Deeply Awake — Reconsolidation 6-5-13 By Kathy Vik

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Deeply Awake — Reconsolidation 6-5-13 By Kathy Vik
(P.S.,This is  too dense to do more than computer generated spell check tonight. If I find big whoppers when I do my first read-through, I’ll edit the post… Take to your heart that which feels good, walk away from the rest, leave it in peace. That is a good way to live, I think. At least, it works for me… I do hope you enjoy, friend.)

So, here’s the deal.

There has been a switch turned on, and it feels real good, and I really doubt it’s going to do anything but get better, so I would like very much to tell you what I think of the film thus far, and then we can both predict the story arc. Sound good?

I really thought so too.

Through the last year or so I have been an avid writer. I decided it was finally time. You must understood I made a conscious decision that I would not pursue writing until I had reached a certain level of maturity, and until then the only job I had, really, when all was said and done, was to keep my mouth shut, my eyes and ears open, my heart some red-headed step child that did nothing but irritate me, my soul did, until just very recently.

I understood in very concrete and painful ways that it was not acceptable to do the writing I had come to do if I were not of a certain spiritual understanding. I had to know myself. I had to understand why I was here, really understand, take it to the bank kind of understanding, you see, not the flimsy kind that slip up with such queries as, “Why would I feel a compulsion to worship a God who made a, in his eyes, flawed creature? Why apologize for my brokenness. I know things are pretty fucked up here, people are just barbarians interpersonally, no one can get out of their own way, least of all me, so what the fuck. Eyes open. Ears open. Mouth shut.

I told myself that as I packed my suitcase for nursing school in 1983. I knew I was a writer, always had been. I had one delicious year of cerebral bliss, one year saturated in Ancient Rome (ahhhh, home……), poetry, political theory, and I aced my classes, on the honor roll, going somewhere sweet. Going somewhere familiar and comforting and beautiful, every moment would have been certain bliss.

This was the potential I always was telling my friend Chris about. I lived on a farm outside Iowa City, and it was a great farmhouse, with a wrap around porch. And I was surrounded by family, people who saw me and loved me and cherished me, with all my faults and worries and deep thoughts. My thoughts were somehow not as deep, but highly entertaining. I was somehow connected to the University of Iowa’s writing program, but I was also a pretty decently regarded author, so I traveled a lot, but my family was solid, and I was always trusted and loved and missed, and we were always connected. We have livestock, but never to slaughter, lots of pets, lots of love.

You see, that was a dream given to me when I was about, maybe 14. It was a pretty miserable and confusing time, really awful the whole business was, best not thought on all that deeply, why, the lesson is learned. You see, this dream, after it came to me, made me bulletproof for years.

I feared no one. I knew love. I was seen. I was known. I was famous. I was sought after. I was an expert, but didn’t have an ounce of vanity. Just as nice and down to earth and competent as you could know. This version of me, I know it is alive, just as the bleed through during nursing school.

I was nearing graduation, getting ever closer. And it was beginning to dawn on me that in not very long at all, really, I was going to freaking graduate, and then I was finally free.

So, I had this bleedthrough. I was high at the time, and the bleedthrough freaked me out so much that I flushed my ounce of Sensamillia down the toilet. I was looking at the stained glass in my cool R.A. Bathroom, and then I was in Seattle, or Portland. I was a graphic artist, and I was totally real, just really sort of grungy in a totally great and charismatic way. I charmed the fucking pants off of everybody. And I just loved it. I was loving being an artist, and always a little startled, but mostly appreciative that people wanted to pay me money for doing this delicious thing.

It was so real. And I knew, just knew, it was ME, but it was a DIFFERENT me, and it would just be retarded to go seek her out, because that is sooooo not the point.

See, by that time I had it pretty figured out that I was multiple people somehow, and that dreams were totally valid forms of reality, and that these lives all sort of push and pull on each other. So it was a real relief to discover Seth, and by extension, The Further Education of Oversoul Seven.

Oh my God, had I needed that.

