Deeply Awake — No Secrets Here 10-10-13 By Kathy Vik
I start and end this piece with poetry.
“You Must Always Tell…”
You must always tell the world what you’ve been through,
It does concern the curious who pass;
The stories of our hearts and of our dead
Can all improve our image in the glass.
Here, or down there, or anywhere I stop,
Tipping my hat to twenty thousand truths,
Deep in a Now about to open up.
You must always tell the world just what you’ve learned;
It was not chance that took you where you went.
And when I search my pockets what I find
Is far more hope than I have ever spent.
You must always tell your secrets to the world,
Those passers-by whose business is the same;
And those from a land where all that’s holy’s dead
May not themselves be totally to blame.
You must always tell the world that you’ve been happy,
Loaded with talent, yes, a great success,
That you’ve built beacons from brutality
And made your music from the pain of love.
We cannot be both ignorant and live;
Let’s not just say we sheltered here a while.
When one’s known death and life – which is always there,
One tries to make a poem – and to smile…
(Sadly, this writer remains anonymous. Found this in Interview Magazine, as an ad for a play, in the early ’80’s)
This work, my work, vibrationally, as a human being, has changed once again, and the change has come from hanging with, busting through, integrating, doubt More than fear, more than anger, more than any primal thing which tries its best to unsettle me, it is doubt, doubt has been my dueling partner. It lies dead, on the floor this morning, taking its time before respawning, so while it lies there barely breathing, let’s have a chat
To describe the changes, I have to be honest with you, and to risk appearing grandiose. I find it funny, that the farther on I go, the more I must wrestle, unwittingly, at times, with doubt. Doubt is something I know very well, and it is one of my finest teachers. This teacher, though, is a little spiteful, like a Zen master who messes with littlemind, knowing its weaknesses, knowing its limits.
Since January of 2012, I have been living pretty much paycheck to paycheck, in a far more extreme manner than before. I walked away from a high paying gig, and decided instead to do shift work, field work, going from hospital to hospital, unit to unit, shift to shift, working with whomever was placed in my way. Of course, that is how it always has been, but the processed got slowed down to a crawl, and I got it, I really did, that each and every time I show up in my uniform, it is by invitation, I am being honored, and I am doing light work not only the patients I serve, but the co-workers I rub elbows with.
It is a paradigm which was important to see, to really get. I got it.
During this time, I felt great fear, because there were times, when the work slowed in the city, that I did not work. I would sleep on a night off, then sleep the following day, at least 4 hours, and then work twelve hours at night. The thing is, when the work slows, I wind up sleeping a lot, resting a lot, lying in wait.
The work has now slowed again, and yet, the panic is not there.
Yesterday, I had a meditation that I need to talk about, but first, I guess I need to tell you of the miracles.
First, the phone, then the stethoscope. I will make these brief.
I took my son out for dinner last week. We’d gathered our stuff from the table and were walking to the lobby when I told Sam I would like him to go find the waitress and hand her the tip. I put my phone, my book, all my stuff, on the shelf at the exit so I could fish money out of my wallet. I walked out of that restaurant thinking Sam had my phone, because I did not.
Turns out my phone went missing. I called to it while in Kirtan that night, and realized just where I had left it. Due to the hour, I couldn’t call the restaurant or pop in.
The next morning, I checked facebook using my kid’s phone and my heart sank… I was being admonished for having sent blind requests to dozens of people. I knew then that some mischief maker had found and messed with my phone.
Sure enough, the phone was not at the restaurant.
I drove to the Cricket store, prepared to transfer service to my son’s phone, and before getting out of the car, I reflected on things, just for a moment.
I realized that I was not perturbed, I wasn’t really upset, and I held no fear. I did not feel like a victim of circumstance, and felt mild curiosity about the events at hand.
And I like how I felt. I saw, sitting there for those moments, how I have changed, and I liked that I did not automatically sink into the victim place when troubles hit.
Then, on a whim, I decided to look down, between the passenger seat and the floor.
And there was my phone.
But that isn’t the weird part. The weird part is that I knew it had not been there. I could feel, I heard and understood, I had passed a marker, I had passed a test, and, although I have had these experiences before, this time, passing this test, I understood in a far more organic way that it was ME who had set up the test, and although the company of heaven was thrilled I was doing well with my reality, I felt special elation, an intimate elation, for seeing that I had tested and rewarded my very own self.
