I want very much to channel, but the world is weirdly too much with me, while I am simultaneously feeling disengaged from earthly thoughts.
I got sick of trying to be a physical being channeling. I saw myself in a white room with and impossibly big white dome. And I was there, in white, at a white desk, scribbling, not interested. I kept being called into the dome. So I decided it would feel real good to be that big.
I lifted myself, my imagination, into the dome, and felt dispersed, huge, white, but contained, and that also was dissatisfying, after a while.
So, I thought, well, a dome has something on the other side of it, so I popped out of the dome, and sat on top of it. There in front of me was the night sky, and the gentle, insulated feeling I have when I am taking a smoke break in the deep of night at one of the places I pull night shifts. There I was looking at the sparsely starry sky over Wheat Ridge Colorado, on my bubble.
I was alone this whole time, which was a little disappointing. Then I thought, well, wait a minute, some starry skies are just dense with starlight. I think I could improve this night sky. It’s then that I turned, and to my left, I saw a cosmos that was teeming with celestial events, galaxies, spiraling space events. It was busy and fun.
And then I thought, well, it would be good to do this split screen, because I like feeling all alone, little, looking up into a lonely sky, and I also like the truth of it, that there is so much going on that I am just not tuning into at the moment.
So I positioned myself so that I could see the busy sky to my left, and the quiet sky to my right.
That’s when I was joined by others. I felt a great swell of love and recognition, a feeling of being around family, and the decision was made that, for now, it feels very good to think that I am there, mostly, and here, somewhat, but as hard as I could, even with open invitations, there is no inhabiting going on, no sidling up and being somehow gloriously consumed in thoughts and visuals that I have never ever considered. It’s not like that now.
I really am ok with the takeover action, although it doesn’t feel that way when I channel like that. It feels, instead, like I have such a great idea that holy moly I need to write, and then, I just let my fingers do what they’ve been doing since I was a child… race over a keyboard. Oh, the trouble I got into as a kid, insisting on using the typewriter my dad had in the basement. Maybe 7 years old. And the tears, the anger, because I wanted to write, and, of course, it was out of a sense of protection, but I was banned from typing because I had to learn correctly, how to place my fingers, or I would, the thinking went, forever be someone who types with their pointer fingers.
I broke that rule all the time, and got on that thing just as often as I could. They finally mellowed out about the rule. There is just no arguing with some people (me). So I know what it is like, very well, to let my voice have its way. It has been doing so since girlhood. I know how to surrender to something within me that needs to say a few things.
And so, being taken over by a rushing feeling that I need need need to move these hands over the letters, this act becomes very soothing and hypnotic, and then I am not interested, really, in what is being said. It’s more just the act of doing the motions is calming, calming, steadying, and then, I just plod on until I feel complete.
But none of that today. For all I know, me and the Big Me and my friends are still up there, partying on that glowing white dome. I like that thought. I knew I was home, and I did start to channel, and then the juice stopped.
I had been asking for them to explain to me the physical stuff that has happened to me, specifically, I wanted them to address what happened to me yesterday. Silence. Silence.
And then, it felt natural to just do a deeply awake, and now, I am beginning to think that with this progression comes a certain sense of self-trust. I know I can access very thick, deep and true stuff when channeling, but I am beginning to think that most of this is just letting that thick, golden godhead of wisdom sort of sink into my molecules, it is time to own things.
That is what I got in the dome. I thought, I want to be able to own this size. I need to be able to comprehend, really get, that I am bigger than this, grander even that this dome, full of sparkling essences of The All. My problems stem from not being able to embody this, own it, live it, count on it.
And now, I think that it is ok to discuss what happened to me yesterday bareback like this. It is my body, after all. My intent, with putting this to paper at all, is to find others who might be having such experiences, reaching out a hand of recognition to each other, because we are part of a group who needs to get to know each other better.
Yesterday, I dropped Sam off at school, came home, and had to write. Had to. That was it. And I produced “The Arguments Against.”
