Deeply Awake – COTTON BALLS 9-24-12 By Kathy Vik


Image result for cotton balls gif



As I have awakened, it has been my deepest wish to feel comfortable among people. To not feel less than, to be able to hold my own and keep my own truth intact when confronted with the unkind, unimaginative or judgmental. It has been a curse to empathize with others’ feeling states, but it is how I am built. It’s just how I am built.


I heard David Icke talk about Sympathetic Resonance two days ago, and it has triggered a landslide of understanding. It has assisted me in cracking another koan. Thank you, Brother David.


David reminds us of Sympathetic Resonance, and that all of reality is vibrational construct. If there are three violins playing the same note in a room, David reminds us, when a fourth violin is introduced, the fourth will begin to vibrate with the note already being played, already established.


Now, this is an imperfect analogy for these purposes, but an apropos beginning.


The analogy does not allow for the true nature of harmonics, which is an esoteric intuitive science of consciousness, intent, prayer and divine love. But it is a start.


These words reminded me that the reason I have always felt so out of place, so weird and different and unincluded is because I am out of place. Weird. Different. Often unincluded. So be it. I am a violin playing a ‘G’ in a room filled with violins playing C, D and E.


This does not imply or infer that my note is better than, higher than or more divine than anyone else’s note. I do not see this any longer as an adversarial situation. I do not see the violin players as aggressively, meanly or spitefully playing their note. They are masters of their note. Perhaps they have not investigated the entire scale yet. They may resent that I have studied the notes and have settled on a ‘G’ Maybe when they hear me play my note without resentment, without anger, without longing, only with love and joy, my note ringing pure and clear in the din, maybe that will spark interest in others to go up the scale a bit and discover new ways to express on their violin. Maybe.


But what they do no longer changes my note, and although I can go up and down the scale and I can harmonize with others, I no longer feel the pain of that dissonance and instead I vibrate with freedom inherent within the dissonance.


So, here is where these thoughts meander for me. I went to a luncheon on Sunday with a group of ladies from work. I have chosen to become a bit more social, but I have to admit, socialization is so incredibly challenging for me. I have always felt such a deep disconnection from others, unable to relate, causing discomfort to them without ever wanting to, not being able to connect to others in meaningful ways.


I just have always felt like a bit of a misfit. I have had periods of intense social behavior, but that was what feels like a lifetime ago. I have come to believe that, although perhaps not a true walk-in, I have had periods of intense reintegration, and these periods have left me altered.


The pain I feel of disconnection and loneliness among people really hit its zenith about 6 or 8 years ago. It has been a struggle ever since to feel any kind of comfort among my fellow man. This is due to a couple of NDE’s which altered me, and great karmic upheaval in my life. My attachments all dissipated. Best friend dies, mom dies, 6 days later only son is born, both of us nearly die, major car crashes, financial and professional struggle, divorce, bankruptcy, career stagnation. You know, that old chestnut.


So here I am at lunch with a few very nice and pretty ladies, dressed up and enjoying mimosas. I arrive and attempt to blend in. It wasn’t as bad as I expected. But there were two ladies there who dominated the lunch, dominated the energy, sucking it in and pooping on it. Made fun of my interest and love of Kirtan, which I was learning more about from another diner. Brought every kernel of conversation back to the acquisitions they had made… boats, homes, foreign husbands, children. No acquisition (and yes, I am deliberately listing people as their possessions, because it was clear that is how they saw their own people) brought them peace. The boat was a pain in the ass. The kids were selfish. The husband was very successful and busy. On and on. Quite sad really.


I had just received my audio file from my past life regression, and I was thinking a lot about one of the lives, busily cracking a koan as it were, and I had a random thought that I would love to talk about that. And I realized how ridiculous that was. I would have been asked to leave, probably.


Discussion of anything spiritual, mystical or invisible was not going o be allowed over lunch. Even discussion about nature herself turned into one of acquisition and conquering and disappointment.


