Deeply Awake — My Favorite Martian 10-29-12 By Kathy Vik

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What a grand few days I have had. Three 12 hour shifts, back to back, in the psych ward. The first two nights were sainted. Gentle, sweet, quiet, loving and sainted. Patients and staff being kind and gentle to each other and to themselves. How blessed.

And then the third shift, among very cold and mean staff, unpleasant and closed and petty and resistant. By the third shift, my endurance was lower, and it was easier to sink into the sad, lower frequency agreement fields.

Through it all, I have been sleeping very deeply, and being given sweet dreams. I was visited by a symbol of an old, great love, and now know that my relationship is on its way. The symbol sat there smiling, so still and so loving, and asked, “So, how do you feel?” I said without thinking of consequence, “I love you,” those words symbolizing my willingness to move forward without fear, within the unified field of interconnectedness, to give and receive love and bliss in the now.

This morning I was greeted by old friends. I stumbled upon the “official video” for the way-showers, and WOW did the gongs get gonged. Wow, I have watched it several times now. Wow. My tribe.

And then, I stumbled onto Bashar.

Oh my my my. People who read my blog understand the singular love and longing I have for The Teachers, a collective which I worked with, through an unconscious channel in the early 1990’s. I have traveled these twenty years tending to the fire The Teachers lit in my awareness, and that little light has finally bloomed into a bonfire again. Here came Bashar, talking in the same language as The Teachers, with the same authority, and with the same sort of symmetrical structuring of consciousness that is so reminiscent of my home.

This day I have come to understand that this need to “go home,” an irrational cat scratching at my brain since I came into this incarnation, that cat is finally done misbehaving.

You see, I have always BEEN home.

My longing was my encoded, hard-wired unwillingness to remain asleep, and it was a reminder of the origin of all things. I came in hungry for something that no one else in my reality chose to acknowledge existed, and any hint of its existence was met with great, shall we say, resistance.

This frequency, these remembrances of mine, they frightened some, just as today, as I learn how to modulate the strength, the power I have begun to know, I sometimes blow my son away.

Sensitive as he is, if I speak from this well of authority I have discovered, I can be overwhelming. He’ll cry and say I frightened him, and I know I did, and I didn’t mean to at all. I apologize for my being still a little unskilled at communicating, and we hug, and I am forgiven, and that is nice.

In January, just a few days after my initial awakening, I had lunch with my old friend, my energetic sister, Diane.

I was irrational, almost insanely on fire, this transformational fire was burning brightly, lighting everything, heightening and exaggerating each awareness, each thought.

At one point, I remember I got really really mad at her, just a purple passion of hate came up. I walked away and went outside and fumed and smoked and muttered. Oh! I was angry, about what I don’t remember.

I went back inside and apologized. My sweet friend shrugged and told me that I had just been handed a very heavy sword, and I am only now learning how to pick it up. I will have much learning, and it could get a little messy, so use some caution, but be kind toward self, because I’m just learning how to operate a new tool.

How lucky am I? How blessed and mischievous and richly imaginative to have such a shaman for a best friend!

Well, I am able to lop off a zit from a butterfly’s chin with my sword now. I have a fluidity of motion, a confidence, and have fused blade and hand in a unique and characteristically humorous way.

So, then I think on Bashar again.

I think about my origins again.

I think about the meditation I had just recently in which I experienced a beautiful Buddha energetic overlay, and saw the Buddha pregnant with the earth, then this pregnancy, this fetus, became a bright white sphere being focused upon by The Council. We are each of us pregnant with the earth, and we are each being midwifed by The Council. We are much respected and loved for bearing this amazing creation.

And I want to know where I am from. I want to know to whom, specifically, I belong. I want to come to resonate with my origin. No longer as a petulant child, throwing fits because I am not getting my way, now I wish to cooperatively explore what I can do in this body, in this now, by reclaiming that which is my birthright.

And I think about what The Teachers told me about my two UFO encounters. I know there is much more for me to remember, many visitations in the physical and in the dream state from my family, and I want to have these come into consciousness more and more. I know now that with the great longing I held, and my great unhappiness at being here, that any more than a hint or two would have driven me mad.

