Deeply Awake — R.I.P. 5-6-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for cartoon of gravestone "That was weird"



Deeply Awake — R.I.P. 5-6-13 By Kathy Vik

I have been advised to approach this subject with great care, with precision. I am quite deliberate when I write, but it is an unthinking sort of deliberate-ness. It is a get-out-f-my-own-way sort of state. For years, I couldn’t achieve it, because it demands such unflinching honesty. Good writing is honest writing. Honest writing is hilarious, poignant, compelling, complicated.

And that sort of writing is not this writing, what you will read.

I will recount for you what happened after writing that last piece, The Grown Ups In The Room. I think it is important to be very meticulous, and I don’t know why, but there it is.

I wrote that piece, and felt much joy, much celebration, because it was light, the way I want my work to be anymore. Honest, scary, a little, riskier than a lot that one reads these days on this stuff.

And I loved it so much I started to re-read other blog entries, which has been my way lately. I am falling in very hypnotic love with my work.

This postponed getting into my car in time to make the meditation portion of the spiritual rap group I go to twice a month. I was on fire all the way there, in great good spirits, ready to be the love in the room, ready to have no problems.

What you must understand is, driving over to my mentor’s house for our group, I did have a problem. A very big one, really.

It is the same old saw, just a different treble, just a different octave now. Wrestling, still, with separation. Wrestling, still, with worry that I will be rejected by people.

I have to tell you, this is a very deep and totally irrational fear. I fear decloaking more than anything, and I fear very little anymore. But to decloak in front of people fills me with anxiety.

But with these old friends, most I see maybe once every couple of months, I have made it my mission to be honest and to decloak. I have figured that this little group is the group which is helping me to normalize, and be unafraid.

I told them many things, and they understood many things from listening to me petition my spiritual now-mother, this woman who has held me up and who has laid me down and bandaged me, these last few bloody years. I looked into her eyes and told her the truth. I want to love everyone, and I just want to feel love from others. That’s all. But oh my God, the fear.

But I stuck with it. I cried a lot. I shook a little. Not in the spirit of histrionics, but instead because the mood states matched the feeling states and I have no more willingness to pretend I am not feeling something strongly…

And I crashed over that last wave, and Norma, she looked at me with all love and authority, and she said, “We see you, and we love you.”

And the women, I loosened up then, and I joked, I feel so weird, and I never decloak, but there it is. Do you think I am too weird to be among you?

They laughed then and said, hey, we’re just like you.

And, for the first time, I was ready to believe that. I am not alone, and I am not quite as odd as I might think.

I am sure I will look back and be a little surprised at my reactions.

But don’t you find, in this life, that the reactions we have, the huge monsoon-y ones, that are triggered by a flat tire or a rejection or a defeat, those big ones are just storms that we have conjured, final moments of turbulence, our last tests, many times. Reactions that are out of proportion to the stimuli are a big huge honking red flag that there is some love and forgiveness to apply to some part of me. I know that now. But had I not had that storm, would I know it like I do now?

Anyhow, the meeting continued. We each picked something we want to manifest this week. One thing. And then we have to have one thing that we will do to assist the energy along. Norma, God bless her soul, is schooling us all well: In this energy, you don’t sit down and ask for the doors to be opened. That’s how it used to be done. Not anymore.

Now, you are confronted with door upon door, and your job is to push on the doors. And if the door doesn’t open easily and fluidly the very first time, you just move on to the next door. And then comes a door that just swings open and all this great stuff comes flying out of it, gently and absurdly and wonderfully, then, that’s very nice. It would not have happened if you’d just sat down and begged for someone to open the door from the inside. See, all our doors, anymore, are crammed to the rafters on the inside. Just a push from us, and, if it ours, and if we recognize it as ours, oh! What fun we can now have!

So, we did the manifestation thing, and then it was time to do another meditation.

I stop here to tell you of the first meditation, most of which I missed. I came blazing into the room, as Norma was carefully and quietly instructing them to get a message.

I quieted, just got stock still in the foyer. I saw Arch Angel Michael engulfing Norma, instructing. He was so blue, and it surprised me he was so deep blue. Just beautiful. So I liked that. And once I settled into my chair, before my storm, before my outburst, I could feel my breathing get weird, deep, rhythmic like it does, and I just got real still. Everyone was writing in their books about their message.

And there, again, was Arch Angel Michael, but the other ones were there, and I came to understand a couple of things about who is helping me, and that was awfully nice.

So it was clear from the get-go that this was a sainted day.

And then, here we go again, with Norma leading us into ourselves as only she can.

