Deeply Awake — Confirmations My Family Has Awakened 10-14-13 By Kathy Vik

 

Author’s note: After the 7-minute mark, the geometrics in this video are at times identical to the geometrics I see within the vortexes I create when I sit Kirtan. It is powerful medicine for all, whether they ever hear it or not. ❤

 

 

Deeply Awake — Confirmations My Family Has Awakened 10-14-13 By Kathy Vik

Something happened to me yesterday, and its significance is still coming at me in waves. This morning I woke up so clear, and this essay was already being written. I enjoyed the words, the cadence of the piece, but I had a headache and felt tired, so I went back to sleep, and now, the information has morphed a bit but it is still available, just seasoned more.

The theme had been butterflies and just letting folks be, and just being ok with where I am in this process. It was a good start, and one that spoke to me, especially the butterfly metaphor.

I left the house last evening to attend a concert in Boulder. My kid would be home by himself, and we had a plan. He was ok with it, but leaving him alone always makes me feel sort of incomplete. I knew, though, that he was where he wanted to be, and he’d be busy.

I was going to the concert with my best friend. She is my sister, one from my tribe.

On the way to Boulder, I had a peak experience which I do not have words to describe well. I understood, in a flash, with tears of true joy, that I was not alone. It came in waves too. I contemplated the idea that I actually have a readership. Before the first words were written. And, I could feel you, like never before.

I felt, physically somehow, I could FEEL my group. I could feel you, all around the world. I felt such a physical sense of reunion. I felt relief and joy and homecoming and surprise, driving down the highway, crying. I realized that there are people, all over the world, and RIGHT HERE IN TOWN who know me already, and who will take one look at me and their first response will be a broad smile, a handshake, recognition, that family/friend/familiar recognition.

You all have had that. Walking out of the loo at a movie house, looking through a crowded lobby, and, somehow, one person in that sea of people sort of lights up for you, and you know that you have someone who sees you and belongs to you, someone you’ll be talking about the movie with. That sort of intimate recognition.

It was as if a weight I’d walked with my entire life just fell away. And I am really, really, not exaggerating. It is no longer present, that weight.

Then I realized that the teachers who have birthed me this time, in this awakening, I could see them come to me, and I felt a merge, the three of us, my two great teachers, sort of electronic amalgams of what The Teachers once were.

I have lost any interest in explaining guru love to people. Either you have had it, or you haven’t. Those who have not had a guru are the ones who decry the relationship as sick or co-dependent or unempowering. They just have not walked with a guru, I’ve always known that. These gurus I have now, they came together and I realized, I understood, I was merging with their essences, being given a gift of solidification.

So, I had two experiences while driving on I-25 in traffic. I realized, as I came out of each one, that I was being given gifts. I understood that.

Just for fun, I will tell you a little aside.

In high school, I worked with a psychic who taught me how to project my consciousness, how to read others using psychometry, how to meditate. She told me that I have an angel who is always with me when I swim, and this came in very handy when I nearly drown. It was that angel who brought me to the surface of the water and saved me that time. And, Betty told me, I channeled in my car.

Actually, she sort of confirmed it. I always loved driving, and as a kid, languaged it in non woo-woo terms. It felt good to drive, I felt free, that sort of thing. Could think better. But Betty told me that I am very close to my angels, that is where they like to speak to me, in my car.

As I was driving to Boulder, that came to me, as did my unrequited request to hand paint “My Patmos” on the driver’s side door of my first car. My Patmos.

Driving last evening, I realized the uncanny prescience of this request. Patmos is where John was exiled, and where he had the vision of the Revelation. I always resonated best with John, in my Lutheran childhood. I thought he was the most serious and literary of the gospel writers. He spoke to me. I knew him.

And forty years later, here I am, having revelations, once again, in my car, feeling my higher self, or its conscious shadow, merge with great entities I love with my entire mind, body, soul, heart.

I realized on the way up to Boulder that, now that I know, organically, sensually, now that I know I have friends, family, who love me, and I am going to be meeting them now, well, I realized that I had, that I could and that I wanted to release my friends and family, those who aren’t clicking with me, I decided it was perfect, and it was time, to release them. Release them to find their own way. Release them to be with those with whom they are more comfortable. Release them from this little dance of “You don’t love me the way I need to be loved” dance I have done with these folks.