Sort of took the fear out of testing, you know?
So, that was the phone. And always the wiggle room, always the room for doubt. Some would shrug and say that the phone had been there all along. But I know this is not the case. I searched that car. It had not been there. But there it is… always a part of any miracle.
But it gets better.
The last time I worked, I was told I’d be working psych. I wore my uniform, but felt such relief and happiness that I could leave my stethoscope on the dining room table that night. Physical assessments are rare on that unit, and wearing a stethoscope is sort of uncool, so I left it there and reported to work.
My assignment changed en route, though. I was, once I got there, told to go to the geriatrics unit.
I drove to the adjacent campus, thinking that this is just a fine state of affairs. I was not mad, though I knew full well that it was only because I was low-man that I was being sent to that particular unit. The ones doing the assignments all felt relief it wasn’t them going over to work with the old ones.
As I got out of my car, it dawned on me I had not read this right. I hadn’t anticipated this wrinkle. I had left my stethoscope at home, which was a bummer, because even in gero-psych, a stethoscope is required equipment.
I presented myself to the unit, having gotten over any resentment that had visited me, and found a place to stash my stuff. I took off my jacket then, and felt a weird “kerthunk” on my collarbones as I did.
I realized as I placed my coat on the chair that, around my neck was my stethoscope.
All I could do was grin. I knew full well that my beloved piece of equipment materialized around my neck. I knew it to be a miracle. It was sudden, immediate, and strangely physical, this knowledge.
I let it sink in, all night long, I revisited my miracle and it gave me a little lift in my step, I must say. Not in an egoic way at all, no, just in a way that felt like a big old spirit bear hug. Funny. Nice. Solid. Sweet. Enduring.
On the way home from work, I thought about how I can apply this to money. How I can just plunk down a big wad of cash. If I can do it with a stethoscope, then I can do it with anything, right?
The thing is, I haven’t worked since that shift. I was told on the way into the building that this walk is coming to an end, but I did not think it would happen quite this fast. I told them I wanted things easy, no learning through extremity or suffering, not anymore.
And I am not suffering, not in the least, but the bills due press upon my awareness, cloud my joy, now, at times, just a little, when I let it.
And this brings me to my meditation, and then I will be able to finish.
I have looked back on the rhythm of all of this. The timbre and pace of the shift work changes as these things change in my spiritual life. And here I am, finding myself called back to work on a campus which fostered some of the most intense personal growth of my life.
Yesterday, I had to nap, I’d put it off, and so, there I am at 1pm, to rest up. At 2:45 I’d be up, running full bore until 9am the following day. But duty called. So, like a good little soldier, I layed down to rest.
The dictation was blowing through me. I felt good, so good, and yet, I felt that I needed to be unconscious, asleep, blank. That was not happening, so I saw my body as a current that was below, running, running, on and orange, vibrant, and yet, I could somehow get above it, and create a delineation, so that I could hang out and learn while my body got tuned. I talked to my body and we agreed that I would feel fully rested, and fully capable to do whatever I was called upon to do through the night and into the morning. This is not about survival, and I would be fine.
And then, things got good.
I could feel the ever-present high pitched squeal in my left ear get bigger, and I began to imagine that there was geometry in my head, connecting my ears, somehow, to my third eye. I found that when I connected myself this way, I was reminded of one half of a tetrahedron. I did not like that the geometry was only at head level. I wanted it to be a body awareness.
So two things happened, and they both warrant discussion. I went visiting, through this portal I made with my ears and eye, and also, simultaneously, I worked to embody the energy.
I began to move the light, the energy that I was feeling in my head, move it, through my body. But I did not like how it felt, to imagine this energy swirling through or around me. I did not like the thought of it visiting me. I wanted to feel it in another way. It felt so dissatisfying to think of it spinning, without it coming FROM, from within me.
And so, I traveled with the light down into the core of my body. There, at the center, what I found was the place that is where the light and the dark both come from. The point of creation which is transparently thin, from which all things have their origin. I found it satisfying, finally, when I could finally see and feel light peeling out of this thin, this nearly transparent reality of unity. I let the colors unfurl from that place, where all problems and all solutions sit together on the plain for harvest, and I see all of it, all of it, all of it, burst into light, where there is only one mind, one reality, one knowing.
