Deeply Awake — Post Script 6-4-13 By Kathy Vik
I find it dizzying, how fast my reality has become, how much I have moved through, and have, therefore, spent the last couple of days dazed.
The last chapter for this book was written prior to the conclusion of our stories, all the time lines, oh, there have been so very many which have come round full circle.
Guilt, for me, now is a too use to help with my thinking. I will give you some examples, but here is one, at the outset, to help you understand how things are for me now.
I was feeling, initially, quite guilty that the timbre and seeming purpose of Deeply Awake was at variance with what had been produced. I contemplated long and hard on it this morning before I started writing. I wanted to begin to explain a pretty clear, stair step approach to “doing ascension.” Dammit, I thought. Missed the mark again, I thought.
But, really, that’s the best part about going higher, isn’t it? How many times this week have I heard/been told/have come to know that A) Ascension is nothing if not personal and B) Ascension is about honesty, integrity, fearlessness.
I have gone on and on about fearlessness, and there is a reason.
Have you had the experience yet? Maybe it’s while walking to your car, after having aced an interview. Or having just completed a phone call with someone who used to just fill you with dread and self-loathing? Have you had it yet, that first sweet breeze blowing through you when you realize YOU HOLD NO FEAR. YOU ARE FEARLESS.
How honest are you when you are in that moment, that weird, pressed one, where you hear yourself pop off a big lie? Maybe it’s about a hobby or maybe it’s about your daughter or maybe it’s about your intention, but it is a lie. We have them, all of us, all the time.
The choice, during that phone call or that presentation, we can obfuscate and guard and defend and explain, we can defend, attack or smile, but a reaction is required… and the reaction had always been fear, fear, fear, but here now… this is different… hey! This is GOOD!
Fearlessness requires radical, over-the-top, infrequently encountered personal integrity. An unwillingness to lie comes from what? It comes from finding a lie painful to hold in your awareness. It becomes a necessity to BE honest. To self. To self. To self.
You see, if I am honest with myself about this book, there can only be that central truth revisited, that ascension is a personal process.
I have never approached my work with you in mind. I have found the people I have traveled with to be wholly closed down, small minded, fearful, petty, and closed. So closed. Even the open ones I now see as pretty locked down.
I breathe deeply now and look around at the ones I have chosen to travel with thus far, and I just shake my head and wonder just how it is that I could be as strong as it turned out that I am. I mean, you just really have no idea, reader. And I am certain you could convey the same world weariness to me, just by a shake of your head and a smirk.
Those of us who know the truth have waited a hell of a long time to feel no shame.
I think that is a really big part of this discomfort I have known, and that is why I bring up the idea of guilt.
Think of fear as the bullet and guilt as the streamer. When I feel guilt, for instance, a guilt that this book is far too confessional and therefore of absolutely no help to anyone else ever in all the world, well, I can see it differently now, and I want to tell you about this.
I felt guilt about this dumb book, that I had not accomplished what I had wanted to create. So instead of feeling good about what I have produced, which is lyrical and beautiful and meaningful, as always, well, instead I chose to think I’d disappointed myself, done something wrong and bad.
And where does that originate?
Oh, my, I’ll tell you, but can you see that guilt is not just a small thing, but a portal to a whole mansion within which there are abattoirs and snuff rooms?!
I will now tell you of the swift and true movement my reality has undergone, and how it happened.
The story so far is a tragic and heartbreaking one.
In a nutshell, I was once again confronted with a really weird puzzler.
For the second time in six months, I found myself in a situation in which I was convinced I was gonna die. In front of me stood someone who I had helped in a, what I thought had been, unconditional and loving way, who was cursing me, spitting at me, irrational and just as crazy as a person can get. Irrational, wantonly cruel, giddily pursuing the verbal and hopefully, it seemed, permanent shaming of yours truly, pretty much for stepping up and helping this person out.
And, this time, it was my dad, recovering from open heart surgery.
And this time, I did something different. It took doing it twice, but I am unconvinced I will ever have to do it again, to the degree I’ve been called to perform at recently.
