Deeply Awake — Know Thyself 4-30-13 By Kathy Vik


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Deeply Awake — Know Thyself 4-30-13 By Kathy Vik

I preface this monster with a quick explanation about what precipitated what you are about to read.

I read something a couple days ago that really took my breath away. I called my friend Diane right away, because I felt it was imperative for her to know of it. Kryon talks about how, as a shaman, a medicine man, a priest or nun or yogi, in the old energy, it was hard to hold that kind of focus, and what happened is, in order to hold it in the old ways, one often had to sacrifice something of great personal worth. Agreements were made. Vows were taken. Vows of chastity, poverty, and other more obscure sacrifices were made in order to hold the light.

And these vows, vows that are made to a beloved God with pure and high intent, these vows carry over, piercing the veil, lifetime after lifetime.

Unless these vows are rescinded by the very one who made them, in full consciousness, they will persist.

And so I knew this is what must be done. It made such sound sense. Holy God. It explains so much. It even explains the familiarly weird love and respect and kinship and longing I felt for the order, for the mystery and majesty of The Church. Still do, a little. Might always.

But these vows needed to be rewritten, I decided.

And then all hell broke loose.

Deeply Awake, this has begun to be more than the title of a blog. I have had a hard time finding peace with naming what it is that comes to me. There is a conglomerate sort of energy, probably perceived that way because of my focus, or because I am being inundated, or a combination. I am deeply awake, after all. And so, this has become a very nice metaphor for me.

Deeply Awake, the blog, is a platform which I need, and may need for a time, when things are happening and I need to record them.

The blog started without it being titled. I just started getting gratification writing about this new stuff, and I started essay writing. Soon, I began to realize that the blogosphere is not going to know I’ve just shot off another gem if I don’t label these beauties, so I began to title them the title of the blog I’d started months before and then allowed to atrophy,

When I think of that name, deeply awake, I always see a tree, just bedding, a big round tree, full, against a light background, a circle around it. And that is a very nice image, considering what happened this morning.

I will condense some of the happenings, for both of us. That last one I wrote, “Forgiveness,” all I felt was embarrassment after posting it, because it was so long. And then, last night, I made myself read it again, and I sat there transfixed. It was just so beautiful, every thought, every set of declarations, each image, coming together in something so exquisitely, so honestly, so plainly and lovingly.

That came outta me?

So I will be as brief as these thoughts allow, but the shame I felt so vividly just last week is no longer a swarm of distress and vulnerability. This piece will be what it is meant to be. I am fed these things anyway, so I am going to stop apologizing now.

First, the background to this profundity is that all Sunday, and all Monday, I was in the soup. The front of my head hurt, my body held such a dry, intense, baking kind of heat, and that would alternate with nicely tinkly, pretty shivers. On and on this went, for over a day, but it got so bad by Monday morning that I had to just disengage and go back to bed.

When everything is weirdly overstimulating in a highly disquieting way, everything is just vibrating so freaking fast and it just actually hurts to exist, on some weirdly metaphysical way, what else can you do but go back to bed? There was nothing a medicine man could have done except make me sick, and I had no one to consult.

I slept.

Around noon (translation: your 3am) I woke up being pressed and squeezed so mightily I knew it would not be possible to sustain this level of intervention while at work. I felt very trapped and a little desperate, but determined.

I thought things through, squeezed as I was. And then it dawned on me. I am the one riding point here. They do not know exactly how this feels, I know this. And the only one who has control over the dials is me.

So in front of me I conjured a box, some sort of contraption, and there were two lighted dials. The one on the right I went to first, because it was balm. I cranked the volume on the song of tranquility, peace, serenity, forbearance, acceptance, patience, wisdom.

And then, that little dial on the left, my God, it was hard to touch, and it kept being very difficult. I wanted to crank it down as far as I could, but the dial only moved a little bit. I tried again and again, reiterating the immovability of my oncoming shift at work. But, after a few attempts, it dawned on me that this little decrease would be just fine, since it was all I could do.

Finally, with just a teeny bit of a lull, I went back to sleep.

