Deeply Awake — Arms Wide Open 7-31-13 By Kathy Vik
How many people do you have daily contact with, physical contact with, who are openly committed to self-awareness, self-improvement, self-actualization and the practice of unconditional love?
How many people will you encounter today who understand that our sleep time is used to function with the mind of God with our fellow travelers to create and enable physical events which will move the ball just a little further down the playing field of compassionate action?
How many folks will you speak with today who understand in a way that is unshakable for them, that they are a physical expression of All That is, the Creative Impetus, the Divine One?
How many people do you think handled the mail you’ll be opening tonight? And all those hands, handling that sheaf of paper you now are looking at, how many of those hands did their jobs contemplating how their actions fit into the larger scheme of things, that of feeling and spreading acceptance, permission, gratitude, joy, freedom and authenticity?
I have had a long period of being quiet. The voices in my head stopped, and I always feel so bad when I can no longer hear them.
I told my kid of my sadness and weirdness, that I couldn’t hear the voices in my head, and he actually felt bad for me, and he was extra sweet to me the night it was the quietest.
I feel, when I cannot hear, as if I am just a puppet, sort of an inanimate thing, a placeholder maybe, when the voices go silent and I feel alone.
But I found this last time that I have a bit more power over the silence than I thought. When I was feeling particularly awful, just blanketed and dull and slow-witted and weirdly sad and listless, I said, out loud and very carefully, choosing just the right words for the moment, something like this:
“I know you can hear me, even though I can’t hear or see or feel you right now. I no longer feel like I am being punished, just because I cannot sense you. I know now that even though I can’t hear or feel you, that you are still here, within and around me, and I am not alone, even though physically that is my sensation. So, I ask that you ease up on the curtain a little, because I feel like I am suffocating. Please give me some relief. And if that cannot be arranged, then I tell you, I want you to make it clear in some other way just what is going on here. I want you to give me signs that are so obvious a first grader could get it. Tell me what is going on. Help me to understand what is happening. Let me see in other ways, if for whatever reason my vision or hearing or senses are not available to me. Talk to me.”
And that’s sort of what happened. Things began to ease up. So talking to myself helped. The other thing that helped a bunch was to get out into nature.
We went up to Mount Evans, and spent some time at Echo Lake. It is a magical place, and it was a healing time.
Sam found a black stone with a dragonfly carved into it up at one of the shops up there, so he got that, and with it came a card explaining the attributes of many animals, so we spent the drive up Mount Evans trying to decide which animal the other is. And then, at the lake, I have never seen so many dragonflies.
They were so beautiful, sort of electric teal colored, and so … well, what can be said. There are no words for where I went up there. I get healed, whole, just sitting on a rock, watching the water, seeing fish jump, dragonflies skim, ducks gliding in their perpetual triangles of purpose, moving the water, observant and participant.
Sure, there were tons of people up there, and still, the sun blazing, the mountains holding us as we just sat there and let ourselves heal up, oh, it is a mighty thing, being able to have nature as church.
Last night, I told Sam that I think the whole idea of God is a false one, the way it has been laid down. I told him, churches are run by boys, and boys really don’t have their heads on straight about a lot of things. Sam agrees with this, thinks most boys are just lost in aggression and dick measuring. I told him, things made by boys that tell me or imply that I am not good enough just as I am, and people are bad, well, I think those are things which are false and not worth the time of day.
I know something is more true if I can be in it and feel pretty good about myself. And there aren’t many rules, because I am trusted, because of course I can be trusted, because I’m trustworthy. And that’s the kind of place I want to be, and the sort of person I want to be.
So, I told him, I don’t really care if we ever go to church again, because I felt more loved and whole and accepted up there at that lake than I do at church most of the time, and I want to feel that sort of love all the time, no matter what sort of jerks people are acting like.
And to this, of course, the kid agreed, because after all, it just makes good sense.
I have had a chance to look back, the last many days, and I feel as if the view is still fairly obstructed, but it is clearing, and what I am beginning to appreciate is that I really, really like what I am becoming, what I have invested my life in creating, and I no longer am worrying all that often that what I have gambled on this lifetime, to above all live spiritually, in alignment with my soul, conscious, fully conscious, that this has been a good pursuit.
