Deeply Awake — Deus Ex Machina 7-3-13 By Kathy Vik
I preface this work by telling you the punchline.
Nowhere in this work do I use the words “deus ex machina” but in this paragraph. The literate among you will not have to go to the dictionary, but if you are not familiar with this phrase, I urge you to look it up.
I did not use it because, we, you the reader and I the writer, we are this. Had the blogosphere not exploded, had we all not woken up, there would be no deeply awake. Had this not gone the way it did, there would be a different deus ex machina that we would be discussing. But we made good, really pretty godly decisions, and here we are. Thank you for showing up. You are my deus ex machina, I am in love with you, I have a purpose, it is all tied up in this awakening, and with my head and heart brimming with a true and unalterable love for you, I can now begin.
I have a bit of lady wood for Aristotle. Have you ever read anything he wrote? His thinking is complex, lyrical, and it makes SO MUCH SENSE. Have you ever encountered a writer who just seems to own you, know you, satisfy you intellectually, satisfying this need for some sort of unwritten, unspoken, surprisingly overwhelming need for intellectual… symmetry. That is the only way I can describe that state. It is a state I reach when in study. When there is a great thinker directing his intellect right at me and telling why, in no uncertain terms, this is a true and accurate and satisfying postulate, and I try it on, and oh my god it fits so good.
Well, for me, as a very young student, that was Aristotle. He satisfied a hunger in me I did not know I had, and, once satisfied, I knew, I just knew, I was different.
Now, this can neatly be explained by the intellectual within me finding a voice for thoughts which were more sturdy than those I had previously come to know. Sure. That is a very serviceable explanation! Good!
But I knew then, at 20, as I know now, at 52, that I love Aristotle, and I know him and love him like I know him because, duh, I was him, or had been his student, or his teacher. But I knew him, of him. No duh.
That is the explanation. That is always the explanation.
And, until about a week ago, it really was the only explanation I’d ever need. It fit. It gave me a nice, broad, mystical anchor in my big, more magical life. Permission slip for being awesome, for having a more benevolent perspective of this whole silly thing.
But anyone who has read my blogs knows that with the awesome, with the sparkliness, with the altered states and meditations and understandings has come a sort of loneliness which has clung to it all, less painfully, to be sure, but just as tenaciously as before. Less angry, but still just as needy. What is loneliness if not needy?
This loneliness has intensified in some respects, as my bubble, my protective bubble, has thinned and frayed and come apart. Standing naked in front of You is something I do now all the time. I am that I am, and it is no longer possible for me to lie, pose, pretend. When I try to, I am in pain, I know when I have done a wrong and I can’t be in that place long, so I do things which I am proud of, or can justify, or make agreements with the other to do. Does that make sense? Probably not.
So, stuff that might really take up a lot of somebody else’s time, I just don’t hassle with. I woke up this morning and was told very plainly quite a few things. I was told that no one has ever made a rule as to how I should or will conduct myself upon rising. It’s free form, no one is in charge of this shit but me. So, start doing it better. Be aware, first thing, that you are becoming aware again. You see? First thing. Remind yourself, orient yourself, ease into it. Then, without delay, remember who and what you are, and that you are remembering different states, altering focus. Then begin the day.
Sort of like settling into a fancy costume.
Then they told me, hey, take a look around. You know there are no rules on what to think, how to conduct yourself upon awakening, what to eat, how often to poop, these things you are on your own with. But, hey girl, take a look around. What else do you not have rules around? Look at your reality.
And I did, and really, it’s a pretty sweet thing. I have an awesome boss who knows it is best to just leave me to do what I do best and not get up on me about much, and when she has to, she’s just so awesomely rational and nice and cool. I really could be working 5 days a week, but I only do 3, and I work so that I get to blur my sleep/wake experiences, which is fun.
I have a family and besties who are largely disinterested, or disengaged from me and my son, and when they think I can be of assistance, they call me, and I deal with their insults and meanness, and then we part until the next time they encounter a crisis. That’s pretty much how that works. They will not ever probably be all that super nice, but they have their moments, and I love them a lot, so I am ok with this agreement. In fact, I prefer it to spending all that much time with them, to be honest.