But, I was also having this head thing go on.
I could feel almost a metal set up, this pyramid, this physical thing that my imagination was constructing, using the noise in my left ear, triangulating that somehow to my right ear, even though it was silent, and then, from there, it only made sense to go outward, through my forehead, through it, beyond.
I saw the greats, all of them, and love them all, I did, and then, I came to a council of light beings. I know them to be my old friends, wiser now, and I talked with them.
It was as if all the pictures I have of masters, the ones I love, who I know from dreams and thoughts and inspirations, I passed through each of them like they were paper, somehow, very colorful paper, and I felt just a tiny rush of relief to know that they are symbols. Colorful and helpful and perfect and symbols.
And then, I sort of felt my self rush to a place where there was a group of beings that glowed. They were light, and they were benevolence itself, and they were gathered in union, communion, in a circle. I felt such love, and I wept, I felt such recognition.
I knew them to be The Teachers, and I knew then that The Teachers were wonderful friends. I sensed the fortitude, the unwillingness I had to do anything but awaken, and I saw my whole life, then, a series of teachers I asked for, I agreed to work with, who I loved and who loved me. I understood, just a bit, perhaps, how cooperative the whole thing is, and I felt connected to them in a brand new way.
I told them that they have changed, and I asked them if it were true, could they have changed so much? They laughed and asked me the same thing, and then said, this is the time of taking on more of what one is, and as they did, so shall I, so have I. I have changed, they have changed, all is in motion.
They told me I can have access to them whenever I wish, and we settled on a very nice metaphor. The old channel’s attic, where we did many session,s came to us, and yet, it is an amalgam. A safe and inviting place, a hallowed place, and one I can go to whenever I feel the desire. It is the vibration which grants access, and the vibration is being fine tuned so that it can be held in consciousness more easily, but it really is just a thought away.
And then, I was given a gift.
I am obsessive, this is true, when it comes to this work. I get discouraged. I worry. I fret. I am impatient. Not anxious. Grandly impatient.
I have been told for a very long time that this is work which will live on, and I have often felt the gratitude that only a writer of code can feel, when the code is finally broken, and everyone has access. I have always understood that this is work which will live on.
And I have been able to see, especially after their talk on harmonics, how all of my good will have to, just have to, come to me. There is no other way of balancing this equation. No other way.
I set this lifetime up to have no human mirrors. None. I don’t feel I have ever met my match. That is certainly not a slam to friends or family or loved ones. No. But not one of them can discuss this stuff with me. Do you get that? The stuff that makes me glow, that sets me on fire, that gives me purpose, that has set my bones and allowed me to run again, my family, my friends, my co-workers, they have wanted no part in it. None. I am accepted if I keep quiet. And that is weird, I know, but it is the set up.
This does not mean I have not had teachers, because I have. Great masters who are my friends, two of them in my life right now, patterning for me self-determination, divine love, acceptance, honor, respect. I have that. I have the guru thing down. But to be sitting on a couch with someone, lighting up a smoke, and to feel permission to discuss the finer points of angels, or how we all are our own mountains, that sort of thing, this is NOT TOLERATED. In fact, I have some in my life whose upper lips curl when I even start THINKING this way. It’s really fucked up, actually.
This had been on my mind the days prior to this meditation. I had come to see that the point of this set up was not to further illustrate man’s inhumanity to man, but instead, the set up was necessary so that I could have a pristine knowledge of self, self as generator and interpreter of reality, self as determiner or experience, self as source of divine love.
Although I have seen love for me in the eyes of another, it has always been with reservation. Always. And I think this has more to do with the space inside folks’ hearts than anything to do with me.
Tony Stubbs writes that all agreement fields have geometrics, and if one has the pattern, the geometric, say, for victimization, then when that energy comes blowing through your reality, one’s own patterning as a victim jumps up and latches onto the agreement field of “Victim,” and off you go, off you go into the world of scary monsters and defeat.
And just as there is an agreement field for victim, there is an agreement field for sovereign, master, although I am not sure I like that term, and when this is presented, sure enough, your geometry clicks into this field, and there you go, off and running, into happier, clearer fields of endeavor.
