DEEPLY AWAKE: “Completion” By Kathy Vik 6-18-16
I find it lyrical that I am coming to you on the morning after an anniversary. Two months ago yesterday, I began my videotaping. I understood early on that if I had not gone that route, this process could have taken months and months. And after spending so long on this project already, I was unwilling to drag this out. There were many other reasons, sure, but I think it was a timing thing, to be honest. I am now ready for Solstice 2016. I am ready. And I had not been.
Anyhow, I don’t dream anymore, not like I used to, and I had given up on sleep yielding me anything but an occasional vision. My last one was December 1 of 2015. It was a good one, but one I can now put aside as an extra blanket they’d tossed on me through the night, to quiet fitfulness, to still a burning soul.
This, last night, this was different.
I will videotape this, but it needs to be said in writing. Some things just have to be done this way.
I have been understanding through the night something which must now be articulated, if only for me, but for all time, my friend, for all time.
I have come to understand something which I know to be true, and for me this is irrefutable knowledge. So much of this work is like that, and it requires, then, can’t you see? a plasticity of belief, a willingness to never fully identify my self as my ideas, but instead to see them merely as structures which, over time, can so perfectly and happily and appropriately fall. So many have, I this lifetime.
I understood this:
This “lower agreement field,” this physical reality as I know it, this land of give and take, right and wrong, good and bad, love and hate, yes and no, this land requires something of each of its travelers. Something that, if not given prior to entering, and then maintained throughout, makes the reality an illusion, and a game.
I must accept as true that I am lacking something, in order to play the game.
I have to relinquish a knowing, and adopt a belief, really. That everyone around me also holds the belief, well, golly, that helps make it “real,” and it lets the game go on, and it makes it so very tricky to walk away from.
I must accept a simple article of faith: I am incomplete. I lack. I need. I have not.
I then must go looking for it. Outside. I must, I think, simply because the supposition is a false one, one that implants a survival need, really, because it is an untruth. I come to believe that I am lacking.
It is untrue. It is, dear friend, a lie we each must have to swallow whole, and adopt as truth, to play in this garden with each other, in any of the standard roles we adopt in a lifetime, from this drop down menu we call “life today.”
I have to believe that my good lies elsewhere and not inside me. My peace. My worth. My meaning.
And this doesn’t mean it’s in one person, though god knows I have laid that trip on myself, and on others, for decades. It’s not a person, always, though. It could be an attribute I feel I am lacking. That of patience, how about. And so, presented to me are not all the reasons and ways in which I may know patience, no. Not at first. Not simply up front and obvious.
At least, not right away.
What I am knowing myself to be an impatient one, I am often presented with situations which then REQUIRE patience from within me, simply because I have adopted a belief that I have none, and can then be led to the truth of it. Finally exhausted from privation, from assault, from having to wait anyway, I discover, I am patient.
And, oh, sure, just for fun, let’s try on the love thing, shall we?
If I know myself to be without love, if I know myself to be alone, then, I will certainly consider the quest for it outside myself as a valid and heroic quest. I am going “out there” to “find love.” Completion. Wholeness. Intactness. A sense of being justified and real and purposeful. And I will be joined, in this quest, by legions of others, also in full belief of their incompletion.
I have heaped so much onto this one little rickety cart, I can see that now.
And so, what might a world look like, when I have convinced myself that within I am not complete, I am not enough, I am without something I actually need, quite literally, for my full-on, best experience creaturehood adventure, but so often, something else… my survival. Sometimes, it has even felt, to me, like a kind of soul survival, not simply the desire to have a good time, or to experience simple, shared creaturehood.
I will, undoubtedly encounter those whose willingness to withhold this completion, simply because it is not energetically theirs to give me. “They” are withholding nothing. They have empty hands, and often they have clamped down hearts simply because, now, my reality is not playing around with me. It’s completion time. It is time to GET this.