I have gotten a lot of flak for it, as my readers know, and this flak has been a really good way to knock the teeth out of the belief structures of zero self-worth, needing to find identity through others, through accomplishment, through recognition, and the one which says that God is on the outside and I am defective in His angry eyes.
I’ve gotten flak for living my values, those which state that I do not spend money I do not have, I love myself no matter what, and I see this place as a benevolent one. I’ve lost a friend over that last one, believe it or not. Actually, two friends. Folks who just got totally fed up with my belief that we create our own reality to confront and love ourselves.
So be it.
I kissed my karma good-bye, having had a stair-step realization that the personality I’d been for 52 years had run its course, had its own things to discover, and I wanted a new life, and as a result, I had a bit of a null zone just recently. I can see now that perhaps the silence I experienced ever so uncomfortably was simply a recalibration, a re-tooling.
I wondered what might be in store if I let go of karma, if I just declared it null and void. Without that as the engine for situations, for life situation,s what is there? What happens if I am not being pulled and pushed by my own or other people’s back stories?
It would mean, of course, that the very words spoken by loved ones will have new meaning, could it not? The receiver has changed, so the one transmitting the message is going to get maybe some weird responses at first.
There was a lot of that going on, I think, just lately.
I have come from a place of blanketed quiet, someplace I know well and really prefer not to visit. But I knew, this time, that I was not being abandoned, and it was indeed temporary.
It was the first time in my life I talked myself through it so well, and I mention it to you so that maybe you can use the technique, when you find, much to your chagrin, that you are wearing some sort of cosmic quilt which blinds and deafens and numbs you, makes you feel disconnected. It’s just a re-tooling, a re-boot.
This is about teaching, not about ego, and it’s more than reasonable to seek out such help when it’s needed. I know this stuff because I have been doing it forever, and it’s finally all beginning to make sense.
I don’t want to be a channeler, as they are thought of. I thought that maybe, returning to writing, I would do a little blurb on what’s going on, and then a channeled thing, but even that feels wrong.
I know, having read my writing, having lived this crazy life, that mine is to channel as I brush my teeth, channel as I cook for my family, channel as I consider the day ahead of me, channel as I lay me down to sleep. I want the knowledge here, in my hand, on my shopping list, in my eyes, in my heart, and in every word that I utter.
I want those around me to feel comfort, hope, ease. I want that. Always have. And it causes, or caused, more suffering than you will ever know, when instead, my thoughts would turn to lack, or to insecurities, or to fear thoughts. When I would dislike those around me, suspect them, worry about them, obsess about them.
This was a form of torture, and it came from missing a mark that was very, very high, a mark that could not be reached until very very recently.
I am no saint. I am still a little awkward, but even my awkwardness is something I am loving now. I am finding less and less to hate or feel bad about or want to criticize, in me, and this has then spread.
I have had a chance to honestly look at my social and friend and family life, and just whose words I have been hanging off of, since the start. I see that I have quite unequal relationships, for the most part. Where it is fair game to tell me to be quiet about certain things that I find important, though I wouldn’t, actually, ever do that to a friend.
So, this is not a set up I am comfortable with any longer, so I am no longer feeling much investment toward folks I used to think of as some fount of belonging. It never really was belonging. It never really was much of a real connection, a loving connection. Many of these relationships, they were based in a weird competition, which I neither invited nor engaged in, but was always present, always the elephant in the room.
And for me, now, it is not about somehow repairing broken relationships, no, not at all, but it is about branching out, and making new friends, and keeping firmly in my heart a belief, a knowledge, that I am quite an amazing person, one who deserves and responds best to kindness, authenticity, joy, lack of shame. I just don’t want to do some of the dances a lot of folks still really like doing, ones I taught, ones I loved.
I am done grieving for love which was never freely offered in the first place. Love which always came with the caveat that in exchange, I must leave a deposit, I must assume I am not important, not very wise, and not very good.
These were metaphors, really, and they were karmic set-ups, and those who played along with me did their roles with such finesse, such commitment, and I am in awe, in debt, hold high honor for all that has been given to me through these difficult relationships.
But it seems just a bit hackneyed now, sort of old, not much left to explore. Oh, ok, here it is again, where I get to defend myself as a good person. Oh, here is this one, where I am told that my kind of thinking is too out of the norm to be taken seriously, and really, it could be harmful.
Come on, don’t tell me I am the only one who has, as close associates, those who think little of them. And if I am, well then, I’d better get on that shit.