So it is abundantly clear I need a different group of friends and support. That is becoming ever more clear, which I am grateful for.
Last night, I cried myself to sleep, because I had been watching 30 Rock, and I was thinking bad thoughts about Us and Them.
I have been doing a lot of work with Kryon, and it has led me to great green pastures of peace, but there is a big puzzle that has been brewing the last few days, and I want to talk about it. It’s all connected, don’t worry.
It has to do with separation, elitism, obvious differences, peace, and harmony, I think.
Here it is. I have been writing and dealing with these concepts of Self and Other, love for and of self, love for and of other.
Yesterday, in our travels, we went to the movie store, and there was Harold and Maude. I have not seen that movie, couldn’t tolerating seeing it, for well over 25 years. Just couldn’t bring myself to see it. Too rich, too heart-breaking, I told myself.
The last time I’d seen it, I had been living in Evans, a suburb of Greeley, trying to make it in an ICU, trying things in a new city, freshly estranged from my parents. I enforced that estrangement for seven years. Just in all honesty could not have contact with my dad. Told them both. Mom boycotted me. So there I was, in Evans, a night off, a hot summer evening. I was happy, there in my little house, and there was a knock on the door. My sister’s friend was there, at my doorstep.
I had not seen her in probably a year, and she and I had never once socialized alone.
Of course, I invited her in. I was delighted to have a friend! We ate something and I asked her if she had ever seen Harold and Maude, and if she had any interest, because I had a hankering to see it all of a sudden.
She did not talk about herself that night, sort of refused to. I thought it odd, but I let it be. She was on her way home from having visited her folks. She was at loose ends, that was clear, but she was a brick wall. I figured it might loosen her up, watching Harold and Maude, though I didn’t tell her that.
She agreed, and I was so happy. We made popcorn and had a grand old time. There was probably some beer drinking involved.
Then she went on her way, and I did not see her for many years. When I finally did connect with her again, at my sister’s house, on one of her visits from her exotic and cool life in New York, or somewhere, she took me aside. She wanted to thank me for that night, long ago, when we watched Harold and Maude together. She said something then that I will never forget. She told me that I saved her life that night. And then she went back to the party, and I’ve seen her maybe once or twice since that conversation. Keep in mind we have known each other 30 years.
Before making my son watch Harold and Maude last night, I told him that story. I mean, as the opening titles were playing, I told him that.
By “making my son watch,” I mean that we agree, always, with my weird movies, that he will give them 15 minutes. And if he is not hooked, he is free to leave. As always, with Harold and Maude, he was engaged and laughing by the end of the first scene… he was hooked.
But I told him that story, before he saw the story, and I told him the truth about it: that is a great mystery to me to this day. I really have absolutely no idea what that was about.
He told me, well, I think she was thinking about killing herself, and you helped her make the decision not to. I told him, that doesn’t make any sense at all, because if someone was going to do it, they’d go to a friend, not an acquaintance, not a stranger,and especially someone who everyone in their circle thinks as weird and dumb.
He said, no, that’s how I’d do it.
Then the movie began.
I will be writing, very soon, “Metaphysical Movie Night”, sort of a list and breakdown of movies which are huge in their messages, really not to be missed movies. Some are fringey, some are way way violent, but all are just exploding with divine wisdom. None more than Harold and Maude.
It was made 41 years before the shift, before the start of now, before the time of peace, in the age of darkness. It shone like a beacon, a beacon to all of us, to remember the simpler, the truer truths. To understand the language and the cadence of love, how it is embodied in the now, how it can be embodied by a little old lady.
Do you understand that Maude was a master? This movie is about a master, one of us, how this might wind up looking, if there are a thousand, two thousand, thirty thousand, three hundred thousand, three hundred million Maudes walking this planet.
We enjoyed that movie like a starving man loves a buffet. It satisfied both of us. It was a good thing to have watched. We took a break, and then, we decided it would be fun to watch some 30 Rock.
And here is the gift that I knew would come, shedding those tears last night, doubled over in a deep velvety pain which was a grief for feeling apart and feeling so so so judged. Oh my god the pain of being minimized shut down, put down, dialed back, minimized, made irrelevant, it happens in oh so many ways, all day long, 24/7/365 with my family, my besties, and, sometimes it feels, form everyone I encounter, with very rare and cherished little breaks. And if you are reading along, you probably set it up that way too, a lot of us did, according to Dolores Cannon’s work on the First Wave. We set it up to be hard.