Many failed relationships, and a failed marriage should actually have served as proof to me that I was looking in the wrong direction, but the love of flesh and connection and physical celebration is so strong in me, I find so much healing and goodness in it, that I just couldn’t going without it as a sane alternative to that juicy, delicious, confounding Other, the one who entices and then takes away, the one who seduces and then laughs at me for having taken the seduction seriously.
I have mocking lovers. I have withholding lovers. I have distant lovers. And now I know why.
They are doing me a favor. They are showing me a fundamental law of physics, and rather than thanking them, I have been cursing and belittling them in my mind and in my heart, angry at their withholding, thinking it an affront to one so loving.
And, to be true, this reality has been like that for a while, though riding along with it now is something else, something real, something more.
I don’t really have to take up this burden again this morning, though. I don’t have to associate with those whose actions speak of distaste or discomfort or disinterest. I can instead allow it all to respectfully die, simply by not attending to it, to this idea that something I need or want or lack is elsewhere. I can see it for what it is. A falsehood. A story I told myself. I do not lack, within. Not anymore.
And it is not because anything was given me, or returned to me overnight, except perhaps, a certain soul sanity.
What I have come to know is that my pain comes from the thinking, the belief, not the people doing as I have asked, energetically. Upon agreement and request, is how interpersonal, and all, physical reality works, after all.
I understand now, however, that I have asked people and my reality to demonstrate to me that which I believe I lack, that which I am looking for, that which I am seeking.
It cannot be “out there” simply because I have tricked myself into knowing, believing, acting as if it is not within me. I have adopted a big lie. I have taken on an original sin, really.
This belief that I have no true soul completion without something, something, someone, something, whatever I have decided, is not within me.
So, with love, I have found no satisfaction. No peace. And, anymore, very little play.
At one time my garden was bursting with fruits, my calendar heavy with dates, and my body nearly intoxicated with spectacle and communion and touch and joys. This fire went out. Why?
I can see now how differently I felt about life and about myself in those days. They have just recently passed from me, and I had them full on, and they remain close enough to touch, actually. That I have already had it, I know I can have it again, but, how did I do it?
It was fully available, this love, and I knew it to be within me. I knew it to be something I was walking around with, a sense of completion. Competence. Confidence. Fullness. And inner safety, like I had never felt before, truth be told. Excitement, passion, but more, the ability to enjoy it and own it as mine.
It is because I was in a more natural state of flow, actually. I came to see, through miraculous friends who supported my baby steps into this mastery, that I could be met in my wholeness, and I could play with others in that garden, and, I am here to tell you, it is a garden from which I never want to return, and will not, now. I am forever disinterested, now, in the dry and wasted terrain of lack, of withholding, of no. So, I can say to it, never again, because those are the only words it knows to say to me, we can wink at each other as we say our goodbyes. Never again.
Because in this place I have known, this truly unnatural state, embodied through this sainted lifetime I lived until April 17 of this year, in this natural state of blight, I knew myself to be desperately in need. Justifiably suffering in my awareness of being so fundamentally apart. Incomplete. Separate. Lacking. Alone. Disappointed. Left out.
I might as well have believed I was a pirate or a starlet. Impossible, silly things to imagine. Impossible fantasies that could do nothing but warp from their impossible weight, their intrinsic malformations of structure and balance.
Yes, Virginia, I accepted a lie as a truth.
So have the lot of us, but I will forever only speak for myself, what my reality informs me might be true, going forward, what was true all along, what is true for me in this Now moment.
I believed that I was lacking love. I believed I lacked that from which I am made, that which I breathe, and that which I cannot be anything but.
I took on the lie my mom died from, and many suffer from. A sort of mass hypnosis, really. That I have something lacking, inside me, that can only be found on the outside. The truth is that at this point of the reality construction game, it is necessary to see the outside as construct.