I understand that what I came back with is still new, and its meaning will become clearer to me as I proceed. But it was potent and needs to be discussed. It is, really, at the heart of this whole ascension thing.

My fear, this thing that made me into a spastic puddle of nine-year-old tears and slobber, it is a two-headed monster. I know that it is cellular, a deep-seated and very well justified fear of unenlightened people killing enlightened people. I have heard the warnings, and I know they resonate with me like the poison they are because I need to recognize that at one time, this behavior, this need to cloak, was vital to day to day survival.

That’s why I enjoy but have trouble watching that show, Merlin. I find it very comfortable, and entirely heartbreaking and stupid, that the clever ones with the pipeline on full bore are the marginalized ones. If you do not know what I am babbling about, see it on Netflix. It might bring back memories for you, too.

This fear was eased. Expansion was mine, sinking into Norma’s couch.

I don’t remember much about the instructions, but it had to do with meeting your angels or guides.

What happened for me is that I realized that this life, this person named Kathy Vik, this person with all the names and all the gut-wrenching duality, the horrific youth, the misspent adulthood, the disappointing maturity, all of that is complete.

I can access her. And it makes sense that I will find myself inhabiting her very easily, so easily that it will be an understandable mistake to think I was backsliding.

Then this thing that I had been, that had a beginning, a middle and an end, and that had many purposes, I understood that she would like to go on creating. She is enthused about her life in brand new ways and wants to go exploring, and maybe even retire by going back to nursing school, who knows.

So she can go and have her life, and I birthed her and gave her context and help, but she I am now done with her.

And it was then that I had help. I saw a three rays of light like some abstract Egyptian art form the 80’s, and these three things glowed, and it was then that the room was full of silver.

And the fan was gold. And this entity who I’d been, she was in a big, very discrete, very non-permeable membrane of light, and this membrane entered into the three, and there was more light.

Form this I understood that this entity which I have spawned may go on to be her own entity, her own personality, to again reincarnate and do great things. But we are not the same, she and I.

And as I write all of this, I’m sure it is fascinating, and, for psychologists, a fascinating case in fulminant dissociative disorder, which is fun to consider. But they haven’t heard the best part.

All through this ascension thing, again and again, came the death rattle. In the corner, between the lines, there it is. And I neither fear nor dare death, because she is a very dear friend of mine, a fine mystery, and sadly misunderstood. But she has been sniffing around a lot lately, making her presence known.

I have been thinking that I was going to do the wheel-upon-wheel thing the end of this month. I still might. But that is what I always have in the back of my mind. Knowing that there will come a day when the only thing that will make sense is for me to get on with it finally, and just ascend physically, in a blaze of light. I have always known it to be true, and have remained perpetually stunned that I could continue to have these psychedelic experiences and still be here. I thought I’d hit some sort of beauty or wonder critical mass, but it hasn’t happened yet, which seems so impossible.

But the spectre of being here today and not here tomorrow, it has clung to me, this unknown. It’s one unknown that I wish would just stop being so coy, but it hides, it flirts, it disappears.

And in meditation, I understood something very profound. I had died.

I led a full life, and I died.

I could feel this entity peel from me, in her membrane, already pulled into a fascination with that fan light thing, already chattering and on to new discoveries.

Where does that leave me?

Just who am I now, and how the hell do I function in this world with this new non-personality?

And then I was with help. And I was told that this is a brand new way of personality construction, and something I should find quite enjoyable, but that there is a rhythm to it, and it requires mindfulness and practice.

They said that the idea now is to find the highest place I can access, the place of the most profound and simple loving truth, and from there, drop down whatever is appropriate. I kept getting that verbiage: drop down.

And this is how it is done, and It is legitimate and it is powerful, but it is very alive. It is not reactive, not in the least, because there is ever mindfulness within its awareness, and there is ultimate cooperation, infinite peace and stillness and love. From there, everything will be dropped down.

So they told me not to get to nervous or tricked out over how things look, because there are certainly things to clean up, no doubt about it, but none of it will be hard to do now, because the mess is not tied up in lesson anymore. There are energetic sums that must be righted, but that I am not entirely aware of the sums involved. I think I do, but the real sums are negligible. In other words, it’s no longer “my” problem, not entirely applicable.

So, Norma is calling us back, and as she says just key words, like unification, there was a corresponding, simultaneous delivery of information, and that happened a few times, just to confirm to me that there had been coordination and that what I had come to know was real.

And I did not share this.

I thanked these lovely people, and I hugged Norma.

I got home in time to pick up Sam and go to a very fancy restaurant for a family dinner.

