Deeply Awake — Tomorrow 12-11-12 By Kathy Vik
I have been waking up with huge packets of information reeling off in my head, and I have had some awakenings lately.
And tomorrow is the 12-12-12. The big day.
I want to say, “So, here is my take on tomorrow, and what I am getting about the solstice…” but I am no expert. I just went downstairs to get my day going, and my car doesn’t start. It turns over, but that is all it does.
So how can I sit on any kind of pretend throne and distribute anything to people kind enough to read these words, when my own creations crap out on me.
I have reached the end of a long energetic road.
I am encountering dark and light in immediate and real ways now. I see choices and probabilities and possibilities, for instance, in how I will get my car started again. But this whole scene adds a person I’d been avoiding, and adds a wrinkle to this day that I would never, ever have consciously called forth. Ugh.
And that’s the weird thing about this next bit.
There is a humility weaved into this cloth, a stand I take which clearly states that what is right in front of me is not what it appears, but there are no subtitles, so it all feels like it could be anybody’s guess as to meaning or even definition at times.
That’s how it feels sometimes. I just look around at the ridiculous nature of some of the things I consider normal and just sit here shaking my head, wondering how I’ll ever move these clunky things out of here, they’re part of the furniture now, they’re wedged in there real good.
I wish to divorce myself from the part of me who is already defeated, but there is a part of me that is just barely moving, just imperceptibly raising and emptying my chest, slowly, shallowly, beaten and tired and done. Just very done.
So I thought I would have the illusion, at least, of freedom today and tomorrow. Once again, something in my reality which I would like very much to just assume will WORK when I need it/want it to WORK does not, unfortunately, WORK.
This base frustration is an infection I know very well. I work at a job I don’t like, live in a house I find assaultive energetically, on and on it goes.
When is it my turn to create things without the duality, without the built-in jack-in-the-box, jump-in-your-face pop-up, saying, “Hey! You are NOT on top of this, bitch.”
In my dreams, I was told that I should be very pleased with the determination with which I tried to introduce the perfect manifestation, but the energy has long been imperfect, so my creations have been perfectly imperfect. Imperfection in every way, on every level, because that is all I have had with which to create. But absolutely perfect in its imperfection. Such a nice gift to have been given this morning upon rising. But during daylight hours, it’s all been ambivalent and polar and duality and shadows and light lately, it seems. Lots of mirages. Energetic ghosts and mirages.
So it is frustrating. I would like to tell you that I can sit here in bliss, certain of what tomorrow holds for me, and even for you. You might think I am here in my recliner laughing my way through these madcap hi-jinx.
I would be a big fat liar if I said that to you. I am not in bliss. Not very often. I do get there, and I would like very much to stay there. But I still visit there. I have a drawer there, so I can keep my toothbrush and a change of underwear, but we’re still on the DL most of the time.
I find it hard to sustain it. And I find the thought of staying in deep positivity, deep bliss, even that I find just a hair uninteresting. I find little depth in joy. Bliss, there is texture to, but joy, it is thin, it is delicate, it is beautiful, but it is temporal for me, stitched into moments, into context.
As is the fouler mood. Knowing I have to invite difficulty into my day to get my car fixed, remaining open to the idea that what I anticipate will be unpleasant and self-negating might turn out to be fun. I am open to it. But I am too old, too beat up, too wise to assume that the worst isn’t entirely possible. After all, my car doesn’t, in fact, work.
Now I am smart enough to know that even if and when the worst comes, I will survive it.
But I feel this inner turmoil, this inner panic, that what comes now will be the worst.
How can I have gone through this much growth, redefinition, and still feel this way?
And that is the crux of it, isn’t it?
What happens when we don’t match one another energetically? We apologize, hope for a better connection later, but then what does one do with the dissonance? The not matching?
Perhaps I am a slow-witted lightworker because I spend time here, in this difficulty, in this turmoil.
All I know is that for the last four days or so I feel almost assaulted by this energy. So tired that I have actually been engaging in long and lovely naps. I feel about 500 years old sometimes. I have been aching all over, and I have the old woman’s back. I get up from sitting all hunched over like “an elderly” as my son calls we seniors. Just ancient. Unwilling to move. Unwilling to do much beyond rolling myself into a ball, plugging in the headphones, closing my eyes and going away.
I feel oddly disconnected from my world, while feeling strangely held very tightly held by it. I feel a dance happening, a swaying that my bigger body is doing, and the movement is making me dizzy, I have a stomach ache, and I just want the rocking to stop.