I remember asking, imploring The Teachers to tell me where I came from. They told me I could think of it as “the blue planet.” They would give me no more information, and told me very sweetly that the only reason they would give no more than this is because my homesickness was so great that if I had a visual or any other sensation, memory, something to attach to, I would not stick around. I would be gone. So great was the suffering. So great, my dear friend, is this new-found relief.

The childhood memory is horribly spotty, which is fine with me, but here literally years I do not have conscious access to. I have thought a lot about this, and I think I am not an insert, a walk-in, although that is entirely possible, but instead, when things got too bad, bigger portions of me sort of came in and took over, protected me, and I have gotten through this as sort of a group effort.  Does that make sense? I see it sort of as a relay race, with successively larger, more expansive portions of myself coming through when it’s time. Who knows.

But as a kid, I spent a lot of time outdoors. I remember being a toddler, maybe two, maybe three. I had cream colored overalls on, and I was outside in the backyard in Anoka, Minnesota, out by the shed. I looked up, and there was a ship. I looked at it, and it looked at me. We gave each other lots of time to say hi. Then it left.

I asked The Teachers about that. They said that it was necessary at that time to come through and remind me that I was being watched, being protected, and that I was not alone. Yes, I thought, I think. Yes.

Thank God my dad is more aware of his connection with the stars, and has always known UFO’s are real. He says that they don’t like him very much, and I sense a great sadness and disappointment in him when he says that, but he says that although he’d like contact, they leave him alone, “They don’t seem to like me.” That will change for him, of course, but to be parented by someone so attuned to our bigger origins was very nice. We always kept ourselves open to the possibility we’d see something unique, something life-changing, in the skies. Always had the hope. Always.

No more sightings, that I can remember, until I am 17 or 18.

My friend was over to my house to watch I, Claudius with me. We took a break after midnight. It was a warm summer’s night. We were happy, content, she being another one of my tribe, we being sisters and kindred spirits.

We decided to go to the patio and get some fresh air. Doubters and haters will say it is because we got high that I saw what I saw, but I will attest and affirm that in those days all we had to smoke was Mexican Ditchweed, nowhere near powerful enough to do much more than make us crave a snack.

We smoked some flower, and then sat and listened to the crickets, sitting quietly enjoying each others’ presence, as we often did.

And then all the sound went off. The crickets, all over the world, stopped chattering all at once. The air got still. The earth grew still. I got still. And then above me glided an enormous black craft, as solid and as impossibly black as that which Douglas Adams describes in the parking lot outside of the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. So impossibly black, like you could fall into it.

Next thing I knew, it was about 4am, and my friend and I decided it was time to part. We didn’t remember the event. We thought we’d fallen asleep.

By the time I encountered The Teachers, about 15 years had passed, and I still only had the recollection of the way everything went eerily still, and then that impossibly black triangle.

One day, I watched Fire In The Sky, and I was flooded with a bunch of very uncomfortable memories and fears. I went to The Teachers to ask them to explain what the heck had happened, what was going on. I knew my memories to be tied to that encounter with the triangle ship, and I was touching on a deep compartment of terror when I thought on these things.

They explained that experience was real, and that I had been abducted, but the beings which chose me did not fully appreciate how much of a rebel I am. The Teachers told me that I was let go, and there was an understanding that they are to have no further contact with me,

I got the sense that the ones who did the picking up were sort of embarrassed for having read the situation so wrong. It points to how well I have cloaked myself. The Teachers explained that I am unable to be overridden, and will not have that sort of nonsense. The beings who picked me up have since complied.

Now, I have no idea if any of that is true. I do know that when my memories were activated by that movie, I spent a few days fairly freaked out, very scared and freaked out. The Teachers picked up on it, and reminded me that I was just picking up on the imprint of the memory. That there was more to remember, and great gifts contained within.

They recommended a clove bath, because the frequency of those entities is incompatible with that essence. Cloves is, to those entities as garlic is to vampires. So that evening, I made a big clove sachet with an old hankie, and I soaked in clove.