When I woke up for the last time at 4pm (translation: 7am your time), I felt oddly quiet. I put on coffee and started studying, like I always do. I had that edge to me that I have only had one other time, during that NDE thing up at the casino, almost a year ago. I felt, upon awakening, much like I had when I’d come to in the parking lot, after losing consciousness, convinced before sliding into sparkly death that this was it, and my sister would get a call asking to come claim a body. That sparkly-dull-foreign-familiar feeling was clinging to me and breathing me.

I pretended everything was normal. I drank some water. And then, I lovingly prepared that first cup of coffee, took one little sip, and my mouth started sweating, and I heard very loudly something about my chi, and then I barfed about a week’s worth of groceries.

I felt great after that. Took a shower and made declarations and put lots of stuff together and just felt awesome.

I was very sweet with myself upon awakening, very gentle.

I got out of the house by 6:15pm. I am expected to be in front of my assigned computer, in a hospital 30 minutes away, by 7pm. It takes 7 minutes to walk from the parking lot to the staffing office, another 3 to get to my assigned floor.

I left the house at 6:15. I stopped at Sprouts and got food for the night, enough to feed about a dozen people, from all of the departments. I met a very beautiful man who enthusiastically talked to me about his peanut butter making adventures. I found a magazine with a comprehensive article about my patron saint, Leonard Cohen.

After I got into my car, I saw that I had enough time… if no one else was around, I could slip in a visit to another store, so I wouldn’t have to be inconvenienced the next day. There was no one in the place. I got to have a magnificent discussion about making Orgonite star tetra-hedrons, and of and running energy with crystals to make the energy in a space feel better, to it and its occupants, and left the store confirming that I would be doing a barter-based tarot reading (my first!) with one of the girls there, this week.

Then I pointed the car to the hospital.

I was in front of my computer at 6:58 pm.

Anybody want to tell me how that was accomplished?

I know how, actually, but, wow, I really want to get better at managing these kinds of compressions consciously. It was really very nearly conscious, but it was not a declaration, a stated intent. There have been plenty of times I have played successfully with time compression while being trained by The Teachers, but as soon as they left, I couldn’t do it anymore. Disappointing. I never gave up trying, but was always unsuccessful.

Until last night.

Now, the night was a sainted one. It’s the only word for it. Gentle. Expanded. Delightful. Light. So happy and gentle.

Driving home, I had to open it up. I had to start talking. I know that I am openly and willingly communing with The All, my guides, my Higher Self, my SC, whatever you want to call it. I was in the soup once again, but the soup was comfortable now, and everything was clear.

Something happened last night, and the resultant stillness is what remained completely undisturbed by my speaking. Instead, it was amplified, fortified, clarified.

I have had a constant, absolutely rabid pressure within me for all of my life. The one that made it impossible to take anything or anyone at face value, ever. Never satisfied intellectually, never at rest in my mind, always needing needing needing more connections, more peace, more answers, more data, more clarity, always more and more and more and more.

I was not going to be lazy on one or two things. You should see my carpets. My finances. My laundry situation. But there are a couple of things that I am dead serious about and I hold such absolute and shockingly pure intent on just a couple of things, that it is never spoken. It really does not need to be. It is who, it is what I am, and always have been. And, it is true, part of my silence was because I simply could not language until this morning.

It made me hate myself, and it made me really hate you. I hated anyone who thought they knew what they were talking about when it came to God about authority, and ultimately, about the life we are living, because I knew no one who would willingly put themselves in a position of authority in these flawed, unsatisfying and obviously shaky constructs if they had any sense at all. My anger grew.

My anger at people who “had it together” and told me in no uncertain terms that my being, how I was actually constructed was deeply and unforgivably flawed because I didn’t hold the same goals, interests, loves than they, when I could see so plainly that what they loved was bound to disintegrate, because it was based on lies, the first and only important lie being that they did not know the truth. I didn’t know what the truth was, but I knew damned sure it was not what was in front of me.