As Kryon says, iron sharpens iron. You do not get to be the warriors we are without having fought energetic battles since infancy. Are you kidding me? We have been the odd men out since the get-go, chomping at the bit to become realized, to openly be ourselves and to not be shut down.
Some of us, they could more easily rewrite these engrams, but me, here I am, 52, crying at the edge of my bed, feeling intense pain because people haven’t liked me. Nd I cannot feel love all that easily.
I am so very certain you could diagnose me with some bullshit personality disease for that last statement, feel justified in hitting me with meds, or some “therapy,” to get me over this hump, but the truth of it, FOR ME, is that I am an earth mother, older than dirt, and I am using this physical instrument to physically, electromagnetically, transmute group experiences, collective consciousnesses.
I do believe that is, has been the bulk of my work. It makes no sense for me, as me, to feel this stuff as deeply as I do. It just makes no sense. I am a smart, smart girl, and I do know how to approach situations highly wisely. I am an expert RN, I am fully competent and capable adult in the outside world.
What would make this competent technically advanced, highly paid professional sit at the edge of her bed at 10:30 at night, crying because my feelings have been hurt, seeing in raging technicolor all the separations, all the disconnections, all the willful distances and fences and prickliness, and these are images that I see in geometric balls and lights and stuff, as I am feeling the feelings? Grids lighting up, globes surrounded and innervated with light?
You tell me, just go ahead and run it through your thinking. What is your answer?
Well, my answer is that I am a universal grandmother, I am one of the ancients you saw streaking through the sky with that meteor shower that fucked up a few concerts and freaked some people out this spring. That was us, telling You that we are here, and we are awake, and everything is gonna be just fine.
And I think that this journal, and this well equipped personality, loaded with a terrifically analytical and quite scientific bent, combined with the ability to put a sentence together with ease and relative grace, and my ability to profoundly feel, mixed in with a fearlessness which I have always held as my best quality, you have there someone who is able and willing to transmute a lot of muck.
And I know I am not the only one. I know you are all doing many amazing and awesome things. And maybe it involves translating the dolphins and whales. Maybe it’s doing that categorization of flora/fauna/crystals/color/scents/tones for healing (I am banking on living to 900 so I can do that one). Maybe it’s doing QHHT, or God knows what else. The sky really is the limit here.
We are, each of us, branching out and finding out new ways to connect with Source, in our bodies and environments, in real time. It is fun and exciting.
And there was, I think, in the crying, soothed from knowledge that was nice know is real and that I have earned.
The knowledge told me about how one of my functions was to feel for the collective, but more, to transmute for the collective, consciously. Quickly, with no harm to self, obviously. It is my function, so it cannot harm me,. That is just the most obvious energetic fact, but when I am knee deep in the pain, it is a fact that always seems to escape me, until the pain crests. And as it crested yesterday, I was told that this, like all the other storms, will pass, and I will have my answer by morning, so sleep, dear, sleep, and know that sometimes the answer must follow the question, so just sleep in love and breathe.
So today I know a few things.
I understand that there is no us and them.
And by this I mean to tell you that I took on many of the difficulties that many would feel shame about. I have done things that landed me in very shameful situations. One day I’ll tell you about it. The world remains a bit too judgmental. There is not enough laughter in the room to reveal some of it, because, really, most of it was just one knee-slapper after another, but you just have to be in a good place, surround by others also in a good space, to verbalize some of it. (And if that space can be a achieved and then the verbalizations done, well, that clears things at a whole other, grander level.) But for now, this is what we have, so I go small and don’t reveal some of the details, sufficing it to say that I have done a lot of dumb things.
As such, many do not feel I have much authority. You know, people see things quite plainly, quite flatly, many times, and don’t let folks jump off the page.
That’s Maude. She jumps off the page.
When Maude got up and danced to the song she’d been singing at the piano, when she got up and danced all by herself, that first evening with Harold, Sam reached over, touched me, smiled and said, “That’s YOU!”