So I enjoyed my food. I gave words of encouragement to those who were struggling with their family members. I laughed when things were funny. I held my tongue when I heard bullshit. The food was good, the atmosphere lovely, the weather mild, the company pleasant but vapid.


I did not hate any of those women. I was initially frustrated with the two who dominated the lunch, but then it became very very clear to me that I had just been given a gift by my guides. I could feel all of them start to celebrate and sing and laugh when I realized, pulling my car away from the parking lot, that I FEEL FINE. I do not feel that deep ache of wanting to go home, wanting to not be on the planet because there is no kindness anywhere and no one recognizes me. Honest to God, 8 weeks ago, that lunch would have made me vaguely suicidal. But nope, not anymore.


Driving away, feeling like I am driving under huge angels’ swords, held skywards to form a tunnel of light and steel through which I pass, honoring and celebrating my freedom, entry into the hallway of enlightenment, they reminded me of something they had given me in dreams a couple weeks ago. They whispered to me, as I drove off into my next chore, the words “cotton ball.”


My experiences the last couple of weeks have been phenomenally intense, and the gifts of consciousness have been staggering. Deep in the experience I was given the gift of the vision of a cotton ball, being hollered at by big angel.


The cotton ball sat on the table, being a cotton ball, small and pure and simple and thirsty and dry. The angel was so frustrated. The angel was convinced that the cotton ball was its only source of water. It was sitting there hollering at the cotton ball, then pleading. Then the self loathing started, the angel hating itself for needing water. Then the hatred for the the cotton ball came. Why cant you just give me water?!?!?!? On and on.


And then I understood that the cotton ball, pure and small, may have misrepresented itself to the angel. The angel believed the tricky cotton ball. The cotton ball is hungry and knows the angel is the source of water, and further, knows the angel has temporarily forgotten it is its own source of water. The cotton ball uses this to its advantage, telling the angel to keep trying.


Finally the angel moves back from the table, and sits quietly, eyes open, heart open, and sees the truth. The cotton ball is a cotton ball. It is thirsty. It is dry. It is beautiful. It has a purpose. But that purpose is not to hydrate others. Believing one needs something unavailable in another leads to pain. Realization of the others abilities or willingness or capacities is possible only when one no longer identifies with other, only with source. Then you can see things as they are without hatred.


I had a very nice lunch with some cotton balls. They were dry and thirsty and unwilling to absorb. Such is the way with many cotton balls. So I was a little bored, felt a little sad that things I find interesting were not considered acceptable dinner conversation, made a mental note that I don’t want to do lunch with a couple of those ladies again, and that was that.


I have since been able to extend this to a core relationship of mine, one which has grieved me and sent me so far into despair… Now I see things more clearly. Others in a similar relationship structure as I have with this beautiful, constricted soul might have support, love, acceptance, camaraderie. I do not. I do not receive these things from her. I have gone through all of the feelings the angel did with its cotton ball. Hating myself for not being the same, hating myself for needing something I can never attain, hating the other for never meeting my needs.


Nope. Not now.


I love her as she is, and do not expect from her that which she does not yet have access to consciously.


I do want to move from this analogy to a more complete one, if I may, to close.


I love how my guides work with me. They talk with me, they tell me things, and they play jokes on me, all very playfully and skillfully. They know I am easily bored, highly restless, inquisitive, and that I prefer to work on many levels at once. I like the feeling really GETTING IT gives me. It’s as if a bell goes off inside me, and I can feel it resonate from the center of the earth to Home, and inside my living body. I like the sense of telescoping understanding that comes with deep recognition of a truth. So here is my truth around the concept of being in society:


I was having lunch with seven other angels. We all came from the stars. We are each bigger than we imagine. We were eight gods sitting on that outdoor patio, enjoying a late September afternoon, seven of whom were not remembering who they were. That is normal. That is okay. They wanted to talk about things that don’t matter to me, and I obliged. To do otherwise would have created havoc. I just sat there and held love. Saw them as giants, maybe a little forgetful, but not so off track that they were harmful. Just boring.