So, I always, always pushed myself. And I now appreciate that this inner itch, this desperation, this there’s-really-only-one-thing-I-gotta-do thing, it was inside me as a baby. It is now that this is how I chose to wire myself this lifetime.

It made me consume things intellectually, emotionally, spiritually, put things together on multiple levels all at once. More than once, The Teachers commented how quick a study I was and on how many levels I got an idea once I got it. Aww, pshaw, I’d say, smiling so broadly I showed my dimples.

Until my head injury in 2001, I had a photographic memory, a prodigious vocabulary, I was a giant intellectually. Not so much now. After the accident, when given a minute on the stopwatch to list off all the words I could think of that began with the letter “b”, I just dissolved into a heap and cried like a little kid, because I only could remember “banana” and “ball”.

I had lived my life as an intellectual talking seal. And that got shut down tight as a drum. I think very differently now, have mental blocks that are inconvenient, but I know this experience was instrumental, a part of the planning. Just wish I could remember more.

And, this morning, on the drive home from this most holy of a couple days, I found, to my utter relief, this forever friend, this urge, this drive, my push, it’s gone.

The need is gone.

I’m crying as I write this because it is only just now fully settling in, this peace. This happiness is as real and true as any suffering I have known.

I know now why my life was so hard. Why I came in so raw, so finely tuned and self-negating all at once. How could I have progressed this far had I not set it up just as it came to be? The humiliations, the lack of respect, the powerlessness, the decades of clinical depression, addiction, nihilism and suicidality. The disordered sexuality. The morbid obesity. Failed marriage, special needs kid, sad but so precious family life, amazing friends, stunning betrayals, sudden reversals of fortune.

How could it have been any other way?

I am someone who can be trusted with the most tender, vulnerable and sacred of human conditions, because I would not, cannot, would never, ever, ever, say something about my precious life, my beautiful heart, my understanding of my God, my cosmology, if it were not true for me solid, concrete, proven, tested, something that came through hell and fire and blood to be delivered as it always had been: pristine, simple, beautiful.

Want to go with me on a trip through human death? Who better? I have been in medicine, in healing or nursing or whatever you want to call it for forty years come February. I can discuss it intimately, I can tell you what it smells like, how it lurches and very beautifully speaks a language only few are unafraid of. I can discuss it medically, psychiatrically, symbolically, I can tell you within a few hours how long a person has to live by feeling and looking at his feet.

I have an extensive education in English literature, and have trained myself in many subjects my liberal arts education only hinted at, and with that vocabulary, I can introduce what the great had to say of this spectre, this ever friend, our mortality.

And then there are decades of deep and everlasting forays into how the metaphysicians and the ancients understood death.

Oh the places I can go, just on this one subject, as vast and beautiful as any planet, as any civilization, as any mortal.

Pick a subject.

What do you do if you have come in wide open, with a very stubborn overlay of amnesia? It reminds me so much, and makes me grin thinking of it, those first few months at a new job. Veteran that I am, each system is new to me, and it was always so hard to convey that I was trustworthy and competent because I put myself, happily and diligently, in the role of student. Hard for people to know what information I needed and what I didn’t and so hard for them not to get irritated when I knew some stuff and not others stuff. Uncomfortable, this. Untenable, sometimes.

But that was just an expression, a parable, an analogy, there for me to pick up on. That was me, me in bigger terms. An expert, an authority, but with patchy recall, an incomplete person, doing her best, feeling her way, blindfolded and deaf.

That sort of sums it all up, for me. Always expected to do far better than I wound up doing. Always disappointing someone, myself most of all. Because the combination, the answers, were not forthcoming. How do I feel love? How do I know peace? Who am I, and who is God? One does not usually go to work seeking these answers. I always had that as subtext. Shift to shift, treatment by treatment.

Night and day, my life a living, breathing, laughing, crying, begging plea to my own potential.

Now I can see it better, and it could have been no other way. We all are, all of us, like this, I think, the older ones, the keepers or ancients or old souls. Not everyone goes through this.

Not everyone goes through this.

That single thought has cleared me of so much grief. It is ok to be going through this relatively individually, with lots of spot checks and synchronicity.