And with that, things got quieter for me.
Sometimes, it helps to see something in print. I had begun to really believe that I, little I, me, Kathy Vik, all by her lonesome, was projecting this weird pattern no one else could see, no one else had the equipment for.
Hence, the writing, so I would not feel so alone anymore, and to also understand, really slow it down and understand, just what was happening to me.
There is a field which rides above the physical, which is exalted and beautiful, a field which is clear and is pure light, unsullied acceptance, absolute honor and joy. This is the unified field, this is the transparent wafer which exploded, with intent, into light, within my body, in meditation.
And from there, in meditation, I saw something unusual.
I saw generations of people, unending people, with my books in their arms. I saw generations of people. I saw their respect, and I felt their gratitude.
I cried again then, so freely and happily, full of love, and a job well done. I saw that it is such a blessing, will be, when people finally read this and get it, because it will tell me that people’s hearts are more open, and they are ready. It filled me with such gratitude, such gratitude and honor to have been willing to set apart effort for this endeavor.
This writing will help many, and when it begins to, as it already has, every time I get a comment or a word of encouragement, it lightens me and excites me, because it proves to me that there is willingness, there is openness.
This writing will become important to people as their journey becomes important to them. Right now, many are still mesmerized by events, and that’s just fine, that is a loosening up of things that needed to be loosened.
There will come a day.
This I now know as fact. It is just physics. Just physics.
But that brings me back to this present moment, and also to what comes next for me.
I have held myself on the cusp for a long time. I have been unwilling to re-order my life, I have resisted taking on a full time job.
I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop since I sent out my first essay into the ethers. I re-read my work, and for all its cumbersome self-revelation, I can only see it as miraculous. How do I string sentences together, construct huge frameworks of knowledge, while in my jammies, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes? How is this possible, even?!
So I have been fascinated with the process and unwilling to break the flow, convinced that working full time would commit far too much time to interpersonal karma-busting, which I really just don’t feel like doing for others at this point. They can carry their own water for a while, that is what I have thought since I started this process in March of 2012. let the co-workers and weird bosses and messed up systems I find myself dwelling in, let them slide, let everyone just do their own thing without me for a while. I don’t want to bump up against authority, all that crap, I just want to be left alone to FEEL and to WRITE.
And so, I have lived in distressing levels of poverty since I made my decision to get right with myself, cursing my wealthy father, silently, for not doing more for me, angry at a system which requires one to abdicate so much physical time to daily bread that thinking quietly, contemplating deeply, this is seen as luxury, not necessity. I did not want that world. I turned away from it. I wrote instead.
Deeply Awake is a gift for you, a gift I made for me too, one which I know now will be on my bookcase, in my next family’s house, and maybe there will be more of what I have written, on the TV or in the movies, on the radio, on chat shows. I will be surrounded by it, won’t be able to escape it.
And it was there, in meditation, me in my next life, seeing these books on my mom’s bookshelf, it was then that I understood my legacy, and more, I understood, profoundly and simply, that my gurus, my teachers, my spiritual rescuers, I put them there, just as I am willing my books into my next lifetime, I willed these teachers, this enlightenment, this new way, into this lifetime. What makes me think I am exempt this lifetime from this sort of forward planning of compassion?
It was then that I saw that, even if the books are never published, even if there are no throngs clutching these tomes to their chests, I have seen, with certainty, with a knowingness which cannot be shaken, I have seen my bigger self step right in and intervene. I have had great teachers, profound revelations, and this has been purposeful.
There is one more thing from this meditation that I want to pass on, and then I can tie this up.
I saw, there in my family tree, I saw that there were guardians, emitting a pure, pure love that went unrecognized and often was ridiculed, while growing up. And these folks, they might have looked like martyrs, but they were holding a very high vibration, the vibration of unconditional love, and I could see, one by one, through the generations, I could see these avatars light up.
I understood there is a lineage of light that I am part of. My son is part of it, by choice. And I saw that we are connected, all of us, each of us in the family, but that some of us have a purpose which was more obvious, shall we say, and whose light was very very strong.
