Author’s note 1-12-18: I have not read this in several years, and look forward to settling in with it as soon as I do a spell check. I have not been reading my essays and channelings word-for-word for that heart poppingness that happens, since I started this project, or at least not very often. But this piece, I will. I remember how I felt during, but especially after, writing it. Perfect. In such divine balance and spiritual maturity that I really felt I was somehow, in the end, going to be able to walk like this every day, every hour. Of course, the days and weeks and years rolled on by, more essays and channelings were to follow. I look forward with relish to sitting back and really letting this one, out of so many of them, to take me away. It has been a long time and frankly, I just hope I agree and like what I read. But I am pretty sure it will be a far richer and more illuminating read than that. I hope that is true for you, too, when you take the time for this long essay. Thank you for that, by the way. ❤
Deeply Awake — “We’ll See.” 7-9-13 By Kathy Vik
It’s funny how this goes for me, and it is nice when things get quiet.
I liken this to swirling melted butter, with the white fat all emulsified and mixed in with the clear golden liquid. It is a pretty sight, all churned up, swirling around, and although it is clear, looking at the emulsification, that there are bits floating in the liquid, with the speed of the swirling, gee, it all looks tan and singular. Getting up close, yes, there are little tiny white dollops, but from afar, it is just a mixture.
And then night falls, and then morning comes.
And there, on my table, is a jar with a lovely golden liquid on the bottom, and right there, crusting up the mouth of the jar, there lies a nice, thick layer of white, hardened stuff.
Everything settled, and there you go, things are clearer, and what seemed purposeless and confusing and non-sensical, now it has a purpose, now it makes sense, now there are things that can be done that could not until time had passed.
I got a big dose of perspective, I guess. I got to look at what I am creating from a different focal point, a different point of view, and it helped immeasurably, just to be given the gift of not taking it all too seriously.
But how did I get there? I had decided I needed to escape, feeling sick, nauseated, big waves of feeling icky, so I decided I would drive up to Lookout Mountain and just see things a bit differently. Maybe have a picnic for one. Just get away. Just perch and think and smile and maybe listen to the radio. Simple pleasures.
At the gas station, I called my friend and told her I think that tomorrow is the day I clean up my kid’s bathroom, and finish the laundry that is still outstanding. I want to kick my apartment’s mess’s ass, get the place looking good, and does she want to come over tomorrow and watch?
She said maybe, but why don’t you come over and sit with me on my patio tonight?
And I did.
We spent many hours together, and I have to tell you, there are few things which fill me up like hanging out with her, with a true and real friend, someone I’m just able to connect with without a thought of editing or going small.
This is not a complaint, just a stepping back and looking at the thing: There are folks who actually get lauded and magnified for being artistic, hearing a different drummer, that sort of thing, but, in the end, if you see things differently than most, is there anything better than just being able to be in company with someone who doesn’t want to pick a fight with your perspective? They have become rare in my reality. I pray for the willingness to change this forever.
I told my friend last night that I am not a big fan of groups, being open in groups, because I always feel, even at work sometimes, but really big time in social events, like just my presence comes off like a really evil, silent fart, and everybody has their hackles up because everyone knows that someone among them is just really nasty. Some can figure out I am the one adding to the disharmony, but most just walk around with that face, you know the one, looking like someone just farted.
And this, oh my god, we all laughed at this, because, it is just such a universal thing, to feel like you’ve been found doing something We Just Don’t Do Around Here, something like that.
Anyway, it was great fun to poke fun at ourselves and to just let ourselves be honest and human and flawed.
There are not that many people in my reality who can do this with grace and fluidity, and there sits my friend, in love with herself, with her life, with her husband and animals and neighbors and children and grandchildren. She presides with love, and she is not always deferred to, and she has to make a lot of compromises, of course, but she has such love in her, such peace in her.