It felt good to leave it, there, on the side of the highway, rattling as other cars speed by it, just another detail that might have been important but now is just a benign bit of refuse.

I had trouble with my directions, missed two turns, and so was twenty minutes late to my friends’ house, but, she is my friend, in large part, because each of us let the other be in synchronicity. When we get together, we know it is a perfect creation. We may be out of synch right now on a conscious level, but never ever on a soul level. Never.

So she wasn’t mad and I wasn’t stressed when I showed up at her house. Thank God. Some people could ruin an entire outing with a start like that. But no, there we were, two Pisces sisters, born a week apart in the same city, two thousand miles away and nearly 53 years later.

I told her my awareness, even though she is so pressed and squeezed and sort of unwilling to hear this stuff right now. I told her that what came to me on the drive up is that this night is to be a night of compassion and support, of divine love and human support. It’s a benefit, for the flood survivors of Boulder. Anyone with a FEMA account could get a (very expensive) tickets for their loved ones, and the whole point was to just love on the survivors.

So I told my friend, I think this would be a good night to just sort of lean back into the love of friends. It is going to be a loving event. I didn’t tell her, but what had come to me whole is the entire event, and the feeling of the event, and that the reason I was in attendance was to anchor this swell of compassion, and to ground it, right into the earth. I smiled and said I was honored to be there, and could hardly wait to get into the love bath.

My friend was, perhaps, unconvinced. She is stressed.

Of course, our timing was impeccable. The parking lady waved us through and allowed us to park in the lot closest to the auditorium. Diane had said, as we settled into our seats, that when she called for the tickets, she visualized what she wanted, and these were the seats. We were smack dab in the middle of the theater. Macky Auditorium is an old school theatre, beautiful, inspiring architecture, and we were in the middle of it, like two snowmen in the middle of a snow globe.

But, the feel of the place, and who was in attendance, oh! I knew right away, I was among my people. I felt relaxed. It was like the energy at Kirtan, expectantly reverent, confidently joyful, peacefully creative.

And sure enough, this music, this event, it was perfect. It was part of the Mantrafest tour. The Guru Ganesha band kicked things off. There was humor, there was dancing in the aisles, there was laughing and celebration. Each and every song was centered in divine love, in divine light, and there I sat, in an auditorium filled with maybe five hundred people, and the feel of it, the feel of them, oh, it was beautiful. I encountered a woman who gave me chocolate kisses. I got up and danced. I sang the mantras. It was great!

And my friend, having never experienced what some of us are prone to do when we get together, she was not overwhelmed, and she did not turn off, and for that I give thanks. I am grateful.

I’ll back up, and I know my friend will understand why I am saying this next part.

We had been squabbling about where to park, and this is more to do with just seeing to it our energies blend. Remember, I got to Boulder high as a kite off of spiritual gifts, so I was quite expanded, and this energy has, when not managed well by yours truly, it’s been so powerful that it has made Sam cry. In an expanded state one day, I picked him up from school, and for the next, like, twenty minutes all he could do is cry. I realized I was mismanaging the energy, blasting him, unknowingly, and I learned, with imagery and guidance, what to do and what to think to just rein it in a little.

So, for my dear friend to be picking little fights with me on the way to the theater, well, I figured, that’s normal. I brought it in as much as I could, got small, got subservient and quiet. But in that lobby, when I walked in and got smacked with the huge love being generated, just in the lobby before the show, I got real giddy and happy and reverential and excited again. I said, almost chirped, “Ooh! Look! Here are my people!” I was excited, and happy.

After just maybe a minute of just standing next to me as I was looking at the malas and flutes being sold there in the lobby, my friend turned to me and said, “I really can’t keep up with you. You need to slow down.” and the way it was said, oh, just like my sister. Just like my mom. Just like my dad. Just like my son. Just like my unconscious co-workers. Just like always. Just like fucking always, once again, here I am, being told to assume the position. It was a shaming admonition, you know. It was an admonition spoken with only one intent. To quiet me down.

And I did something then that I never thought I could do.

When I was told, “I really can’t keep up with you,” and what was also said was that this was not acceptable and I was bad, do you know what I did?

Drum roll.

