Deeply Awake Realized — A Good Sense Of Humor 4-10-13 By Kathy Vik

 

 

 

Deeply Awake Realized — A Good Sense Of Humor 4-10-13 By Kathy Vik

DEEPLY AWAKE – A GOOD SENSE OF HUMOR

******************************************
I being today by celebrating the great Eddie Vedder. He has nailed it.

No Ceiling

Comes the morning when I can feel
That there’s nothing left to be concealed
Moving on a scene surreal
No, my heart will never, never be far from here

Sure as I’m breathing, sure as I’m sad
I’ll keep this wisdom in my flesh
I leave here believing more than I had
And there’s a reason I’ll be back

As I walk the hemisphere
I got my wish to up and disappear
I’ve been wounded, I’ve been healed
Now for landing I’ve been, landing I’ve been cleared

Sure as I’m breathing, sure as I’m sad
I’ll keep this wisdom in my flesh
I leave here believing more than I had
This love has got no ceiling.

***************************************

What I find so fascinating about this process is that I am continually surprising and delighting myself. Many of my greatest breakthroughs have been accompanied by belly laughs. Tears-in-the-eyes-pee-your-pants funny.

This has been the time of coming home, coming into myself, a reorganization is afoot, and it feels really good. Everything is feeling really good. I want to explain how this came about.

First, I want to say that maybe the biggest joke I played on myself was this one, this writing one.

Here I’d spent my whole sentient life completely convinced that someone had stopped me from pursuing my heart’s desire, and that this heart’s desire is the only thing I am built for. It is my only avenue of good, my only salvation, and it was kept from me. My heart’s desire was “to be a writer.”

Yeah, I am aware this is just over-the-top drama, but these were the contents of my head. I felt like a rebel, like a naughty teenager as I seduced writing, and writing seduced me right back, whenever I did it, but I was in full on hippie-rebel-teenager mode this past bit of time, playing writer.

We have had a very sweaty, very sexy reunion, writing and I, for about a year now. The passion keeps me coming back for me. I just can’t quit it. And I don’t want to. But it was such a silly device, an affectation.

I understand that this whole blog thing was to have in written form the real-time ascension of a human. There it is for your review. It is complex and it is beautiful and it is heartbreaking and it is liberating.

It is a story of my own creation. It’s actually my creation story. It’s my cosmology. It is not for everyone. Obviously. And each of us have such a tale.

Each of us is an author of a Deeply Awake.

And each of us who chooses can ascend.

Here’s the bigger joke. Here is the one that has me shaking my head, chuckling while in line at the grocery store or while on hold.

I have been ascending this whole time. My ascension was always assured. It’s really just isn’t possible to need and want and know something as I need and want and know this, and not achieve it.

Further, I had bookends in place that I did not remember. Although The Teachers were my first bookends, their way was made true and straight by other teachers who’d come before, readying me.

Their love awakened me in brand new ways, and set off longings and assurances within the older parts of me. It was settling and unsettling to finally have with me entities who spoke my language. It was a relief to be completely understood, to be shepherded, and to be guided. To be allowed to ask the questions that cut very close to the quick.

To understand the significance and importance of this group of entities to me, imagine, if you will, your favorite spiritual teacher. Is it Deepak Chopra? Gandhi? Kryon?

Imagine, then, contracting with this person, that for two of the weirdest years of your life, you will walk with them, daily, bring everything you learn on your daily journeys to them for discussion, exploration, resolution. Imagine that.

That’s what I had with The Teachers. Sitting there, session after session, being reminded of home, hearing our old language, feeling its meaning wash over me and make me whole, reminding me I never was broke,n…..

So I grieved their leaving intensely. I experienced two episode of soul abandonment, one at birth, and one when the Teachers ascended. There I was, walking the earth after they ascended, completely clueless how to translate what I had learned, what I had become.

Writing become a metaphor for a life unrestricted by the rule-bound pettiness I have always resented. Writing became my symbol of freedom, of integration, of maturity. Of course, I decided to use the device of someone from the outside withholding this endeavor from me. Of course. Because that is the way of it here.

But the truth is that no one withheld me my writing life. The device was intact just as long as it was necessary.