She is an inspiration to be around, because the woman knows how to tell, and to laugh at, a good joke, and there were many around the patio that night, many that come tinkling out of our mouths and lit up the concrete, chasing themselves around, lighting up our faces with glee.
I came home and read Johnny Depp’s interview, and was struck with how much permission he has given himself to know himself. He has found people who are similarly creative. He has a perfect platform from which to really like himself. And it is clear that he is lighted, that he is living on purpose, and it is nice to read about someone so creative and expanded, making good in the world, just by singing out his song of self, unedited, and rewarded, loved, for his great works of heart.
I don’t suppose it is all that different for a painter or a sculptor, or even a businessman whose forte is flipping homes or hustling money. Everyone has something that they can do which feeds them, reminds them they are whole.
But this morning, there is a clarity I did not have last night.
This is a study in perspective.
I have come to think that one of my biggest problems is settling on the idea that what a person was, and is, that this is some sort of fixed thing, and that people cannot, will never change.
I grew up sort watching elders as they taught me, with care and precision, that if people are continually jerks, that they are disposable and should be dropped. You know, there is truth in it, but it was very brutal, remains a cold and clinical and mean response to things. But oh it is so much with me.
And I know that at one time this as true and accurate as a statement could be, folks just were as they were, and if someone was horrible and untrustworthy in their dealings last month, it just is a sad fact, that next month, I can expect the very same thing.
I think this is the thinking which caused the most distress, and it is thinking which, I suppose, it seems daft to question, break apart, make null and void, but I cannot go forward, with sincerity and integrity, believing such a lie.
To believe it, to accept this as true, that folks never change, that dooms everyone, right now, in the now, to whatever misery there is, this misery, whatever I don’t want changed, oh well, just get used to it, cos folks don’t change.
But look at me, and I’ll bet you have amazing stories, too, of transformation and possibilities becoming real and alive, don’t you? I want to hear every single last one of them, I really really do! I can’t wait to start hearing people’s stories!
I mean, by the light of day, it seems preposterous somehow that I would commit so drastically to living in a way which makes others obviously twitchy sometimes, and I have been so twitchy about their twitchiness, and this has been the issue, this has been the problem.
Yesterday I did a very long channeled piece, and I posted it in both the “Blog” and “Channeling” section of my favorite website, http://www.lightworkers.org. This morning, I looked at comments, and there was a pretty negative, discounting one, on one section of the site, and where I posted it elsewhere, the review was one of thanks and gratitude.
I sat there in my bed and thought about this.
I can see that there are some folks in my reality I have to make peace with, have to get along with, I don’t know how, but there it is. How does one make peace with someone who keeps begging you to shut up?
Well, obviously, by shutting up, and then walking away. But this is an answer I have dared not utter, for a very very long time.
And this was a hard thing to see, that I am actually rejected by a dear old friend for thinking in ways that I like and do not want to change or edit too much. Why would someone I love want to talk me out of how I talk to myself, if how I am talking to myself makes me more effective and happy than before?
I was told it was because I appear judgmental.
Take a step back here, please.
And I looked at it real hard, and yes, there it is, right there.
So last night, and this morning, I have gotten a dose of perspective, and I am in great gratitude for my friend, who probably won’t reject me after all, but is playing energetic cat and mouse, she and I, higher self to higher self.
This stuff, all the stuff I have based my life around, the stuff that has made the days turn into happy ones, finally, in this little life of mine, all this stuff is just words. Just perspective. Just thinking thoughts. That’s all. That and fifty cents will buy you a pop. They are words strung together, and that’s all, in one respect. Looking at it like that, it is so easy to pick apart this sentence, that phrase, and find fault. Feel threatened, get discouraged, even, I guess.
I speak with one old friend, and I am anathema, lost, and, worse, somehow dangerous or tricky or needing to be reined in, tamed, quieted! And then I speak with another old friend, and I am totally encouraged and accepted and loved and celebrated.
Did I change that dramatically over the course of a day?
