Deeply Awake — Compassion And Validation 6-9-13 By Kathy Vik

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Deeply Awake — Compassion And Validation 6-9-13 By Kathy Vik

Validation is the way that things used to be. If you bought a nice car and kept it up, people knew you were doing well in your life, that you were cooperative and on your path. It was shorthand, and it was helpful. A symbol, the car, or a valid life.

Validation is something which many decided to come in without. Constricted lives which begged the question, “Whose life are you living, and why,” and now, through this time, many are finally asking this question in earnest.

The young ones, they came in with this layer thinned, so to speak, and so their trigger is not validation but compassion.

It is enough for someone who is swimming in the old energy to know themselves through validation. It is a worthy pursuit, but an empty one, when the props break or are taken down, it becomes clear that validation was a device, always only a device.

Compassion is the key to the new energy, because it is what the grid is now responding to.

Compassion is a higher octave than our garden variety “love,” and requires one gets out of their own way. Compassion for the beggar. Compassion for the king. Compassion for the other. Compassion for the self.


What is it?

Have you felt it?

Do you know of it, it’s miraculous power, its strength and its durability?

Now, it is not too hard to find it. Think on your life and remember now the most extraordinary turns of events, the changes fate dealt you, the paths that kinked and then became straight and true, and made you know you were wildly protected and loved, the events that made you truly happy, even for a brief time. Even in these turbulent times, we have all had them, all of us.

The moments which saved us were moments of compassion. When someone came into our world and blessed us with light, and we could then see that our path was not one of blood and tears but of roses, a feast.

This is what has changed, and this is where all of our power comes.

This power can be wielded by anyone, even a little kid, even a little kid, but it is the ones who should be showing compassion and who aren’t that are the ones in the grip of the dark.

Remember, the grid remembers light, it is switched on and activated with light. With those moments of transcendence. With great love, overwhelming joy, simple kindness, ever loved tenderness.

So this speaks to the need now to become receivers as well as transmitters. It is just bad manners not to reciprocate compassion, and we all know it. It raises the standard, raises the bar, so to speak, and raises everyone’s game.

I wonder if these phenomena are actually just different vibrations of themselves. Validation really did keep me alive in many respects in my life, and the seeking of it led me to many activities and people I would not have had any contact with, had that not been my pursuit.

And I know why I had such a terrible need for it, why it is like a hunger for me, especially when I go to a church. It kills me to sit in the chair and not be on stage. I know things. But I have no title, no letters behind my name.

The older ones, and the ones in charge who are, indeed, younger, will not share the stage, and they use it to laud and magnify those within their educational, their hierarchical ranks, not the audience. Oh, I pity the ones who do this, not knowing who they are choosing to be unaware of, sitting in that audience.

It’s ugly, and a little sad, and such a dance of ego, I contend with when finding a seat at church, but this is fading for me, and it is not fading so fast for the others. This agreement is one that everyone seems to ignore, and that is because they are unaware of it, and so the whole thing sort of bothers me, but I go, because I love being around others as they think about and love God, as they see God. It is a better vibration than going to a horror movie, let’s put it that way.

But today, when I go, I don’t think I will be quite as angry with the lovely reverend. He has a good thing going for himself, and just spent four weeks reminding his flock about that, and how spiritually important it is, therefore, for us to give “the church” our money. Ugly. Oh, so very very ugly.

He even thinks it’s appropriate to bless us. I hate being blessed. Who are you to bless me? That’s what I have always thought.

But I am beginning to think that when I hear him speak, and I do love to hear him speak, I am seeing a man speaking from his own heart of compassion, not always or maybe even ever his heart of need for validation. He is not trying to take from us our validation. He is trying to give us his compassion. That he does it in an unskilled way, well, he is less unskilled than most. So I go to his church.

That his message may be awkward, that it may contain great untruth, that it may be clunky and focus on his A Number One Issue: Abundance (that whole church is run with that being the theme… it is grotesque), so be it, he is still trying to be giving from his compassionate heart.

And sometimes when I write, yes, getting replies is important, and usually, I can remember that what I am doing is more important than the splash I make.

Here it is:

I wrote because I had to, and I really like the validation, and validation would be great in the future, but why I am doing it is this:

I am a very smart girl. Very.

I have had a hard life. Hard.

I’ve had a privileged life. Very.

I am highly advanced spiritually. Highly.

My job is to be light, to communicate light, to live light, to become light. As such, I am here to transmute this energy which we have all come to know, this darkness. I am here to scare it, smack it on its nose and tell it to go take a nap.

