DEEPLY AWAKE ESSAY By Kathy Vik
“The Return” 4-13-16
I like that I am still ok with essay writing, that I have not locked that door. I think I was saying good-bye, before, to the way in which I was writing, or to whom, maybe. In any case, it’s only one of many changes that I really want to talk about today.
To tell you that I have been having a whole lotta aha moments would actually be a bit of an understatement. It’s a different sort of aha, and maybe that in itself could be examined a little first.
I can remember, years ago, having to wait years, in between a lifting of the oppressive weight I felt. Looking back on it, maybe it’s because I had respite, when entangled with certain teachers, that it felt so bad when the juice was down to a trickle, but, one body sensation out of the norm during what I refer to as the desert years was enough to catapult me into joy, and anticipation for the next ride, which were so very few and far between, prior to 2012.
Since 2012, I have had many visual and visceral experiences which defy my own explanations, and this is actually the beating heart of the matter, the reason I sat down, the cause behind the remembrances of sparkles.
Daily what is happening is a loosening of my denial. Simply put, I am coming to understand that my purpose for being here is more, or different, in a way, than I had assumed, initially.
My guidance was feeding me dictation that was truly deafening the other night. Often they do not explain the puzzles in my personal life, they are silent and they let me figure things out. But no, loud and clear, with great good humor, they laid open situations which I had no clue involved the depth of meaning I was presented with. This dictation, now, comes with a sort of body rush, it’s a little overpowering and just loads of fun, but, it takes getting used to. I have not captured what it is they showed me, and hollered at me, that night, mostly because I don’t want to know any more. I’d rather just live it out, thank you.
Cheekiness aside, I think that is what is changing the most, for me. I have been an independent soul, prideful in this independence actually. It became a badge of honor, internally, that I could cope with anything, and I could do so silently, in my own heart, come to terms. Manage it. Handle it. Figure it out. Find peace with it. Deal. Let it pass from me, or let it better me. Learn and grown and don’t repeat the stuff that sucked. Keep going forward. Never give up. There is a reason. There is a reason. There is a reason.
And so, now, while I am in the bathtub, while I am making a left hand turn during rush hour, while I am cooking, I am shown this or that situation, and given a bigger story. I am able to understand from perspectives previously closed, hidden, unavailable. And I feel peace. I feel safe. I feel loved. I feel forgiven. I feel forgiveness, and, I like that best of all.
I am reminded, as I move about my days, especially if I am worrying about something, or toying with something repeatedly, I will have an awareness that all I need do is ask, you know. Is it a voice? I don’t hear a human voice in my ear, no. But it is auditory, it is that sense that is stimulated. Sometimes it is a sensation. Sometimes it is a visual. Sometimes it is inescapable, glittery, freaky deaky synchronicity. But I am reminded, oh my, all day long, now, that I am not alone.
And I straight up do not feel alone anymore. I have moments of feeling, I guess, a little at sea, a little adrift, maybe a little disconnected, and maybe that is just boredom, something I am finding new ways to manage, since it is available, when worries lessen and time is freed up. It’s something I can’t argue with anymore. I know I could, but at this point it would just seem dumb, I think.
And so that brings me to owning this very peculiar history of mine, and putting together, slowly, very deliberately, what this means. Someone who comes in open, starts having visions and oddities early, who has multiple teachers, along the way, streamlined to provide information in a stair step way, each preparing the next, me preparing myself, year by year, with only one word on my tongue, one achievement to realize.
I have been banging the ascension drum since the ‘90’s. So clearly, I remember a drive up to Central City with my sister, a long time ago, She asked me what I thought my purpose was. Without even thinking about it, I blurted out “ascension.” Even profoundly asleep, the part of me directing the show roused long enough to pipe up. Those were confused years, and yet, there it was. What else is there?
And I go to events with other sparkly folk, and we place our intentions in the circle before we begin, and we are asked to call out a word saying what our reason is for being there, for being HERE, and I call out, loud, in a lull, ASCENSION.
So, what does it mean to own this?
I know, somewhere deep and true, that it means loving who and what I am as is. Seeing myself, once and for all, whole, and for all time, in so doing, understanding, knowing, becoming all, returning to source. I can do it here, but I don’t live there yet. By extension, it is coming to know each as sovereign, and acting accordingly. It’s being able to connect so profoundly with anything I wish, that loneliness becomes a discarded afterthought, a remnant from another time. It’s seeing God in everything, all the time, without question and without fail. It’s going on, while standing right here. It is being able to love it all, see purpose and validity in all, and to demonstrate high regard to all. I think that’s what ascension means to me. To own it, that is something else. That is a process, looks like.