They will remember. Every night they DO remember. Each night, we are reunited with the bigger parts of ourselves, with our true family, with our purpose and mission. Each day we awaken and function in a physical construct, dense symbols of what is occurring Elsewhere. I have no hatred in my heart for the slumbering. I used to be filled with worry and depression, once I woke up a little, because I needed my loved ones to be where I was. I realized my suffering had been purposeful but time limited, self limited. I wanted others to feel this peace, and I didn’t want to be alone anymore.


Somehow I have emerged from this miasma of fear. I hold no hatred or pain toward those who reject me or find my approach to life scary or aversive. Who am I to presume to know what their path is, what their needs are? I do not need others to feel whole anymore. And because of that, I no longer need others to behave in any certain way. I no longer need. I prefer, but I do not need.


The loneliness I felt was never for human companionship. And now that I am reuniting with the bigger parts of me, the parts that drive the whole thing, I can let my fellow man be who they are. Mine is not to lecture or instruct. My path is not to correct the path of others, nor judge how they are walking their path. I no longer feel such a driving need to label someone awake or asleep. Remembering or forgetful. Good or bad. Right or wrong.


Who am I to judge?


What I am left with is a deep understanding of the alienation each of us feels by virtue of being in these meat sacks, playing out this drama, ascending in real time. Rather than hold sadness or resentment toward someone who is unable to give me love the way in which I desire it, I feel love toward all. There is nothing inherently evil in a cotton ball. There is nothing inherently evil about angels who are refusing to acknowledge their identity. Those who are in denial tend to act out, and are at times unpleasant, but they are not evil.


I can hold my own. I am supported and protected, and I am big enough to love others as they are, not as I might think they should be. Who am I to say? I like my way. It is a happy way, a good walk. But it is not for everyone, and I was hard-wired to do this. This is how I am. This is how I operate. I used to hate how deep I think, how fully I want to know, because this separated me from others who are not like this. I am not any more holy than anyone else here. It’s just that I am surrounded by The Holy who do not see themselves or others that way!


Now, I can honestly say, I truly love how I am made. I love that I can find significance and meaning and life-altering rationalizations while petting my cat or meditating or hangout with family who really push my buttons. I love it all, and I love me. I see things clearly right now.


We all know that with expansion comes contraction. I revel in expansion and always get tripped up in the contraction, forgetting that this is how the Universe breathes, this is how consciousness breathes, and this is the Breath of God.


I bless this expansion, and welcome its totality. I anticipate and allow the natural contraction, the breathing out, the preparation for more breath. I allow all. I judge none. I am stillness, a point of light, manipulating these fingers across a plastic keyboard, reaching out and touching another’s heart, another’s mind, reminding myself of my purpose, and more, my worth.


I have no idea if I ever was burned at the stake or was otherwise persecuted for my faith. I know I have persecuted in the name of God, and this has impacted my willingness to inject ego into spiritual practice. That lifetime of sadism made it possible for me to come this far, and demands humility. That is my karma, and for that I am grateful.


I invite my guides to continue to give me visuals and to talk to me. I love their analogies. The cotton ball one is awesome. I pass it on to you, so that if you are ever at lunch with entities who cannot hear you, will not see you, you can slow down your breathing, smile, savor your tea, look up and see your companions with cotton balls for heads. You are a source of water. They may need you more than you need them,.


You aren’t weird and you aren’t bad for being different. You are blessed for understanding that you ARE different. No one sitting at lunch is bad. Just angels in varying stages of remembering. If we all woke up at the same time it wouldn’t have the variety and the complexity it does. This is kind of fun.


Relax, become still, expand a white light with each breath so this light fills the room, expands to the city and on into the world and universe. Hold a space of love. Frequently give the gift of silence. Smile. Eat. Comment on stuff.




Move on.


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