Deeply Awake — What Would You Call It? 4-22-13

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Deeply Awake — What Would You Call It? 4-22-13

I am a much different creature than I was only a week ago. I know that, and everyone I encounter knows it. I walk into a room, and people ease. I want to see people whole, and I do, and it’s fun to walk around in a no-shame zone. I like it.

People respond very well to the absence of shame. It’s like a little light goes on in their eyes when they get it, around me. There comes a little spark of unexpected permission, and then, there it comes, there it comes shining forth, the naughtiness dispelled, and then, for a minute or maybe even longer, we are in a safe place, and we are just two folks who just know something nice, and the two of us are saying this to each other, over and through and under what is being said are done: You can’t do it wrong. You are awesome as is, just like this, and You’re pretty funny, and, by the way, You’re awfully good looking.

And I like it. And others do too.

Now, this peace has been accompanied by visions and lots of awesome light shows, for which I will always have deep gratitude.

I made it plain about two weeks ago: BE OBVIOUS. I put it out there that from here on, I want to KNOW what is going on, I want to be TALKED TO, I want lots of visits and talking, and I want as much slidy magic as biggermind knows I can tolerate without having to check into a psych hospital. I won’t have to go to the hospital if I know what the fuck is going on so, big as day, I declared that I want it hard and I want it fast, but I want it all subtitled.

Funny, but not really, that when you realize it’s your reality, and you can have it any way you want, it just makes sense to make it easy. That’s not anything but good common sense, borne of utter exhaustion.

So, I am feeling whole and happy. I believe that the most recent meteor shower was a multidimensional event signaling the awakening of the elders living here physically on this planet, and I have come to know I am one of the ones who went metaphorically streaking across the sky, and it was a moment when the angels wept, and there was much rejoicing, as we, as one, individually and collectively, created a group merkahbah, just like the whales do when they (we) lay the lines in the ocean, and just like that, just like we are doing perpetually in the ocean, we took to the sky to proclaim that we are here, and we are free, and we are ready.

So, that’s what’s been going on.

And I sat on my bed this afternoon, waking up and preparing for my day, so full of this living, liquid love, so much love, and I was overwhelmed and said out loud, “Now, what will I do with all of this love? What do I do with this?” And of course, it is a good question, a strong and calming thought, having an armful of love so precious and true that all I want to do is give it away, because it is so needed and so enjoyable, too.

So what do you call this?

Then it comes. Your head clears and you realize, after you take a minute and a real deep breath, whatever we decide to label it, it is good.

Have I ascended? That is no longer up for discussion. It is a private act, an individual status that need not be referred to. If I have, you will know it. If I have not, you may not. It is like being in love or being pregnant. It is who one is, while being a simple descriptor.

I do prefer the term “realized” over “enlightened.” I think that being referred to as enlightened is an almost literal descriptor, and, as such, a loving one so it’s just fine, but “realized,” that word describes something that is left undiscussed in the word “enlightened.” “Realized” implies its beginning and its outcome. It is a good word. So is this ascension? Being enlightened? Becoming realized?

And when the interest in self definition, which is a valid pursuit, begun to wear on me, after my burst of love this afternoon on my bed, then my mind settled on Sam.

Sam.

Let me tell you that part of the gift package the last week has been a review of my life plan. It was such a beautiful thing. I got to see underneath, like turning over an embroidered picture, and I saw that this beautiful portrait I have been living has been stitched from just one thread. I got to see how everything connects.

And, the cool part is that a life, seen at any particular point, can be seen in its totality. I see which choices must be made, in what fashion, to achieve what I have come to do. This is not goal planning. This is just cooperating with the plan.

There are many things that I will not know, and I am now ok with my amnesia. If I am not aware of something that passes, then I decide that amnesia was appropriate, and it is fine with me. I prefer to have the amnesia lifted, though, and it has abated, for the most part. I saw what I have decided to do, and I am a very ambitious person, and I have prepared very, very well for what is to come.

I need to tell you something before I tell you of my son. I just want to tell you that yesterday marks the day when I made my intention verbal, that I intend to be here for a long time, and I want to be an ancient old woman who folks know is there to help, not to judge, and to just hold the old ways, the ancient ones, that are being modified and amped up with this amazing solar wind we are breathing into our bodies every moment. I want to be here a long, long time.

Do you understand the enormity of that statement? If you understand, then you will be ok with my having said it, and leaving it there. It is just too big an idea to need to embellish. I want to stay here a really, really long time. Just peek at some of my other blogs. Homesickness is all I have known. It is what has defined this lifetime. It is my “sacred wound,” I guess the more dramatic among us would label it.