I listened to the madness, the accusations, felt the panic, appreciated the hysteria and projection, and I let these ragged edges scrape against my skin without getting cut to ribbons this time.
It took two times because the first time, well, I just wasn’t clear enough to the Universe as to just how shockingly amazing I am, how silly these attacks seem to me, and how much I hope this guy comes to see that I have never ever ever been the enemy.
And now, of course, as I reflect, it comes to me that this indeed was the THIRD time that I was in this position with the person here to administer the last of these tests.
The third time I rebuked the poison of All My Fathers, the poison that I am no good, that there is something wrong with me, that I need to improve, that I don’t have it.
And in between the first 52 years, three months and two days, what happened after that conversation, something happened.
On year 52, month three, day two, I had a big day.
On a whim, I asked if my son and I could go up to Lyons and visit my friend, Aunty Diane. It was such a wonderfully perfect plan, and it was something I really looked forward to happily during my shift Saturday night. Instead of feeling dread in anticipation of my impending sleep deprivation, I dwelt in peace, happy, expectant.
We drove up, the plans just came together so beautifully. My son was in a great mood, and we made our way to one of our favorite cities.
My friend welcomed her into her beautiful home, a home that just felt good, and I met her current roommate and her roommate’s son.
This was an extraordinary experience for me.
Her roommate really could not keep from staring at me with adoration.
I swear to God, I was treated like a queen. I was given gifts, and great kindnesses, much deference, and much reverence, and it felt so very very appropriate.
But I get ahead of myself.
I tell you this next part because it is central to the grace I now hold. I hope you will bear with me.
I got up to Lyons, and felt none of the usual discomfort at having to socialize, having to meet new people. What is that but my old-as-me understanding, borne of sad experience, that those who I wish to turn to me always turn from me… Always accompanying any socialization came the sadness, the anchoring dread that once again I will go unseen, unrecognized for what I am.
Now, I find this fascinating, because, really, this is the thinking of a queen, and not a lower-middle class grunt nurse with no financial liquidity whatsoever. But there it is guys. One of the things I felt most ashamed of. My sense of self worth.
So I had fun, and did not feel intimidated, and instead, I felt invited in and welcomed and included.
Diane, Sam and I went to walk by the river. We were going to watch the trick kayakers, and then go get some food. On the way to the sidewalk running right next to a strong spring mountain river current, I told Diane that for all the good sleep and being around her and everything, Good God, I just feel sad.
I just couldn’t get elevated. I had defended myself with this lifetime’s antagonist, and although I knew I’d done well, I felt incomplete, sad, hollow.
She told me to just walk in the shade here, by the water, my Piscean friend, this is what you need, yes?
And we walked.
At one point, Sam, as always, thought it would be terrific to go wander off by himself. Now, this is fine at the zoo, or even at the Walmart, really, but out in nature, well, something unnatural could spring up and gobble him, or so the thinking went. He disappeared, and I bellowed to him, of course, and I got no response.
Diane followed me, worried about my not having eaten for 16 hours, and being tired, and needing to having mellowness. And here’s Sam, doing his Sam thing, gone.
So I followed the sidewalk to where the trail had diverged, and I found the path Sam had taken. It was overshadowed with a forest canopy, it was cool, and it was magical. I hit that moss covered set of cord-steps, and I hollered, “Hey, Sam! Please forgive me for cursing your name, little man. Where are You? THIS IS AWESOME!!!”
Sam had found a place where the river bank was smooth and there was a very easy way to just walk right into the stream. This was a spectacular spot. Up to the west, there were two rivers which merged. The current was swift, but the water shallow.
I took off my shoes and walked right in. Diane hung back, saying little, and instead of feeling awkward, I just wished she’d join in with her own brand of joy. But she held this space, as Sam and I got wet and skipped stones and laughed and explored.
And then, there came a time to give thanks, and to get down to why I’d come.