I want you to know that what we had at that dinner table is something I really never expected to be in on. There sat my dad, his girlfriend, my son, my sister and her boyfriend. The six of us have had sheer animosity toward each other, some of us, and some of us, well, there really aren’t any words for what we have done to each other. It’s hair raising, mortifying, depressing.

Our clan has all but self destructed.  We have all been wicked to one another, at this table.

And tonight, even before the water was poured, something was different. My sister was laughing. Actually laughing, that good belly laugh kind of sound she makes. My son was talking and holding eye contact (miracles in my household). My dad had very profound and uplifting monologues, which is his way. Kirk had many dreams he discussed, ideas that he could make manifest tomorrow at his work bench, if he desired. My son affirmed his worth, out loud, to a group who has done nothing but point out how he doesn’t fit in. And I sat at my corner of the table and just appreciated this sweetness.

When was the last time that the six of us got together and did not wish, at one point or another, that we were dead, or that everyone else was dead. Or wounded. Or paying me reparations. Or just shutting the fuck up.


I’ll tell you when.


Not until tonight.

And this is not the first night this has happened. This stillness has been settling on us all with astounding regularity, and increasing profundity.


I kept getting, all through the meditation, R.I.P., and my birth and death dates.
2-23-1961 to 5-4-2013.

it’s fitting that I died on my sister’s birthday. It all makes sense now.

I have a classical psych background, and am fully aware just how fucking nutty all this sounds.

And I have a lifetime, forty active years, and some intense tutelage in some of the stuff we all know as an alternate, more valid, and more enjoyable reality.

It has hit me full force, I think, or at least it’s beginning to, what all of this means.

About a year ago, I posted something called “How I think ascension will play out.” I read it the other day.

It has only been the last two days, even after all my work and study and care, only the last two days that I can say that I am ascending.

These are not words which are spoken lightly by those who understand their significance. It is not thinkable to say these words without utter integrity. And I know it is happening to me, now.

I thought I was done, but there is something I need to say, something which made all the lights go on, and it is in Kryon’s second book. That information was so potent for me. It sent me reeling, one particular passage.

He explained that we set up these karmic scenarios in great love and harmony and care. And the karmic set ups are all invitations for us to walk into one particular fear bubble or another. The fear of abandonment, fear of enlightenment, fear of failure, fear of death, on and on it goes.

There are other fears, and we all know them well. Fear of not having a clean house for company. Fear of looking unattractive. Fear of spinsterhood. Fear of dark alleys. Fear of tight spaces. Fear of running out of gas. Fear of dirty clothes. Fear of strangers, speaking in front of crowds, being fat, being seen as ineffective.

We all know them, and they’re just as colorful and fascinating as you’d expect a fear bubble to be.

Kryon says that these set ups will continue to present themselves until we figure them out, until we figure out that the fear is an illusion. And that can only be done by confronting the fear. Entering the bubble.

That is how you pop fear bubbles. You walk into them. They’ll follow you if you try to run away.

So, one by one, you start popping fear bubbles. Tell yourself the truth, that helps, always, but especially at the beginning. Real simple, true things. Impossible for me to quote them, because my inspirations change as the situation does, and, besides, all of this stuff is real individualized. I mean, the planning is just boggling. WE are sewing up so much.

And here is the cool part. Inside every fear bubble is a prize. The prize is that you never have to encounter this ear ever again. And the button on your “Someone-else-must-be-in-control-because-I’m-certainly-not-in-control panel, that one, it is forever disabled. So no one can come along and trick you or scare you with that fear bubble, not ever again.

And, not only that, but with every dispersal of fear comes a beneficial magnetic or vibrational or energetic charge that goes right into the dirt of Gaia, right into her veins. Do you get it now?

Do you see why we fearless ones are so important? And have you ever been in a crowd, all muscling out, pushing out of one door, just a mass of humanity, all bottled up and straining through one stupid exit?

And then, there is someone who walks against traffic, politely, and who goes up to one of the closed exits. And she pushes, and, hey! Check this out! It’s unlocked.

And so she pushes it open wide, and the sun comes streaming in, and there is a little bit of ease through the crowd, and a few people will be earlier than they would have been for Whatever Comes Next, and everyone got to see this little miracle, of the girl who thought it might be pleasant to not be so crowded, and then actually did something about that.

I have always been that girl.

And it used to fill me with white-hot bile when I’d see these sheep, all just shuffling like corpses, the whole place just a little on edge. And there sit closed, unlocked exits. Not locked, just closed, for god’s sake. So I struggle over, against the ones who don’t seem to know any better, and I slam a door open, and I mutter curse words as I light a smoke, and condemn people who are so fucking asleep.