Along the way, of course, there were goodies. I had a teacher early who confirmed that I had sight, mental sight, and she talk me etiquette, and that was vital. She taught me how to meditate to see through realities. And she was a prophet for me. She gave me a number of prophecies, and they were absolutely freaking ridiculous at the time. So weird that they stuck out, just so foreign, impossible! Impossible! Not this time, no siree!

One by one, they have all come true, all of them, even the most ridiculous ones, the most improbable, implausible knowing me as I did (not… ahem…). They have all come true but one. Just one.

It’s a really good one. But so freaking implausible, so freaking improbable, and a little big-pant’s, so I hesitate to say it, but dear reader, if you know me at all, you know I am honest here. I am not cloaked here, not at all, and nothing, love is profane. Nothing is ugly. Some of it is a little ugly, actually, if seen in the wrong light. But what isn’t.

So, it looks like this is my spiritual CV, because that seems appropriate.

I had a marvelous therapist, a magician, a shaman of the highest order. I worked with him for six years, and one chapter will indeed be an ode to him, and his most profound wisdom will be yours, dear reader. I really don’t think he’s going to mind. His name is Richard Rybicki, LCSW. He lives here, I have emailed with him recently, and we are glad we are both so well.

And then there was a pause.

And then I was ready. Then came The Teachers.

This group of entities altered me in fundamental ways. They were my guru, and I have always gone the Indian way, and the workings of guru and monk, of teacher and student, this is a sacred pact. A sacred one. And this union was indeed nothing less than that.

They taught me, reminded me, of the old ways. They healed me. They gave me permission, finally, finally, I had absolute permission to be myself. I let that freak flag fly my friends. I asked about my UFO encounter. I asked and learned about why in hell all my shit was going missing, why I was hearing sonic booms in my hallway, who the fuck scares me from time to time, this lord of chaos, this imp, this dark one, I have seen him three times and felt him far too often. They instructed me in light work, grid work, and they helped me to understand that I was part of the whale collective. I have been laying lines for this earth since the beginning. I am one of the elders. I am part of the Kryon group.

So here is the deal.

Am I going to fuck around with donning a mask and telling you my thoughts as a channeler. I certainly could keep doing that, because this is my normal consciousness now, anymore, give or take, and right now this feels like it used to when I was pulling in The Group.

So I know I could go higher if I just shut my trap. That will be awful fun, actually.

I want to finish this bizarre tale, and it does involve going on a little bit about The Teachers and what they taught me. I do know that they ride with me now, of course, and I have easy access to their wisdom consciously, but they have changed, and I have changed, and what came through, what shaped me nearly twenty years ago (18, was always the correct count. I woke up 18 years after they left. Double Nine. Double Completion. Of course. Duh.)

I worked with them as long as they were around, and would have been a freaking leach on that channeler if she’d kept going. I needed them like I needed transfusions. It was an intensive infusion therapy situation, let’s just say. We were laying ground work, and I was getting my education.

They explained so very many things, and they eased my mind. I sat bathed in what they said was seventh dimensional vibrations, and utter peace, utter, high regard, utter kinship and respect and so much respect. Oh my god the respect for each other. There was never ever ever ever a harmful or awful or wrong or even off-pitch one smidge word, gesture or mood.

Do you understand the significance of that? Can you? Have you been in someone’s company who you can do nothing but just feel yourself turn thick and golden with such love, just so beyond words, I wish I could explain it to you better, but I have known this, and I have known it at the feet of Teachers who finally slaked my thirst. Oh I needed answers, I was nearly dead, nearly so, longing for death every single day, unable to cope with the pain that life had become. Oh Jesus, I hear the bitching now.

What a god damned drama queen.

And to them I say, you do not know what you are talking about, and your criticism speaks of your ignorance of your own pain, and your own magnificence.

I learned at the feet of The Masters for a time, and they gave me things I cannot speak of, not because I like hiding things, God knows, but because some things cannot be spoken, they are unlanguagable, so thick is the love of God. So profound is the understanding of one’s place in this multiverse.