I kept my sandals on, and I waded right into that river. Now, don’t get me wrong, the water stopped getting wicked mid-thigh, and I am only 5’2”. But as I walked, it only made sense to go upstream.
The current became pretty swift, so swift, in fact, that I wound up needing to just stop, or I’d get knocked over. So I slowly found my spot, my center, and I just stood there.
I had pushed up the stream, and was told this: This is you, and it is time, of course to accept it and just love it for what it is. Do you see that you could have done anything at all at the water’s edge. Look what you are doing. You are fighting a strong current, moving upstream with such focus and purpose. Do you see? Do you see? Do you see? And all of this was said with a grin, of course, because, really, what else is true?
There was a homeless dude chopping down trees for a lean-to, Diane sitting on a rock, and my son tossing huge rocks that go “Plonk” in a real deep and hearty way into the river, and here I am, here I am.
So I really looked at where I was, and of course, going upstream is my way. It feels good, it is invigorating, and it is the only thing I know how to do when I see such beautiful grace and power. I want to be INSIDE it. I want to know it and become it.
And then, I was healed.
It is just as simple and as beautiful as that.
I realized that this is me, standing in a river, current buffeting my body, feeling so alive, and then I realized I my feet were standing on earth. My eyes could feel the trees breathing and swaying and loving me, my breath was clear and true and deep, and the sun was heating me up, it felt, from the inside out.
I hailed the elements, and I thanked them for making me. I thanked all the aspects of self, the poles, the winds, the directions. I felt sacred and I felt very old and good and wise.
And then the funniest thing happened.
I greeted the river from the left, which was beautiful, and saw that this was one part of me. And the river there to the right, this was also a part of me. And then the rivers merged, and I found that the water was no longer blue-green but had become black, sort of oily, moving, alive, but like wet onyx.
And the sunlight on the water was like silver fire. I saw this in stages. First farther away, then closer to me, and it was all very graded and very very systematic, really, looking back on it. Very systematic and ritualized.
I felt like a very old Indian, and I not only had a right to be in the middle of that river, but I had a calling, a responsibility, a sacred task.
And so I let this silver gold firelight from sun and water some ever closer to me.
It got so that it was within my body that I could sense that is not physical but almost so. I did not have a physical sensation, and then the rite or whatever that was felt complete.
You must know that I was praying the whole time. That sort of goes without saying, but these were intensely old, personal and beautiful prayers. For balance, for harmony, for goodwill, for inner peace, for great love, for acceptance, for love.
Then it was done. Complete. I was no longer an old Indian man, doing my duty in the river. I was a 52 year old nurse who felt exhilarated.
We walked into town and got some amazing Thai, and an ice cream cone. We met Diane’s roommate on the way home. Sam and the roommate’s son hit it off. The synchronicity is so mind-blowing, I will have to save it for another entry. Suffice it to say, we met family, Sam and I, and we came home to ourselves in brand new ways that evening.
We were held in the arms of high regard. We created, the five of us, a unit that was loving and cooperative and encouraging! The women sat on the porch and ate popcorn and drank tea. The boys were upstairs, showing each other their favorite video games.
I know what it means to be seen. This was an intense and beautiful experience.
And thankfully not one I felt the need to cling to and obsess over. Nope. This was a good day, one of many.
And so, we took our leave as the sun set behind the flat irons. A cop followed me all the way from Lyons to Boulder, and I knew that I would be (and was) left alone, no longer afraid, no longer afraid.
And so we drove into Boulder, me with the intention of facing a big fear, one of the biggest, the lost of my dear friend, Chris.
I had the NEED to find her house on the way up to Lyons, but had been unsuccessful in locating it. I abandoned the notion, thinking I’d revisit it on the way home to Denver. And now, here it is 8pm on a school night, and this time, I found it right away.
I wish to convey the relief and awe and great joy I felt when I saw my old friend’s car parked outside her old house, and I saw the prayer flags, and I knew I was home.
I knocked on her screen door, and there she came, but only after we hollered, “What?!” at each other, just like when we were kids.
