Deeply Awake — Angels And Being Human 4-25-13 By Kathy Vik
I have had a lot of fun playing with the idea of what an angel might be, when all is said and done.
See, what I think is true for me is that I, this personality I am, well, this is just one of a myriad of expressions. And it is something that I have long held in a degraded position, one I have really hated and resented, that of being a human being.
I chuckled to myself at church tonight, because it is all just so abundantly clear now why I carried, my whole life, this resentment and, really, a bit of skepticism tinged with hurt feelings, toward organized religion.
I could never have pursued a traditional religious education. I mean, I could have, and I wanted to, but I knew it would be more enjoyable for me to instead study the “dead” languages and archeology than do any of the preaching. It just didn’t resonate with me, being a preacher or a religious leader of any kind, and yet I felt such a white hot jealousy toward those who had it so together that they openly, then, pursued the faith, any faith. A rage and a jealousy.
And here I sit, in church, again submitting to the notion that one among of us has more answers than the rest, so everyone shuts up and hands their power and their common sense over to a charismatic.
That’s what I think church is. I always saw it as very satisfying drama. Very satisfying. Because it drew from older times, more ancient wisdom. Not the wisdom of the ancients, but an older sense of reason, and I saw nothing wrong with it. Living archetypes, huge symbolic passion plays, much history to integrate. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.
But I could never bring myself to be a representative of any faith, because, after studying all of them, I found that all of them had a lot of truth, but most had twisted the truth in some sort of sociopolitical experiment, and I came to see Christianity as a simple death cult, a bunch of folks completely missing the point, their reason abdicated to beautiful and terrible myth, colorful and convincing, trying to persuade anyone within earshot that everyone and everything is created flawed, and your only hope of ever getting at least a little bit fixed is if you apologize to the one who broke you, your maker, God, who really is not only somewhat unpredicatable and mysterious, but somebody who doesn’t like to talk, and is, frankly, just a tad annoyed that you, personally, are not a little better at this whole thing.
It just never made sense to me. But I loved praying the rosary, and I loved communion, and I loved the liturgy and the songs and all the beautiful rituals. I loved everything about it. I loved it and wanted to be a nun. There is steady assurance in living the faith, a steady assurance no other life can offer, really. And I missed it a lot. I was exploring becoming a Lutheran nun while I was in nursing school.
And that has been the way with me. I embrace religion, love each of them as they are, each an expression of deeper truths. I prefer to be among those who do not think God is a dirty word. It’s just how I roll. The last year, elusive Hinduism has given me so much love and joy.
And here I sit, in church tonight, ready in all ways to be tended to and spoken to with kind and wise words, and I realize that I have carried this white hot heat with me my whole life because I always knew that what I am now becoming is what I was to become.
Now, you can call that spiritual arrogance, and I suppose from time to time that is how it’s come out. But I have waited a really long time for my head to clear, and this is how I am built. I am a sleek race car. I am, and I always have been, hardwired for mastery, for “ascension.”
That is why I am here.
It is a weird thing to be hard-wired for, but now I can just sit and observe just why it would be that I would both resent and hold in awe those who take on a spiritual mantle. It has been a deep desire of mine, but such a misfit I have been! How alone I have felt!
Hard-wired like this, devoted to god in a way that cannot be explained and that I truly did not understand until very, very recently, this devotion informs every heartbreak, every rash and dumb decision, every act of mercy, every joke I tell.
A monk without a monastery, a shaman without a tribe, a dalai lama without a following. Without a following.
And all this time, I knew that I was different, and I hated everything and everyone for it. For this alienation I felt in the most intimate of situations. This sense of separateness haunted me and taunted me even when I was happy, when the outside was calm and I had peace. It was then that I would gain some strength, some centeredness, some self care.
And then the bottom would drop out again, and I would be confronting another life lesson, another big chunk of discovery. And then the islands would appear, and somehow I would make it to shore. So many islands I took refuge on over the years, but, since consuming Kryon, I am holding one in particular awe, Richard Rybicki.
I thought about him only this morning.
Richard Rybicki is a published author, a speaker, and an unparalleled shaman, a healer of the highest order. A Licensed Clinical Social Worker, he took me on as a client my first year out of nursing school. Part of being young and employed at a psych hospital was total permission to have a therapist, just an aside, a nice bit of planning, I have to say.
He studied under Lazaris, and Richard’s work with the Inner Child was revolutionary. He was actually training me to think multidimensionally. I learned in my early twenties that the past is changed by what we think and do and activate here, in the now, and that our future selves can very easily reach out and tell us what to do next, if we just acknowledge it’s possible and might be beneficial and sort of fun. I mean, if you were someone like me, who else could be your first therapist?
I worked with him for six years, and I became a case he referred to in lecture. I was in pretty bad shape when I found him. Pretty rough. But I had gotten through extraordinary things, as each of us have, as each and every one of us has come to know.
I got very into a lot of different things, did the Harmonic Convergence, started reading Sedona early on, and stayed as immersed as my companions allowed. But the answers remained elusive, and I always blamed my lack of cleverness for that. In most ways, at least for this last part, I went it alone.