And then, after the 12-12 of 94, I think it was, they left.

And I never quite adjusted. I was haunted by memories that I knew were better than what I saw playing out around me. Never really grounded, never all that interested, just sort of coasting, sort of just taking it all in, more of an observer than a participant, just letting the people around me hang themselves with all the rope I gave them, hoping just once people would choose better, different, more exalted answers than he said she said, he’s taking and all I do is give shit that came to be the norm.

It was almost as awful as the first part. I think maybe from, oh, 22 to, maybe, 1997, I was walking pretty lightly upon the earth.

Then the lights came down, and I am certain I am not alone on this.

Somehow, I think the energy got even more restrictive, more constrictive, and I felt a deep soul paralysis, like a hibernation.

I see now that a lot of this had to do with timing, and with Sam’s birth, and with the solstice and such. I like numerology, and I just loaded the deck with a shit ton of it, and that takes a lot of planning and a lot of creativity, I must say, so especially the last year and almost-a-half, I have been pretty switched on, and more and more uncomfortable with the conventions of dishonesty and being criticized for being myself, and people just being nasty at times. There was a lot of pain with waking up, but all you have to do is a deeply awake entry from about a year ago to see that for yourself.

It has been really awkward, being in this cocoon the last twelve years. Sam turns thirteen in August, and until then, I just haven’t felt it was appropriate to pursue a whole lot of outside interests. Of course we have friends and we do activities, of course, but this has been a nesting time, a learning time, a deeply sacred, concentrated, focused time. It was imperative to have done it this way, in this time. I was on a schedule, and I knew it. I had things to accomplish by certain dates.

Now, I know that might seem like predetermination to you, but it isn’t. It’s the farthest thing from it. The thing is, there are so many fucking probabilities out there, so many choices, so many scenarios, so many different realities, it was just really awesome that in this reality right here, I did the major stuff on a schedule I find so enchanting and beautiful and symmetrical and satisfying. Ahh.. It makes me sigh just thinking about it.

So here I am, after years and years of being way way 3-d, just as 3-d as a girl can get, I can assure you, oh my god, I can only shake my head and smile and most of the nonsense I see people doing anymore, because I did the same damn thing. I mean, you just wouldn’t believe some of it, and some of it is pretty raunchy and stupid. So I have been so dumb, with just no sense, and really sort of a death wish, truth be told.

I saw no point to it all, and really just got angrier and angrier as the years passed. None of it made any sense at all, and by, oh, I’d say, maybe 2007, 2008, things were beginning to get better, because things were obviously getting extraordinary. I could smell it in the air. There had been an improvement, an easing, and people were beginning to go off the rails because of it, just as I had been taught, told, reminded.

And then, the lights went on in my house. It slammed into me physically the night the Mayan Calendar ended, the one that did it in October, not the solstice one. No, I found out later, smart ass that I am, I gave myself the shits for 9 months, starting on the end of that calendar ending.

Some months later, I asked my son if he could, perhaps, explain to me any changes he saw in me, one Christmas to another?

Without hesitation, like I was dumb, he said, “Well, yeah, Mom, You pooped out your anger.”

Yeah, Sam, that’s just about right.

I still get the symptoms when I take on just a little too much, when I have gotten too dense, when I have begun to toss and turn instead of quieting the water.

I started my light transmutations, as The Teachers called them, in 1991, I think they said, could have been 1992. Not too good on time, a lot of the time, sorry.

They said the first one was something like a year long, and they said that I could expect a lot of them.

The symptoms have intensified as the years have dragged on. Periods of high emotion, tearfulness, heart welling up, or nearly (but nothing like what I can feel now). Wicked insomnia. I’m finally totally at peace with sleep, but I sleep weirdly, sort of like free form jazz, I think it’s called. Sometimes there are pitch black nights, sometimes I am sparkling, sometimes I come back with volumes of facts, sometimes it’s just a word. But my intention is set that I am just done with this veil. It is butt ugly and a real pain in the ass.