Did I go from being some awful metaphysical bully, to being a creature of infinite love, chilling in the dark on a summer’s evening?
You tell me, because I would really like to know.
So, I am left with thinking that maybe this was an object lesson, in not so much identity as identity’s source.
I was still well off my horse last evening, when I got the invitation to chill, shaken up by being so summarily rejected, name called, bullied by someone who says they love me. This was not a brutal or violent conversation, by the way. Most of this stuff can, next time, just be ignored as never having happened, or can be glossed over with a sentence. This is all subtleties, here, but when two old sensitive, subtle souls get together to talk, bombs can go off and not even a word need be uttered. You do know that, right?
And the truth is, the only mistake I made, really, is that I didn’t match.
The friend I visited, she accepted me. The other, she rejected me.
What do I take from this? Where to go?
The new bigger perspective now bellows: “What does it matter, it’s just a bunch of stupid feeeeeelingssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
I am happy for the bellowing. It is LONG overdue.
But, since I am here, and have painted myself into this corner, I have something to say.
One reason I like movies as much as I do is that I get to see people using skills I choose not to use, or no one has mirrored for me, and I get to watch characters maneuver make believe but usually very realistic, and some based-on-true-events stories.
I get to see others try on attributes, do things, understand things, that I currently do not, or want to be reminded of.
So I like the characters who are just themselves, just there, and they are unapologetic, impassioned and answering to a higher calling, folks who do miracles just by being themselves, and I especially love characters written to just be shocking. The Greek Chorus.
Take Charlie Wilson’s War. The character of Gust, I see myself in him. He is misunderstood, marginalized, and this is as much because of his make up as the environment he has chosen to work in. And he is colorful and wise and deep, sees the bigger picture, but participates, even so.
That is a character I like, someone who knows themselves well enough to see long range, and thereby, avoiding pitfalls which “come upon” men who are maybe less clever, or less sensitive, or indeed, less weird.
So I gain strength from watching a character, which came from a writer’s mind and was green-lighted by executives and money men and all the rest. And right there, on my little screen, I get to have two hours with a hero, who shows me that self-expression is probably not something that will kill me, and might actually be good for me.
I know that sounds sad and maybe even is borderline Asperger’s but I really don’t care. In my twenties, it became very obvious to me that movies are two hour hits of mood alteration, and they could take me places not even books could take me, but they are to be used respectfully and mindfully, for instruction, and for belly laughs, always for mood elevation and never ever for escape.
Yeah, in my twenties, that’s how I thought.
And since no one shares this sort of shit, I have walked around for another thirty years, just convinced I am batshit insane for thinking such things, as if there is a police state within, guarding me for those thoughts over there, and maybe some of these too. Just making sure that if I get too close to seeing things a little different, that I would encounter friction, turbulence, a disturbance in the field.
That’s why I like guys like Depp. I could list a whole bunch of folks who seem to me to understand a few things the average bear does not. And I think there are a lot of famous artistes who think more multidimensionally, who’ve maybe even been hit with these changes, since they have the time and money to just focus on things other than survival.
In a way, after my nice night with my loving friend, and then reading that article, I thought, holy crap, in a way, it’s pretty astounding that I have become this much of a free thinker, given how I have had to spend a lot of my time focused on putting food on the table and worrying about the light bills.
I mean, I am always glad when someone gives themselves freedom to be more of themselves, to be less fearful, more joyful, less worried, and like I have said over and over, what that sort of person believes really is secondary to the person him or herself, that if you get there thinking God thoughts, so be it, but if you do it by being a motorcycle rider or a mountain climber or a cross stitcher, that’s cool too.
But looking at that article, and seeing the contrast of having been given no permission, and then Depp’s seeming 100% permission, to just be, it just really begs the question. I mean, he is hanging with Damien Echols and Keith Richards for God’s sake. He can tap into great thoughts, great rivers of thoughts, with just a phone call. And I get my kicks by shopping at the Goodwill.