If I know myself, my Self, as not complete, I am simply bound to go on a quest, seek out, find, this stuff in another’s eyes, in their story , in their expression. This lie is reinforced so well, daily, by others, by our literature and entertainment, by our fellow travelers, so complete is this belief. And, then, can’t you see how easy it is to be, or potentially be forever in lack, forever certain I am, as the others are, wildly incomplete.
And it is an incompletion which is true, simply because completion t is not theirs to give to me. It is not mine to give to another, that’s for sure, I know this already.
But, truly, completion, love, acceptance and intactness, these are not mine to need. They are mine to cop to. I am in no true lack.
And my reality demonstrated, and has been demonstrating, to me in no uncertain terms, this great sense of incompletion. I have felt frustrated and unmet. I have been locked away and I have been ignored. I have been turned away from and I have been disregarded. The greater the need, the greater the resistance.
And it is because I have tried to get from them that which they cannot give, that which they are not energetically capable of giving. This is not due to their lack of goodness or strength or structural competence, but simply because they did not have it on their shelves. That never stopped me from blasting through them like a hurricane, frantically convinced, though, that it is here, it is here, it is here, in your words, in your actions, in your skin, and within your abilities dammit!
And it was not.
I have resisted coming to this place. I felt it yesterday, and I have felt it, truth be told, most days of my life, but it took this anniversary, and this process, and this night, to illustrate it in a way that made it real to me.
My sense of wholeness is not another’s to give. They don’t have it. They never did.
In relationship, I see soul. I feel soul. I love connecting at that level, and I enjoy it best, but, no, I was not sensing my own homecoming in their eyes. I was sensing their homecoming. Not mine. Theirs.
With connection, with love, real love, that is what I was feeling. Their own sense of inner recognition, their own realization that they called to them this love, me, in all my misunderstanding.
Me standing in front of them naked, convinced I am not offering them my whole self, as they, in their confusion, are convinced that within me holds their wholeness, as we converse, as we make love, as we duke it out.
My misinterpretations led to dissolution of the very happiness we came to know, those who shared my light, my love, my body, my time, this last leg of my, of our, esteemed and courageous journey.
To believe that I lack nothing, though, doesn’t that mean I forever walk alone? Doesn’t that mean that I get to just walk on and on without company, without union, and does it mean I must know only being alone?
I know myself in multiplicity. I know myself as profound communicator and mover of others’ realities. I know myself as connected, after all. And now, knowing this, this truth, that I am and was and will ever be, can be nothing but, complete? Well, I can tell you, it changes the game. And I for one am so excited to do it differently.
This truth is true for all of the things I had thought I lacked though. Abundance. My sense of purpose. My sense of accomplishment. For everything.
If I know this completion, integrity and competence to be within, without imperfection, and fully functional, it has to, it must, change my relationship with my physical reality. It just does.
And it is done this way. It is done by being aware that whatever is in my reality now is not lacking a thing. I am not in lack. Ever.
I tried that on, while waking up, tossing and turning. I thought about being hungry and skinny and discarded, in a prison cell.
Is it true that in that circumstance I am not in lack?
And the answer was a resounding yes. I am not in lack, even then. I felt my soul, then, I could see how it was a part of the incarceration, its walls and its privation perfect for me, in every way perfect. For that expression. For that time. For that reality. For the part of the story of me I found myself in, in thiat, my Now moment.
And perhaps it was a profound sense of lack which brought on the incarceration. . And perhaps it was story line and willingness. And perhaps it was a gift or karma I gave to myself, or to others, but, it was perfect, and I as not in lack. Even then.
And so, what does this mean for me?
What does it mean, how will it translate, and can I live this shit? That is always the question. It’s a fine thought to have on a stunning summer morning, but, does it carry water and, by carrying it, will it slake my thirst for a lifetime, or is this just a thought which moves me just a little further down the pike, a bit more comfortable, a little less worried?
In a funny way, I think all thoughts are like that, helpers, really, since we are evolving creatures, but, I think this one is more than willing to assist me for the rest of my days. It is a truth. I think it is so big as to maybe be a law of sorts.