As is my wont, after I write something, I check the spelling, and then, sometimes I am just unable to edit. So I just send it out into the ethers whole, freshly birthed, not even washed off very good.
Then I get back onto lightworkers.org, like I am a visitor, I hit my blog link, and I read it fresh.
I was reading my last piece thusly when, about ¾ into it, I started to get “those feelings” again.
I want to be very specific here, because I am an R.N., I have seen my share of deaths and dying, and the stuff that happens prior. I am firmly convinced of what is going on for me, but I need to talk about this, person to person, with somebody.
And now it is very very plain to me why I did not have access to a channel today. This is my story that is needing to be told. It is a human being, human body thing. It is best approached linearly. I am putting out my clear request that I gain access, further esoteric access, to this stuff once I do my part, though. And so it is.
I have had this happen many times, and I think I will discuss that next, but I want to describe what happened during that re-read first.
I got very light headed, and simultaneously, my vision got lighter. Usually it gets dim, but this time, it got hazy white. And then the physical sensations got big. I feel like I am being laid down. I put my hands on my head, and rested, when it hit, and I could then feel my hands lose their ability to grasp each other. My arms gladly plopped to my sides. My whole body begins to make a sound, a high squeal rush sound, and I had that old feeling, that slidy, certain, freaked up feeling that this is it. I am dying now.
So I said out loud, “I want to live.”
And with that, I sort of slumped over, onto my right side, legs dangling off the bed. The low grade constant buzzing in my ears became just deafening, and it was sort of nice, because it gave me something to focus on. It was clear to me somehow that I was going to survive this one, so I sort of detached from the experience and watched it without fear.
My hands felt like they were getting shocked, my right one especially. I was told my hands will be able to do unusual things now. They will be able to communicate better, is what I was told.
But this was not in words. It was an understanding that now the power is in my hands, it has traveled there, and my hands are not the same. That is what I understood. I don;t know what it will translate to. I just know what I understood. The zapping happened probably three times.
They then worked on my hip. I was laying on it. They explained in unlanguagable terms what the purpose of this hobbling has been, and they showed me the inside of the hip. They told me they have been making adjustments, growing one of the legs longer, because there was a mismatch that had led to improper alignment. But the inside f the hip, the non-osteogenic , more tissue portion of the hip, that is what they addressed. I told them I am finished with the pain. I see no purpose in having it, please remove it.
And then the buzzing got huge, and then something morphed, changed, in the buzzing. The high pitches stuff continued, but, the oddest thing in the world happened. I will describe it as best I can. I felt as if the top band of my head was getting static. I mean, there it was, this fine static, really super loud, like when you wake up after passing out drunk, and the TV is blaring static. Just really loud tv static.
I remember thinking, holy moly, this is a real hallucination, i mean this is REAL. I am not imagining static. This IS static. It had an immediate feel, and it was as real as if a radio had been on in my head. It sounded as if I had a machine in my head with static running through it, there, that is it! And it was just the top portion, band, of my head that was experiencing this, at first.
Then the band got wider, and soon it was a band that went from above the forehead to below the ears, running horizontally, running this terrific static.
It was then that I felt happy, and would have laughed if my physical body could have cooperated, but I was slowed way down, physically, laying on that bed.
But I knew somehow that once that band got big enough that it would subside. And it did. It did. And then I came to. My body began to cooperate again. It’s funny, after these things, I do repetitive motions, can’t seem to help it. I ground my teeth over and over and over, and it took a long long time to be able to move my body in a coordinated fashion.
I didn’t barf after this one, which is what I normally do. That’s really inconvenient. Worse yet when both ends decide to oblige my body in projectile purging. Gosh, that’s a barrel of laughs.
So, this last time, it felt more like a well-rehearsed surgical strike to deliver information. That’s what came to me this morning, driving from work. The static was a broadcast of sorts. Probably, I would be able to hear an encyclopedia of voices, if I had the equipment to hear it without distortion. Who knows, who knows?