Isn’t a lot of how we wind up feeling, about life, the world, our possibilities, our capabilities, isn’t it bound up in who we are taking this journey next to, in relation to?
Shouldn’t it really really matter if someone disapproves of me, of you? Shouldn’t I really really take it to heart, and commit to changing myself so that I can please the person currently expressing displeasure?
That was my raison d’etre.
If you feel discomfort, it is because of me, and I need to fix myself so that you do not have to carry this burden, this burden which is me.
And how silly to have so firmly and lovingly committed myself to such poppycock.
I really don’t know why some folks have a hard time with me, why this has been a forever and a day motif in my life, but I think what Kryon says about this is true. That ours is a walk that has been pretty effectively stripped of the reality of self-worth.
There are many quite poignant and true stories, songs, about this, it is a bittersweet song which requires hungry ears, and for today I am full, so I won’t go in there, but we can honor, can we not, as we pass, the graveyard containing all the bones of we as shamans, as weirdos, as witches and gurus and healers, set apart, having taken vows which follow us lifetime to lifetime, our marriage made with the stars above, the earth below, the breath within, that certain things can be foregone for the greater good.
Kryon says this path leads to patterns which require intentional reworking. I can say it is a valid pattern, that folks, even those who really are convinced (as I often am) that there is profound love between us, and still, hey come when they are having problems, and just sort of fade off when things are going well. I don’t get asked to a lot of movies, never have. I get called when there is a death, a break up, a robbery. Yeah. That’s me. This is a shaman’s life, you know.
Having Chris around, she never did that to me, and Jeff didn’t either. But they are both gone now, and I am left with a cast of characters who still see me as the crazy shaman at the edge of the village, great to go to for a pep talk, and also totally appropriate to tell him to shut the fuck up about his thinking when there isn’t a problem. And now, it seems, even when there is trouble afoot, especially now that there is trouble afoot, I am being gagged.
I am an astute shaman.
Maybe what I am being told is that those who have always come to me for help, they are pushing me away now, so maybe they are ready, and I can leave the village.
I think that is the message I am hearing.
I am not going to believe that what a person was is what they will be. I have every hope that those who I love who have placed me, always, in a subservient and outcast role, now that I wake up and say, hmm, this is sort of awkward, and they cannot tolerate me bitching…
Time to walk away.
I guess that is what that channeling thing was about, but it helped me on a lot of levels, it always does.
They went deep and long yesterday, and I am still felling it. I am out of sorts, feeling like I keep starting, stopping, starting, thoughts, chores, constructs. I am getting hit with waves of very juicy nausea still. I feel high but am sober as a judge.
And so it goes.
But the whole thing sits, now on my table, this jar, and what it contains is something that was not in it last night, although the ingredients were there, through the vigorous mixing, through the shaking.
Shaking this sort of thing up, I do it because it is fun and pretty.
It is of no consequence to many, and to the few who know I am doing it, it provides a certain level of panic, in this circle of people I have found myself holding hands with.
So I have maybe changed out of step with those who wish me to continue to be as I once was, and who can blame them?
The friend I had an upset with, we will always be friends, but, you know, my money is always on the wild card, the turn of events.
I have had love so in the bag, so unshakable, and it is not here sitting with me today. It just isn’t.
That doesn’t mean such a love never existed.
It just means that now is not the season for it. I can know I am connected, entangled with folks whose personalities cannot stand me. I can live with such dissonance, but I think it is, anymore, just fine to do so from a bigger distance, get involved with other things, folks who are nicer to me…
I chose to make this hard, and now I want it to get easier. It gets easier, I think, when I allow everyone to be imperfect, everyone to have an opinion, and for no one’s opinion to be taken as gospel. No one’s. Especially those who demand I do. Oh and there is the rub!
That means if you do not like how I am dressed, or how I smell, or how I act, or what I think, hmm, ok, that means that you are allowed.