I saw that the truth of this is humanity is a matriarchy, when all is said and done. I saw that these blood lines, they matter, and that, although the love bond between two grown up human beings unrelated by blood, this is very very important on so many levels, but, blood, this is the way of it. This is the lineage. This is how the lineage is maintained. Choice by blood.
That is not to say that we are unrelated, because the truth of it is we are one, one entity, when you get right down to it, but then there are gradations.
From there I understood better about physical life. I could go on for more pages, but what the essence was is this: I was railing against my amnesia. I was telling them, at the end of this meditation, to remove it. I want it gone.
I saw then that in one respect, the reason we have amnesia is that the events, the minutiae that create events, these are unknown until potentiated. The future is unknown, and the amnesia is in effect because the future is unknown.
What is available are potentials, probabilities.
And then I saw that riding above the little decisions which make us move here and there, above the set ups, above the things that look like accidents, there are agreements, soul to soul, and these agreements are not as obvious as you’d think. There are agreements which insert themselves within our reality, within our matrix, and these are what can be hooked into, but the thing is, the more I looked at it, the more layers I saw.
It is a complicated system, and one that I am not so sure I need to know, or even want to know, the inner workings of.
What I know now is that I am covered.
So this morning, I feel different. I am done, I think, doing the woe is me dirge, ever again, when it comes to spiritual loneliness. It is my walk, for now.
Further, I have decided that it is time to break apart this fear over What Comes Next.
I knew there would come a day when the next bit would be clearer, and it does get clearer daily, but it feels like a whole bunch of residual has been cleared, and I can just see better, with fewer emotional barbs sticking out. It hurts less to think about the future now.
I used to think that if I took a full time day job that this would be the end of my spiritual growth. And it is true that having huge blocks of “idle” time has allowed me access to things I probably wold have avoided had I opted for wealth, or at least a higher living standard.
But I think now I can do this without giving into the vow of poverty.
I saw my spiritual work in the hands of generations. How poor can I be? I saw my love shining in the faces of those who read this work, who take this journey. How destitute can I expect to be?
I see now that I am covered, and that this next part does not have to be hard. I think that I can work in a system, get involved with people and their daily lives, to whatever degree, and still be happy. I can. I can have financial ease.
I have seen this choice, though, as one between spirit and money, for nearly two years. I moved past the resentment of a society, a culture, which values trinkets over spiritual depth, symbols of safety and comfort over spiritual safety and comfort, and I am done feeling anger, resentment, condescension, despair about any of it.
If the generations of readers never materialized, somehow even that does not matter all that much to me now. I may have to toil on in my area of training for a while more, it may not even take in my lifetime.
And I am not going to get down about that anymore. Not anymore.
I needed YOU to get ME for a really long time. You getting me meant that I did not have to fully commit to nursing, I could just continue to just keep patching the boat. I kept waiting for reinforcements, for people who resonate with what I write. I have found a few. A precious group, I tell you. I love them more than I can express in words. I owe them so very much, every reader, every reader.
But I am pretty much done with unpaid bills, with a messy house, with coasting.
I have had my fill, now, of these great downloads. I know, from my own experience, that I can experience life-altering downloads while on my feet, at work. I have had them happen.
What makes me think that if I stay put, stay still, stay disengaged, anymore, that anything will change?
I know I must make changes now, and although I have been saying that, to some extent, since I started this, I feel as if much of the work is complete. It will never be done. My last meditation is proof of that. I have written 11 pages thus far, and I have not covered a few gigantic understandings that came my way int hat hour and a half of sleep/meditation.
Although I have an aversion to cleaning up that is nearly physical, although I am unenthused about having to slog through one more shift as a nurse, I see what is before me, and I know I must make my plans.
I know that that stethoscope plopped on my neck from Elsewhere. I know I got my phone back as a reward for passing a self-imposed test. I know these things. To apply this knowledge of miracles onto my finances, this is tricky. I see that money is just another form of energy, like my stethoscope, like my phone, it is solid, does things for me, and is highly enjoyable to have around. My ego was not wrapped around my belongings though. My sense of self-worth was never in jeopardy, as I went looking for my phone, as I showed up for work.
And so, the last miracle was one which occurred while in meditation.
