way to communicate with ourselves, and it’s a way for us to manage the biochemical, electromagnetic wash we are in with others, too. Illness is highly relational, often.
- Sexuality and its expression, its inclusion, its acknowledgment as a part of our nature, is key to physical health. This was a very hard one to integrate, as it is supposed to be, given this culture. Regardless of relationship status, being in accord with one’s own inherent sexuality, that is a biggie. I think it’s that fire that I see in some, not many, but some, out there. They are switched on. They know they own themselves, and this is, I think, a good place to be. From there, true connection can flow, more vast than can be languaged, but, it has to come from inside. This is a paradox, because, of course, sexuality is understood to be relational. It is not. Sexuality is understood, it is experienced and known more deeply, more profoundly, perhaps, though, again, I am not completely convinced that statement is true, in relationship, but the knowledge that every human being is by biology a sexual creature, and that means YOU, is more vital an acknowledgment than we want to admit. I think we are hard-wired to have aspects of our sexuality, and therefore our understanding, switched on by other people, and that’s why I think full on monogamy is limiting. In any case, having a living and profound relationship with one’s own sexuality is , I think, a bigger key to health than anyone lets on. But this is a non-trusting, non-open culture, overall, highly repressed.
- Death is the next big adventure. Straight up. There is nothing to fear. Nothing. WE choose our manner and time of death, it’s a part of us. That date can be changed. I changed mine. But, all of us have an expiration date. This is living tissue. Come on. Don’t be greedy. You just hop another ride, when this one ends. It’s not that difficult. And I have known this since, I think, birth. Reading my first reincarnation book was so healing, so freeing. It confirmed all I knew already. So, I have never feared death. I have often longed for it, but I’m a writer so I’m allowed. First waver too. It’s part of the package. But death, oh hell, that;s fun. That’s going home. That;s celebration. That’s shedding props and scripts that no longer were all that interesting. And that’s all. Nothing to moan about, nothing to cry over. That being said, of course I used to long with intensity those who have gone on, and it has really only been the last year that this has spun off. I feel them, I hear them, I can call on them, but what’s the point? They’re all around me, they are a part of me, they are not here, this is here, but I love them. I don;t miss them. I don’t have to. It’s sort of a silly thought. You can;t miss something that isn’t missing, you know? But that’s relatively new. I like it. It’s sturdy.
So, I’m flying my freak flag nice and high today. I believe in consciousness over physics. I believe in things that others call miracles, but I understand the physics of it, but more, I know in my core health is always possible. Always achievable, if desired. Balance can always be found. Always. It’s how we are made. WE are living in a friend, someone who cannot help but sacrifice and compensate and take it when we are harmful. We sometimes treat our bodies much like we treat the animals we slaughter. Thoughtlessly, unkindly, brutally, unthinkingly. It’s too bad. It’s our bestie.
Built in to let us see god with a flick of the wrist, built in to convert sound waves into electrical stimulus, built in to shed its form while remaining constant. How can we not honor it, whether we choose to do that in a fussy or a sloppy way? Who cares, as long as we are being nice to it!
Well, with that, I have smoked my last and need more coffee. Enjoy this amazing Saturday, and don’t let the wizards get you down.