And, in all honesty, watching that movie, I would have to say that anymore, I am about 75% Maude, 25% Harold, on an average day. Maybe a bit more Maudy than Haroldy, and I can go full on Maude, I really can, and I like that a lot.
But here is the song of songs. I was a full-on Harold.
If you have read my work you know that this wish, this need, to die, it came with me, a pre-packaged bonus feature, and it was a real pain in the ass. It was a misinterpretation, but also a soul cry.
I misinterpreted my longing for home as my longing for death, which was simply my longing to know God, to know myself. But there is an overlay at work here, an overlay of finding it very difficult to cope with being surrounded by other Harolds.
I got tired of being a light bearer, a Maude in a Harold suit. I put down my torch for very many years.
And what really made the tears come last night was from having watched 30 Rock. Everyone sniping at everyone else, everyone thinking bad thoughts about everyone else, minimizing each other, saying mean things to each other. Yes, it is all in the name of comedy, and it is funny as hell, but it also struck me as very very sad last night.
I think, too, it brought back those final days in the desert, before the lights went on. Everything got better for me late October, 2011, but I will tell you, I was almost dead before that, or at least I felt that way. Weighed down, quite literally, and I can see now that what was happening is I was readying for this, laying low, just waiting, just waiting, just waiting. I mainlined TV, every episode, and 30 Rock was the last series I enjoyed before everything changed for me.
Then the lights came on, and this has been a process of moving through old thought patterns, belief structures, and collective consciousnesses, to get to a place where I can see things just a little more whole, and maybe can achieve balance within the natural dissonance that bumping into everyone else is bound to generate.
I used to cushion myself against other people, because I just couldn’t get over their spectacular inability for empathy. I mean, it just takes a little observation to see that everyone is all wrapped up in themselves, and seem to think that reaching out to anyone else is a sign of what? Weakness? Naivete? Extravagance? I really wish I knew. I wish I understood that mentality better.
You do notice, don’t you, that for the last twenty years or so, come summer, everyone drives around in their cars like they are sealed isolation pods? No one looks at anybody when they are driving, and everyone is quite competitive and out to get theirs. You do see that, don’t you?
It’s metaphor for how folks have taken to living their lives, thinking themselves in their own little insufficient, uncomfortable bubble.
Many don’t notice! Few are bothered by the pettiness. Few even notice when they are doing it. It is a a sad state of affairs, when not thinking about the other, not being kind, not seeing the other as the giant they are, when this is second nature. When it is second nature to devalue, find fault with, judge, participate in “surveys,” it goes on and on.
And there on the edge of my bed, to be really honest with you, what I grieved, at the end of the crying, when I started getting snot ribbons, was that I don’t feel love.
It is as simple as that.
I don’t feel love from people.
Never really have.
And that saddens me.
What is it in me that makes it hard for me to appreciate what love there is in your heart for me? Why is it that I do not feel anyone values me, and why am I convinced that I will ever go unseen? I really feel that way, every day, a little bit, or a lot. That I am unseen, unseen, unseen.
I think there is a way to take the law of reflectivity and make yourself mentally ill, and I think there are many lightworkers, myself included, who suffer from it, to whatever degree. The false construct which says:
I am feeling x because you are doing y.
If you did x rather than y, we would both feel better.
You refuse to do x.
You indicate you think less of me because I prefer x.
Until you let me like my x, I will always feel y.
That was the equation I found myself ensnared in.
And then came Harold and Maude.
And yes it led to dissonance and tears, but then it led to this, and that was the point. That was the whole point.
Can I see, not everyone, maybe, not at first, but can I see more people lovingly now? Can I get over the fatigue now? It has been a long journey, and it has been hard to be so unrecognized and so put down for who I am.
I am talking energetics here, I am talking energetics. Some do this with their lives. They live as minorities in places that are mean to minorities. Some do it by being the only smart one in a class of dolts. Some do it by being on fire for something, maybe something no one else understands.
I am speaking for myself, and I am not telling anyone that they need to be me. I see value in my life, and I find it fascinating, so I write about it. But no, I do not live a life where I am physically threatened for my beliefs. I do not have those extremes in my life. I feel great honor and love toward those who are living these themes out in their daily lives, because they are difficult themes.