Tomorrow is a day I have waited for, for many, many years. I have always known that tomorrow is a holy, holy day. A high, holy day. And many of the days we humans like to think of as holy, they are because we have attached meaning and expectation to the day. Christmas, birthdays, Halloween.
But tomorrow, it comes with a meaning already encoded within it. Just flip that calendar date over and you will know, you will feel it, you will see and understand, tomorrow is a singular event, even if one wishes to brush it off in a linear numeric progression only.
It is so much more than that.
And my car won’t start.
And I am ok with that now.
Have you also noticed how quickly your moods can switch? I know I am clearing ancient stuff. I am grateful for this time, given to me well in advance, knowing that the day before tomorrow would wind up being just as significant as tomorrow. So now I get to sit in my recliner, feet up, feet freezing, tapping on this keyboard, trying to express the frustrating oddities my mind presents moment to moment.
I understand that my life, as I have chosen to live it, does not bring me deep pleasure, contentment, recognition, ease, aesthetic pleasure, calm or much comfort. And tomorrow will not change that.
But tomorrow will change how I cope with that fact.
I am certain of it.
I get that tomorrow is the beginning. But beginnings are fun, all on their own.
I worry that I will be disappointed. I don’t exactly know what to expect. I do not expect to get sucked into a vortex, I expect I will perhaps have a nice energy rush, but will spend the day in prayer and reverence.
I have come too far on this path to build up a day into something which feels like the pinnacle of existence, and then have it turn out to be just another day. Too disappointing. I will let my mind drift into its native ground, my imagination, to get a feel for what might be possible, but, Good Lord, I know as much as the next guy as to how it’ll actually wind up looking tomorrow.
I know it will be just another day. More people are going to be doing their usual daily grind than will be taking the day off. I know that. But I know it is a door, and I intend to kick that mother in.
I have waited a long time to find myself in front of this door.
And I know I have a nine day walk from the 12-12 to the solstice, and I intend to walk that razor’s edge like the master I am.
And I will continue to be messy and imperfect. Negative at times. Pushy. Verbal. Contradictory. Challenging. And, as I have been discovering, it is entirely possible to be, at the very least, gently tolerated, when I act out in this way, wielding this still-new energetic sword this way and that, lots of close calls, not drawing blood, but still getting the hang of this new found light.
And in that space, I am maybe even loved. Indulged at times. As I indulge others. I do not give people much room to act out and not understand. I like being treated permissively, kindly. I am going to start doing more of it. It feels good.
And so it goes.
Tomorrow is an energetic doorway, and I will walk through it happily, with courage and joy. I will try on the more expressive of my moods, and I will be present throughout. I will expect nothing. Nothing. Just as I knew that May 25, 2012, was a big day for me, I know, too, that the 12-12 is important to me.
What happened in May was amazing, fantastic, singular and unforgettable. But then, what came next, was May 26.
May 26 was infinitely more satisfying than May 24, but it was still another day in a linear progression of days, all coming to some sort of conclusion, I think. So, what comes next, how can anyone know? I don’t think we have the hardware yet to see what it really looks like. We are getting glimpses, some of it. But the hardware is just getting done with getting booted up.
And this is how I expect tomorrow will be. I expect that I will give myself a treat or two. And I expect that, in the end, things, I, will feel different, better, clearer. Maybe even rebooted. I know I have been being reformatted. A nice hard reboot would really feel good at this point.
So tomorrow, I will set my intent, and then disengage from outcome.
How will that be different than getting into my car this morning and having it not turn over as I expected, as I intended, disengaged from outcome as I feel currently. Will I get my car fixed today through unpleasant means? Will I just use my neighbor’s car through the week? Will I wind up going to the restaurant that I wanted to go to? Will I walk to Sam’s school in this 30 degree weather? I am suspended from outcome.
I know I need to do a few things around the house so that I am ready for tomorrow, but, to be honest, the only thing I really want to do now is take a nap.
And so I shall.
That sounds good. I think this is the thing to do.
What happens tomorrow is up for grabs.
It’s only 11am, and I have been up for seven hours. I have run the gamut today, and still feel disjointed from a previous, unhappy conversation. One more example of my going too far, not minding my P’s and Q’s in conversation, taking energetic advantage.
Being in relationship is exhausting sometimes. All I want to do is do it well, and when I miss the mark, allow my lower nature to romp and when I verbally mess the place up like Pig Pen, oh, I feel tired. Just exhausted.