The lightworkers are in charge now, not the dark.

The dark dwells in the rooms where validation is mandated, schemed for, dreamt of and died for.

The light lives within the very heart of compassion.

The dark is just an energy, and it takes on many faces. Many of the people around you happily become the dark’s representatives, just to scare the shit out of you.

Can you feel compassion?

Can I?

Yes, I can, you know that’s true if you read me. You know this is my highest standard, and all its derivatives, kindness, mercy, patience, all those masterly things, and you know that compassion is what is missing from my mind when I cry out in pain, in loneliness, in great longing.

Where is the respect? Where is the compassion? Where is the light?

Could it be as simple as rising above the simple emotions, and seeing that they are sort of like the aromatic steam that rises off of situations which invite us to see things compassionately or not?

Could it be as simple as that?

My job is to make sense of this, always has been.

To do so loudly, clearly, patiently, expertly, quietly.

Please, understand, while writing this, I realized that if I play things just a certain way, on next incarnation, I can find these words, know I wrote them, and own all of this, just own it, and I will know that I wrote it, I will remember this day with the sparkly shirt, and this entry on compassion and validation.

If I decide to live a real long life this time, cool, but if I decide to wrap it up and come back quick, there will be my words, glowing, ready to wake me up, next lifetime. I will seek outside for validation, and I will know myself, in compassion, while reading these words to myself, from myself.

It gave me a perspective that I desperately needed, and allowed me to feel that maybe getting published, getting on road, doing this, well, sure, I can and I will, but this is a much much bigger project than I originally thought.

It maddens me to no end that I can be as smart and as cultured and as experienced as I am and still be stymied by stuff, still be paralyzed by certain things. Just drives me up a tree.

Hence the writing.

And so I close with this. Today I saw while Kryon was talking, the other half, so to speak, of a meditation I had a while back.

I was given a clue to the significance of what I am doing so steadily and without remuneration.

I could see the awakenings, and I knew that I was responsible for writing the words which led to understanding, and this led me to a deep sense of pride and accomplishment, of validation. Soul validation.

Today I understood that this need I have had, it is a good and a right one, not a purely egoic one. My actions prove this, and I need to just be nicer to myself about this. I no longer have to believe to be true that which I had always been told was true about me: that I cannot get this 3D thing down, that I will always be a loser, that I will never succeed, that I am better off dead.

I am doing this because I think that life, that God, that self, is understandable. I think it is possible to be happy here, and to be at peace. I mean deep, Jesus sort of peace, not the peace you might feel when all your bills are paid and you are looking forward to summer vacation. No. The peace which passes all understanding. I have known of. I have dwelt there. I know it is possible. And I will accept nothing less.

That peace.

If I can’t think it, it does not exist for me, but if I can think it, what then?

Has not my whole life been an effort to attain this peace? Have I not held this as my highest goal, if there is such a thing?

Moving from a need for validation from others to a place where all the validation I could ever need is right within me, that is the movement I am seeing for myself.

This has been a major koan, one of the biggest.

How can I be happy, if I need you to make me so?

How can I come to you without any need, any need at all?

That one has kept me up at night, startled me in hallways, ground me down, that one.

It’s one that I work on every time I put on scrubs and go to work. How can I get out of my own way and give, even though I feel no desire to give? Even if I need to go pee, or am hungry, or have four others, all believing their needs to be the most important? How do I give? What am I giving? Where does it come from? How do I get full again? Can they take all of it from me?

Such were the questions I used to have.

There is a step here, one that I have not mentioned which should be honored at this time.

The bridge, the arc, from validation to compassion is made when I can find true validation within me.

How do I do that?

Well, this blog is a testament to the process.

I was willing to see my life as a poem, for starters.

And I fell in love with everyone in my reality that I had been hating. Just fell in love with everybody. I was told by on lookers that the only thing that my attitude would bring me is rank foolishness and too much drama.

But I had an experience which made those twisted mouth critics have less power, less importance. I will now remind you of that experience now.

On May 25, 2012, I had scheduled my first date in over 12 years. I was reluctant, because I had chosen someone, for this experiment, with enough personal problems to keep Jerry Springer busy for three days. But I was committed to it, so I thought that the best way to burn time between sunrise and sunset was to go gambling.