Things have broken apart for me now, and I am no longer the iceberg I was, going unnoticed, knowing I am a bit dangerous, so I glided through my days hoping no one would encounter me in full. Making certain no one ever did. Afraid of my own power, my destiny, my purpose.

But it was not fear.

I was just as ready as I could be.

I have been poised for the last three weeks since 1993.

It could not have been timed better. This morning, before rising, I reviewed my time line, and I have to say, the timing turned out even better than anticipated. Born in 1961, done with nursing school by ’85, settled in with my first guide 1987-1992. OK, that makes sense. Harmonic Convergence forward, I had help.

Then there were adjustments, and I met the Teachers in ’92.

The intervening desert years I still have to come to terms with, but in that time I turned away from my roots, married, had a kid, and then the wheels really just came off.

Once Sam was here the final deconstruction could get under way. I couldn’t do the last bit without him holding a space for it, urging me into the world, participating in a brand new way, with better, more significant priorities, answering to a higher authority, my family.

And then, in 2011, it started in earnest.

I woke up in fits and starts.

But I will tell you of a sweet experience which I’d forgotten until just recently. It happened, now, two years ago. I was unemployed, and in crisis. I was lost. My last time.

I got myself to Mile Hi Church of Religious Science. It is an awesome group of souls there. They are family too. They have a meditation time before the service, and the chimes rang out, and then, something happened. As the congregation sang what they always sang, I had my first vision of my final awakening. I will tell it to you now.

The song that we sing starts with, “Surely the presence of God is in this place…” and speaks of how the angels wings are beating with our hearts. And in that moment I was transfigured. I physically felt about 120 feet tall. My presence WAS that huge church, and as I came from and loomed over and within that sainted space, something happened.

I could feel, and I could hear, my wings. It felt good, like a release, a relief, because it was like something that has always needed to … unfurl … did so that morning.

In front of me was a ribbon of white. The reality I experienced was expansive, but specific. I then saw a glowing arm c0me up from my body and it extended outward.

I remember clamoring, frantically nagging about my lack of money. And the hand of this extended glowing arm flicked away the lack of money issue. Flick. No job? Flick. Feeling all alone? Flick. Feeling under recognized? Flick.

One by one, these things were seen for what they are: annoyances, situations, but weirdly irrelevant. Not applicable. Not applicable. Not an issue. Not a worry. Over and over and over and over and over it went.

And so I finally, while suspended within the words of this beautiful song, I surrendered to that white path. I decided that I liked feeling so powerful, and I would do what I could to align myself with that feeling.

Two years have passed.

I am that angel.

These problems that once defined and consumed me, they are not that anymore. Not anymore.

And you, my love, my reader, my true friend, you watched it all happen. You have watched as this deconstructed angel put herself together again, redefine herself, allowed herself to be undone and remade in an image at once so benevolent I know it must be mine.

I understand many truths, now, from the last few days, and the best one is that this entity that I call Kathy has a wicked sense of humor.

But then, I think we all do. Humor speaks to a plasticity in reality, in perception. It relies on our innate love of joy.

Joy is where we are meant to dwell, within a cosmic joke so light, so loving, so sweet, that the only congruent response to much of this is a big belly laugh. What else, after all, can be done?

I know now that I had to come in to this life set up to be broken. I had to go through what I did. I had to.

Why would I have signed up for what I know to be true of men and women, the perversity that passes for love between us, the utter alienation available in a room full of friend and family… I think many of we lightworkers have walked this path. Why?

For me, I did it in part because I am a very old and a very powerful soul. I have always known this to be true, and it is what caused the last of this discomfort. “How could they treat ME this way?”

I thought while in handcuffs, being jailed for not paying a traffic ticket. “If they knew who I was, they wouldn’t be doing this, and once they know, they will feel bad about having done this.” That is what I was told that day, over and over and over again. I was told this was, in part, a lesson in identity, of being completely unseen, unappreciated.

And I am done with it.

I lacked compassion. After all of it. I lacked compassion. I felt none. I hate to admit it, but this is something I just could not feel, and it is something I must call in, because it is a lesson for me. I have intellect, I have that piece that makes everything come together, but I really did lack organic, cellular compassion.