And then, on the way home, I am getting it, through the haze of the monologue, through the rhythmic tapping of my steering wheel, my hand moving of its own accord, keeping the beat to music I cannot hear. When I feel the tapping, finally, I know I have not been present physically and I am being called back, while I talk and talk and talk, driving the streets of Denver after a twelve hour shift. What comes forth is sheer simplicity, quiet brilliance.

I understood on the way home that one of the things that just makes sense now is to devise a system where these flower and live essences, essential oils, that exposes the interconnectedness of flora, fauna, elementals/interdimensional beings, soul fragments having a nature holiday, planets and galaxies, colors and tones and minerals, they are connected.

They are different expressions of the same energy, and this energy can be divided into twelve houses, or families, and then further subdivided for more subtleties. They all have magnetic, vibratory signatures. Each of them can be used on one of the layers of our emerging DNA, and they all work in concert.

As I am understanding this, my heart did something I’d never felt before, and I got real nauseated again.

I began to see that there are twelve notes, it is a base twelve system. And any attribute will lead to their counterparts, their sisters and brothers. And this is all connected with the body, the zodiac, the seasons, the elements, even tarot and numerology and geometry!

I mean, it is a new way of healing, because the right energetics can be suffused in simple water. With the right intent, all the way through, a bit of ceremony and a lot of experimentation and applied physics, this could be a new healing language.

And it was all right there.

And then it came to me. I started once again loving on the trees lining my favorite way home. Oh! How I love trees! And I knew that in the state I was in, I’d finally be able to hear them, my sisters and brothers, if I chose to listen. Oh how I wanted to hear them.

Then I could feel them wave at me, bend toward me, and love me. They held great honor and there was a sense of celebration. I could imagine these trees were instead my very own Bridge of Swords, a hallway, and a ceremony, of achievement, of celebration.

I knew that this was indeed being done in my honor. Monaco Boulevard is lined with big, tall trees for miles, regularly spaced, lining both sides of that old, prestigious road of wealth and taste.

And I heard the trees, and I am embarrassed to tell you what they said, but I am going to anyway, because maybe, oh I hope maybe there is someone else out there having these beautiful nether-worldly experiences, while they cook or watch TV or drive, or meditate.

The trees hushed, “A master walks among us.”

And I knew it was true. Somehow having them say it made this state I now inhabit real, tangible, as provable and immovable as a tree.

And the only thing that could be said then, while I watched them, the road, the streetlights, was, “I walk among masters.”

And each of them began to bow and dance, and I praised them, their patience and their wisdom, their individuality and unity of purpose. Their benevolence and compassion and love. I gave them so much adoration, because they deserve it so abundantly, old friends that they are.

And then it came to me. I don’t know flowers like I know trees. I know crystals almost as well as trees, but not as much. So I think it makes sense for them to tell me about this system they have. They have been eager to reveal their secrets to me for nearly a year now. I love talking with them. They often move me to tears with their wisdom. So profound, these gentle masters.

They began, as I was driving, to help make sense of this huge dollop of healing information I had received. This is a water based healing science, they said. They started to give me more, and I loved it, but I made a deal with them that now that I know it’s on, I’ll just start spending more time among them, and I will learn their language even better, and then we’d just take it from there.

No need to rush into anything.

Everything is ok now.

I want to do two last things. One is to explain how things have changed for me, and from this, you can easily make inferences as to how I fully expect and intend things to proceed. Then I want to share with you the miracles Sam is conjuring. It is a stable and fierce power this he has.

And the last is about a page of Kryon. It is by far the most brilliantly simple and clear statement of fact I have ever read. For me, it is a true article of faith, in that it sets off such a deep resonant peace inside of me, I just know it is true, for me. It is the key, the answer, for me, for this moment.

It has set the last of my bones. It’s refreshed me, that hit of water I needed. It made everything finally and forever make enough sense that I have been able to put down my panic for self knowledge. And that is no small task.

What I got, while driving home talking to myself, is that I have figured out how to feel intact in situations that should be really frightening. I have come through knowing that I can hold my own against any form of darkness, and with focus and precision, I can create light, great light, magnificent light, and I can feel ok, no matter what is happening around me.