I said, quietly, respectfully, and honestly, “I did not ask you to.”

And we made our way to the seats.

It felt good, saying this. I never asked for resonance, understanding, mutual resonance. I didn’t.

Somewhere, between the admonition and then sitting down, something with me sort of shifted, and I realized, you know what, I just don’t don’t care anymore.

It used to really bother me, I mean, down in my soul, and physically, in my skin, I can sense dissonance. I can feel it, and I have always been scared of it, I have resented it, I have interpreted dissonance to mean that I am bad.

I think this is because a part of me has always known that I am usually more consciously aware of what is happening interpersonally, have an observer ego, I guess you could say. So I know that I am bringing it, energetically, to relationship. And most are not as conscious. So I can be overwhelming. I know that.

And all my life, from girlhood forward, mind you, this has always been the admonition. Stay small. Do not project your energy. Be quiet. Shut up. You should not have said that. How dare you. My energy has not been all that welcome, and it has gotten me into trouble in groups. You really don’t have to believe me, and you can, I guess, interpret this to mean things it doesn’t. I have no real pride about this. It is more like an energetic fact, and it’s been a real pain in the ass, to be honest.

But, I have become quite masterful at bending low, crouching, hiding and covering up, trying to not jangle or disturb the ones who are so, so willing to bitch about feeling disturbed.

And there I was, telling my best friend, my sister from another mother, telling her, in essence, “Well, actually, friend, I was not asking you to keep up. I was not asking for you to approve of me. I was asking nothing of you. Your troubles are your troubles.”

It felt weird to have said, and we processed it a bit. I told her I was sorry for things not feeling right, and we sort of let things go. The concert was about to start.

From the first song, there was a vortex. I spoke about it with a handsome man at intermission. We both agreed that the Guru Ganesha band brought it, from that first song. Usually in Kirtan it takes a few songs to sort of mold the energy and open up a vertex, but no, there it was, with the opening notes.

The handsome man and I were both grinning ear to ear, outside under the moonlight, at intermission, saying, to each other, “Yeah, well, it’s all love. We’re all one. We’re a family of light” that sort of thing, interspersed with praising the band, discussing good coffee houses, and the current political cluster-fuckery. (He was married, btw)

There was dancing and chanting, harmonizing and clapping. Just like in kirtan, using my body, rhythmically clapping, opening up that heart chakra, using body as symbol and choir. Ahh.

I looked at the audience, and felt so much relief then.

There, in the aisles, from the second song until the band played their last note, there were folks dancing in the aisles. All around me, people were singing the chants.

Here we were, with a group of old souls, the leaders stating out loud, do what this music tells you to do. Express. Express. Express. Enjoy. Embody. Experience. And so, folks were up and dancing. They were singing. It was awesome. We have all been to concerts when singing in your seat, or seat-dancing would get you, at the least, a crusty look, and, at worst, eviction from your seat. Creative co-creation is normally shamed. But there was no shame in that auditorium.

Well, see, that is sort of the point for this essay. There was shame in that auditorium. There was sadness and darkness and melancholy in that auditorium. I could sense it, little pockets of it, and the light quotient, it was a mixed one. Folks coming together this night were being loved on because they had experienced a fundamental change in their reality, a change Gaia gave them, over two soggy, scary, exhausting weeks, during the flood.

So no everyone was on their feet, and some were quite distracted. So I would look at the ones dancing, I would look at the stage, and I would send out love, and relief from burdens. I saw that golden light I experienced in the truck on Christmas Eve, the one that explained to me with my cellular biology, that we are here because we are in love with one another, and we are made, physically constructed of love. I gave that, I gave the light, and I did not puzzle on the problems consuming some of the concert goers. I saw their worries as something needing that golden light.

And I knew, sitting there, could feel it, that the bigger parts of the people sitting and standing and dancing, the higher selves, we were all in deep celebration and thanksgiving. And we gave prayers and love to the consciousnesses which were resistant, and we honored the resistance, and saw it as beautiful and not a bad thing.

As the Guru Ganesha band was finishing up, I had a thought.

Right before the concert, Diane had been telling me that she can no longer tolerate the movies and images she used to be able to, and had asked if I had been experiencing anything like that. I told her, yes, I’ve lost some of my interest in movies, and told her that even though Silver Linings Playbook is a lightworker’s manifesto, Sam and I always, anymore, fast forward through the family fights and images of dissonance.