And I know all this divine stuff, all the shamanism in me so close to the surface I think I must smell like the forest floor, and yet, I live in 2016, among those who have a thing or two to say about how I do what I do.
It was brought to my attention recently, by disparate people, that onlookers may well hold thoughts and beliefs about me which are absolutely false. And they do so, of course, without talking with me, getting a read, asking me questions. They just, instead, laid on my table big lumps of ugly, and said they were mine. I got slut shamed! Repeatedly and vigorously.
And, here I am, having my own sacred and profound and intimate dance with my sexuality, with my sensuality, with establishing and maintaining connection, with meaning, and it really is no one’s business how I get that job done. But if I choose to share, a curious heavy lifting can happen, talking with someone about things we hold close, but share in public, like relationship status, past experience, current joys. We each decide, then, whether to represent to or shrink from the ones who are eager to feel and describe their distaste, surprise, or any manner of things, rather than simply thinking, “cool,” and moving on, or asking a question or two.
And so, I saw this, and as I was becoming abundantly aware of other people’s judgments, I was also becoming aware of how this new energy works.
I realized in meditation, over a series of days, and I am still mastering it, to be frank, that the energetics have drastically changed in the body, and on the earth, and what now available simply wasn’t before. It has to do with spin, but it also has to do with moving energy in a non linear way. Watching the energy blossom into a flower, simply by moving it a different way, it has been intense. As I have tinkered with this, I have come to understand a few things about how this is applied, in daily life.
What I understand is that for example, when I post my photo collages on Facebook (I got into a habit of offering a bouquet of beauty to my sweetheart every morning, and once we broke up, I just continued it, but for everybody), and with those images and songs, I am indeed sending out thoughts, feelings, moods states, realities which I am connected to, and those that barely move me. But, a bundle of energy I do send out.
And what I came to understand is that as this bundle of mine circulates, it picks up energy. It takes on the energy it is given, and that includes stuff that I didn’t consciously think might be there, stuff I may not want, may not agree with, when all is said and done.
And it comes back to me, and I get to taste it. The flavor in my mouth after I got kicked like that was a bitter one, sour, and it made me wonder, do I really want to be responsible for all that shit?
So, it has made me very aware that what I send out comes back, and it’s more skilled to send out things that, when they come back, I’ll still be in agreement with, regardless of others’ feelings.
The thing is, it requires I get clear about what I am sending out. What I send out comes back, and, anymore, it is coming back amplified. So, clarity is needed in what is sent out.
And how can I be clear if I keep on denying what I am, if I am unwilling to say the words out loud, reluctant to walk the walk as I talk the talk, feeling I am unworthy, not yet pure or holy enough, not yet ready.
Let it be made clear, please, that ME walking MY walk is going to involve seeking out the others. Reveling in connection. And, occasionally, it’s going to involve sex. Why this is an issue, why these words are somehow important to say, that’s a biggie. I don’t think a man waking up would be having this particular argument. I’m aware men have issues of identity and meaning. However, it seems to me that males are entitled to and encouraged in their sexual nature, while females are invited to define and then advocate for theirs. But, yes, when it feels like the best way to communicate, sex is very enthusiastically on the menu. Kink too, if I can work it in. Because I think it is good for the soul and the body and the heart and the mind. And I was too disconnected with it for too long.
What the slut shamers don’t know, didn’t ask, and frankly are not entitled to know, is that I am a sentimental softie whose main problem is loving being loved so much that I do it with folks who might do better with someone else, but I sometimes can’t even see that. I’m overjoyed and in celebration of the love so hard that I can’t see straight sometimes. I am beginning to realize that as I get more accustomed to feeling love from all kinds of sources, my panic, and the survivalistic overlay I have placed on certain sorts of love can more easily dissolve.
I have gotten so much more comfortable with how I am dialed in, heart open, eager to make friends, now, and why I have behaved as I have, from time to time. Forgiveness is a powerful thing, and the compassion it leads me to is the heart cracking kind. The kind that fills me with awe. And that, at this late date, I am feeling this toward my own self, well, there you go. Once that is achieved, it’s funny how my hair just doesn’t catch on fire anymore.
And so, the guidance now is no longer about the turning away, as I’d called it. That is over, and what turning away is being done I am now cool with. I welcome it, anymore. It’s for the best. No, it’s not the turning away, anymore, that I work on. I am learning about and getting help with what my guidance calls “the return.” They present this word mostly with glee, never with doom, and throughout the days I am being tickled with this notion to be ready for “the return.”
Although there are fractals within this idea of “the return,” I know what they are referring to, this idea that we have no real way of knowing just how very loving we have been, and through it all, this love went out, and was often not felt back, not given back, not returned. This is not a phenomenon of a voluntarily lonely woman, but instead, a group experience.
