Deeply Awake Realized — Past Lives, Guardian Angels, and Multiplicity 3-13-13 By Kathy Vik

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Deeply Awake Realized — Past Lives, Guardian Angels, and Multiplicity 3-13-13 By Kathy Vik

I was doing some reading on a http://www.lightworkers.org, and came across a blog that really got my attention. The writer had been thinking a lot about past lives and how she had absolutely no recall, and then she had a spontaneous awareness, when listening to a song, of having just shot someone dead. She is left with this disembodied experience, sort of still clinging to her. A bleedthrough. And from her writing about it, it was a potent bleedthrough at that.

It got me thinking again about past lives, and my foray into three of them about four months ago. I had one regression, and the reverberations continued for weeks. Lately, I’ve been studying Seth, and his discussion of our true multidimensional nature has struck right to the heart of me.

Please let me tell you my thoughts. Oh, they are wonderful thoughts.

After the regression, I was spent. I didn’t really give it much thought at first. I knew it was good, but I wasn’t sure if it had been anything but an exercise in imagination.

Then the connections started flooding in.

And I began to see that these three lives, their themes, their struggles, were tied up in this one. My issues with insanity and reality, my profound love of and need to travel, my distrust and avoidance of anyone who does not act congruently, openly.

Seth, and my freaking obsessive mind, finally helped me frame past lives and guardian angels in a way that lives and breathes for me.

I believe our inner existence gives order to our external existence, by means of what we find significant, meaningful, relevant, containing within it that spark, that divinity, that joy, love, recognition, honor, that added element which creates an alchemical lump of gold, which I often find lodged in my throat. What the regression, and subsequent experiences taught me is that all of my lives are so structured. I am structured that way.

And that has been the plus side of waking up.

I find meaning, significance, relevance and recognition in such simple things now. Every day is just full of this experience, because I now actively seek out those experiences I feel are the most meaningful.

The added bonus is that there is nothing I become aware of that doesn’t wind up having some significance! I sat just blown away while watching Finding Nemo, Rise of the Guardians and Wreck It Ralph. These movies are the first wave of 5d entertainment. I sat stunned at the messages, so in your face, so obvious.

What I am just beginning to get is that some of these messages may not, in fact, be obvious to many. We can operate with the ego, the mind, the heart, the soul. Each of these areas of focus, these lenses, create a discrete vibrational signature, in which certain thoughts and feelings are more natural.

I think that it is a choice to move from ego to mind to heart to soul, each progression a choice, but the end point self-assigned birth. Each of us hoping we will do it this time, wake up and, though challenging, live as big a life as we can.

But, you know, that’s the thing.

Past life regression has taught me that the act of negatively or out-of-hand judging the worth or significance of anything, myself included, is surely a sign of ignorance. It indicates I’m unable to read the whole picture. I’m not greeting the person by his or her soul. We are shaking hands, playing on the surface, judging appearances.

This is part and parcel of the lesson factory here, I think.

But there comes a time when it is less about lessons and more about proving to oneself that, through any situation or experience, the Self does not, cannot, will never be extinguished, is eternally intact and valid and complete, while ever evolving, experiencing, growing. And there are as many reasons for a soul to show up here as there are personalities in this world.

The shoe clerks, long ago when there were such things, would probably pay each other off not to wait on me. As a child, I could not find a comfortable pair of shoes. It was horribly frustrating, for everyone involved. And I was embarrassed by it. I really wasn’t trying to be a trouble. I just couldn’t make friends with my feet.

This is, in fact, a problem that has persisted. Not to such an extent as when I was a kid, but I refuse to spend more than $25 on a pair of shoes, and often get them second-hand. I think of shoes as an encumbrance, and I have called them torture devices more than once.

My first psychic counselor, do a past life reading on me. I was 16. She did not know of my embarrassing foot thing. She told me that I had problems finding shoes that fit, and that this was because I had been a girl in the Far East, long ago. I had been royalty, and my feet had been bound. Actually, I have full access to that life, the emotions, and the theme. But I kind of like my foot thing, so I kept it around.

The point that I am getting at is that these lives, these experiences, really any experience, is as important and meaningful as we make it. We assign a meaning to something, some event, and, you know what? The kicker to all of this is that sometimes, yes indeed, sometimes, we interpret things incorrectly. We assign a meaning to an event which is neither accurate nor exalted. This definition, this explanation of an event, it can taint a whole life. A whole series of lives.

May I give you an example? I think it might help.

I had a life of a traveler. My mother, God bless her, allowed me to leave the village, where I was sorely needed. She had raised me on stories of travel and adventure, because she had seen I had the heart of a traveler, a storyteller and teacher. I left home with my only goal, really, to return to her and live out the end of her life telling her my stories of real-life adventure. I wanted to give back to her. I wanted that so bad. She had a hard life, and if she’d been a smaller person, she’d have left me to tend to responsibility and she would have taken off.

In my travels, I had many adventures, and began to teach people as I went along. I saw scenes of that. And then came the desert.

I died in the desert because I didn’t bring enough water. I did not anticipate disaster.

I didn’t get to tell my stories to my mother.