I lack nothing.
What is contained within me are the multiverses. I have been shown. My body rings with it, and my heart sings with it, and it’s all my mind knows, in my sane moments, which, I can assure you, far outweigh my moments of despair and incongruence, anymore.
And consider the reverse of this. Just for a moment.
Imagine I survey my reality and I decide, looking at it, that it is demonstrating for me my own lack of respect for self. That’s another hard one to pull off, energetically. The truth is I fully respect and love myself, so, if I see my actions toward myself as disrespectful, chances are they could be more respectful. But even so, it is a goddess looking at a situation and misinterpreting it, seeing it as something twisted and mean, when really, it is simply a conversation I am having with myself, and a meaningful one at that.
Maybe the goddess just wanted to snarl into her mirror, to get a good laugh and see what her face looks like all screwed up.
But if I want to try it on and wear it out of the store, this sense disrespect, others will be more than happy to demonstrate great disrespect, gifting their friendly goddess with the opportunity to just come inside myself and find it once again. Wearing it and embodying a knowledge others know disrespect for me, it then reflected to me, by agreement and by request, under its breath, again and again asking me, are you sure this respect thing isn’t right inside your heart?
Is it that simple?
That what I believe I am lacking will come to me in my reality as lack, so that I can see lack as false?
All I know, at this point, is I do not want to look upon anything with my eyes and think I am in lacking. I don’t need a negative feedback loop anymore. It is a bit exhausting, I think. And now, it is unnecessary as well.
I know that physical reality is coded, and I know it is rich, just loaded with the ability to reflect to me anything I wish to realize or know. It can demonstrate to me my own understanding of my worth and completion and fullness, or it can oblige me with an assortment of experiences which lead me to seek, and finally, to come home, come within, and to see that I never was incomplete in the first place.
I know of people who have some of this but not all of it. And it is a masquerade, of sorts, showing everyone they know of completion and worth and intactness. Their outer reality sings with stability and solidity, abundance and belonging. And yet, they too believe most assuredly in their incompletion. They too seek and they too shake their fellow travelers by the shoulders, demanding the impossible. They do it too.
And unless a person, unless I, always back to the I, unless I see that I lack nothing, that I come in and I leave complete and whole, regardless of veil, well then, the game goes on and on, the quest continues, the seeking cannot and will not cease. Unless I decide to stop. Unless I let my guidance inform me. Unless I relax and let my Self lead me home.
I think of my kid, and others like him, who seem to be able to be truly content in the middle of circumstances which I do not like and which cause me much pain and suffering. And it’s not simply the rosy glow that is them being just being naive, immature or untried kids. It is something deeper, something I like being around, and something that is stronger, more sturdy than even my heretofore ironclad belief in my lack, my incompletion, my need for things to be better than they are now.
They know they are ok. They just know it. Deep within. It shines from their eyes and it shows, in their behavior, in what they are content with, in how they plan their lives, and what they believe someone outside themselves is capable of.
And what this all means to me is that I can today rise from this bed in the knowledge that I am fully functional, I am complete, my reality is perfection, and I am an expression of creation itself. That which is around me is lacking nothing, because I am lacking nothing.
I thought of it yesterday, the last push, in a coffee shop downtown. A mellow afternoon sent suspended and happy, while my son did his thing.
I was outside, smoking again, happy, listening to tapes and basking in accomplishment and content.
And I wondered to myself, so, this is it? I am One. I am one entity. The partnership thing, the coupled magnificence thing, it is a lie, after all?
And I knew then, I was nearly there. I could feel two things where there once had been only one. I had always gotten to that place and sort of collapsed from the sheer weight of realizing that I am, in the end, responsible for One, fully aware of One, walking with just the One, always.
And yet, this was not like diving into a pool of razor blades this time. Instead, I felt a steady happiness, sort of an organic relief, and a “welcome home” sort of feeling. Gratified welcome, is how I would put it.