I have learned compassion. I understand that which I did not before.

I guess I want to end on that. I wasn’t sure if I would share this next part, but it fits, so I will.

I didn’t even really know that it was indeed compassion which I lacked. I mean, look at my life. No one watching me practice my art would call me cold or without compassion. But it was a show. It was me doing what was natural, but not understanding what it was I was doing.

I end by telling you the story that flows from Kryon’s suggestion. This is a very big joke, a funny one and a good one, too. The Teachers were one book end. Kryon is the other.

How weird and almost maddening, making my laugh out loud often and much, that Kryon speaks the same language as The Teachers, holds the same mysteries as The Teachers, has the same sort of energetic signature as The Teachers, in a generic way, and Kryon has been cranking out books ABOUT ASCENSION all of these years.

The greatest thirst I have had has been to hear, feel, know The Teachers again. I miss them like an amputee misses her limb. I miss them. Always have.

And there sat Kryon, all this time, there to give me every single answer I needed. I needed to hear more about the whales, about the dark ones I have personally encountered and know to be mischief makers, all the nuances. And I needed to be reminded how to draw myself into a quantum state. I had forgotten. I had forgotten. I had forgotten.

And now I spin with The Teachers once again, through Kryon. I understand they are different entities, but I have no doubt they consulted each other, and they all know they can now rest, because the messages embedded in there for me have been received. Loud and clear. Finally.

One of the things Kryon suggests is so radical, and so simple, that I just can’t believe we aren’t doing this daily. You sit, not in meditation, but just relaxed, just quiet, and you sit with the intention of letting your family, your guides and angels and your higher self to LOVE ON YOU.

Kryon suggests just allowing us to be loved.

What a wonderful idea. I go into meditation to understand, to play, to relax, but always to DO something, to BE something. To take a less active, less formative role and instead to allow others to communicate with me…. oh, this was revolutionary for me. Kudos if you already do this! I love it. But I found it to be a truly powerful thing, a big surprise full of love and homecoming.

I will end by telling you what I was made aware of. It relates to how it is that I taught myself the lessons I did. I knew I needed to come into weakness. I chose to be broken apart and to then put myself back together. It’s all fine, it’s all understood, it’s all blessings.

I quieted, and I let them love on me. I did. I just surrendered, willing to be surprised. I found that it was in that place that I could finally think clearly. And I asked for my heart’s desire. In my heart of hearts, when I distill and distill, drilling down, exploring within, the beat of my heart says, “Peace.” Peace. I want peace.

And in that cathedral of my own soul, I stated my intention to know peace. To know peace. To be peace. To be peace.

Peace.

Peace.

Peace.

To be peace.

I am peace.

I am peace.

I am the peace of a mountain. I am mountain. I am a mountain. I am mountain. THose exact words rang inside me, and when I tried to change the grammar, everything would lessen in intensity, and when I Am Mountain was once again uttered, I realized this is the correct teminology, though I still don’t know why, or why saying it, or even thinking it, stills me. But there it is.

In meditation, what came next was that I WAS a mountain. I understood then what I am in relation to those who come to me and are perhaps unskilled, unkind, or even violent. It does not harm the mountain.

It does not redefine the mountain. It is something that once occurred upon the mountain. I had caves that no one ever took the time to explore, and I found that this was good, because there are some treasures that not everyone is fit to see.

I understood that I do not change, but I appear to change. I understand that I am so much a part of the scenery that I can indeed go unnoticed, but I am never unappreciated. That I am powerful. I am an amalgam of elements and entities and desires and pleasures. I am patient and I know things that others may not, those who are not mountains, and that, too, is good.

I felt whole and complete in a brand new way. In a way that I understand, and a way that I can easily translate to every man woman and child I encounter. I know the peace of the mountain. I am the mountain. I am the peace of the mountain.

And then I was aware of an orbit of white that was around me like I was Jupiter. And in this weird light mist that was orbiting around me, through this mist, came the twelve.