But there is more. That is only one part of this equation. How about getting to the point where there is no turmoil, no strife to fight against, no misery, just ease. Joy. Companionship. Laughter. Peace.

See, the thing is, I have been creating that for about a month now. I am still making the same amount as I have been making, but I am able somehow to buy a lot more stuff, and have money left over. I just found a twenty I’d squirreled away a while ago, tucked in my pencil bag.

Isn’t that sort of the point? I mean, it’s not all meant to be struggle and pain, right? There is value and honor and good things in that, but there has to be more, right?

And here it is.

I know a couple of things about this work, and the most important thing to remember, above all, when you know you are standing on virgin territory, and the air is easy to breathe and you feel clean and whole and right, like never ever before, you must always remember and never forget, once you have felt it, it is yours forever. Nothing, no one, can ever take it from you. That’s just not how these things work. You can put that lie down today. It works better if you are telling yourself true things, I’m just sayin’.

The universes expands and it contracts. The breath goes in, and it goes out. For every expansion there is a contraction, so if you are still in the beginning phases of all of this, just know that the expansions are huge, and so are the contractions. The contractions feel like the stuff I was feeling Sunday and Monday, but spread that out over weeks, months. My first one lasted almost two years!

I began realizing, before the solstice, that there are still expansions going on, massive ones, and the contractions are still there, but as you keep working with stuff, they get faster. And that is all. They are just faster. That’s what the discomfort is from now, not really from without. It’s the temporary contractions that hurt. Contractions come between expansions. It’s just the way of it.

But, once your energy has been extended, expanded, then it cannot shrink. What feels like shrinkage, two steps back, that’s just recalibration, re-learning, integrating. Contractions. And now I am inhabiting this expansion.

I own it.

The Teachers taught me that, and they pounded it in to me and reminded me every single time, when this thing happens, a breakthrough, a new awareness that is right and straight and true and makes everything sing just right. But, they would tell me, remind me, these contractions happen wherever there is expansion! Between two people just meeting each other, and as they get to know each other. Bosses and employees. Parents and kids. Husbands and wives.

So, anyway, there it is. You cannot unlearn this stuff. You can’t. It is an energetic impossibility. The 3d version of this is the maxim, “You can’t un-see something.”

About the Kryon stuff, I want you to consider this:

Here is what I am absolutely convinced of at this point: our reality is heavily heavily coded. When it started coming at me really hard and heavy, about a year ago, I thought I was going mad, but I have come to understand this ancient language is the one The Teachers were inculcating me in, in the ’90’s when, on the planet, it was not possible, without dispensation (very high frequency) to access this knowledge, or code of knowledge. It is the ancient language. It’s the language of home. It is code, metaphor, perspective, exalted and true perspective, the sort that is incontrovertible, not because I say so, but because it says so.

And since a while ago, I have been fluent, but unaware I was speaking in the mother tongue. It came through in movies. That’s where I got re-trained, re-awakened to how it is spoken now. Into The Wild started it all for me, this last leg of the journey.

Now, it is so fun and economical and enjoyable… I can go into amazing realities while watching “Friends.” Moved to tears, actually, the poignant, love kind of tears. “Friends.”

And this is because even though the writer may not be aware of it, they are speaking in the mother tongue too. And this is a retroactive thing, so even stuff that is really archaic or culturally irrelevant (eg old testament times, for instance) become vivid in their spiritual relevance, their soulic servitude, even though the message might be a little perverse in its antiquity and hence its brutality.

So, I am realizing that when I transcribe this Kryon, some will read it and it will not blow the top of their skulls off, like it did for me. I understand that now., And that is how I concluded my wonderful monologue, and my chat with the trees. Their parting thought to me was that it is sufficient for me to have them, and for them to have me. I do not need a friend or a mate or a readership or a world who understands or appreciates this great gift I have been given.