I want to know where we go, and I want to have full access to everything that I have access to in the dream state, but further, I want full and constant communication with my higher self, with my soul, with All That Is, God, if you like. I intend to live in the old ways, in the ways of compassion and stability, in gratitude and trust, in elegant surrender to my highest good, whatever that may be.

I prefer to think intuitively and metaphorically. It brings me peace. I realize that this trait some would call a form of madness. But as an old psych nurse, I can tell you that the best advice for those having to live with people like me, is to just let us be. Trust us. Trust us. See that our actions and our words are compassion incarnate, and let us be, just as weird and enchanting and sort of captivating and repelling, all at once… yeah, that’s us.

You see, there are I guess going to be quite a lot of us, but for now there may be as few as a million. I think there are a lot more than that, or those on the verge.

I am of the First Wave, as are you, if you are still with me. You have found a family member. You are no longer alone. If you have longed for death like I have, if you have wondered why, with all the futility in this world, why in hell were you still here, yep, you are not alone, and there is every reason to live now.

You see, the energy had gotten so constricting, that many of us have yet to breathe the new air. The intention was not set to awaken, it just was not a priority, and for whatever reason, the thought of spirituality, the motion of God, it is offensive. Truly offensive.

And then there are we, these switched on shaman, the ones who set intention long long ago, at birth really, to awaken this lifetime, that this was the only purpose for this incarnation, to wake up. And now many of us have, and there are many who are so close.

Could it be that the parable I know about Alzheimer’s might well apply here? There is an ER doctor here in Boulder who is a channel, and after a death, he would go deep and talk with the folks who’d passed, to get answers on a soulic level, for the things that had transpired.

This doctor’s uncle had Alzheimer’s, and I guess his death, this slow motion macabre dance of death people do these days, it was I guess really heart wrenching, and he did not like that his uncle, and him, suffered so much. So once the Uncle passed, the doctor contacted the uncle, and asked him why the hell he put himself and all his loved ones through such awful suffering.

And the uncle said, well, there are basically two ways to move. You can either move all in one day, or over a weekend, maybe, or you can do it slowly. And if you do it real slowly, it just makes sense to take with you the most important thing that you have. In my case, it was my mind. I moved out slowly.

I liked that. And I think that my awakening was so freakishly slow for a number of reasons, but maybe one of them is that I like to move in slow. I like to take my time. As I have written before, I like to go upstream. I like the exhilaration, the balance, the trust, the abandon, that comes with true fearlessness, true godhood, simple mastery.

And what is mastery than a willingness to see all as holy, all is lit up, all is divine, we are here to be of service to ourselves and to worlds we love, and loved, and will always know as ourselves.

So here’s what I think.

I think I am just as divine as you. I think we are all divine. I just did a lot of the work on the front end, mostly because I like to swim upstream, and as my loved ones can attest, my work method is one of focused, diligent, fast work, followed by long, languid periods of contemplation and peace.

I don’t like working, in other words. I’d rather sit on my ass, enjoying things. I know it’s lazy, but it’s the truth. I would give my left nut to be paid to write. Clearly I am a wise horse to bet on.

And so, after taking the old girl out for a stroll, I am here to say a couple of things.

I want to continue to channel, because it allows me access to information not quite accessible in even the deepest, most relaxed and peaceful of conscious states. I like settling deep, and I like the feeling I get. I am now doing as they told me I would one day be able to do, I am recognizing them by their energy.

At the time of the meditation/conversion/NDE, their faces shown, the circle of them, The Council, and I could see each of them as balls but their faces kept changing, nanosecond after nanosecond, and what I came to think is that they are amalgams, collectives, maybe, but entities with vastly more experience and depth than me. No disrespect, no worship, just WOW, they are awesome, and so loving. And they told me I’d come to know them by their energetic signature, and that half of this as been getting me to recognize my own energetic signature.