I see now that the stillness was maybe a clearing of sorts, and that I am getting ready for something else now.
I have been seeing for a couple months how this summer there are many many time lines closing, all at once, and really organically, sort of spooky, how all these stories, of family and friends and loved ones and careers and such, they are all closing.
It is uncanny, spooky, like I said, because there are so many of them, and they are all converging this summer. Saw it in May, all at once, as I was driving one day, and it was like seeing one of those time-lapse movies of something decaying or a plant sprouting and blooming and dying, all in just seconds. I saw it whole, just for a few seconds in May, and it’s escaped me ever since, until just recently.
It’s funny, the ups and downs, and ins and outs of this ride, this exploration in consciousness. I am here, feeling expanded but not overly so, just enough to function well, without fear, I think, although I fully recognize that the remaining ambivalence I feel, or resistance I have, toward certain things, even that is breaking apart, ever so slightly, and I can feel movement in areas of my life that have been paralyzed for years. I don’t have steps yet, I don’t have a strategy or physical, concrete assistance yet, but I feel a change, a loosening, and a permission to imagine that things are actually going to work out with good outcomes.
I am well aware that, in the final analysis, there are no bad outcomes, but there is doing life in a way which is skilled, is in synchronicity, is in balance, and then there is the 2×4 way.
That’s where I want to end this, for today.
I think that I had a very long time when one by one, things got shitty. One by one, everything that I thought was permanent turned soft and gooey and poisonous. And the thing is, the whole time, all of it, as best I could, I was trying to listen to my inner guidance.
I think that’s what was the scariest. I have never tried to ignore my inner guidance. Opposite! I look for, lean into synchronicity, always have. And yet, until 2012, I experienced a very long time in the desert, when I had no luck, when things turned ugly without rhyme or reason, and I made a ton of messes too, just seemed compelled to do it, really.
And now, things are clearing and I find that the most amazing thing is this: I think about today, or tomorrow, or next week, and I no longer imagine calamity. I am no longer imaging punishment. I am not thinking in terms of getting caught, at what is anyone’s guess, but this feeling that has forever haunted me, that no matter how good it looks now, don’t worry, it’s going to stop/die/mutate.
Was that pessimism, realism, clinical depression, or a combo plate? I don’t know, and don’t really care anymore. What I do know is this: things happen, that’s the way of it, and if I am doing it well, delightful things will be what catches my attention. But if I get caught up in weirdness, it won’t take me all that long to get back on track. I could find light in a jail cell, at my lowest. I found light with my dad. I can find light anywhere, any situation is one in which there can be found some love, some compassion, some miracle of observation.
And even if that is not possible, then I know how to just relax, and lean back, into the arms of something which I can neither describe nor deny. My core, my self, my knowing.
I know now that the questions which burned within me, they did so because I needed them to. I needed the desert as much as I need this oasis. The time I spent longing for home was valuable and sad, and good, and right, and in perfect timing.
And those days are over. I know who and what and where home is, enough so that I don’t feel lonely for it anymore. My questions about ascension, they have been answered. My understanding of my Merkahbah is more complete, and I am at peace with what I have come to know. I believe it is a good thing for me to have found these truths for myself, and after all of it, all I can tell you is that I hope you are enjoying your own wondrous path of self-definition and self-exploration. I hope that you are someone who also values such pursuits.
There are many who do not and I am at peace with that too. I don’t expect anyone to understand, really, what it is that makes me tick, and have never encountered anyone with enough patience or interest to even sit down and listen to it, hence, I write.
But I am now in a place where it is just not possible to shake me out of loving myself. So I find attempts at it usually just pesky, but sometimes pretty annoying, and then, at other times, horribly ugly. It takes the form of advertising, really bad sit-coms, reality tv, conflict tv. Weird. Invitations all over the place to think bad thoughts about myself, my life, me. It is subtle, and most folks don’t even know it’s there, but it is.
But, once you can see it, then it’s just another excuse to lean back and relax. Remember the truth.
And that’s why I can sit here and tell myself, and by extension, tell you, that I don’t have fear about my “future.” I know there are things I have fantasized as being the best outcome for me. Sure. They sound cool. So I have come to say this a lot, lately. “That or something better.”
I think good things are afoot, and I am glad to know that I am saying this not with my fingers crossed, but with my arms wide open.