And I am allowed to smile, and think you are missing a very interesting thing here, and I smile, and I walk away.
I am seeing that detaching from this last, it is just another in a series of becoming unattached, detached, grown up, in a way.
Is there a higher freedom that my freedom from believing, needing to believe, anything but my very my own cosmology, my own psychology, my own choices and words and deeds, and just being ok with you not understanding it, don’t even worry about the liking question, just understanding it, it is not easy, really, and I should be ok with folks not getting me!
Oh my god, don’t tell me this whole thing has just been to get to the place where I can finally tell that really annoying, intrusive, bossy little girl in 7th grade to mind her own business and let me be me in peace?
I just wish I knew if these problems had any relevance to anyone but me.
That is the $64,000 question, is it not?
So, since I consumed a couple hours of my life writing this, I guess I will come to think of it as meaningful and worthy of the effort, this little essay, one which may be read by no one, ever. That is the truth of it. I think it is funny, because I can see how this thing, my love of writing, just must logically end, and it is a hoot to be sitting here in obscurity.
It is planned this way, purposeful, and a big joke. I love jokes.
So I will watch this thing play out. I have a few dramas coming down the pike, a few dragons I can see lurking, down the next week or two, one I get to meet on Friday, a big one. Big energetic markers, things I know I have to get through, am not sure how I will, but there it is, right in front of me, saying, “Well, you are a day closer. Still calm? Still feeling rested? Good. Do some more of that. You are gonna need it.”
I have had many weeks of introspection, and what follows has been then many weeks of action, of things that just must be DONE, and that’s ok, although I put off doing, contented as I am to just be.
That is how my friend and I left it last night.
We hugged and parted, and we both laughed, and had a nice chuckle, when we just sort of looked at each other and commented to the other that there are so few folks who are just willing to give themselves over to feeling good, to admitting they are safe, to letting go of worry, unplugging from all the screams of fear, just gliding along, knowing anything that comes is cool by you.
We looked at each other and knew we were odd, and at odds with many people who are deeply invested in their lives being hard, and we both saw, and I remembered, the stories we have each shared through the years, of our desert years, of years of separation and abandonment, of being treated so very poorly, of learning how to stand up for ourselves in kindness and gentleness.
I remembered, we have not always been a couple of chubby grandmas loving everything, under the stars.
We were once not so clear, she and I.
But here we are, on this clear night, sure of ourselves and confident that we are loved, and loving, and worthy of it, and that everything is in some sort of order that is certainly benevolent, and has quite a sense of humor.
We saw in ourselves that it was ok to love ourselves and the other, that there was no shame, no blame, no guilt, no less thans, no comparisons here.
And this will fade, into the night, and in the morning, there will be other gifts, but for now, here we stand, in stillness, in thankfulness, honoring ourselves and so happy to be honoring the other, someone who sees as we do, a shelter, a celebration, a confirmation, and a reason to keep on doing.
So it was no small thing, getting invited over for a night of chilling and tea and dog-petting. No small thing at all.
Something was set right in me.
Being seen, is there anything more important, more healing?
This is why it hurts so bad to be seen by someone with my heart open, and what they see is anxiety, separation, recrimination.
No. It’s not mine.
And standing in the moonlight with my friend, newly healed, I knew that it just is done, expecting anything less from folks than just what I get, and if it’s prickly, that’s how it was for that day, that moment, and if it’s nice, well then, aren’t we creative!
No one is condemned for having condemned me, and I have to see that it just isn’t the end of the world when people don’t like what they see. I have maybe matured enough to see that what I get from someone is in large part due to what is in them, it is an alchemy, bringing two folks together, something else is created.
My friend and I created something soft and good. My other friend and I created very deep and profound charges, set to blow any sense of self-confidence, self-worth, feeling like I am competent.
I guess I wasn’t ready to leave you, and here is something else, and maybe then I will be allowed to quit.
I am just now putting together something that Kryon said. A couple of things.