That split feeling faded, and it was not the pain of being separate which remained, but innate completion which lingered, and it counseled me over night.
The lie is the supposition of lack, and it is the price of admission, that I am in lack, of anything. Ever.
And what is not greeting me this fine June morning, what is not in my home, in my bank account, in my calendar book, in my bed, is not further evidence of that which I lack, nor evidence of my incompetence, nor proof of future days of futility and punishment. Nope. All of that is such fine drama. It is poppycock and it is nonsense and it is a group reality, a shared nightmare, because it is an individually held and then agreed upon hypnosis.
What is not in my reality this fine morning is not there because it isn’t there. Yet. Because it is a delight I have not yet fully considered as part of me. Not really. It is evidence of disbelief, and that is essentially all it is.
I can have anything I wish.
And I can be painting, in my reality, with paint which has true color and vibrant depth, if I understand that which I create as I go forward into my day is that which I love, that which is in me whole and desiring to meet me and delight me.
Knowing that, I will be in much better shape than imagining that what I desire is evidence I lack something, that there is some magic combination I have yet to discover, some truth that is withheld so that I can know myself as whole and good and complete.
If I truly prefer company, company can now come, because I can create from my love of it, and not my needing extinguish its absence, thinking its absence evidence of not being worthy of it.
If I truly prefer abundant wealth, financial success, material ease, let it come from a natural hedonism and love of industry, not from a need to have it borne out that I am indeed a victor within a blood sport of competition, needing to prove to everyone around me that I am competent, that I have a handle on this thing called life, the thing I will, inevitably in that space, be convinced others are doing better, and by so doing, posing threat, somehow.
I think this is the reset. This is what I have seen rolling through my relationships, many now quite miraculously healed. It is what I have seen in the mirror, again and again, and I have smiled at myself with such love these days, and I have let it come to me, without argument, more and more, that I am complete. Some sort of crazy completion is here, right here, in this skin, on these lips, in this hair, in these eyes.
From here, I can have anything. From here I can go anywhere. From here I can see everything in my reality change.
I lack nothing. I am complete, here, now, as I am, in these circumstances, now.
What I don’t enjoy I will simply not attend to, and it will fall away, and I will be glad for that.
What I don’t like now, well, I can stop bitching about it and see it as a fading object lesson. A lesson that applies as long as I can dig deep and present myself needing from you that which I cannot see I already posses, that which I have refused to explore, comprehend and claim, within.
I exit the world others still toil in, that we all struggle to find passage from, the world of knowing incompletion as guide, lack as north star, struggle as home.
I know of Home. I have proof in my soul that I am Home. I know joy in being Home. I know of its absolute perfection. Of its truth and its beauty and its love for me. I don’t need to go back into that world of incompletion, not today, not tomorrow, and never again.
And, you know, it needs to be said, that in this new land, there are so many others, those who know, those who have come through, and who are just now beginning to see the light of this new day, this new sun blazing. We are knowing, each of us, that this love we can feel between us, it is true, and it is whole, it is complete, and it is fantastic. With hands soft with gentle remembrance, we can encounter each other and do all manner of miracles, all of us knowing we are gifts and not need, each of us full, not empty. It is a marvelous thing, this new reality. The same family. Some around me will be old friends who decide they like me this way, and so many others are to come, who have been waiting, simply waiting for me to know this, so that they could approach me, finally.
And I want nothing but to start. Funny, really, thinking on that. I already have started. This is written, and my day can thus begin.
With each beginning, there is a completion, of course.
My last essay. My final word, as an essayist of consciousness, forever to be known as deeply awake.
This is my completion.
YouTube Intro: Deeply Awake: My Completion By Kathy Vik 6-18-16, A final essay, and I suppose, by rights, there had to be one. I worked so hard the last few days, inside, and it crescendo’d into an awareness that I feel should be shared. It is still a rough first draft, but a beautiful one, and one that should be shared, I feel, with others who are seeking, and who resonate with my work. Namaste.