Deeply Awake — Final Essay, “Love It All” 10-31-13 By Kathy Vik
**Author’s Note: Well, I guess this is when the “Well, gang, this is it!” stuff started. I have since come to look upon these proclamations softly. At the time there can be no other way than a final one. There is nowhere else to go, the thinking has gone. I’m in one of those, a little bit, now, with my contemporary work. Where do I go next? This must be all there is! I know in my heart of hearts that there is always more, so yes, a part of me knows this goes on and on, in some respect, since my writing always will. But there are times, throughout this process, when I’d reached the end. And this was the first. The next day I began my novel, Patrick Hears Voices, and I’d complete it 24 days later, as part of NaNoWriMo (www.nanowrimo.org)
I woke up today understanding something brand new, and I will tell you about it, once I talk about the sun.
I think we are up for a pole shift, if it has not already happened. I think I will know. That’s what I keep getting. I will KNOW when the sun flips its poles, because I am feeling, more and more, like this is going to be somehow transfigurative, not just transformative. I keep feeling myself bend inside out, in a tube of light. I’ve had enough weirdnesses to know that often these things wind up being a mind-blowing mediation, and then, after getting a hit and getting real, real clear, pure information, then you go back to programming as regularly scheduled.
But a pole shift, this pole shift, no, I think I can be used as a really really big gateway. St. Peter’s gate big. Really big gateway. I do not know when it might happen, but wouldn’t it be nice if it were to occur during the eclipse? They’ve been so obvious lately, it would seem fitting for them/us to do something cheeky like that. But it is all together, all these celestial things. There is no doubt in my mind there is something coming.
At one time, I couldn’t get enough of Pane Andov. He was saying that on 12-23-12 there would be a shift, and our planet would be engulfed in solar radiation, and we would forever be altered.
That he physicalized it a bit too much, that was fine, for at the time, I was all about end days and what’s-gonna-happen. Something about the scenarios where the world just ends, or is engulfed, or all infrastructure tumbles at the count of 1-2-3, these scenarios I found very very relaxing. Really fun. I l liked imagining, not the end of everything, but everything as I know it ending.
And, of course, what Andov was explaining, pointing out, referencing crop circles to prove his hypothesis, the sun really did explode then. There as a release, and we have been feeling waves of it ever since.
I am, have been, convinced, that there is something much bigger going on, and these changes are not called to someone at a conscious level. It is at a soul level you bring on the changes, because your mind has to open to the possibility that any of this is real. Once that starts, a sort of madness ensues, a breaking away from old agreement fields, consciously tying up karma, beginning to not recognize as yours the fabric of a life led using a different metric.
I wrote Deeply Awake so that I would not forget. I did it because I know that love, beauty, great acts of courage and compassion, these change the grid, sweeten and lighten it, and this helps everyone, and the help is permanent.
I only allowed myself to write when I felt I finally had more answers than questions, or, really, that I was getting answers to questions, finally, after all these years of waiting for help.
Help arrived in many forms, all along the way.
This morning I saw that everything in my physical reality is something I have called to me, created, manifested, and therefore it is good. Therefore it is god. Therefore it is benevolent. I know I have been going on and on about this for a long time, but it was real this time, not a construct, but a reality.
It makes no sense, none at all, really to think I need to drop down and call images to me so that I can fix a problem or manifest something. From here, I could see two worlds.
One world I know I am making all of this, and it is god’s because I am god’s. So when conflict comes, I will deal with it expertly, and the thought that I cannot have good, riches, whatever I most desire, that seems sort of silly too. It’s all the same stuff. I really is, a this point.
I love the seeming messes I have made and the trouble I so obviously enjoy making. I love the struggle, a bit too much, I think, I saw, in bed this morning.
Struggling against, arguing against, anything in my awareness is struggling against my beloved, someone who only only loves me, someone who cannot do me harm. It seems a little ridiculous, really.
So, there’s that.
Driving home from dropping Sammy off at school, I knew I wanted to write my last essay. I know I have said good bye, thought this done, one or two other times, but it became readily apparent that I still needed to process.
I think what is happening to some of us, all of you reading, is that the cosmic rays are intense, have been for a while, getting us ready, switching us on. But who is at the master switch? The one that will allow us to turn on every light in our mansions? WE are, the bigger we, the cosmic we, the one we. We said yes, the heavens complied, Gaia also an equal partner, and here we are, one by one, getting clear.