I kept hearing a THUNG sound, a deep bass sound, while I was laying down. My neighbor playing music, I thought. And although this would normally send me into spirals of hate, I heard, when the THUNG would come, I heard, “You need this tone. This is a tone which is helpful for you. You have called it to you. Be grateful for it.”
When I considered that this sound, this sort of intrusive, mildly irritating sound would happen, thinking on it as a gift, that it was helping me to tune up somehow, then the THUNGing stopped.
Then I would go off and think some other thought, something not quite as true, somehow, and the THUNGing would start again.
It happened three times, the silence. I realized there was a rhythm. Every time I surrendered to the idea that this THUNGing was not an intrusion, not a visitor sent to jangle my nerves or distract me, not something I had to fight against or hate, it went away.
And so, I see that this might be what is called for now, in regards to my work life.
I want to travel, take vacations, give readings and lecturers, encourage open discussion of that which has been unspoken for thousands of years. I want to be writing for TV, for the movies, I want to write books and plays and radio shows. I want to create. It is all I have ever wanted to do.
But to get there, how to get there?
I think it is by putting one foot in front of the other, doing that which feels perfect in this moment, and this one, and this one. For nearly two years what has felt perfect is to let housework completely slide, let work fall by the wayside, allow this process full expression, and see what happens.
And now, I look at what I have created, and I am stunned. It is beautiful, what I have done. And I think it is enough for now.
I have no one in my reality yet who sees this work as salable. But I have had people step forward and give encouragement. I have had many people, especially lately, extend surprising offers. I am happy for the movement, open to it.
I tell my guides, my Self, my angels and my God that I want ease. I want my financial scores settled easily. I want it to be like falling off a log, making this last part right. I deserve this. I have worked hard for no money, I have taken a pay cut to put all this to paper.
I told them, during meditation, like a prayer, like a ruling from a king, but more, like a surprised little girl, I said, out loud, in meditation, “I am being rewarded. I have earned a reward.” It was a solemn understanding, it was. I have earned a reward.
And so, I think it makes sense to go looking for a job that will pay me enough money for me to start digging out financially. The tradeoff seems to be that I will have to get more involved in people’s bullshit to do it. It is easiest to earn good money when they think they own you.
That’s how I have come to see it. So I will look for a job among grownups who maybe are less likely to think of me as a human resource, and more as a human, but I am unconvinced that my fellow nurses are anywhere near ready for this. So I will cloak, I must, to some extent, and I will present myself for stupid nursing jobs, because the one I have has sputtered out.
And I keep thinking that just by getting dressed up and knocking on doors, other things will begin to present themselves. But it is time, one way or the other, to start moving again, start living again, start hooking in again, but differently this time.
I will reluctantly go looking for work, and maybe that is the exactly wrong attitude to hold, but I am not excited about being a nurse. I really sort of dislike it. Yes, there are a lot of things I do enjoy about it, but I don’t like being away. Away from my house, from my peace, from my routine. I have grown a little lazy, here in expression land.
But, I will, honestly I will, end with this.
As a nursing student, I carried a poem with me. One moment, I was among people who valued intellectual pursuits and who did not make fun or poems. The next, I was in a world where anything that could not be appreciated with the sense took a lower berth, became something to discredit, disbelieve, discount.
I carried that poem with me, and I carried within me the knowledge that even though I was surrounded, and continue to be surrounded, by people who act as if they allergic to anything more than the job ahead of them, the bills that must be paid, the obligations they have made, there is something which I value that they do not recognize, that I do, that feeds me, that keeps me alive.
I would read this poem after exams, after horrible shifts in psych, all through my life, since I found it at eighteen, I have read this and it has steadied me. I leave this piece as I began it, with beloved poetry. This piece makes the self-doubt I experience, it makes it go away.
Because it matters
to read books
jagged as boulders,
serene as a Mozart concerto;
to correct our lives
by the plumb-line
of Jeremiah or Plato,
and to comfort our hearts
with Isaiah and Bach;
to know the world anew
in the witness
of Galileo, Darwin,
Teilhard do Chardin;
and to savor a new creation
with Woolman and Blake
and Thomas More’
Because it matters
that we can be companions
in a learning fellowship
which begins here and now
and my reach to our
Because it matters so much,
I am where I am
and do what I do.
Paul A. Lacey