And it is gone.

I am home, and I am not longer equivocating when I declare that. I mean it. I say it and write it joyfully, and with a big smile on my face, a knowing one, an ancient one.

And then there is Sam.

Today, Sam walked into his school in his pink shirt, his painted toenails, and as he walked into the school, I understood that I am in the company of a saint.

It was at the end of third grade that he decided that his classmates needed to know that he is gay. He had to be honest, and I counseled him, and I asked him to wait. I explained to him what it is like when you find out someone who has been nice to you then finds out that you are something they have decided is bad, and everything changes, overnight. The love you had felt you realize was not true, and it’s just heartbreaking. Just hide, Sam. Please just hide some more.

Needless to say, that was taken under advisement, because Sam holds respect for his elders. And then, the next day, he came out.

Elementary wasn’t so bad, even though the following year, fifth grade, he made it an issue just because he wanted to go to the spring dance with a boy, and he had crushes, and he was lonely, but he’d been at that school all his academic career, so no one got too twitterpated about it.

Then came junior high.

He has been spat on. He is called “fag” daily. He is pushed and he is ridiculed and he is teased. Every single day. The administration know all about it. They have dealt with me, and they have rejected my ways. This is not my gig. It is Sam’s. So I support, and I sometimes am the mama lion, but Sam, he is all over this.

This is a heavy weight to walk under. It is one which will either break you or cure you. But sooner or later, each of us realizes we have a truth that must be stated, and if it is for the highest good, this truth can be articulated, and then there is a disturbance in the field. Is it that you are gay? Broke? Scared? Angry? An Ancient? Each of us holds a truth that must be stated, the truth of us. Turns out it may be as simple as, “Here. Look at me. I am intact. I am whole just as I am. And, ooh! Look! So are you? See?”

He has been a big old buddha, walking through those hallways. He is like Michael wielding his mighty and terrible sword.

Sam is at least a foot taller than his classmates. I think this is a good and fine metaphor, and one I use to our advantage, as a teaching tool. Can he really, honestly, feel threatened, in his true heart, when someone who weighs 70 pounds less than him and comes up to his nipple line comes up to him and wants to pick a fight? I mean, it’s pretty laughable.

And one by one, the days have become softer, easier. Sam is coming into his power. He still groans before he exits the car, because the jeering and the name calling gets old, it is unenlightened and it is just so sad, but then he gathers himself, gets still, then rocks his body out of the car and he is gone.

Walking alone up the steps. His pink shirt alive, bouncing against the grey concrete, the grey sky, the kids a blue and black background over which my son glides, blessing everyone he encounters with his radical self love, his enormous self acceptance.

I mention this to you because I have been unable to fully articulate what all of these changes have meant. I did get the confirmation I needed about the power and significance of the meteor shower, but how do I put all of this in a workable form, this new hit of sense I have, this new ability to be cool with just about anything, and how just about anything can move me to transcendent tears of joy…

What is this called? I don’t wish to say. I just know that it is good. It is sturdy and predictable, safe and fast, and the way home here on earth.

And Sam, he walks into school and makes his miracles, and this boy will NOT talk about God. He believes that all this God talk is just bullshit, and he will not engage. He thinks the God stuff is dumb.

This kid who is allergic to the word God, he made a miracle, and I want you to know about it. I told his dad about it today, but I think what this kid is doing deserves an even larger audience, even more thanks, so I will share it with you. While you are reading, will you please hold my son in love, in your heart?

Understand he is a tender twelve year old whose voice is beginning to change and who doesn’t like to shower. He’s just a kid. Love him while you read this, ok, and send him strength in all his days ahead, ok? Let’s love on this boy. OK, here goes.

It happened last week: There was a bunch of kids gathered, and they were gathered around a conflict, one kid making fun of another, I forget what for, but it was a bad scene, Sam said. And there was my son, walking through this nonsense. He told me that he became aware of what was going on, and that usually it’s him getting made fun of and being watched, but he watched this and then he said that the group, the on-lookers, turned on the bully.

Sam did not say a word, he told me. He told me that his classmates told the bully that he shouldn’t make fun of someone for being different. And the bully went away, and people went to class.

I sat there, in the car, stunned, after he told me that. I just sat there stunned. This is what my son has done. This was his plan, and this was his degree of willingness. He has helped these kids, most who were not hardwired to hate anyway, and he is helping them to just put down these bad thoughts, these separating thoughts, and he has done this by taking on the role of a big gay kid, my beautiful shaman, my special boy touched by Creator to show folks how to just get along and start being nicer to each other.