As I cruised the casino, I thought about my impending date, and how sad it is that human love is so imperfect, and that there they are, laying in front of me, pretty much all the troubles and understandings this poor soul still has to trudge through, that I would be part of, if I decided to hitch my wagon to his. I was overwhelmed with soul fatigue, right there in the casino, thinking about my date.

And I thought, I just wish that God could come down here and be my mate. I wish that God could be my lover. And in the moment, I confessed to something which had kept me alive all those years.

I was in love with God.

I was head over heels in love with God, and I had never even given any of my significant loves a chance this lifetime. They came into my life with me already deeply in love with someone else.


And from there, I had an experience which I now see was my first lit up conversation with my Higher Self, which I still think of as God, really, when the lights are out, even now.

A light, white and blinding, was there on my left, and it came to me, and we talked. I was held in such unfathomable love, for so long, and I knew myself, there, right there, in that casino.

And I had a long discussion with Them, and we made some decisions.

Then I went to the parking lot, canceled my date, and went to another casino.

In the parking lot of that one I had two NDE’s.

And I see now that this was a step. A needed one, a sainted one, and one that I will never forget.

Once the conversation had stopped, once I was out of the grip of the white light that visited me in the casino, I went back to playing slots, I want to tell you.

And then, all the lights and all the slots in the casino, all at once, they went out. And I heard a voice in my right ear giggle and say, “Oops.” They then gave me a ton of instructions, but all of it had me laughing my ass off, in that darkened casino.

What is validation but the need to make certain that your reality is valid to another?

Everyone sat in that dark casino. I knew why the lights had gone out. The energy I’d summoned was incompatible and I blew a fuse, basically. But others, they blamed it on the grid, the electricity up there, or the weather, or their luck. And they wouldn’t be wrong, would they?

Whose reality, in this situation, is valid?

Isn’t that what validation IS?

Knowing that somebody else, even if it’s a stranger in a casino, telling you that what you are experiencing, your DEFINITION of what is happening, is REAL?

See how slippery all of this gets? Whose reality is valid? They all are? Which one do you want to hang out in?

So, even though my reality is a very sparkly one, a highly magical and very, possibly to the on-looker, improbable one, I have been made to feel so shitty for being sparkly, being highly magical, being improbable, looking for God, seeing God, knowing God. Crazy.

What is wrong with seeking validation?

That’s what it has been about, this whole spiritual quest.

And here comes the compassion, added onto the quest validation lifts us from our seats to go out and do.

I came in with a lot of experience. A lot of esoterics, right on the tip of my tongue. For a myriad of reasons all holy, all just super fine, I chose to embed myself among those who would do nothing but beat the old soul attributes right out of me.

And sometimes it did not take much to feel like a beating, so back off on any criticisms of dramatics, ok? I know of the extremity felt when a shaman, a holy one, an awakened one, is ostracized, driven mad, killed. I had a hand in doing it to others. I know of this horror. And it is funny how a turn of the face of a friend, the look of disgust on a family member, just turns my heart now, or at least it did, so upset it would get that once again a little bit of love, just a little bit of magic, is again refused.

So, here I am now, six months into the shift, and twenty years into my conscious awakening, but never asleep, really, and that is what has made it hard for me.

I want to feel more compassion toward those who, even speaking the same language as I, are drowning in limitation and fear. I want to help. I write about my brokenness, my misunderstandings, my pain, my disappointments, only so that you can see that there is indeed a way out. Many many many ways out.

This information is plastic, and it changes, lends magnificence and significance to each one it touches. My walk was not yours, your trials not mine, and so this information, not mine but The Information, collides into your remembrances, your own significances, your own meanings, to make a brand new paradigm, a brand new religion, only for you, only for you, only for you.

I want no one to tell me how or what to believe. Ever. And I will NEVER tell you that you should believe anything that I write, or that anyone writes, because what is true for the writer is true for the writer.

But what if there were a writer who wrote about the deep stuff, the things that mattered, and did not gussy it up with frilly stories? What if someone came along and made every day life a movie, a miracle, an awakening?

I could have chosen to be a straight channel, just a straight up channel. It is a lot of fun, and bathing in that energy is very very good for me. For each of us.

And the truth is that I am a full on channel, but I am a new breed of cat.

I know that my 3D life is one of metaphor and that as such it is divine. I am in concert with All That Is to be a living conduit, a portal, of divine love. And if I choose to warp and deform my vessel, my thoughts and my beliefs, with notions which require you love me, and you are not currently filled with the love of God, all that will do, in the end, is allow me to finally go within.