I could not see all their faces, but I can see them in my head as I write this. I know them well. At the time, in meditation, I had to quiet, and I had to allow them to lead me. Is it the council of the twelve or the council of the nine? Both seem right, somehow. But I think twelve is more accurate.

Because I saw the twelve, and me in the middle, and they are spokes, but not spokes, because no one is bigger or more important or more central. I am connected to them. I was, indeed, the center of their circle.

And one came to me.

I understood him to be Kuthumi, although since that time the name Dwajl Kuhl keeps inserting itself into my awareness. Maybe that is because the name is unimportant. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is what comes next, what I end with.

One of them came forward. I was told it was number one. And, outstretched toward me was an understanding. I was told this was the magenta ray, the magenta flame. It came into my heart, but it needed to immediately expand. It felt right to draw it to below my base chakra all the way up to above my head. It flamed within me, consumed me but left me whole. The magenta was beautiful.

Then the instructions came. This is what I was told. I don’t feel like using quotation marks…

This is the first dispensation. This is the magenta ray. 
The gift it bestows is compassion. Compassion is your gift.
It is implemented by using gentleness in all things. You are gentleness in action, in your words, in your deeds, to all creatures, to self, to all. You are gentleness. Compassion is the gift. Gentleness is its action.

This is a true and real gift, I have to say. It is an amplification of that which I have come to know, but it is SUCH an amplification.

It has literally changed everything.

Gentleness.

I can do that.

I can be gentle.

This is a RELIEF. Such a relief, knowing that the way to peace is through gentleness, and that compassion is the gift I receive by its practice.

THANK YOU. Such a dispensation.

And I could not have had this gift had I not read Kryon. And Kryon would not have completed me so entirely had I not loved The Teachers with my whole heart.

And I could not have loved them, needed them as I did, had I not been nearly mortally wounded, deep, and often, and far too early, this lifetime. Had I not been desperately unhappy here, I would not have even begun to look.

So I thank every bad experience I ever had. I would not know this peace, the peace of a mountain, had I not had these things occur. It was well planned, well choreographed, well executed, and well received.

And now it is done.

I will write, separately, the bedtime story I told my son last night. It is about two lighthouses, a young one and an old one. And the line that took me off guard and moved me to tears as I told the story is when the ancient lighthouse tells this twitterpated youth, “It is the way of our kind, that when we are nearly done, we choose someone to whom we impart our knowledge. You are that lighthouse. And the storm you and I feel approaching? This, my friend, is my last storm.”

And so too this is, indeed, my last storm. I have seen enough of them, and now I am knowing them, I can remember them. I am gaining access to so much of it now.

And I am here as a lone voice on a hillside, you remember the one, the one we have rehearsed around, the one we will be gathering upon to watch the sunrise after our final storm, and we will, after these waves get even bigger, and we are all convinced, during the darkest night of the storm that this is the big one we were just not built to withstand, we will come through it, and we will laugh.

The biggest joke of all is that we are unprepared. We are over prepared and chomping at the bit, many of us. I am relieved it is all finally happening, and that I have come as far as I have. I have a long way to go, but the rest of the walk will be a good one. I know now how to make the way smooth. I am a simple, gentle soul. I assume the posture of gentleness in all ways, and I am set.

And that was just the first dispensation.

If you don’t want this, don’t look inside. Stay hooked into fear. It is a lullaby that is enchanting and beautiful and mesmerizing, but it is now just too out of joint for me to enjoy. I listen to more harmonious melodies now. And even though it does sound like angel’s voices, I can’t help but notice that there, in the background, no, right, yes, right there, there it is again.

I hear laughter.

********************************
I end with Eddie’s meditation called Long Nights. Balance in all things. Namaste.

Have no fear, for when I’m alone
I’ll be better off than I was before
I ‘ve got this light I’ll be around to grow
Who I was before I cannot recall

Long nights allow me to feel I m falling
I am falling
The lights go out
And I feel I’m falling
I am falling
Safely to
The ground

I’ll take this soul that’s inside me now
Like a brand new friend I’ll forever know
I’ve got this light and the will to show
I will always be better than before

Long nights allow me to feel I m falling
I am falling
The lights go out
And I feel I’m falling
I am falling
Safely to
The ground

 

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