In the bath, I was flooded with memories of that ship, that encounter, not to make them an indelible part of my psyche, but to release them. So I don’t have many visuals or a strong connection with the event. It is released, and its significance is still up in the air for me.

My favorite Martian, my favorite alien, I don’t even know if I could pick one. Is ArchAngel Michael an ET? Is the collective The Teachers? Is Bashar? Am I?

ET. So linear. So limited. ET. Extra-terrestrial. A misnomer, really. Just a misinterpretation of the data. A mechanized definition for a multidimensional/quantum reality. Silly, really, when looking at it that way.

It’s all coming together now.

Bashar’s teachings are much like The Teachers’ in that the information is highly compact, and multidimensional, absolutely benevolent, and inhabits humor and hope.

Sitting today in my jammies, in between naps, preparing for my next nursing shift, and my next personal shift, I am finally understanding that this longing to go home was nothing more than a longing to experience the divine, the all, the one. And I don’t have to exit anymore to feel it, breathe it, demonstrate it.

All is neutrality now. All is a blessed expansion now. All of it is gifting and surprises and miracles and abundance now.

Now the face is making the mirror smile, and finally understands that frown is corrected not by commanding the mirror to change, neither by hating nor fearing the image, but by just grinning.

And maybe by repeating the ancient, sacred mantras that Bashar reminds us of: “So what,” and “Big deal.” Unplugging and remaining ecstatically, curiously neutral, in complete and utter awe, feeling such infinite love; accepting and bearing and becoming each experience, the pain and the joy, the separation and the union.

Combining, accepting, receiving, and finally, transmuting these realities into something newer and freer and lighter.

I wish to walk among my fellow travelers unaffected by their choices which do not resonate with this peace, realizing that choices others make to be unhappy, cramped, closed and dark, well, that’s their business. That doesn’t affect me. Their pain is not mine to bear anymore.

And try as hard as they might to think I am the cause of their discomfort, well, no, I am sorry, that’s just a misinterpretation of the data. I get to tend to my emotional and soulic garden, everyone else tends to their own.

Let’s, as one group, we wayshowers, we lightworkers, we first and second and third wavers (that’s something we need to talk about, the three waves within our First Wave…) keep pouring water and nutrition onto our gardens of wonder, awe, creativity, forgiveness, forbearance, patience, good humor, joy, excitement, feeling lit up and moving always into the light, needing this stimulation of our light bodies, filling up more and more with a crystalline shininess that the whole world is beginning to notice, and which we use to find each other during our nights of planning, when our physical bodies are stilled into rest, and we meet to discuss, plan, encourage, guide, plot, plan and laugh.

Oh we giants, we are doing a fine job. The outcome is assured, make no mistake. It only gets better from here.

I know that most of us have had weird encounters with far-off star beings, some who donned biochemical suits to intervene on our behalf within our physical reality, some which inserted themselves within our awareness as a “sighting”, and I know that this guidance is divine.

Yes, there are many vibrations available, and there are many expressions of the All That Is, some more loving, more heart-centered than others, but we are not alone, never have been. We have been in quarantine. The quarantine is lifted.

We are coming home, into ourselves, and through our consolidations and realizations and miraculous weirdness, we might even come to realize that our uncle, our friend, our boss, is a martian, an Arcturian, a Sirian, or, as my son refers to himself, a Galaxian. We are going home because we are coming home. We can soon take our rightful place among our sisters and brothers. We have a lot be proud of, and so much to be thankful for.

I will take some sage advice, following my excitement, doing what, as The Teachers always urged us to do, to “do what lights you up from the inside.”

What lights you up from the inside? What makes a certain deep clang go off inside you, a gong of recognition and deep soul comfort? What makes you passionate? And, as Bashar asks, are you passionate about being passionate about it? If that is so, do that thing.

I have found my thing. I will let biggermind clue me onto the course, and allow littlemind to do what it does best, follow instruction. Obey. Listen, obey. Intuit and obey.

Today it’s and Who knows what tomorrow will bring? It matters not. I am perpetually home now, perpetually among friends, and everyone I am encountering in this current reality IS my favorite martian.


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