But this started a long time ago. I’ll spare you the dramatics, but I had three “cardiac episodes” before the lights went on, and finally presented myself to the Kaiser Urgent Care clinic after the last of them. I would get a real light head, then the high pitched sound that almost hurts, and the vision goes, and I lose muscle control, and I sweat like a pig, sometimes barf, and sometimes the other thing. If that is not a heart attack, tell me what is.
The cardiologists and internal medicine and emergency medicine docs found nothing wrong. Everything normal. They couldn’t even justify a statin, me, weighing in at 280, and 5’3”. They told me I could stand to lose a couple pounds, and not to worry about it. If it gets in the way of things, they could insert a pacemaker. And just pray it doesn’t happen n the highway, ha ha.
So, my family doctor said it sounded like a vaso-vagal response, so he gave me some pills, but what he said sat in my brainstem until this last year.
See, since 2012, I have had probably ten more of these episodes. Many of them have been described by me, word for word, as I was coming out of them.
And always, anymore, they come with revelation. It is the revelation that brings them on.
And this got me to connect the dots, one night while working.
The vagal nerve is a huge, huge central nerve. I’ve sent more than one person to the emergency room convinced I would not be welcoming them back to the nursing home, because I thought they were dead, but just like a Jack In The Box, after a vaso-vagal event, you’re just as good as new.
I think the heart, and the nervous system through the heart, gets stimulated, and it creates a vaso-vagal response commensurate with the energy load. I think it is about our hearts opening up.
I am not scared of these things. Yesterday, as I lay quasi-dying, I felt just fine with it all. There is an inevitability to this sensation, to this process, that I have come to love. When faced with your own demise, in a seemingly cellular, real, fashion, it’s funny how there is a peace that sort of settles on you, and things just can be observed, realized and observed, but not feared, no, not at all.
I have been led, here lately, in my readings, to the theme of what ascension looks like in a human being, what we might come to expect, what changes will happen, but, much more importantly, how does it feel, what does it look like and feel like, once a person is there?
It is good to have the reminders, the plain talk, about what to expect. But nowhere have I seen it written about these hits of whatever it is that makes me poop my pants and have glittery visions of stuff that I later cannot remember.
I talk about this today because I want to talk about what it has been like for me, and there are things that I have not told anyone, just simply because they are not interested, and I know if I pushed it, and told them what happens to me with regularity anymore, they’d act like I’d said something foul. That’s the response I get when I go too far with the sharing thing. End up being told to shut up about it. Period. End of list.
So, I offer you, always have, the tenderest of fruit from my garden of experience. Some think the fruit strange in appearance, some cannot stand the aroma coming form the blossoms. And the fruit forever feeds me, fascinates me, calls me to truth. And now I am finding there are others with similar appetites! What joy! What bliss! To be among friends again!
I want to end by telling you about the biggest events like this, they are reminders actually, because they are very well described in other essays. But they deserve mention, sort of in the hall of fame of weird moments.
All of this started when I was hit with a telescopic, fractal sort of love, in my living room, one night after having a heart to heart with Sam. I was overcome with rapture, with forgiveness. I saw my dad was one of my highest teachers, someone of honor within my guide set. That I was infinitely loved, infinitely a part of something so loving, so loving, so embracingly loving…
No fainting. Just rapture. That is what it was. Rapture.
And then, the next big one was on May 25, 2012, when I had a long chat with a white light in a casino, and then all the lights and machines went dead, and then, in the car, I died three times. That was a big one. Drove home, ate potato chips and went to bed, that night.