That was the lifetime I could not seem to resolve while under. I could not see my mother’s face, when it came time to meet again, in meditation. I was able to hug her and tell her how much I loved her, how much I wanted to come home. I asked her to forgive me for not having returned, for not anticipating things better. She told me that my guilt was no longer necessary. Her gift of freedom, the sacrifice she made for me, came with no expectation of return. She let me leave because she loved me. And we never had been apart, not really. I felt such absolution. It’s really the only word for the experience. To have released from me a burden I didn’t even know I’ d been carrying.

And that is what this past life regression thing is all about I think. Recognizing ourselves in our totality, or as bigger than our current focus allows anyway, and identifying the false beliefs and incorrect assumptions which have caused grief. I think that is the cause of all dysfunction, really, at its base. Not understanding that it is all love. Not understanding the core. Settling for the surface explanation, connecting the dots, but never getting right in there, into that which imagined the game of connecting the dots.

The mother and I, we hugged, we cried, we smiled, and we parted. Everything was alright, but I still couldn’t see her face.

On the drive home, I understood. I pulled over. I wept.

The mother of that traveler, that teacher, that devoted son whose only wish was reunion with his beloved mother, perhaps she lives in my house. Perhaps she is my son. My first words to him, my silent prayer to him, from the first time I layed eyes on him, was, “Thank you for showing up,” and I never knew why. I say this to no one else. I can remember holding him and just repeating that and repeating that, rocking him, feeding him, and feeling such a sense of wholeness.

That was a particularly rich experience. It is only one of many I have had as a result of experiencing that lifetime in regression.

Funny how one little thing can set it all off too. Physical triggers which act as catalysts, inviting us to enter into the many rooms within our very own mansions.

There were three other lives just as vivid, just as lyrical. All starring people in my life now. Different roles, different lines, different circumstances, but the same purpose. Always the same purpose. To experience. To bloom in the garden of forgetfulness into the full flower of knowing. To love. To strive. To express my beliefs and thoughts within a lifetime’s activities. And there can be no greater gift than the exchange of love, one to another. It is the most incredible gift of all.

I used to think this sort of sanctified love was saved only for those who hook up with their soul mates. That’s a lot of pish posh.

I think it is entirely possible that we, in the presence of the other, any other, on some level are having an almost orgiastic experience with energy exchange and soulic interconnectedness. And I mean the conflicts, too. The bad times. The icky stuff. There is a part of us always that fully recognizes that we are in a wonderful, engaging immersive play with one another, and that around here, you only engage in play with those you love. And everyone you are playing with loves you. We do each other favors, because we love one another.

I heard that in a past life regression, I think this is in a Dolores Cannon book, that the subject had gotten beaten up really severely, in an alleyway. This beating changed many things for the subject. And it turns out that the ones who gave the beat down were in that person’s family, soul family, or were very very good friends. It was the subject himself who’d asked his buddies to rough him up, to get him back on track. It was no random act of violence.

I reject that phrase as outright craziness, “a random act of violence.” There is no such thing. There never has been such a thing. It’s poppy-cock. Untrue. Silly. False.

Now, I ask you, doesn’t that just make your day?

How willing are you, yes, I am talking directly to you now, how willing are you today to see everyone and everything (including The Government, Monsanto, the divorce judge, your b-hole of a boss, your insane and inconvenient family) as a friendly?

Could you do it? Just for one day?

Everybody?

It’s a tall order.

You know, I could go on for a book about just this topic, because, as I write, this topic naturally morphs into others. But what makes sense is a meditation on the idea of guardian angels. I really am looking for a little help on this one. I know I don’t have it all. I’m missing the capstone, energetically, on this monster of a concept.

I am beginning to think a lot about the idea of each of us being assigned a guardian angel for life. I am convinced that I have a soul family who are more involved with my life than my bio family is. I know there are others around me, assisting and helping. But there is something more, something else, that underlies my physical earth time here.

I believe that this physical life, this “3D” experience is not as crappy as most new agers say. I know they throw around a lot of talk about light and peace and stuff, but overall, I find the thinking escapist.

What if this 3D experience is, in fact, a valid one. What if there are no enemies, not even our own egos, something that New Agers seem to hate quite a lot.

What if we are, as physical beings, here in “3D” experiencing ourselves symbolically? What if the point is to realize that it’s all coming from within us. We are all agreeing to this. The silly politics, the croaked economy, the weirdness, just all the weirdness, the police state, all of it.

These are symbols, gestalts, they are lessons we are learning in real time about our true nature. But the truth cannot be found on a picket sign or on the blogosphere. The beginning and ending, the start and finish of it, the originator, planner, player, critic, they are all within ourselves.

If that is true, if this is a symbolic place, then everything is perhaps an echo of a different, a more expansive place, a more expanded self, with less amnesia, and much longer attention span.

If this is true, if I am a personality, fully realized and totally responsible for my own thoughts and actions, but just one bloom on a rose bush, then who is the rose bush? What is the rose bush? What feeds and waters this rose bush? Why is it even here?

Do you see where I am headed with this?

I know you have had an experience where you just know, you just must conclude, that someone or something is watching out for you. You dodge a bullet somehow, you catch a break, whatever.