I woke myself up, but really, I have been more hooked into help the last year than at any other time in my life. Funny, watching the limited, bitchy part of me make an assertion, and then comes the wiser one, who, in effect, says, well, now, wait a minute, that might not be so. I need to become more aware of this. It is confusing, I am sure.
It was all very clever and hidden and roller coaster like, just like I had told myself it would be, about a year ago, in a dream.
So I became a nurse. An odd one, one who is sort of like the glue. Who has a good attitude, and who is deep, but who keeps to herself, and laughs sometimes uncomfortably often. That’s me, and I am harmless.
And sitting in church tonight, ready to hear my brother speak, knowing that he has also taken on a task I could have never consigned myself to, having to deal again and again and again in the basics, he will recognize me as a friend and a sister. I honor his willingness to do such heavy lifting.
I have always thirsted for the deeper answers, the simple ones, that just always apply, and make more sense than anything else, but these answers can only be given to you individually. They cannot be conferred upon you by man. It just doesn’t work that way. So it is a solitary journey, a lonely road, one that was made more poignant by all the homesickness. It had to be done solo, as sad as that sounds.
That makes sense, doesn’t it? I don’t see this as a pursuit driven by ego or pride, but fueled by a sense of conviction that I am good enough to know it all. I am entitled, because I have the abilities required to catch on to this stuff and then formulate it in very disgestable and hopefully not at all fancy way. It’s just somebody getting clear about a few things, in the end.
And that is what began to trouble me about the notion of angels. I began to see the notion of categorizing this amazing new discover of mine, this raw beauty, this pure love, how could I categorize it, and why must I? I feel I understand its glory just fine without having to assign to it names and personalities and histories and struggles. Can’t that part of our heritage be over, the analyzing, the titles and hierarchies and rules and all the comparing that goes on?
But, I have to tell you that I feel more visited every day, just more in company, I guess I would have to say, which I have asked for and set intention for. I intend to be aware of the entities who are my ever allies, those who have a vibratory signature which is more easily encompassed by donning a cluster of physical or personality traits.
This is basically what I was told when I saw the council.
For those of you who have not been reading along, I had a very weird experience at the casino on May 25, 2012. It was a bfd, really. And way dramatic. Very cool.
But then the casino part ended and I was in my car, and I wrote down what was occurring, and then I re-read it, and my body had an experience where I lost consciousness, and then lost my cookies, and this happened twice.
The first time was a test , a trial run. The second time the spin overtook me and I knew it was the next thing. I knew if it was death, which I figured it was, then that’s how it goes, but the sensation and just the feeling of rightness, that was stupendous. The full surrender of one’s being, without reservation, understanding, once and for all that, yes, there is something bigger than you that is more aware of more thanyou are… It hit home good and hard that day.
But anyway, on the second pass, that second NDE (“they” told me I could call it that) I was surrounded, part of a circle of, entities. And I could see no faces. The faces flickered so fast, and it was not just a flicker it was like every millisecond they were changing who they were, do you see?
Flipping from saint to peasant to angel faster than you can comprehend. They told me to not expect to know the faces, and don’t worry about it. What I will come to know is their energetic signature, and that this has been a study in becoming aware of my own energetic signature.
It is vital to be able to recognize yourself. If you do not recognize yourself, you come to know yourself as spiritually dead, numb in your heart. So they explained a little more about myself and they showed themselves, and I knew they very very dear old friends. I then went down or into some beautiful chute, and then I woke up, and then I barfed again.
And so it goes.
I sit and realize that I was just being a scaredy cat, not yet ready to move into my power. And that is, to every extent, a timing thing. Hardwired as I am, the earth and the heavens weren’t conspiring so sweetly before now. I mean, the energy is so sparkly anymore that I just can’t get over it. It is fun.
And now I am not a scaredy cat.
And as I held good thoughts about the awesome preacher, he channeled beautiful messages of love that I needed to hear, and at certain points I imagined his higher self talking to mine, volleying back and forth with compliments and words of support and encouragement and great humor.
The service just got more and more beautiful. The last song was “Calling All Angels,” and, as usual, I was on my feet and grooving out, singing along. Thank God this is a big congregation, or I would find it harder to be the old hippie grannie in the room, but as it is, I feel free to rock out. And I am singing, “Calling all my angels!”
When all is said and done, what else can I term The Teachers? Weren’t they divine messengers? There are a few things that I have discovered were incorrect, but I see that this was very potent, and put in so that I would have a very rounded education in all of the metaphysical and just very weird things that go on in this life. Had they given me the straight poop I would not have taken the scenic route, and even though it was freaking bumpy in places, it was worth it. The views were spectacular. And they keep getting better.
You know, this lightworker loneliness, I know that it’s self indulgent, really, but it still hits from time to time. I have no way of knowing how far along people are on their path, how much of this stuff that has become so clear to me will make sense.
Believe it or not, the things I have come to see really work for me, and are, in many ways just as universal as you can get, well it has been rejected whole by my closest companions.