He said that old souls have an issue with self-worth. That this dark quantum energy, this duality, knows this about us, and takes on many many forms to allow us opportunities to make choices, thus contributing to the overall energy of the thing.
When the first introduced me to this idea, I was knee deep in dealing with my dad, during a crazy patch. And I liked it, it made it easier to see him as more like doing a duty than being a failed human being.
And when I had that conversation with my old friend, I thought it odd that she would take the tone she did, and wondered vaguely through the unexpected pain that maybe she too was just doing this impish dance, a courtesy, a favor, to see if I will still be choosing to believe the fear.
A simple sort would think that I imagined my friend possessed, and it is not like that at all. What I am saying is that we are in a dance with ourselves, and our friends, strangers, family, everyone is in league to help each of us individually, and hence collectively, get some things accomplished.
Maybe we had dream time the night before and maybe I did it in conjunction with my other friend, ok, here, let’s do this compare and contrast thing, I will take this role, you take that role, you take the opposing role. And maybe I spoke, then, words which have also gone off like gongs, inside my dear friends. Who knows?
Kryon says that one of the reasons lightworkers, old souls, turn away from even the thought of god or multidimensionality is that this is the test, this is the sole test, are you going to awaken to your duality? Are you going to wake up to the truth that your littlemind life is the dream, and the dreamer is the one having the full life, a life you can only come to appreciate with senses you must develop all on your own? Or are you not? It’s up to you.
And now that this information is coming in pure and clear, I do believe the decision I have made is obvious. I have opted for weirdness, for going home while in my skin, for ascension or DNA activation, or whatever the kids wind up calling it. That is my choice.
As such, it is becoming more and more of my reality, it is fun and it doesn’t scare me, it is normal for me to think micro/macro/mega, it’s just fun. Kryon calls it going back to the core. It’s where my friend and I hung out all night last night. The core. Home.
He tells of, reminds us of a scene, of being in a village, and the whole village, as one, has turned, pulled away, decided you should not live, that you are evil.
And what does one do then?
One goes to one’s core, and rests in the arms of God, or whatever the kids are calling it at the time. What else can be done at that point? What else can be done?
And, this is a seed fear, you see, getting in touch with the core, with the memories, with the old ways in which we were treated, we medicine women, we shaman, we saints.
If you lean back into the arms of God, it is because you are facing death, something extraordinary has happened, and things are probably going to end very very badly.
I think a lot of us have that, and it paralyzes more than we know.
There is, in that, some sort of overlay, a desperate fear of doing enlightenment wrong, I am just convinced of it, a fussy spiritual perfectionism, and this is where a lot of judgmental stuff comes up. Doing a ritual a certain way brings back core memories of ritual being the only thing between chaos and order.
It matters, and that is why these words, written in quiet and posted in all but secrecy, sometimes make me feel like I am facing death. I guess one of the reasons I like writing about this particular stuff like I do is I have, in a way, felt like I was thumbing my nose that has ground me in the dirt every time I have elected to do battle with it thus far on Earth.
So yes, going there is troubling and scary and not to be done this go around, for a lot of very accomplished magic men and magic women.
And I think walking away might just be honoring a person’s innate unwillingness. It is living the prime directive: never override another’s will. EVER. Rule number one. One of the only ones that still rides on the gold standard. Immutable. It’s a law, and it really doesn’t allow itself to be broken, not without consequence.
The more astute, they feel the consequences as they consider the act, and then naturally shy from such behavior, and those who are less intuitive, well they barrel on, regardless.
Have I been doing that with this God talk, with my friends?
Maybe that is why I am being told to put on my wandering shoes, because I really do not want to bring discomfort or disharmony to anyone else.
Isn’t that what I have been saying for twenty pages, a sort of slow-motion apology for being expanded?
If you are not one who upsets people, whose very being can act like a stink bomb, then please just don’t judge me, ok, keep your opinions to yourself.