You see, this lonely walk is a purposeful one, and what I have been telling my loved ones all my life, to just trust me and love me and know that I am on my path, and to respect that, some of them have let me say this, with my mind, my body, with my words, sometimes, but most have punished me for having said it.

I am here to live in love with my Self, with my god, with my Purpose.

If it is as simple, in the end, as feeling, holding, and modeling compassion toward myself and those around me, my help mate is none other than All That Is.

My validation now is coming from a lot of sources, and this is what synchronicity is all about. If the numbers on your clock, the songs on the radio, the stuff you read, the people you meet, if they are all sparkling in synchronicity, how much validation will I need from you?

I close with a bridge to a concept which I am having trouble proceeding with, so I bring it up as I leave, to ask that I find peace with it.

How do I validate myself?

The next time that the worry thoughts come, bolstered as they often are with worrying situations, what do I do?

And this is something I need to just introduce here, for now.

What if I am built with an ability to self correct, to right myself, regardless of what is around me?

I look back at my life with this thought in mind, and really, things do become clearer, and I feel more hope.

This is how I discern things. If I can breathe easier thinking the thought, thinking with and through the t if that thought brings me to other good places, then I know that this a thought I probably will want to hold onto, work on.

So, if it is possible that I am made with an ability to right myself, and there really seems to be no other logical explanation, then can I trust myself a bit more?

I end with reminding you again of the split that is becoming so commonplace. Who am “I?” Am I referring to the woman to went 52 years running around, with a black bag over her head, completely clueless to her own immortality?

Do I use the word I to talk about the one who always wanted to be a writer, this better angel I have always known?

Or am I referring to the one who thought it all up? The one who has hundreds of “parallel” lives he/she/it is “managing?”

This is the choice, isn’t it?

I am self-righting, I like it, and I am keeping it, and so if it is true, what is the mechanism?

This will come next, surely.

So, I am seeing that there really is no end to this, and I can use my life as little or as much as I feel is appropriate in this writing. So, although there is an egoic component to writing, I suppose, I have always seen it a little differently.

To me, writing is alchemy. I sit here in my sparkly shirt and men’s underpants, on my bed, with Rosie on my legs, tapping on a keyboard.

But what I have always seen in front of me, through the screen, through the smeared page of the Smith Corona days, what I see is not the reality that confronts me when I lift my head from the page. Always there has been such a vast difference.

And this is because when I am doing this the way I know how, I am not writing for any other reason than to touch you.

I know the power of ideas, of words. I know the incredible beauty contained in a well constructed phrase, the same beauty which shapes a lobster’s tail or makes a sequoia grow tall. This is what I have always tapped into when I have written. I see my soul when I write, and I know that it is good, and only is a compassionate source of love. I know that about myself, and always have, when I write.

So to me, writing is about being brave, and being true. It is a fearless act, an act which throws the idea of profanity and of stricture of thought into the mud, right where they have always belonged.

I have always had a vision of a woman in the rain, on a bus bench, reading one of my books. I have seen people in all parts of the earth read my words, and the feeling I have always gotten, even as a child, doing this ancient magic, is one of homecoming.

And so, I think that compassion is held, for me, now, knowing that what is most important to me is indeed good.

And I did not get there by being published, by getting an agent, by being read by my family, by being recognized by those who I so wish could see me. I got here by having visions, which my higher self provided, because I was in such pain from my stupid life that the only thing that made sense was to go within.

In a nutshell.

And I know that what I do now is important to you, even though you may never read a word of it.

When I solve some of my puzzle, I tell you about it. And maybe that will help you solve yours.

Not everyone wants to work on their puzzle. So be it. But you do, and you have, because you are reading along. I work on mine with diligence. It keeps me alive, it is the only thing that matters to me, and then I write about it, and pulses of light go out, big and little ones. And they matter. I matter. You matter.

So I think that I will continue, now, but I feel better, different, and I feel proud, now, of something no one in my family or circle of friends thinks has any value at all, BECAUSE IT HAS NOT BEEN VALIDATED.

So I will use the very feeling, that first whiff of the need for validation from you, from anyone, as my sign that I need to have another talk with myself. I need to meditate, and once again be reminded that I am intact and beautiful, purposeful and powerful.

Sometimes I let Kryon do that for me.

Sometimes I let him open the door, because I find it quite heavy. That’s ok too. But what he says, what anyone says, must first go through me, and then, once validated, it can grow in this garden of mine, this garden of perpetual compassion.

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