They explained that it was very easy for far too long, really, for me to collapse into, meld with, take on the attributes of, whatever energy was around me. They told me this is because I had been a good healer in the old ways, which required taking the energy in, transmuting it physically, and releasing it. This is why shamans did not often live long, and immediately reincarnated back into their tribe. That this is no longer the way. And this cannot be done if you do not know your own signature.

So, in the parking lot of The Ameristar in beautiful Black Hawk, Colorado, after revelation after revelation, I had my last NDE of the day and was told a few things which I have chosen to not discuss, but have alluded to, in past writing.

So, you know, after thinking about how raw and honest this is, and how far out on a limb I am, and how ridiculously happy I am to have written every single word, even the swear words, I will tell you this.

I think that it is clear that there are some folks who are a bit more conscious (aka compassionate) than others around here.

This sort of compassion and wisdom, it used to get folks nailed to shit not that long ago, or burned up, or compelled to commit suicide, or yes, all that and more we have known. Ostracism. Criticism. Persecution, even. The witches, the weird ones, the pagans, the bizarre ones, the ones just always hearing a different frequency than anyone else around them.

That’s me, that’s the First Wave, and our time is now.

I am not channeling, nor will I, as I write the second Deeply Awake book.

And here is how I think things will go.

I haven’t had a lot of traction for two reasons:
1 – There weren’t enough people to connect with it before now
2 – I wasn’t done yet with the old life. Time lines are still coming together. This is a process, for God’s sake, not a race. Slow down and enjoy this part, yes?

And as a result, the real reason I have had not a ton of traction is that I have not wanted it.

I know I am going to fill auditoriums, preferably classy ones that I get to go by cab to. And there will be plenty of traveling, and this is no small construction. Think Oprah big, but without all the greed. Think Mother Teresa with a sassy mouth, who smokes and gets high and loves alternative music. Think someone who can speak intelligently about current medical and surgical realities, having been a nurse for 28 years, still practicing, never a blemish on my license. Think nerd who has self studied through World War II, Shakespeare, and a crap ton of science stuff. Physics. Quantum. But that’s elementary, in too many ways to list. I finally got the fifth and sixth laws of physics, and click, click, click, many things came into focus. Ahhh, the angels all sighed when that one finally got delivered. Long time coming, lots of preparation and training before I got that pearl. Think somebody who can get just as dirty as you could ever want, or fear. Think a wicked sense of humor, stand-up funny. Think quirky, but in a totally edgy and interesting but HARLESS way.

Harmless.

Totally harmless.

And so, I see all these things now, and the only thing I hope is that all these time lines I have known, and all the past lives, all the experiences, all the drama and heart wrenching beauty of it all, I just hope everything can finally come together, get honored as it should, praised as it should, and then I can live as a more comprehensive being, not laughed at and not put down for my eccentricities.

I envision a time when this sort of knowledge is indeed sought out, and I think that time is now. I start back at the beginning, and I will tell you a story to close.

As I was waking up in the early part of 2012, languishing in a hot apartment, cooking, in my underwear, unconvinced I was free, I stumbled upon a movie at the Goodwill bins. The movie which lit this candle is Into The Wild.

I understood Alexander Supertramp to be me, but too blown open, too harmed by the absolute barbarism all around him, the same sort of deceit and stain of shame which just makes everything so fucking tilty. I saw me in him, and when that last scene is played, I play it again and again and again.

He says, as he is running into the arms of these childish, emotionally incontinent, harmful, thoughtless, shallow individuals, his parents, the ones who only knew their worth through the love of another, he is running into their arms, and smiling, as the voice over says, “If I were running into your arms, would you see then, what I see now,” or words stated better by the amazing Sean Penn, a prophet, in my opinion, what I understood was this: My longing is to know the love of God, and I have been around those who only want to know the love of The Other. They do selfish and scared things. They just don’t know any better. And they don’t think anything but bad thoughts about the only thing that matters to me, all of the time, anymore. And it just doesn’t matter anymore. I know I have felt the love of God. I know I have started something. And I am happy. And that’s going to have to be enough for the wolves howling at my door. Let them howl. Let them howl. Let them howl.