I was given the same message that day in the casino. I was told, informed from a familiar and holy place inside of me these words, over and over again, and it is how I achieved that state of bliss. I heard, “I am God’s, and God is mine.” Over and over I knew this to be my truth as it coursed through me, this brand new and impossible perfect love, my twin flame.

I think now that there will come a day when my sort of abilities will be sought after, and that would be very wise indeed.

I give this Kryon piece to you because my search ended when I read this.

The last of the puzzle pieces fit into place, and my light up puzzle is pretty much done. Yes, there is always more, but it will not involve pain, suffering, strife. Challenge and breaking barriers so a little bit of nerves from time to time, yes, that’ll be fine, but it’ll be about seeing how far I can go now, how imaginative and inventive but authentic and real and down to earth I can get. That’s what it is all about now. Walking this earth every day just as plain as mashed potatoes, a revolutionary, a master, a saint, sitting there contemplating what sounds good to eat, and how nice it would be to have a smoke. That’s me.

Nobody has to know now. The rest is mine. I shared the struggle because I had to check my reality out, I had to chronicle what I was afraid might just be my final descent into mental illness. But, most of all, I always knew what the mission was. Always. The Teachers had explained all about it. I had to stitch this love into the earth.

That’s something The Teachers told me. When love, like this, like the kind you hold for a child, a loved one, a teacher, a dog, when this sort of love is felt, but it is felt also inside yourself for yourself, and it’s appropriately and respectfully acknowledged and given gratitude, and thanksgiving, you actually are stitching this love right into the earth, right where it happened.

And forevermore, that love energy will be there, radiating, giving eternally. It just is, and it’s because you dared to love. The more of this we experience, the more you can have these experiences, the more love everyone can enjoy.

So, give it and speak it and show it and demonstrate it and find a way.

Love them any way.

Find a way to smile. Find a way to break the tension. Find the absurdity, something you can both agree is just ridiculous, about your current situation, something silly and, yes, maybe even poignant, maybe a lot poignant, but funny and an obviously shared reality. Comment on it. Laugh. Start talking.

And moment by moment, you stitch that love into the earth.

Do not be deceived that the only way to do this is with another. That is a lie, and one that will maybe even slow things down for a time. Conversations are a stitch. This love and this expansion that you read on the page, these are whole garments of love. And when you engage in reading this, we are, the two of us, giants in coats of many colors, stitched for our comfort and delight, we two dancing on the continents like they are lily pads, laughing and singing along, and finally knowing that it never has to be any other way.

So there has been a tremendous amount of work here lately. I know that others are having their own unique and beautiful, harrowing, challenging times with these love bombs we are getting.

May Kryon’s words bring you the peace and joy I felt, as one by one, just like at the eye doctor’s, the big owl lenses clicked, better, better, click click click, better, click, and now, hey! Oh my God! I’d forgotten there were leaves on the trees! For so long they were just green. Wow.

Just wow.

Blessings in your work, and I am hoping that your progress notes are getting more hopeful. It is all within our grasp as a society, as a planet, as individuals, within our humble homes, within the most secretive of star chambers here on earth. Ascension, vibratory healing, multidimensionality, buddhahood, it’s all possible, my friend. Don’t give up. Soon enough, you’ll break through and oh-my-god- you wouldn’t believe how nice it is here. Still and full of life, but a different kind of life, a quiet, respectful, innervating life.

It is all a little much.

I have to get on with my duties. I think it is best to say just a couple of words before I lay this on you. I took a break from this piece because I had to go pick up my son, sick with a cold, dad needing to sleep for his night shift. So I am on the highway, still shiny with this new glitter, and I was able to finally state out loud what I have known since Kryon played his first prank on me in November. Since that very informative trick, I have recognized him as family.

And now, after inhabiting his information, breathing it and living it and imagining it and trying it out moment to moment, just like when The Teachers were around, I finally heard this in my head and heart and sparkly bits too: Kryon is the words. The Teachers is the voice.

It’s the same voice, just different octaves, different accent, different focus, even, maybe, but this is home, this is where I’d been, and now, with this last bit of instruction, I am on my own.