And then, on Christmas Eve, 2012, when my world was illuminated, really, for all time, in a way, because I saw that we are physically constructed out of love, that the only law in effect is that of benevolence, that we are in relation to each other because we are in love with one another so much, so much, so much, and that everything is fine, everything is alive. It is stimulating, being here, it gets hypnotizing, and it’s ok if people are hypnotized by it all, stuck like deer in headlights. I can understand why. It’s fine. It’s beautiful. And we are all in love, desperate, deep, profound and all-encompassing love with one another. Everything else is just something we are telling ourselves to move the story along.
But, see, I am a nurse by trade, a single mom by choice, and not much of a housekeeper or bill payer. I have loose ends, and I don’t do things very well where a lot of people say it counts. I haven’t had a relationship since I left my husband, I can’t imagine such a thing as dating, so I am jammed up a bit, jammed up and needing solution, awaiting them, now that things are different.
But I have to function in a world that values none of this stuff, really, let’s be honest. I really don’t anticipate a very warm reception if I were to talk about this in public, just nonchalantly. And I am really not sure why that is.
I sit with that question now. Why is it that I feel like I have done a very bad thing when I talk about this around some people?
It has to do, does it not with free will, choice, and permission?
This is where I want this to go.
I know this path is not for everyone. Not everybody is interested in the things I am, and not everyone can do what I can do. And I am beginning to see just what it is I am capable, and this is getting super fun.
Putting people at their ease is important to me. Awakening others is not important to me. It think it is sort of mean, really. Who am I to say what level of information is “best?” I know masters, I have masters in my life, masters of great and profound truth and love, and none of them, not one of them, studies metaphysics. None of them are hungry for the things I am, and they are driven by other voices, urging them here and there.
I needed to know. I needed to know. I needed to know.
I was not going to be satisfied with half answers and enigmas. Let me puzzle this out, but I need to know.
This, and a craving for peace, for relief from the pain that my life had become. Just pain. Ick. It was quite a slog. I am focusing on the last part, the hardest, densest part, now, because I know some are there. It is not an easy place to be, when all your support structures give way, and you are in free fall. But all of us have gone through it, many of us repeatedly, so it is good to acknowledge there are many gradations, many outcroppings on the path.
I likened this process more than once to scaling a mountain. It is a rich and ripe metaphor. I got the imagery often. I’ve been places on my mountain that I thought was the summit. Every time I summit, and take a look around, and sing a cry of triumph and love and joy, then I begin to realize there are mountains within mountains, and these journeys, while here, are endless, they are just a long ribbon, up the mountain. The air is getting thinner, and it is paradoxically very easy to breathe here, where I am resting now, on this amethyst outcropping labeled, “Self Exposure.” It feels good to sunbathe here. It is not often I loosen up like this.
I am glad and proud to have written this, and I am glad that I did not channel today. It would have been too much woo-woo. There comes a time to anchor it, to think on mountains and, to then, once again consider figuring out what day of the week it is, and what promises I have made to whom lately, and to get on with being alive.
I carry this stuff inside me and don’t spend time thinking on it, because it is hard to feel a blend in vibe when you are sitting there contemplating the last time you passed out of the toilet and came to understanding that detachment, spiritual detachment, is a misnomer. Detached form what? Silly notion, really.
So I am putting this out there, a little scared, revealing, yet again, something which I have forever hidden, in the name of fitting in.
It’s not that important to me, now that I have completed this. I come to see that sharing myself with you is a necessary act, something which soothes me and allows me to see things much more plainly. I readily admit that my hermit ways are coming to a close. It is vital to mix it up. I have had my cocooning time, and I am very glad to see these days coming to a close. It has been a long time alone, with Sam, together, but neither of us consumed with the material. It has been a good education, a good vacation, in a way, a good oasis, that he and I built here.
It feels like things, like I am loosening up now, and the fear which plagued me, that social anxiety and the chip on my shoulder I had for all authority everywhere in perpetuity, all of that has sort of slid off me, at least here lately. I have long periods of being acutely aware I have no interest in worrying, there is nothing to be anxious about, and I just like to bob there, enjoying the view. It has been a long time coming, clearing these jams.