And maybe everyone does that and I am not special. And maybe that’s what lightworkers do to their family and friends and co-workers and clients.

Maybe, in the end, it’s just about forgetting yourself for five minutes and thinking about how cool this other guy, sitting next to you, is. And that every night this person lays down in a bed, and he has always had dreams he has never whispered to another soul, and he is as lost as I was, and he is as whole as I am.

I think that’s what they meant, about dropping reality down.

I don’t really care about the road ahead. It looks like a rock concert to me, and up until a few hours ago, I was on fire for that peculiar fame which has always beckonend me, always driven me, so many times, right to the edge of a peculiar madness not many know, or at least will admit to.

And I am done with all that drama. From here on out, I don’t think inhabiting all that chaos is at all necessary.

I like to think of myself as a tottering old man. I have a long beard, and very wiry, but sparse, leg hairs. I prefer the diaper clothing, I don’t know why. It’s sort of itchy, in a good way.

And I always have a smile on my face, and I have missing teeth, and I have great power, and I am barely of this world, but one of the naughtiest, funniest, most hilarious people. As light as a feather, always just right, always refreshing, never tiresome, just what folks need, when they need it.

And see, that’s because, the clearer we get, the fewer obstacles there are and when the light gets bright enough, then it becomes glaringly obvious when something is being considered that is not in alignment.

And it comes quickly to the awareness, and the right thoughts are thought, and there is a smile and a sigh, and there we are. No one knows what I am thinking. And often, what is coming out of people’s mouths is conjecture, founded on speculation, based on misunderstandings and misinterpretations. So talk away. That’s ok. Your points are valid and interesting ones, and there is sense to all of it, and I learn a lot just listening. But I’m not here to teach or correct.

Sometimes I’ll throw a bomb, but not often. There was a lot of talk, tonight, about global warming, and some of the death star scenarios were being bandied about. And it felt good to understand that the earth is actually just responding energetically to all that we are doing energetically, so it’s all good, and I know I would never get away with that.

I also knew that my contribution would effectively end this leg of the conversation. And when I felt like it, I added, well, it’s important to consider that the warming things is not just a planetary thing. This is happening all over the cosmos, there are reported increases in temperatures and frequencies, right down to the solfeggio thing that the earth sings at. So I think that’s kind of interesting.

So, the subject got changed. I dropped a bomb. Now and then, it’s fun.

I think that’s where I need to end this. I know there is work at hand. I have had a deep gut burn all day, a fire sort of burn. I know this feeling and I like it a lot, but it’s been really really strong today, sort of almost uncomfortably so, and I have been increasingly dizzy, and the nausea and gut clearing have started again. I know these symptoms. At least the flushing has gotten better. It was baking me alive, just really intense. But come to think of it, I have been well thermo-regulated for a couple of days now. I used to be a mess, sweater on, sweater off every five minutes. So uncomfortable. Especially upon waking, for the first ten minute it could hit me hard, and then increasingly, until bedtime.

Now, it’s nice to have a moment to reflect.

I have never been so open or matter of fact with my symptoms, but I think this modesty is no longer required. I know what I’m doing. I am still in amnesia, but I know what I am doing.

I leave you with this, a very queer thought indeed. This splitting off and then the reabsorption or whatever the hell it was that I was seeing and feeling in meditation, this splitting off and end to this entity that was me, see, that was not the first time I had that odd thought.

When I woke up this morning, I felt very weird, very different, real quiet and determined and nice. And it came to me whole that I died on my sister’s birthday. That there had been marker after marker after marker that had been readied on that day, all numerological and astrological and by agreement and all that stuff. And no one knew anything about it, but 5-5-13 is a big one for me. It is the beginning of my new life. I understood that whole this morning.

Church was all about the three G’s: God, Gratitude and Giving. This is at the core of the teaching of spiritual economics that they are teaching. And I realized that, really, when all is said and done, I could tolerate kowtowing to the teachings of one old fart who was sparkly, if it meant that I could lead a church such as this. I could do some real damage with this sort of organization. And that’s where I sit with all of it. I am a rock star. I am a legend. I am a comic and a writer, a poet and a singer, a nurse and an energetic healer, a full on open channel.

I am brand new. I am not Kathy Vik, and yet I am Kathy Vik. Until all of this gets settled, I’ll drop my behavior down through the place where all good things are thinking good thoughts, and make it up as I go along. I’ll proof this, but am sure the post will have tons of typos. Sorry for that. But it will fell good, and quite hopeful, to have posted this before bed. And tonight, I am pretty sure I will rest in peace.

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