That’s my boy, I thought, as I watched him walk into the school.

So, yes, he has foibles and blind spots. He is annoying sometimes, and has some bad habits. So do I. And, so what?  So what if he came in stubborn?  I am a maddening individual, because my will is steely in certain areas, unbendable. Stubborn. It drove my mom to tears. Sam and I are both happy he is as stubborn as he is.

Do you think a human in this day and age can really move mountains without stubbornness? You have to have a will that is straight and true and unmovable to get this sort of thing done.

Being given that view of my lifetime and its purpose and its lyricism, that helped a great deal. Sam’s presence wove through my life, and I understood that all of this is anointed, and that Sam and I are a team. We are very old friends, and I have been blessed, quite literally, with family within my family. Old family. Ancient family.

I have been given many gifts this lifetime, and I know now that I came it with a pocket knife and a plastic bag, because it was my intention to load up on problems, and then on gifts. And I am now opening those gifts, one by one, and I am thankful I had the good sense to be stubborn about keeping my trash bag and pocket knife close, even when people called me names for it, because I am unable to accomplish any task anymore without finding tremendous gifts. Mercy and love and surprising peace among them.

This is a good place to be, and you can call it just about anything you want. I think it could be called insanity by the cynics. It seems like the American culture decided that the mystical is pathological, an aberration. But it is not. It is not.

Americans have banned marijuana, nature’s own gift, offering you joy, peace, humor, good will. It offers you a disconnect from the very agreement field which must label and regulate it.

But weed is just a gateway to freedom, and once experienced, can no longer be put off or denied.

I no longer see bliss and being happy as a disease state, and have come to see the few tools I have to help me achieve happiness, they are good and right to enjoy as I see fit.

And this state I am now in, it can be seen as anything you need it to be, but I have achieved great and beautiful things this lifetime, and, really, it has only just begun, and I guess I will just wind up calling myself happy, at least for now. That is a big achievement for me. It speaks volumes.

Am I self realized? Am I ascended? Am I enlightened?

I am unwilling to go into work today and reveal myself to them. I can talk metaphysics, but I do not have that sort of steely willed purpose. Who, if you had to choose, who of the two of us is “saved,” is perfected, Sam or me? Which of us would you choose for this fabled New Earth?

Do you see?

It just doesn’t matter.

Find your way by studying the Illuminati or the greys or literature. Get there by loving animals, talking to trees, praying a novena, visiting someone in jail, someone who never gets visitors. Go forth by defending the little guy, by taking people’s crap and in that very moment, transmuting it by seeing it for what it is.

I don’t really care. But it is the one who stops the bully, it is the one who sets the intention for the group, that person has been touched by God. My son has been touched by God. And he has many things to do this lifetime, and I will love him with my whole heart, and do what I can to help him make an easy way for himself.

And I have been touched by God. I set my intention and do what Sam does while I work my nights in the hospital, holding an open heart, having good humor, not getting too stuck on any one thing.

So Sam is fine, and I am fine, and you, sitting there, wondering when I might get done singing this particularly ripping song of praise and joy, you too are fine. We are fine, all of us together. You can not be at the end of this essay and not be fine, because there are many who, at this point, cannot tolerate this particularly packed and sweet message.

But here you are with me, at the end of it, and we are just fine. We have come through so much, and we did it on purpose, and every tear helped to clear us of the need for perpetual sorrow. We have broken through, and it all gets a lot easier from here.

So I will think of myself as happy in my skin. Home. And I think that when I am needing to share, I will just be deeply awake. That is what I am. I will write as deeply awake, and that is that. Am I channeling? Of course. I am writing with respect and honor and love, so of course, I am channeling. Just like you do when you approach something with great care and love. That is channeling. And we need not don foreign names or mystical entities to do it. Just ring out true and strong with the love you’ve got, and you are channeling.

Trust yourself. You are family, and you are there, and it is all good, and you are not alone. You are being led, guided, loved every step of the way, and this pain, if you are in knowledge of it at the moment, it goes away, it breaks apart, and then you realize, it was just there for effect, and even it was good, but that part of it is, thankfully, over.

So I wish you well on your walk, and I hope that you too will be ok with just claiming this happiness as such, without pretense, without complications. It is complicated enough. We are not alone. I travel with Sandalphon, Michael, St. Germaine, Kryon, The Teachers, Kuthumi, so many of them, and each of them, all of them, they are my friends, but I am my own friend, too, and it all comes back to that.

Just being in my skin, unafraid, grateful, transfixed by the beauty and wonder of it all.

What do you call that?

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