Are we all not doing this?
Are we all not Maudes?
Are we all not masters in varying levels of mastery?
Well, the answer to that last one is an interesting one.
Here it is.
There is no one walking the planet today who is not physically equipped to ascend, to become a conscious master of time, space, matter, to become a living, breathing, bleeding conscious master of divine love, a cosmic grandmother or grandfather. It is as true as the nose on everyone’s face. That is the truth of it.
But there is more.
Not everybody wants to go there.
Not everyone wants this at this time.
Not everyone wants to know how every last thing works. Not everyone wants to be bothered with crying jags at their bedside, insane sweating attacks, NDE’s, light transmutations, fucked up sleep, the bottom falling out.
Not everyone wanted to do it early, I mean.
But I did, and you did, and we did it, and here we are, seven months into now time, the new time, the time of peace, and many are unconvinced that there is a god.
Here, it can get very tricky, and I ask for your forbearance.
It has been ever so easy to get into a pissing contest with the uninitiated. I don’t want to do that anymore.
I can tell in just a couple sentences (really no words need be spoken) and I can have a person’s willingness, their level of understanding, sussed. I can see their issues, see how they are going to play certain situations, and most of the time I just walk around with a knowing look on my face, a smile, one of love and invitation. I don’t really expect a ton of insight from someone who is convinced of certain things. It would be unkind to crack some folks open, you see.
But I can love them.
I can see them as harmless.
Even the one who are convinced they are able to harm me.
And now, thanks to Maude and to crying and praying and sleeping, I think I really can hold them harmless.
The constant picking and pecking and pettiness, the fear, the comparisons, the judgmental attitudes, the quest for stuff, the love of rules and order and consistency. Ahh, I know the place well, every nook and cranny.
I don’t live there anymore, but I can smell it a mile off. I know the place well. I grew up there. I could give tours.
I am a self contained island of love, and I smell of jasmine and nag Champa. When not otherwise engaged, I am inside myself, and I am exploring, and very, very happy, very at peace, so this is a good thing. And if you don’t like that, well, I sure get that, I really do, but I think that now would be a good time, friend, for me to offer you half of my sandwich, and to comment on that pretty cloud.
Now would be the very best time to tell you a story. One will come to mind, and I will tell it, and it will be just what you need to hear. It always is, when I get out of my own way, stop fearing you, and start loving you. If there is no story that comes to mind, then you will say something, and off we will go, and it will be second nature for me to smile as you speak, and to enjoy what you say, and to comment in encouraging and loving ways.
I guess that I have decided overnight that I no longer wish to cloak myself quite so much.
I think I know now why it is that I have gone so unseen, and why I have had such pain from this.
How can I be seen if I do not reveal myself? And what greater grief is there than to make one’s own self null and void before any interaction is even underway?
I have psyched myself out of being myself over and over again, because up until the lights went on, when I did reveal myself, shitty things happened. I lost two lovers and gave up writing and meditations just to get a little human loving. That’s bullshit, but that’s how it was for me. I couldn’t shine very brightly. I chose to hang out in not-so-sparkly places, with not-so-sparkly people. I have had very sparkly friends, but now, they are all either dead or estranged from me, the old sparkly ones from the older times.
I am through with living that way, and now I know, now I will forever know, that there is a particular pain, a peculiar, tearing apart sensation I feel when I am in interaction and there is a profound energetic mismatch.
That is the time.
That is the time to get Maude on their ass.
That is the time to breathe deeply, and to smile, and to just do the next joyful thing, and to just fuck it. I am committing to love, and that means that I love you. And you really can be a jerk, many, many people still are, come on, let’s be honest about this!, and still, I am going to love you and I am going to not be tame about it.
You do understand that I will not be speaking the metaphysical stuff, though, right? I mean, there are certain things I will say, and that is the fun part, really, when you get right down to it.
What to say? What to share in this now? How can I soothe, educate, enlighten, brighten, calm, love, give peace, show compassion? How can I apply balm, and what balm is best for this soul?