Driving to Jerry’s to pick up Sam, I understood something so beautiful, so simple and profound and happy. One group birthed me in the 1990’s. The others, with language of a different cadence and tone, birthed me here in the 2010’s. But they were always present. They were the balm to my burning questions, my impossible koans, always pushing, me obsessing, always with the horrible need to know, coupled with the equally horrible knowledge that those who said they did, did not know anything I needed to take seriously. This need to know, standing within my stark knowledge that what I see playing out in front of me is all just a glimmer of something else, something more, something familiar but sadly forgotten.

What was happening, all the way through, was that I kept getting a glimpse here, a glimpse there. Sometimes I’d get an edge piece, and then I could work the puzzle pretty efficiently, pretty quickly. But there came all of the subtleties, things said in shades of shades of shades of obscurity. But the puzzle needed to be worked, even the parts that didn’t make any sense at all since my vision was cut off. Bumping around in the dark, worrying the edges to these living puzzles with my bent fingers, these koans of love, light and sound.

We are indeed giants dancing on this earth, and our true magnitude is splendidly, quite cleverly hidden. In plain sight, delighting us at every turn, inviting us into our heart with every whisper, every coincidence, every heart ache and every slight. All there, waiting. Waiting for us, in Divine Timing, for the plan to congeal, for maximum effect, maximum awe, internally, then externally.

I don’t know what comes next. I know I always say that. That’s because I always mean it.

But Sam and I have spent the morning in a swirl of very habitable, very profound and very down to earth probabilities. After playing with how nice things could be/will be/already are, he told me of a few things, two of which I will end on. It seems fitting that my little giant, one of an army of peacemakers who play among us, should be given honor and gratitude for spinning his magic with more grace than I have been able to muster very often.

Lately Sam has begun encountering kindness and love from whom he never expected would have the courage or the generosity to demonstrate. Someone tricked him, last week. Got Sam all happy and excited, because he was told he was the object of affection for a very desirable ardent admirer. When Sam found out it was a joke, meant to shame him, he cried and cried. He was laughed at, and told that his heartache was going to plastered all over Facebook by that afternoon. He didn’t tell me a word about this until today.

A couple of people approached him, people who have never been nice to him. They asked him why he was crying, what was wrong, and he told them.

Those two kids approached the one who played this trick. And these two kids told the meanie that it really wasn’t nice to have done this to Sam, because it really hurt his feelings. Sam then piped in, he told me, and proudly announced to this bully, “I am a very sensitive person!”

He told me then of something that I still can’t quite believe.

One of the many reasons my marriage failed is because my husband’s daughter could not trust me to be kind. She distrusted what I said and what I did. I was so convinced of my wickedness, I became a little frightened of the whole mess. I just wanted to be someone who she could trust, an outlet, an ally, but she forever found me unreasonable and mean. I was The Enemy. Only months after we began living together, she started stealing some of the very few tiny treasures I could enjoy in that little shack, and one by one she destroyed them. She broke the wing of my birth angel, for goodness sake. Real nice.

And my husband never believed me. Ever. To this day, I think he suspects I made it all up. As my concerns over her stealing from me, stealing gifts I had bought, intending to give her, sneaking out, all of it just progressed into a form of madness for us all. It wasn’t her fault. She was actually doing us a favor.

But, wow, it was a sad situation.

Needless to say, when Jerry and I’s love child came along, things got cold and they bitter, and began to feel just a little dangerous. At the height of the madness, just to feel a tiny bit safe, we all installed locks on our separate bedrooms. Pretty sick, right?

Well, that animosity has carried over into the present day. The girl is just so hateful, it’s beyond my comprehension. The things she has said! The white hot furnace of hate I face when I have any interaction with her! Unbelievable, really.

It’s the kind of situation one can only interpret as some kind of mysterious, deep karmic shit that is impossible, and futile, to even get interested in spelunking. Let it ride. It’s a device. Let it ride. This energy cannot be moved, it cannot be sweetened, so just let it ride.

And so I have. Praying that this animosity doesn’t hurt Sam too much, that he understands it’s not his burden to carry, never was, she’s just got issues.