So I continue to do what Bashar cautions against, and I will continue to try. I am trying. I am applying myself to new truths, new constructs, new agreements, and new behaviors.
The first take I had when the car wouldn’t start is that this is a required adjustment, just one more way to get your attention.
Oh come on. I am at full-on salute, ready to go, snapped to attention and aquiver for the next command. And here I am, confronting this little life, this cramped and uncomfortable existence, this limited and unhappy little life of restrictions and failures and obstacles and challenges, so maybe my initial take was not inaccurate.
I know it’s just that the car won’t turn over. I know that.
But things are not as they seem, especially today, as it is so very close to tomorrow. A car not starting, requiring assistance, well, now, things are not as they seem. Not at all.
And because I pay attention, and because I am a dear friend of the dark, of the shadows we all have grown so very accustomed to, I will just do my best, winnowing meaning from this and that, but using now a bigger perspective.
I leave you with what has been coming through to me in my sleep the last two nights.
I have seen this whole thing, this little, cramped, stuffy, stale, static little life of mine, and all its restrictions and false definitions and misinterpretations of the data, I see it now as a ball, alive under its shiny skin. I see the skin as made of smoky quartz, and dimly, very dimly, within, are grey snakes, writhing, eating one others’ tails, their very own tails. It is all confusion and chaos, but it is contained, and the funny thing is, it makes perfect and absolute sense when within the ball. It is only when viewed from without that it takes on the appearance of a ball of confusion.
And this is what my guides have been explaining to me, the last two nights, this is that which I am disengaging from.
It is illusion. It is a primal and instinctive and highly misinterpreted but highly symbolic way of interpreting reality. It is set with its own structures, its own agreements, a beginning middle and an end, but it is something from which I can now disengage.
And during the day yesterday, twice I had those scary, tragic thoughts that I have when I am poor, feeling the spike of that crushing fear, silly, really, and when those thoughts would bubble up, immediately, to my right and low, there was that ball, inviting me to add to it the thoughts which just crossed my path, because that is where those thoughts belong.
And this ball, this container, it is something with which I now want to work. My dear friend and I were puzzling over it last night, and I think we agree that the thing that makes the most sense is to find, somewhere within that ball, find that pinprick of light, and expand it, and fill that puppy up. See what happens.
This see-saw, this jagged edge we are all crossing, some are doing it with extreme grace, a refined sense of what makes sense, and I am in awe of these lovely beings. Just making a nice little hand gesture, smiling and saying, “Hey, it ain’t nothin’ but a thang.” Not that way with me, must examine, must spelunk, must understand and play with meanings and analyze, always analyzing. I do hope this begins to fade. As more questions come streaming in, there is less obsessive thinking, that is true.
Obsessive thinking, analyzing stuff, maybe that will end tomorrow. That would be nice. It would be a joy to just hang up the spurs I use to dig heel to side, making this beast go as fast as the wind, grinding it and pushing it, and now, tomorrow, I think I can finally just drop from that saddle, shiny and dark from the oils in my fingers, well known to me, letting me have a center of gravity which is not in concert with reality.
I want to live closer to the ground. I don’t want to be bucked and swayed, and I would be really cool with remembering more stuff. It would have been really really nice if I had a little warning about the next few things. These, the next things coming up are the real core things, the deep stuff. There isn’t that much left. But what is there is old, and well-known, deeply ingrained, take-it-for-granted-like-gravity kind of stuff.
So for the next bit, I would really like to drop the amnesia. The being freaking surprised by stuff all the time, that is getting really old.
It’s not as easy to go to the dark place when something unexpected happens, but I was circling today, wasn’t I, and oh, don’t I know all the landing strips by heart, where to get the best coffee and cinnamon roll.
But I kept flying today. I visited past and recent mistakes, past and recent worries, and I am glad to see that, for the most part, I have been unwilling, or unable, to think or anticipate the worst, and I have, it would appear, a near allergy toward prophecy about tomorrow.
I knew that there was a wall of light on May 25, masking it from the rest of my days. And that came to pass. But this, this is different. I feel that I am about to walk into a long corridor, lit up by some kind of magic, etchings and carvings informing my walk. I feel I am walking into an initiation tomorrow, and I do think that an initiate is right to pipe down a little. Once I have done whatever I am being called to do the next 10 days, then I can blab about it. God knows I will.