And I know this has less to do with me than with us not being on the same wavelength, but it is sort of sad, to have no one to openly converse with, when what I know is mirrored in so much I am reading.
I know it to be valid, because I can feel its truth coursing through me. I have found some key stuff.
And not one of the people I spend face time with care to have anything to do with it.
Tough. A little sad.
And the feeling comes, and then it goes, because it’s just part of the show, and it’s an illusion, and then the pastor closes his talk with a poem.
It’s called Spiritual Conspiracy.
And I wept tears of joy as he read it.
It is a manifesto for we who are the ones who hold the open heart in any room we are in. It is a song of recognition to we who look upon the suffering and hold our arms open wide, our hearts open wide, without judgment and without shame loving everything we encounter, but no longer having the old ways make sense. Seeing things whole, this is who we are, and we are everywhere, and bit by bit it is happening, and we are all in this together.
Oh My God.
Oh, how I needed that.
To be honest with you, it reminded me of a petition of intent that a group makes who are intent on revolution.
But ours is one that cannot begin any way than through the individual seeking answers, having intent to know more, to find God, in whatever form it takes.
And that is why I need to rebut the stuff I said about religions. I hope that you can understand the writing was with the subtext of alienation, of being the outsider. In that vein. Think of these things as mood paintings, if you want. That was a little tantrum, of sorts.
The truth is that I always to know I had myself so rock solid put together, just completely have this thing sussed, before I could don a sacred garment. And I was unconvinced that others had the fire I did. That was unkind and quite arrogant of me, but the fruits of their labor have been incredibly disappointing, if I do say so myself.
I always knew that I was marked in some way for holy things, but just couldn’t make myself fit in anywhere. Alone, knowing I stank with a weird authority I just could not honestly claim, trying to figure out a way to get back to God, to find some relief the homesickness that crippled me.
The poem took away years of feeling all alone, toiling without even one mirror, no friend to speak these words with, no one to amplify my knowledge. And although I did turn the spigot off myself, I didn’t enjoy that very much.
It was not a happy time. The homesickness has abated now, but loosened all through 2012. Was it just my time? Was it Earth’s time? Could I have achieved what I have, is there any way that I could have gotten here quicker?
Yes, even now, wanting more, yelling out, “Bring it on! I am ready!”
And then, here is a poem, and it felt like a solidarity poem, a prayer, a manifesto of solidarity and to not lose hope, not lose sight of the purpose.
We will know world peace in the 21st Century. Oh there are so many more gifts than this, but this alone is worth it all, and it is within our grasp. It is a reality, even now.
And here was one soul, singing their song of rebellion and beauty and celebration right into my heart. Weeping tears of joy. Sweeter and prettier and more lovely. Every moment in this Now. This is my life now.
Well, the service is complete, and I know that now the next thing happens, and I need to go back to thinking more logically. And this beautiful, beautiful woman approaches me, and presses a card, all folded up, into my hand, smiles, and is gone. Just goes away into the crowd in a flash.
The song “Calling All Angels” was being reprised, and I still had some boogy in me, so I stashed the note and danced and sang some more, calling “All my angels” again and again. Trying to more completely imagine the possibility that the miracle of actually having magical, miraculous invisible friends might actually fit into this new framework from which I have come to view life, one that now integrates DNA activation, and a whole lot more.
Maybe there’s plenty of room for all kinds of help, and maybe some of it wears turbans and hemp diapers and walks with a stick. Maybe these avatars I see in my imagination, and maybe inserts, angelic help, way-big synchronicity, maybe that is possible too, I am thinking, as I am dancing and singing.
And then it is over and I have stuff to do. As I walk up the aisle, I took the note out.
Let me go get it so I can write it down here:
It’s on a little note pad stamped with “Create. Dream Inspire.” and she wrote:
You <3” Wow. I am immersed in Kryon, going through Book Twelve again. It was the other bookend of The Teachers’ work with me. They would bore me incessantly about DNA and light transmutations and stuff like that, and I found it fascinating but completely off topic. But I listened, because it was important to them that they tell me this, so I took it in, and now, it’s just all coming back. The answers to just what they had been referring to came in the form of Kryon’s teaching. So, preparing to be entangled before the service tonight, ready to feel real whole and real happy and real clear, I reflected on what I have learned, what I have intuited and decoded and put together. It is startlingly simple and sainted and wonderfully within our very own control. It has to do with intent, The Teachers very favorite word. Intent. And I intend for everyone to be my friend and a brother, a sister, family, someone in the tribe. And some have chosen not to go forward with this process, and it just, I suppose, will get more and more uncomfortable, and finally intolerable, to be in it but not flowing in it, being of it. And they will come back and be amazed at how easy it is, and how happy they are, and how much easier it is to remember the truth, and lifetime by lifetime we will create a new earth, moment by moment, by choosing in this now to live in peace and harmony, in respect and care, in deep gratitude and nothing but love. The spigot is on and I am tapped in. I believe in angels, and now I have proof of my latest visitation stuck to my refrigerator, lighting things up, reminding me that things are so much bigger than I allow myself permission to imagine sometimes.