Then I told Diane that I think that is the first stage of awakening, feeling that great dissonance, feeling deep discomfort with things as they are. And then I told her, the thing is, you move from the anger and the frustration to a place of empathy and love and compassion. That’s the process.

I lost her. I really did. She checked out of that conversation once I got deep, but I was told, hey, it’s really ok, so I decided to feel no guilt for what I’d said.

During that last song, what dawned on me is, I think it might be best for those who are resistant to be resistant. Think that what I have to say is silly, or psychotic, or unnecessary, or even ugly. Think it all you want. Do! That’s how it starts!

Resistance, it’s really ok. And it leads to the questioner coming face to face with the questioner. If what I have to say creates discomfort, that sort of means that there is someone within that person who is hearing and struggling against the information.

Some ignore me and don’t see me at all. Some hear me without my saying a word. And some get so pissed around me. And I thought, you know, that’s really, really ok.

I remember being told certain things by my gurus, my teachers, that I felt personally affronted by. I took umbrage with some of the things I was told. I could feel they were accurate and true, but they did not resonate with any of my belief structures, so all I felt was dissonance when they told me these great truths.

I thought, that guru dude up on the stage should say, “Hey, you don’t have to believe one word of this divine love stuff. I invite you to argue with it! I encourage you to fight against it! I want you to disagree vehemently! This tells me that you are on your way! Then I can celebrate your anger, and you yourself, which is always the only way, you yourself will see through your own arguments, and come to your own peace.” I kept hearing him say, again and again, while the music was playing, “I interpret the light this way. Let me marvel at how you are interpreting the same light.

Again and again and again, I heard him say that, or maybe it was me, I don’t know, but wow, the peace I felt then.

I realized that it is actually best for each and every person to wrestle with meaning and truth on their own, and anger, dissonance, misunderstanding, guilt, shame, all of it, just really fine, because it is someone’s interpretation of their light. That’s it. And it is beautiful, every interpretation, beautiful. The dissonance, the anger, the resistance, and the acceptance. The dancing, chanting, and any worship, anywhere, any surrendering to the godhead within or without. Doesn’t matter. All just interpretations of the light.

It’s our right and our responsibility and sort of the set up of the experience, I think, to interpret this great light as we see fit individually, and then maybe coming to peace with the fact that how someone interprets their light is really none of my business, not at all.

But then I realized, you know, standing up and politely saying to my friend, basically, “I’m gonna run ahead, but I’m right here, I love you,” and just letting us part, somehow, energetically, untying each other from or agreements, I do believe that is what me and Diane were doing last night.

We stayed, with Sam’s blessing (he was home alone… I called him at intermission and he said he missed me but that he wanted me to stay to hear the headliner because he wanted me to be happy, and he was really fine) to hear Deva Premal & Miten.

Exquisite performers, beautiful music and very intense, focused, laser focus, light, that group. Beautiful. Precise.

My friend and I had gotten separated during intermission, and I had a number of lovely conversations with strangers about having lost my friend, about Kryon, about us all being family, everyone I encountered was “altered” like me, in joy, laughing and celebrating and completely present.

We finally made it back to our seats, and the fun began again.

I urge you to see these folks, both bands, actually, and to purchase their stuff. It is amazing.

I did not participate in a chant they did for protection. I sang the melody but thought higher. I don’t like the concept of human beings feeling they need to call of spirit for protection. It is a cowering posture, untrue. So I thought about how strong and creative we are, masters of manifestation, angels, each of us, as the song played.

I thought about the light in the soul, and how some of us have mastered pushing such pure light that we can get eye to eye with a highly unbalanced one, and we will not be touched. We run that kind of light. A song for protection, it is an insult. So I did not focus on the insult part, just the beauty of the soul part, for the whole song.

At the end of it, the male singer explained that what had been sung was a chant which states that when one is within their own light, there can be no darkness, and there is no need for protection.

Booyah.

I think it was then that I realized I was finally allowing myself to be home. I was among real live human being s who were not channeling. They were not praying. They were not thinking on the dark things. They were awake.

I was sitting in auditorium full of awake people.