And that is how I lived 2012, and all this year. Wide open. Mouth now finally engaged. All chakras dutifully and beautifully rearranged, in a much more appealing pattern.

See, you can believe all of it, or none of it, and I just really could care less. Yes, it feels a whole lot better when I hear from someone who says, wow, that was beautiful, or wow, you and I are in a weird synchronicity here, yes, I say to you right now, I am so much of an attention hog, so hungry for some feedback, so absolutely ready for a readership, and audience, readers, just like you, but all over the world, available to anyone, in any dusty hut, in any moist house, in any mountain cabin, anywhere. So I think it makes sense to bind these, don’t you? I find great peace in reviewing these, but find after that initial read, that I can’ go back to them very often. When I do it is because one of them is calling me. I am still looking for one of them. I really want to read it, mostly because it keeps nagging at me.

But this movie, it turned me on, and it made me see that this quest is indeed a valid one, and had Alexander lit up just a little later, he would have lived, but his was a life of parable, wasn’t it? It was a poetic metaphor, a poem of the most fragile and poignant desire. And what Sean Penn did with the story, my God, words can never express my gratitude to you, my Brother.

And it was with his movie that I decided to pursue ascension full on, no holds barred, to go for it every day just as hard as I could. Now it was really the only thing that mattered, like never, ever before. Sam has held this space for me, an Elder in many ways, and a little boy in many more. A conundrum, a blessing, an ancient.

And this movie, it got me thinking about a story, which then I obsessed about for a while, and which got me writing, finally, finally, finally. It was to be the story of how it could be possible for a woman in a coma to be visited by an impish sort who leads her on a journey, and when she regains consciousness, she is not who she was, and there are miracles afoot.

I called it reintegration or some such, and the idea behind it was that she would go to the future and create, somehow, with the help of this stand up comic of a higher self, she’d then heal the past, and there would be a reconsoldiation. Yes, that was the name of it, reconsolidation.

Prior to this, about 2012, I had an idea about someone being visited by her long-dead girlfriend, who, it turns out, had her death faked, for really sort of retarded reasons. That was going to be “a meditation on the meaning of memory in relationship, and what is true between people, and what is myth.”

Yeah, a lot of big ideas.

And there I sat in this chrysalis, this pressure cooker, this steam bath, over the last year and however long, getting grief for my financial fuckery, and getting nowhere professionally, and having absolutely, truly, honestly, no desire at all to ever stand by a bedside again. I can take it or leave it, at this point. At least I no longer resent or dislike going to work, which is a fucking miracle in and of itself. And people are so freaking nice it just blows my mind. So it’s fun to spin real fast in a slow place, nice to lend light into dark places, in other words, but my excursion into 3d land are coming to an end, I can feel it, where the strife and the junk just won’t stick. I mean, I guess I am having wishful thinking, that everyone is going to go around thinking like me.

Funny this is where the exposition meanders, after bemoaning that everybody was asleep to my beauty and worth, most of all myself.

That I just want to be seen, I want to rest, and I want people to start seeing sense, this sense, this beauty, for what it is.

I know I should market.

But I will tell you, after getting all that from Into The Wild, I came to understand a few things. That I would write, I would have to, and this was the beginning of all good things. That there would be success, and this is the lifetime where it does indeed all come together, in that, whatever skill or talent, experience or reality I wish to know, I drop down, into the web I know as physicality. All is in synchronicity now, and I recognize my signature, you see.

It does not trouble me if you cannot see validity or worth in this information. Most haven’t and it took me all this time to come clean, as a result of all this stupid resistance and judgmental stuff that people put on me, and have probably always put on you.

I really do hope you weren’t as displaced and messed up as I was, but my guess is that most of us in the First Wave took on a whole smorgasbord of lesson, for experience, maybe, but mostly, I am quite sure, to do as much good, to solve as much pain, to cure as much ill karma can produce, as humanly possible.

It took its toll on many of us.

Many of my age are no longer alive. We died young, a lot of us, and all of us in the First Wave are no strangers to death, and instead have always found it an oddly comforting companion.