The dear friend I had alienated seven years ago, the sister who walked away from me in my time of extremity, whose absence I could never reconcile, and whose loss I never quite recovered from, there she was.
And we embraced and kissed each other’s faces and we held each other for so long, so long, so long.
I was absolutely wrapped in the arms of love. Physical. Here on this earth.
Through tears I told her that I was sorry, and asked her forgiveness, and told her I knew she’d had to leave because I was so lost, but ‘I’m not lost anymore.’” We cried, we held on, we breathed.
At one point, she just kept squeezing me, holding me so close, and she said, “I just wish I had more hands.”
We cried and cried.
And then we were complete.
She introduced us to her friends, all out on the lawn, on a balmy Boulder Colorado night, right next to the Boulder Creek, one banjo, one guitar, and two very old friends.
I got to hear about our mutual friends, and I got to hear about how she worked things out for herself. I got to tell a few jokes. We laughed just like old times, and the wisdom we had gained did not express itself as weariness or sadness, no, not at all.
What is there to be sad about, to feel weary about?
And on the long drive home, I had plenty of time to think.
I’d just come from such a hateful situation, so discordant and sad. And here was a day when I was loved and seen and understood and given the respect that I do indeed deserve, and always have, and I just finally got it. Real big. Real clear…
If someone does not approve of me, that is not anything to do with me.
I know that you may be someone who has a loved one. Someone who sees you, allows you to be you. But understand, I did not give myself that experience for many many years.
And like a thirsty man in the desert, one who has finally found the edge of a verdant land, and this man understands with just a casual glimpse that he will never know thirst again, and that his thirst had never been a function of his lack of worthiness or value. His thirst had been appropriate to his conditions, and rather than hating it, he suddenly loved it, understanding it was his thirst that had allowed his arduous adventure to end successfully.
Is it not odd that I know what is good and true for me? I know being around those who disapprove caused great pain. But now I see that the pain was not from their wells of poison, but instead, it came from my belief in the validity of their assertions.
But let me go one step further with this.
Was it really my belief in their authority?
My pain had always come from my willingness to abandon what I knew to be true for this cheap, ugly truth that was being pushed on me, that I was small and no good and just a loser.
My pain came from accepting the lie as truth.
Do you see now why it is that ascension is a personal thing, and why Deeply Awake could never really be a stair step thing, not with me, not ever.
I think it would be an act of barbarism for me to sit and tell you how to do your enlightenment.
And I am very proud, in fact, of how I have approached this whole writing thing.
I cannot really be fully happy, fully realized, unless I am writing, and this is the most honest way to get this work done. I will not tell you how to do you. And I will never tell you that the way I did it is how you should really consider doing it.
I used to do that, especially with Diane. I really believed that if she did not drink my kool aid, the world would probably end and none of us would ascend. Yeah. But no pressure, right?
But now, if you do not get it, so be it. The same amount of angelic matter, divine reality, is infusing me as is infusing you. Just because you may not interpret this wild ride that way I do does not make me wrong, or right.
This follows into other territory, which I will now briefly describe.
Yesterday, there were problems, and it became increasingly obvious that what had come to pass between my dad and I had to be confronted. He was needing help, and I was feeling more resigned than bitter when realizing I would once again have to dip into the crazy.
So I called him. And what ensued is the most healing conversation I have ever had with anyone in my life.
To my father I said the things which have weighed on my heart for a lifetime. They had nothing to do with past sins or transgressions. What I said was the most stark, simple, and loving things I could find.
I was honest.
I was so honest, and I did it all with such a loving and open heart.
But I did not approach him as if he were a victim, or a bully. Just a person who was having a hard time.
And we left that conversation friends.
I understand now just what has been behind the crazy. And he listened… HE REALLY LISTENED, as I finally, once and for all, explained my crazy to him.
And for the first time in our lives, we parted a difficult conversation as friends. We agreed to be honest with one another, and to express our love for one another. We agreed to always assume the best of the other person, and we agreed to not harbor resentments and fears.