Holy crap.

I really am letting myself come home. I am letting myself be with the family I felt on the drive in, on I-25. It is happening, right here, in front of my eyes. I smiled, I wiggled my toes and got into my body, breathed, smiled some more. Home. Among family. Home.

The last song we stayed for as a native American chant. The male singer had all the men in the room stand up, and then he explained the chant. It was to be used to honor their sisters, the women, in that very auditorium. The women of the group were to be sung to.

The singer explained that the men were to be mindful of the woman, of her needs and thoughts and presence, and that by creating a safe place, a place of honor, the woman is then able to blossom, and a true union can occur.

So the men chanted this beautiful mantra to us. Their voices so low, but such quiet strength in the timbre of the group voice.

I looked at the men, and found only a few who were not entangled in mommy stuff, mother stuff. There were a lot of simple agreement fields that are very flimsy, but sticky, floating in the air. But I settled on a gentleman up a ways, who was loose in his body and smiling, clearly happy, and understanding what was being asked, and able to respond with the vibration. I watched him, and realized there are men out there, not many, but some, who have merged, who understand and really honor, really know, their inner woman. Not many, but more, in that room, than in the general population. It is possible, I thought, looking at that happy, handsome man. It will take so much work, but it is possible.

Anyhow, getting back to this chant, what happened next was the female singer added a different melody, same chant. The women were asked to stand, and what happened next is what the male singer said might… we would merge, become one, our differences melded, a union made. It was a beautiful song, a lovely moment, one which Diane commented upon on the way home. We needed it.

There is one more song I would like to discuss before I wrap this up. We did a chant 108 times. The chant was handwritten and projected upon the screen. The male singer explained that the female singer’s father had handwritten the chant, it was his writing we were seeing.

Her father, you see, was deep in this culture, his name was Wolfgang. Wolfgang was chanting the Gayatri while the singer was being born. And when Wolfgang passed away, his daughter chanted the same chant for him, as he left this world, the circle complete.

They explained that chanting again and again, this is the key, moving the words, the energy, and falling into the rhythm.

I took off my mala, and each time we chanted to Lakshmi, I touched a bead. I usually pray my mala with gratitudes, and found that this blending of intents was catalytic. I asked the beads (clear quartz crystal) to store this divine energy for me, within its structure, so I could walk with it always.

But it was Om Madme Padma Om that took me where I knew I would go that night. This is a chant which sent me into ecstasy, made me feel physically like I had disintegrated, dispersed, was no longer physical. I was consciousness with that chant, free-floating, joyful, reverent, unified consciousness.

This morning, I received a text from Diane saying that this is the first time in months that she has not woken up in a blind panic. She had spoken to me, on the way to her house, about having felt, during the song sung with the intent to send golden healing light to anyone who needs it, she said that during this song, she actually saw gold, and could feel the healing. Oh, I was so happy to hear that.

Happier still to get the text of my best friend feeling more peace. That’s what I prayed for, for everyone in attendance that night, that they could experience something like what I did, in their way, that golden light telling them, the burdens are not real, the worries can sit, undisturbed for this moment.

It was this sense of relief, of having in my physical reality, in the form of a rare concert event, that I really felt that the vision I’d had in my car, that we are one now, that there is family, there area friends afoot, oh! It was this relief that has since settled into me, into my bones, today.

ADDENDUM:

I want to share this with you. Two paragraphs ago, I received a call from someone at Hay House, their Self Publishing division. She listened attentively and respectfully about what my work is, and who I think it is for, and how much I love and believe in it. And then she told me about their services.

I am over the moon, I cried a few times with joy as she reeled off the best self-publishing package. It is so supportive to the writer, so respectful, what they have fashioned. It is perfect.

I sat there on the phone with her and realized, all at once and for the whole conversation, that this is the conversation. This is the one I have been envisioning, living for, longing for, fearing and calling to me, since I was a girl, but, acutely, the last two years. This is the day. Right here. In my jammies, on my bed, in the middle of an essay, I got a call from someone who, once I did my elevator speech, expressed genuine, honest and genuine, interest.

I like the idea of owning my work outright, not having to lease this work to a publishing house, but I am certain the advantages of being picked up by a national publisher, that has its own brand of rewards.