I think that there is a fatigue that comes with this path, a fatigue that the uninitiated might misinterpret as uppity. But they have not earned this fatigue, so it is not theirs to judge, really. And now, there is little of that left in my heart, not really. The fatigue comes from you still not wanting to get it. Not wanting to hear, turning away again and again.
So I am simply going to change my approach!
I am going to make it so you do not want to turn away!
How is that for playing this rousing game?
Turnabout, they say, and I agree, is fair play.
It should be said, I never really ever go off on esoteric riffs unless I am here, writing. I am not getting turned away because I am spouting metaphysics. I get turned away by people who are just disinterested in anyone, anything that is not of the physical, or those who will only engage me if I will meet them in their anger, or their indignation, or their fear.
I have a friend who is very metaphysical, but is convinced that negativity can harm her, and this is a fitting and apt metaphor, but a distressing one to watch. And when I introduce that the persons in her life giving her a bunch of hell at the moment may very well be powerfully benevolent souls she is in soulic agreement with to help her, that they may in fact be there to give her a gift, oh my god she gets so pissed. She won’t talk to me about it, tells me to be quiet and change the subject.
These simple interactions caused me great sadness, profound changes, and it was helpful.
But now I look at it, nicely shiny, all transmuted, and I see that it is fine for me to have said that, equally fine for her to have rejected it, and I will no doubt be saying a bunch more stuff like that, so I had better get used to a little bit of turbulence in the cabin.
Although I find proselytizing so ugly that it actually makes me a little nauseated, I think it it’s high time to tease out proselyting from just being me.
I hear from all the greats that it is inappropriate to talk about esoterica, metaphysics, and I am down with not getting technical, because I know there is knowledge that acts as poison if taken too early in the growth process. I am not stupid, and I respect people’s path. But I am dead set against being muzzled as a way of life.
I am totally ok with sticking out like a sore thumb.
Here is the truth of it: I always have anyway. So have you. So have you. So have you.
And I have layed low, I have held my tongue, I have been silent, for many many many years. I have let people run their games and be destructively selfish and short-sighted. I have not interfered with the nonsense because I have seen people are just far too compelled to do what they are intent on doing. Why stop them? Who am I to judge they are doing anything incorrectly?!
So I have let a lot of things slide, and done so in silence.
And at the time, that was cool, because there was no energetic support, and my DNA hadn’t switched on quite as much as it has now, and I did not hear and feel my support team like I do now. It wasn’t time, because I did not have my ducks in a row. I was easily buffeted, easily tricked, so unaware of what and who I am.
But things have changed, and I can no longer be tricked. I see things as they are, and I live in synchronicity and bliss and love. I am divinely guided and I am an instrument of peace. And as such, I am an authority on my self, and only myself.
But as such, I am well within my rights to speak my peace. It feels good to say what I think , and I am finding that there is nothing to be afraid of any longer. I listen to my guidance, and it tells me when to keep still, when to talk, and what to say. I trust my inner voice. And I am done editing it, shutting it down, telling it is not relevant, when it usually is the thing which helps me to see all is relevant, helps me to connect the significances and see patterns.
I really do enjoy being around permissive people, people who have given themselves permission to be free within their own heads. I like folks who are not shackled with fear thoughts, who see possibilities.
And lately, the thought has come to me that I really would like it if every day, with every person I meet, I want to fall in love. Even with the shackled ones. They, most of all, really could use a visit.
I have had shades of this my whole life, and have misinterpreted it in grave ways. And I have been oh so ridiculed, and have actually been armchair diagnosed because of my willingness to love.
But what would it be like if I was feeling like I was in love with you, and you were my bagger at the grocery store, he patients I take care of, my bosses, my condescending family and besties?
“Oh, you don’t want to live like that. If you fall in love with everyone you meet, you will constantly be hurt!”
But how can that be?
Isn’t the “being hurt” in the love relationship world, isn’t that short-hand for “You loved and you lost and without love you are nothing.”
It is the absence of love that we have interpreted as “getting hurt” in love, right?
Well, what if I can go from having a torridly loving relationship with my dispensary lady to one with the bum outside the dispensary to my son waiting in the car outside the dispensary to the tour guide at Buffalo Bill’s grave to the waitress who will bring us our burgers?
What about that?
Can you tell me then, where would I be feeling all this pain?