But now, no, there is nothing to discuss. Just unformed guesses, a little frustration, a lot of happiness for the progress made thus far, and a true and honest wish for each person on this earth to feel some peace tomorrow, to just have their burden lift. That is my wish for mankind. That they will, as one, individually, feel their burden be lifted from them. May everyone come to know themselves without burden, without limit, without restriction.
If I could make my wish for tomorrow it would be this:
I hope that there comes a moment when, unknown to everyone else, simultaneously, as one, each of us goes through an upliftment in which each of us is confronted intangible, unforgettable, indelible experience, the complete magnificence and purity of creation that each of us is.
And in that moment, all burdens are lifted. In that moment, I wish that each and every one of us understands in a cellular, profound, and life-altering way, that they are not, have never been and never will be unloved or alone. That they are made from and out of love. That the wrong they have done is simply in not allowing, in not accepting. All is grace. All are welcoming and accepting.
I hope that they can see, just for a moment, with the eyes that can tell them the truth, that their bodies are their actual souls, realized. That each of us is allowed to be exactly who and what we are in this precise moment, and there is no shame, there is no blame, there is no high and there is no low. There is no forgiveness, there is no need, we are beyond forgiveness here. We are in purity, in consciousness, beyond all we have thought was real, hoped was possible, knew could be attained.
And I would like that moment to stick. I’d like for that to be the headlines. Everyone woke up. Some were knocked dead by it, others are physically recovering, some are blissed out, and some blinked off and went higher, and will be coming back when they feel like it.
That’s what I would like.
I am unconvinced anything else will be satisfying.
And I am not saying that to get in anybody’s business and tell them how to feel or what sort of experience to have. No! I talk about that kind of mind and heart and soul connection, each of us like human trees, our energy poking into the earth, and overlapping with one another, and gaining light and strength from the sun, plugging into grids which make their origin within the mind of God… I’d like that sort of group experience because it would just make everything so much easier.
Imagine going to work and feeling no shame vibes, from anybody, about anything, ever again. Imagine being able to say exactly what is on your heart, knowing, trusting, that you will say nothing that is not for the highest good for all involved. It will be part of the new agreement field.
Imagine the lawsuits dropped due to lack of interest. The bills that go unfulfilled and the bill collectors who become shockingly disinterested in chasing after a few bucks.
Imagine the shifts.
Imagine the peace.
And I am here, with my car that won’t catch, won’t turn over, sleepy, happy to have produced something complex and happy, round and full and complete in some way. Feeling appreciation. Feeling peace.
So, will we all be called into ourselves tomorrow? Wouldn’t that be lovely. Since this year began, I have had a number of peak experiences, some which scared the ever living stuffing out of me, so convinced I was dying was I, and I was. I did. And I came back.
Many of those events were so mind-bendingly beautiful, so beautiful, so ecstatic, so beyond the beyond. And I have had enough of these to know that I can expect more of that when I get a hit of light, real strong, pure light. It would be fun. It always is. But it’s sort of like the frosting and not the cake anymore. Funny how that has changed. But having had those experience allowed me to confront actually dying.
I do not fear death, on any level. Death is a myth. It is a device we sold ourselves on, and it was quite handy. But this, tomorrow, is a fade, a death, a transition. I can feel it. My ball of confusion writhes and wriggles. My car sits, inert. My feet haven’t warmed up.
But I know what is real, and it lies beyond physicality. I want to experiment with what I am being told, what I know to be true. That it is all just energy, we can have anything we would like.
This is where I will travel now, once the spelling check has been done, and I can retire to my eager bed, for surcease, for calm.
I will imagine that this is all just energy, and I will create a new ball, a new plane of existence. I will populate it like a pop up book. My pink Lord of the Rings mountain will be there, as will my forest/mountain cabin. I will hit all the favorites, all the haunts I go to before sleep to find solace and warmth.
And once there, in the place that feels best, I will imagine that this is all energy. I will imagine mine with all the colors of the rainbow, and those sweet ascended masters colors we all see on the internet. I will imagine wonderful hotel rooms, a great motor home, lots of visuals, lots of activities, but underneath, running through it all, will be the signature. Freer. Clearer. Happier. Laughing a lot. Pretty. Confident. Hard as steel. Yielding. Understanding. Compassionate. Less worried. Less tortured. Less willing to get on down from here and muck about in limitation and distraction.
I know I’ll get there.
I know I can be full, whole, with the whole palette of emotion readily available, essential to compassion, to humor, and I will paint from ecstasy, and knowing, and homecoming.
Maybe tomorrow. Maybe.