The phone call was significant. It was a harbinger. It was my long anticipated beginning.

As the conversation got going, I told Shelby, you know, the truth of it is I have no extra money for this right now, so it’ll have to manifest, so it’s best to just tell me all about it, and we set a price, and this is then what I send out as my desire, my dream. And what comes to me, at this point, the money, it is really just a detail.

I have no idea where the money will come from. $6,800 until Halloween, and then the juice gets turned up to 8 grand. But, since I have always thought of money in more theoretical terms, and seen my life as a series of improbable manifestations of wealth when I really, really needed it, I am just completely unconcerned with how or when this will come to be.

“That or something better.” That is what The Teachers side is a good stance to take with manifesting desires. Understand it is there, right there, but something better might be more appropriate. Don’t limit your help, don’t limit the miracles.

So I say to this new, most beautiful manifestation of What Comes Next, that of something better.

This is the confirmation I needed, to bring home the truth I learned on the highway. I know my people are awakened, and I know this is no longer some dream of mine, unrealized, always haunting me. No. This is real. My people are here, and we are friendly to each other, to ourselves, now.

So, To close, I want to share with you a recent intuition. This morning, before all this started, really, I thought back on that most recent “episode” I had, remember? When I heard static in my head really really loud, as my body lay on the bed almost-dying? I said, when writing about it, that I had the thought it was a broadcast, a transmission, this static, and if I just had the equipment I could hear, understand, appreciate what was being expressed, given.

This morning, I have come to think that maybe that download is now my experience. Maybe I am living the downloaded transmission somehow, the downloaded skills or willingnesses or removal or obstacles, overlays.

All of this is in divine timing, that much is clear. I know that it is easy to poke holes in this. I called my dad, after celebrating and crying with my son. And dad, oh he was great at bringing up all the things that could go wrong, inferring, always, how stupid I am, how stupid. How in need to someone to protect and fend against humiliation and heartache.

I suppose this is a classic parental stance, but anymore, it just is something to smile at. I know what just happened to me. I know the context, the meaning, and the significance. I understand I have just been handed the start of my authentic life, the one I have been visualizing and inhabiting in my imagination, since childhood.

So, make no mistake, I am certain of this work. Its meaning and its necessity, its beauty and its brilliance. But I also know it is not for everyone.

And here, today, this very day, someone who does this sort of thing for a living, there she was, calling me, confirming that which I have been told from the beginning: You are not to market. You are not to crow. You are to shine, and write, and understand, and let people come to you. Do not go after it. When people are ready, they’ll call you.

Here was the call, you see?

That I have to manifest some green paper to make this happen, oh, can’t you see how the money is woven into the phone call? Can’t you just see the symmetry of this?

So, you are going to come along for the ride now, my beautiful reader. You and I will walk through this next part hand in hand, and we will celebrate the miracles that are now about to be strewn onto my path.

Yesterday, on the way to Boulder, behind me was a green Cooper Mini wagon, Dark sea foam, with a racing stripe and circles. I smiled as I saw it in my rearview mirror. It is a symbol, for me, how the good stuff will look and feel. It’s the car I want. And there was the finest example, if I could have designed a mini cooper, that would have been the car, right down to the paint job. It was a happy car. A cool car. Capable and hip.

And there it came, behind me, and then it was on my left. It hung there, in my blind spot, but I could feel it. And then it came up, past me, and showed me its colors, its cleverness and cuteness. And that car, I remember thinking, all that I have known I would one day inhabit, the mindset, the work, the heartfelt work, all of it, my heart’s desire, what I’ve always known I would one day be, there it is. I felt, I understood, I knew, it is here. I felt confidence and none of the equivocation that sometimes accompanies such understandings. Nope. Clear and true and blazing, speeding up the fly by ramp onto 36, heading into Boulder at sundown.

I can get excited, I can see the significance, of baby steps. I celebrate them and welcome them in. I do not stand at the door and argue with them. And maybe that is the difference, when all is said and done. I have allowed, always have, allowed my reality to speak to me in odd and loving ways, big ways, and things are rarely exactly as they seem. This is multidimensionality, is it not? Thinking more wholly or something? It was my goal, among others. It is a good place to hang, and contemplate miracles. It is all a miracle. Always has been.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.