Oh yes. I did that. My dad and I did that.
I had walked around with so much guilt, thinking that I had somehow tried to override his will. And maybe I did come on strong, and maybe that is why my dad reacted to me so violently this time. I don’t know. But I do know that there is something new here, and it is not a sapling. It is not a seedling. It isn’t even a nice, sturdy fir.
Once again, the lights have come on and I see that I have been standing in a forest of ancient trees, and I have always been sustained and nourished, and it is only when really understanding that simple truth that I get it, I really get it, that I am indeed one of the trees, and most of my problem had been that the lights were out, and I’d over-identified with something that turned out to not even be me. Something I perceived as weak and unable to ward off attack, which came suddenly and often.
And this is not my reality now.
I understand things that I did not before, and I have chronicled these understandings, themselves very much a stair step, if you choose to examine it, and I am at peace.
I am proud of my work.
In the seven years I was without my dear friend, and I was lost, I defined myself in brand new ways and I allowed myself to expand in ways I am really really proud of.
No, I am not conventional.
Yes, I have a God thing.
Yes, I am an ascensionist, if you wish to call it that. I write books on spiritual pursuits, and I have many, many more things to write: novels, plays, screenplays, events. Even so, I am pleased with my progress. I am well pleased.
And so, there it is. I have decided to use guilt as my friend, my canary in the coal mine, the voice which sings to me when I am beginning to believe nonsense, and I am scaring myself into paralysis.
And I smile.
I know that I am loved, and that I am good, and that I have done well. I am pleased with myself, with my progress and with what my life stands for.
And now I have a dad who sees that I have long ago abandoned that things which have brought him meaning, a place within a social group, money, temporal power. I was always suspect for seeing little value in these things. I did my best to comply. But my heart was not in it.
I am happy to be me, and I know I have something to offer that no one else has. I have earned this berth, and I do believe now, in my deepest heart, that this is my time.
I feel like I am being cooperated with, and that things are smooth. I hold no fear of confrontation now, and my steady worry about survival, it seems smaller and less convincing now.
I believe that true ascension is achieved with the taking up of the physical body into light, into sound, into love. I believe that this is ascension. But there is so much that can be done energetically now without burning up the vehicle.
I am interested to see how this next part plays out. I am unwilling, now, to leave, and want to see how this fleshes out. But it could be that now that things are more or less complete, that I will decide to die and come back very quickly, to position myself for work in 2040.
But I am not going to worry about all of that. If my body is taken up and I get to do the Elijah or Ezekiel thing, cool. That’s been the plan. What happens between that and this will, of course, determine what the “that” winds up being. I am less concerned about outcome, and I have faith. All those years I wanted to die, and I never did. Now, all I want to do is live.
Does any of this, even one sentence of it, ring true for you?
Is this any help at all, this writing?
I feel what I am doing is so important, and I am looking forward to the time when these words garner hugs, instead of ice. When people don’t turn from me. When what I think, how I act, what I say, is not met with fussy pinched faces and closed off countenances. I really do. I really, really do. I am tired of being rejected on an energetic level.
And I set it up that way. All those years of interpersonal failure, of not matching, of causing dissonance.
I have burst a few fear bubbles, some very big karmic fear bubbles, actually. And this is work that is revered by some, discounted by most, just yet.
But there is alchemy in this journey, in these words, and in my head. In yours too, because, oh my God, are you kidding, if you are here with me at the end of this, you are someone I need to meet, someone I want to get to know, because YOU HAVEN’T TURNED AWAY EITHER.
You do understand, do you not, that what I write is like so interior, so pure and hot and real, if you can hang with it, you get the goodies. I really believe that the goodies I produce with these writings everyone in our collective consciousness benefits, but you, you, the one reading right now, oh my God, do you GET how amazing you are? What kind of light you can tolerate.
Ooh, I am so glad we came together today.
I want to channel but fear nothing will come out.
Therefore, I will now channel.
I hope you enjoyed this little post script.