Too, there is Akashic Inheritance to consider, and somehow I just know, there are things in my reality now that are MINE, that I have earned, that are my birthright, and they want me as much as I want them. This all gets physicalized. All of it… check all, manifest, check all, manifest, as my team told me.
Unspeakably beautiful acts of benevolence, of patience, of kindness, of going above and beyond thanklessly and joyfully, these are what’s being returned. I was shown just a tiny bit of this, sitting on my bed in ‘12 overwhelmed, in the moment, with how much love there is to be felt, to be known, and it was merely that which I have been giving, feeling, knowing, doing, all this time.
I say now that what is loving and what appears to be loving are often at variance, and most of the deep and good stuff has come when I have discovered, accidentally and with great light shows, that enemy was always brother, that disaster was divine intervention, that death was perfection itself. Flipped like this, the vibration of love, the awareness of love is astounding. There, forgiveness is a plaything. A bauble. Acceptance, loving it all, seeing nothing wrong with ANY of it, that’s where I really love being.
So, I am having a wonderful, integrative and non-harmful experience. That I am somehow on display, and my behaviors being weighed as wicked or angelic, my activities and proclivities seen as less than holy or profound or correct, well, this is a puzzler, because I can assure you, my conduct is without blemish, and I have simply gone undefended. Until now.
No defense is best, just by the way, I have learned. If I act non defensively, without questioning my own actions, because I am in agreement with them, then, really, there is nothing to defend anyway. Why bother. It has always seemed to me that to argue with someone trying to convince me I am bad is probably not an argument worth having. Oh, I’ll occasionally engage, especially if an authority figure is involved, but, only if I can demonstrate to them their inappropriateness, because going there at all seems wildly unnecessary, and kind of exhausting anymore.
I am at peace with my life, and I guess I wrestle with the idea of whether I am going to be seen as a legitimately helpful and divine creature if I have a love of all expression. So be it, I guess. I’ll let the judgers judge, and I’ll decide, day to day, what to do, and if I am in alignment with my choices, I am not going to feel quite as beat up. That whole thing, that reaction, that’s voluntary too, and it’s a victim thing. It’s really getting less attractive all the time. Let everybody do their thing, have their thoughts, and let it just not ring in me, when thoughts, words, actions, are unkind, small, hateful or mean. And they used to, and they just don’t anymore. They don’t make me want to die, those moments of no regard, of loneliness, of discord.
And letting go of this, it truly is letting go of an entire lifestyle, that of wanting to manage the other’s experience. At this point, that seems like an inappropriate thing to do, and a mismanagement of energy, speaking to a need for things being just so, because otherwise self worth gets shaky. In a nutshell.
I’ll end by telling you what I was taught by The Teachers, repeatedly, when something like this would come up. I would come to them carrying a disappointment, for having been misunderstood, or not liked, and battered as a result of having been seen as wrong or bad or the other, a constant problem.
And they would listen to my take on the interaction, and then they would comment, and their words were full of love, and of course, they used discernment, while not indulging in judgment. And then they would remind me of what I give you now. They would tell me that all behavior can be seen as wither skilled or unskilled. The worst behavior in the world, the sloppiest, meanest, cruelest, is nothing but incredibly unskilled.
Takes the kick out it, you know? That nice thick feeling of righteous indignation gets short-circuited, thinking that way.
They would comment on the channel’s lessons in driving. They told me that they would coach their channel, on the highway, and remind her that flow is much more important than zooming to a destination. Becoming aware of the energy you hold while in your vehicle matters, they would say. They said there is damage done when one hurls an angry curse word at a stranger. On an energetic level it is felt. And how skilled is that?
The idea here is, once one is aware of their responsibility, then, to not do what is correct is unskilled. Being deep in lesson can make someone highly unskilled. Meaning that, reacting to patterns which only roughly assimilate what is actually going on is unskilled.
And so, it’s not about being bad or good, but how we manage what we are aware of, I think. I am skilled in most interactions, and those that I bungle I learn from, and I might repeat them, but there is always improvement, in the new situation, when the old choices come up. I still pick old behavior sometimes, depending on how scared I am, how convinced I am of survival stuff, but, it isn’t taking me long to gain balance now.
Knowing that I am invited to act differently in situations that feel familiar, and that this is maybe even the reason for the situations, this has helped. As has the guidance system getting louder, it coming from my bones now, instead of my skin.
I have always written these things secretly hoping someone will write back and confirm for me what it is I have accomplished, but I don;t think, in the end, it works like that. I have had a few like me mirror to me such advanced thinking and living, I know there is nowhere to go but forward, and yet, I do so knowing the ground is virgin, my shoes are new, and placed on my feet daily, and I am wearing something now that has been offered many times, been denied more, and finally is beginning to feel natural.