I think that is what I heard loudest yesterday. Keep it to yourself, told me by my best friend, my one metaphysical ally when the rest of the world turned grainy and gritty and way too real..
And this is a hard one for me.
I will know I have grown up when this imperative to run my mouth like a school girl is finally and forever quelled.
Obviously, I love writing and creating worlds and thinking in metaphor. What writer would say they don’t find value in these things, things that others routinely say is slacking off and self-indulgence at its worst, until the contracts and deals come rolling in, and then it’s all, oh I told you that you were a great talent.
You know, I have been using my pendulum, and it is talking to me just like it did when I used it last, when my mom was dying and I was pregnant. That thing never let me down, always was consistent, and had shocking answers, answers I did not necessarily want to know but once I had them, and they kept getting repeated, and then everything it told me did come to pass, as improbable as it all was, I came to know the pendulum as a very powerful tool of divination, very personal, very potent, and I am doing it again.
Once again, I am getting wildly improbable answers, and I am visited, while using it, by this thick presence, this old presence, which, it feels to me, puts its impressively large arm around my shoulder as I hunch over my device, and it talks to me in a body way, as the pendulum dips and circles and sways.
So you’d think I would feel confident, and I do, but it is a shaky sort of confidence, the same sort I had when I was walking through Mom’s death and Sam’s birth. Knowing I want answers, willing to be open to any answer, and then just asking, and then being given the same answers, over and over and over again, no matter how I asked the questions, no matter how backdoor sneaky.
So I do know where this is said to head, but until it’s in my now, it is best to just check in, and then bless and release. There is a lot going on, many people involved, many time lines coming together, and so I wait.
I pendulum, I write, I study, I watch movies, I hang out with my kid, I go to work.
I feel, in some respects, like the other shoe won’t be dropping until the fall, so I had just better enjoy this ride, not get too hung up, just know that everything is about to change, so just be at peace, just know that whatever comes next, it was on the back order list for a long time, and this is not the time to do anything but put down terror if it comes up, greet it like an old friend and send it back into the barracks with the other soldiers.
The war has been called off, and things are getting easy. I can feel it. I know it.
And yet, it really is nothing but a jar filled with liquid and white crud, right?
It’s just a dumpy little insignificant nurse in Denver who has only had one encounter with a famous person, and no money in the bank, tapping away at her refurbished computer, no credentials, no graduate degree, no career trajectory.
I’m really ok with that.
It is true, it is true, there are those who are not, and may never be comfortable with that.
So how about this?
The shaman is out. I have left my hut.
Come by and I am not there, well, I guess it’s about time to solve your own problems. I have things I want to do, and for these next things, I require neither audience nor approval.
But company, that would be nice.
Will there come a time when I do not threaten the garden variety seeker who just goes on comparison trips in my presence? That’s a lot of it, and comparing me to anyone is just so retarded.
I am as plain as mashed potatoes. I am just a dumpy old girl. Nothing special about me, this is all just writing, just churned butter, just a movie. It’s nothing to get hung up about.
So I am thinking about being a shaman in exile.
I will now not worry about you and your comfort.
I understand that this next patch is best done quietly, and that many are very inflamed right now, take all of this real personally and see too much of me in them, vice versa, for there to be peace in the valley.
So I will now go on a bit of a walk about.
I have to decide if all of the writing, all of the understandings and teachings, if they compute. I know that miracles happen daily in my life, and I am in a real good place, but how far can I get this thing to go? How much gas does it have?
I am getting ready for something, and I don’t really know what it is, but I sensed this morning that I had been churning butter for a very very long time, and this morning, there sat my jar of, what is it called, ghee? There it sat, just as pretty as you please, what was once jumbled is clear, what was once an inconvenience is now a staple I can use every day!
So who knows if this is important? Who knows if I am just alienating my friends because I am a pompous horse’s ass, an obsessive, a crazy cat lady.
As that character Gust says, “We’ll see.”