Is there no absence of love anywhere in THAT equation.
So, going back to 30 Rock and mean, petty, bulllshit behavior, and how it used to drive me crazy sad, how do I fall in love with THAT?
When I am in love with someone, and they do something stupid, don’t we wind up laughing about it? With it? Around it? When things get real petty and small and stupidly cantankerous, isn’t that usually how those storm clouds are blown out of our sky? With a higher perspective, one which reminds the other that everything else is a detail but this love between us?
How can I go wrong with this?
This is my gift, given me after many days of working on a few themes, and I am glad of the result.
The next thing, the bigger thing, the thing in the background, the thing I leave you with, and me with, is this:
It really should be in all capitals, really.
What is the point to this?
I am asking this in a self-specific way.
Why this lifetime, this set of circumstances, this emotional tableau, these sets of urgencies? Why this training? Why? What is the point? Is it to have to go around and be the gad damned pebble in everyone’s energetic shoe?
I really do think that was the mission up until the shift.
Many of us can relate chilling stories of decades lived primarily from the outside, isolated, trying but never really getting happy, comfortable, never feeling whole.
And then things changed and things got better, and keep getting better, and all my old training, old abilities, old beliefs, here they come, fresh and fully operational, not with all the freaking work arounds I had to build into it before, just so new and shiny and capable.
I did not go through all of this, the meld that happened in the casino, seeing God in my living room, seeing everything light up like the Matrix on Christmas Eve, the NDE’s,a ll the NDE’s, the meditations, the changes, the writing, the weight loss, all the physical, emotional, intellectual, life changes, I did not go through all of this just for fun (although it was), or “just because.” There is a reason for The Teachers, Kryon, all my gurus, my work, my understandings.
But what is it?
What is it?
Yes, I realize about planetary ascension, and all of that, but what is the point to waking up to this degree and then finding that, holy shit, not everybody wants this! I might still, after all of this, I may still always and forever be the oddball. Oh my god, now what?!
I hear the Greats talk and they all say the same thing: once awakened, you only job is to BE. DO nothing, old soul. Yours is to BE.
I know this to be true. The doing, it is a lark. I won’t be nursing come fall. I have decided. It is etched in the very ethers. I will be writing, channeling, teaching, and traveling, as early as this fall. I understand that. But that is all I understand.
And I think that it is appropriate and really quite kind, to not know a lot of it. I kind of like it this way. It requires I use my temporal reality, my intuition, my connection with All That Is, and live in a synchronicity which guides me every moment, every single moment. And it requires I make loving decisions every day, every moment, every choice that I give myself.
I think that is it.
I am set with a million choices, every moment is a choice, and I can choose fear, I can choose disappointment and feeling crushed and thinking it is still a slog. I really can.
I am surrounded still with those who truly in their heart of hearts believe that there is no other way to do life than without God, without a Higher Self, without help, without hope, without connection to anything more than what is going to happen today!
Is it OK with you if I don’t have a problem with that anymore? Is it going to be OK with everybody if I am ok with people never ever getting it this lifetime?
Could it come down to throwing caution to the wind and loving anyway?
I know that those who do not get it this lifetime will come back, and will find things easier, and they will be less cramped, less angry, less unloving. Can’t I love them anyway? And with all of this, going as deep and as high and as true as I am going, what is it all for?
Just to be?
Be what, exactly?
Is it really, what we are being told, go out and be yourself. Be love. Be love. Be love. Know it and feel it and breathe it and talk it and show it and express it.
But is that it?
I am feeling like I am a kindergartner on the last day of school. I know there is a world waiting for me that will require I draw on even more of what is in me, what I came with, and I will have even more complex things to occupy myself with, but I wonder if, really, if the shift comes down to this.
To just being ok with being me, being loving, not giving , not caring, loving anyway, those who reject this great love I have so valiantly lived to embody. I know there is more. Oh I crave and burn for it, but for now, I will let this be enough.
I will leave you with, to me, a few of the most powerful lines ever written for the screen.
Harold has just been told of Maude’s choice, one she made “over an hour ago.”
“But I love you. I love you.”
“Oh, Harold! That’s wonderful!
Now go out and love some more.”
And so it is.