We were built to die, you see, either if we couldn’t get the balloon off the ground this time (which really was not much of a probability, truth be told, so much of this was for effect…) of through ascension.

Supertramp gave up everything. Everything everything everything.

I want to tell you the truth of this path. The truth is that the path is so narrow, and so resultantly wide, because it requires the release of every single attachment you have, with absolutely everything. At one point or another. And you do all of it with your eyes open, in between troubled sleep. You die to societal norms, to religious dogma, to the myths surrounding Christ Consciousness, you die to many of your friends, who you see now you always saw as zombies instead of the angles they are, and the lights are on, things are in a rainbow haze of clarity, and it is done.

But it cannot be accomplished without release of attachment.

What do you most love? What do you cherish? What would you run into a fire, but maybe not a big blazing one, but a survivable one, what would you go back to get?

How do you want to be seen, and what kind of emotional death do you suffer at just what obnoxious behavior? What really gets your goat, fills your with bile, turns your heart black with hate?

There they are, and each are totally despicable and incredibly valid to be totally offended by. Absolutely. Natural disasters and spree killings, oh my god, the list just goes on and on anymore, does it not?

And all of it, every last bit of anxiety, panic, fear, anger, self righteousness, thoughts, opinions, all of it must go.

Yes, even your precious opinions, most of all in your fragility, your mortality, your brokenness, your worthlessness, your unacceptability.

These things must be released to ascend. There must be nothing left, as if the wind could blow through you. You see good common sense in why people have truck with you from time to time, so you cop to things and offer thanks, and you move on.

You see, this is what The Teachers’ teachings focused on, what Alexander Supertramp did, but did it with the old motif, that of self sacrifice, or premature death, of futility, of prophet crying out in the wilderness.

I think they spoke the truth when the told me that this is the goal, this is what Ascension feels like, how it translates emotionally, at least. Feeling profound and deep love for whomever you are in contact with, and having nothing tugging at that love.

They told me that these energetic eddies, this tugs, they distort things and make things difficult. They were having to speak simplistically at the time, but the idea, I think, has to do with having burned through the illusion of the construct you find yourself in, and then, beginning to see things for what they are, confronting any disturbance or need you sense in your field, or become aware of, directly, compassionately, unwilling to conjure anything but a win-win situation which lets everyone feel released and hopeful, somehow.

This is done after you have had some initiations, which are nothing but evidence of your personal time table, like I set up for myself, switching on this or that “layer” of DNA in the appropriate ratios, speeds, etc. These light transmutations, these DNA activations, they burn off the shame and fear of the old ways.

I could go on and on, you know that. But this completes the thoughts I had on Into the Wild and that whole thought process.

The Teachers explained that what this all boils down to is activating to the point where being plugged into the “Lower Agreement Field” becomes something you just don’t do anymore. In the meantime, they explained way back in the early ’90’s, that our job, the call went out and so many of us came in, but there are so many more who wish they could be here… they told me that our job is to get so clear, so clear, that we connect with the Higher Agreement Field, the Crystalline Grid, the one that has been waiting for us, and our job is to hook into that purity.

They talked a lot about Ascension, and explained a lot about DNA and they had a good explanation for why things disappear a lot sometimes.

Consider the energetic pattern we are now in, after 3 eclipses, 2 full moons, tons of solar activity, Holy God the soup we are swimming in! The waters are thick with love!

And it takes orange energy to manifest physically. Anything you see around you is a manifestation of engage energy, that area of the chakra system, if you like.

The more crap you own, the more you must commit, very focused intent, on keeping manifesting the stuff. If you have twenty plates, that;’s more orange energy than four plates.

So they told me to lighten up, just like our Supertramp, just as I am finally doing now. I have gone through every bit of my kitchen,and nothing remains that I do not use, and can’t wait to use or eat. That is now the standard in my home. I know it will take time to reflect this standard, because I have a lot of scraping of the foundation to do, that is clear.