To wrap up our love fest this morning, Sam told me about something that happened between him and his sister, Diane. He said that one day last week, she came home from work distraught. She works with animals, and there had been a horrible conflict over an animal being put down. She had come home broken, couldn’t stop crying, and Sam said that her boyfriend was calling her a crazy bitch and telling her she was dumb to be all broken up.

And Sam said that his Dad went up to her and hugged her for a long time, but she kept crying, even after that, and she said, “Oh I still hurt so bad and I need a hug so bad!” So, Sam said, he got up, took himself away from his computer game, which was hard but he did it, he said, because he had to give Diane a hug. They don’t hug. They don’t touch. When they speak to each other, it is often not very nice. He knows she hates him. And she did. But, even so, he walked over to her.

He told me he didn’t say anything. He just took her in his long arms and hugged her. He told me that she let him hug her for “about five minutes, Mom.” He told me that Diane’s boyfriend and daddy looked on as he reached out to her, and that everyone was really surprised and, it sounds, very touched!

He told me that she had been nice to him ever since, and wrote on his facebook page that if he ever has a problem, or needs a hug, she wants him to go to her, and said love and stuff like that.

And after he’d done that, he told me, his dad looked him right in the eyes and told him that he was proud of him.

Sam, in the telling just then, did his love shimmy. It’s this sweet little thing he does, like he’s getting tickled from the inside, when he hears or remembers something sweet and true about himself.

We basked in that for a good long time, this amazing and profound miracle, made from the love of the soul of a giant in a sturdy and strong 12 year old body.

And then, I figured, it was good to explain a couple of things to him.

I told him that everybody, but especially the real tough ones who never let you in very far, sometimes they need to have something really bad happen to them, and it’s only then that they are willing to feel any love at all. It’s sad, but it’s true. So when you see someone acting the fool like Diane used to do, remember that they are hurting, and then you can remember how you made the hurt just go away, just like that.

I asked him, what do you think you did? What happened?

She felt how much he loves her.

She felt safe and protected and whole and safe, safe, safe.

He smiled.

I said, “See, Sam, here we are talking about this amazing thing and we haven’t said “angels” or “God” or anything like that! That’s not what this is about at all, is it?”

He smiled.

He’s always known that. He was waiting for me to catch up.

I think it is true that these kids are different, more fully ready, less need for trauma to break them open.

But I am old school, and my lessons took 52 long years. They were vivid and ugly and best not relived. Who needs to dwell on the problem, when I am now only encountering solutions?

I know who I am now, and I know that my way is clear. I know that I cannot and will not go backward, and that anything that I now call to me will be gentle, sweet, familiar. I will love my surprises as I love my routine. My good comes to me, in all ways, in expected and unexpected ways, for the highest good of all involved, calling on the highest love light and sound.

That’s it for now.

Here is Kryon:

“You are all high entities walking on this planet, disguised as simple biological beings … and the disguise fools everyone, even you. This is the basis of the duality. You are really two people. The “real you” is the high entity, whose power and knowledge each of you owns, and the “phantom ” is the shell of humanism in lesson. The irony here is that you perceive the phantom as real, and the real you as the phantom. Many of you don’t perceive the real one at all. The biggest discoveries in lesson that you will make are concerning this duality. The biggest successes you will have in growth are based in understanding how this duality works, and finally gaining realization of the reversed “real” and “phantom” roles…. you can gain a working knowledge and understanding of the reality of who you are. When this occurs, then you can take your power… and not before. Therefore your area of discovery is that of self-awareness and the truth of the duality within you, and how to enhance it.
Also I can never state this enough: you and those around you selected your human circumstances well before you ever arrived. The things you are going through right now are part of a plan set in motion by you. Please do not confuse this with pre-destination. Pre-destination plays no part in this at all. True pre-destination creates problems and dictates solutions. In the present situation, you have given yourselves only the problems. The solutions happen through your self-awareness and realization. You are given a problem and the tools and power to work it out. When you do, this, in turn, raises the vibration of the planet”
— Kryon, Volume II

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