What if it’s actually YOU looking out for YOU?

What about that?

I really don’t think there is a better explanation than that to some of the stuff that has happened to me internally, externally. The timing is just too impeccable. The precision of when to give me this versus when to disclose that, it’s mysterious, mystical.

I’ve come to the conclusion that a bigger or more expanded or more realized entity spawned me, feeds and waters me, looks out for me in every way. So, that must mean that, on some level, I am looking after myself.

Now, I know that these connections with others, with friends and family and readers (!), these move the story along. It wouldn’t be very challenging to enter physicality and have no one to bump up against, whether in love or lust or rage.

That’s a lot of the fun, and most of the hassle. Each of us, each and every one of us, from a spontaneously aborted 8 week old fetuses to a serial sexual sadist to Gandhi, each and every one of them comes into their experience with THEIR OWN AGENDA. Have you noticed that there is a lot of that going around these days, other people wanting to fix your agenda?

Well, it’s stinking thinking. It belies a misinterpretation of the data.

I will end on this note.

I went to a website’s chat room yesterday, thinking it would be good to commune with others of like mind. I’ve had great experiences there in the past, and I was missing the people I used to love on.

There was one woman on the screen, lecturing. She was saying things that I found to be untrue, thoughts which lead to distress and disconnection. When I raised my hand and said my piece, I was asked if I was trolling. And then I was told, basically, that there were no errors to her thinking, and further, that there is no right and there is no wrong in 5D because here, everyone has risen above duality. Then she asked again if I was a “troller”.

Remember what I said about the various layers from which we can focus our attention, ego or mind or heart or soul (and I am sure there are many others!)? Well, I hit the logout button, and found my hands were shaking. It troubles me when folks who ought to know better, who have access to the general public, use their platform to badger people into retaining the old ways.

There are new ways to think and feel about everything, more comprehensive ways, which absorb and radiate joy, meaning and significance, and all the other stuff that goes into a fine moment.

I do not know where this is headed. I fully expected to be halfway done with my laundry by now. But it hit me real hard that this talk of past lives, it needs to be broadened.

I felt bad for the girl having the bleedthrough. Thinking how I’d been stuck in so many echo chambers, and wanting really hard to help her.

If we could perhaps bench the whole idea of past, present and future, and instead just think of these lives as coexisting, it would make us feel as if the data, the emotions, and the understandings of our other selves, our other aspects of self, are all connected. The girl who was struggling with the bleedthrough, I hope she can ride it, travel along the spine of the thing, get up the head. Look that beast in the eye.

The beast is self. In all its magnitude, fortitude, creativity, joy, freedom and abandon.

I think it is time to not be timid, to instead embrace all of life. I think the antiseptic version of “5D” is just a cheap knock-off of a disappointed 3D. There are truths, realities, abilities and whole awarenesses of which we are only now glimpsing the hem. The garment has been hanging in the closet since we started this whole thing up. I have lost some weight. I want to try it on. Don’t you? There’s one for each of us.

I wonder if it could be as easy as just getting to a place where you just have to, without doubt or restraint, accept, love, cherish, marvel at and explore our own selves. I guess that is why my visit to that chat room effected me so strongly. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, when it was all over, “Surely you guys understand that everyone’s reality is valid, right?”

No. Good God, no. Opposite! I heard nothing but judgment and rule review. “You should think this, you shouldn’t think this, it’s bad for you (inference, “It’s not evolved. It’s SOOOO 3d”)”

What if someone came along and said: THE ONLY THING THAT IS BAD FOR YOU IS BELIEVING THAT ANYTHING OR ANYONE AT ALL IS BAD.

Here is the kicker. I did not like how those folks were acting. I don’t like the way a lot of people act. But I really do understand the difference between actor and action, and I really like actors. They come up with some wild stuff. I get that someone who demands I act in a certain way, think and express in a certain way, is the one who is at the disadvantage. Folks who have closed their doors to me will not get frantic knocks on the door. Fine. Good. I’ll just move on…

I know that people can be jerks. God knows I have been a big, huge jerk from time to time. But I don’t hate myself for it. I use the discomfort which comes from being a jerk, I follow it, I look at what I did, what they did, what happened, and really look at the distress.

Feel it, evaluate it, and love it right into me. Understanding is an absorptive process. Love is an absorptive process. The judgments pass, the pain passes, the incompletion cries for someone, anyone to relieve its distress, and the cry is answered by a tottering old gardener, someone who has done everything under the sun, who loves a good story, loves the sunshine and the fruits of the garden.

The gardener is always around, pruning, fertilizing, watering, and loving. Always walking through the garden with eyes of absolute love, complete and utter gratitude and wonder. This rose is full and round. This rose is paler than the others, and that one smells so sweet. Each rose different. Each fed by the same roots, each a part of the whole, but whole unto itself.

How wondrous that, in my mind, in my soul, I am rose, shrub, gardener, watering can, sky, sun and earth. How wonderful.

The rose analogy can only go so far. But it points out an interesting thought, a thought about multiplicity and personalities. How many personalities, do you think the bigger you contains? Is only one of them alive in 2013?

Are you sure?

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