But I will get there now, and I can speak with authority, without one shred of evidence. I laugh at your requirement of proof. That is a silly thing. You have not been paying attention. I don’t think.

So that is my story,. It is one of unity, of reconsolidation. It speaks of my weirdness in a loving and proud (good proud) way. It is good to finally come clean about these things.

The Teachers always implied that my goal, The Goal, was to burn up physicality. That that is ascension. And I think this comfort with death is not unintentional. Ascension is a narrow one, right into self destruction, obliteration, crucifixion, personality death, the Gita in living color. Read my past writing. Read RIP. It will either blow your mind or send you screaming from your computer screen.

This is my story of unity, of coming home. And it is time to be real clear about some of this stuff, and to finally settle into my authority.

I am not going to tell you if I am channeling or not. It really is a silly thing. You can feel it, can’t you? Sometimes it’s really there, in spades, and then, it isn’t. Such is the creative process. And I am not going to ever tell you at what percent what layers of my DNA are going at. I think that speaks to spiritual dick measuring, and I won’t do it. I may refer to myself as a master, in the right circumstance, but let us never forget that I am one of the lucky ones who slobbers when she sleeps, whose farts do not, unfortunately, smell like lilac, as I always contend, as I walk quickly from the fart area.

This is known as crop dusting, if the farts keep coming.

I’m just sayin’.

It’s really not all that serious. Yeah, it’s sort of maudlin with the death motif, and there have been lots of extremity, as evidenced by brother Supertramp’s tale.

But the worst is over, the Earth bends to us now, and things are coming together. You can feel it, can’t you?

I am in love with this while thing now. I am ok with it. It doesn’t hurt anymore.

I know that I am going to have more things finish up, come together, but I know the only pain I will encounter is that of the lies I choose to believe, the fear I choose to take on as real, and how long I choose to believe such nonsense.

I have made my intention known, that I intend to do the rest of this conscious, just as conscious as functional sanity will allow. I am no longer wanting to alienate, just unite. I no longer want to point out the differences, and this is why this is a long one, and the first one.

You, I wanted you to know where this voice came from. I was told in one of those automatic writing sessions I started to do once I started waking up, that I had chosen to “be in a pod”. They said there were two choices we ancients, the First Wavers, decided to do.

We decided either to be in pods, or to venture full on into 3D. The ones who chose pods had odd, sort of schizoid lives, and have long been written off by those who have known them. And the pod ones will sort of surprise everybody, and will take some getting used to, since before bursting from their pods, these humans were pretty gripless, and mostly just assholes, but nice ones, just real flaky and hard to figure, and secretive, and tortured, and blah blah blah. The problem. Not every group had one of us. Lucky devils.

Well, this is when all of that nonsense pays off, I am here to tell you.

The time lines come together, all is well, there is only one reality and that is this now, and now, and yes, now.

This is all, and it is enough, and it is everything, and it is nothing to most everybody I associate with at present.

It is my sweetest, most cherished prayer that this will change in my lifetime.

I will do what I can, in harmony and balance and in great respect, to assist anyone who wants it, and mostly, I just keep my mouth shut, even now, because the truth is so disturbing, and I don’t want to disturb anyone. I am waiting to hear the starting pistol. I am waiting at the gate, and we all are, sort of standing around. Of course, I am smoking, one last time, but tonight I think it’ll be a clove cigarette.

We know that this is no relay race. This is a cooperative effort now, and there is no more need for the affectation of being powerless when in the presence of God. You begin to see that not only do the old personalities, the fragments, the channeled entities, all of it, it all fits together magnificently, and so calmly and expectedly and beautifully. It is finished, and the jigsaw is now no longer a puzzle but a verdant garden in which I choose now to stroll for a time, after I edit this thing. I have come home to myself, and hold no fear for this day. All is well, and I have earned my place here. I am happy to be here now, and I am no longer afraid to tell you my thoughts about it.

No one seems to mind, and some folks are happy I do it, and so I will continue, until something else wants to express, be deeply awake, my friend.

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