It has been quite a long haul for me, because I had a lot of old stuff to spin off, stuff I always heard I was doing for the collective, and I did it because I was able to, wanted to, and enjoyed it.
There are many bloggers who use the pronoun “you” in their writings, and if they are not identifying as channeling, I don’t read them anymore. That is not a good way to talk to me. Do not tell me what is happening inside of me. That is an incorrect assumption. Therefore, the message is null.
Instead, I went the opposite way. I laid bare everything, or most things, and I told you about the dreams, meditations, various weirdnesses, messages and changes I was experiencing. Without shame, or sometimes while processing through shame, I let you come into my house, take your shoes off, curl up on the couch and let me tell you stories. Ones that have meaning, maybe only for me, but you stayed, and let me give you coffee and cakes, and we burned many midnight candles, you and I, talking about life and death, consciousness and altered states thereof.
You let me tell you about my fears, my triumphs over my fears, my difficulties, even my heart breaks, and you kept listening, and for that, I am forever honoring and loving you. You let me say what was on my mind, in my heart, from my soul and very well far beyond that. And if you thought me too extreme or indulgent, you just went quiet, but once in a while, you would stir. I’d look over sometimes, and there you were, dreaming your own dreams, seeing your own sense, knowing your own mind.
We created, you and I, a safe and beautiful place to speak of ancient rumors and unknown realities. We explored Kryon, Dolores Cannon, Bashar, and many other great thinkers of our age, and well beyond our age. We might not have been talking to god, but we were whispering to jesus. That was the way my friend Chris and I would describe nights we spent high, so high, so high, as young ones, when the world still seemed relatively friendly, before things got hard, before we lost our way.
I have done a good job here, as Deeply Awake, journaling through ascension.
I have created a new genre, that of reverse autobiography, and it is going to be quite a popular form of mystical expression, folks will start any time now, and there will be more of it, I think, but nothing quite like this. The first one. I want to meet others who might have been doing this longer than me. I haven’t met anybody yet. I keep looking.
So, when you’ve created something no one is quite sure what to do with, because it ‘s new and there is no, or little, context and therefore not much permission for it, it has to sit there and shine, quiet and sure of itself, steady and excited, anticipating great things, once it can be recognized for what it is.
If it was too dark, too full of horror stories or sadness, well then, so be it, waking up involves spinning off all of the drama, seeing things bigger, and that is what I have tried to communicate. That there is help. There is hope. All is well. We are loved beyond measure. There is a way out. Here is mine.
I don’t think that is a bad way to have spent 19 months. I’m actually kind of proud of it.
So, tomorrow I start my book, “Patrick Hears Voices,” for nanowrimo. 100,000 words in 30 days, a novel in a month.
As I’ve said, I will post, at least my word count if not the content, on http://www.nanowrimo.org. I will also post, whenever I have enough to post, on http://www.lightworkers.com and http://www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com.
I invite you to help me during this process. I will pass the hat once a week, on Thursdays, since it is a consistent day off this next month. Every Thursday I will ask if you feel reading what I have written is worth a few dimes. If you wish to contribute and make my way easier, while I am creating a book for all of us, you can deposit whatever you wish to my PayPal account, under email@example.com.
The next bit is about elongating the awarenesses, pulling them out like taffy, forming them into varying voices doing and feeling and encountering stuff, puzzling things out, laughing a lot. A whole lot. Things get a lot less dense, now. It is finally time to relax and celebrate.
So Deeply Awake, Journaling Through Ascension stands as a story of one very bitter, scared, despondent person, who had once been beyond plugged in, shiny bright and plugged in, who lost her way and finally came to peace.
It is about me, not some made up character, and about real people who love me, some who were mean, some nice, all gifts, all emanations of divinity, all purposeful, all forgiven and released to find their own way now, in this brand new light streaming into us now.
When I am finally published, one of the first things I will do is get a tattoo of my favorite crop circle on my inner left forearm. It is the one where there is a diagram of the solar system, and all the planets are accounted for but ours. Still there, but invisible to the rest, vibrating too high to see, all of us winking to our selves from the space where our planet used to be, saying, see? We did it!
When I stopped being a boss, I got a tattoo on the back of my neck. The Om symbol. Just a little FU to those who judge just a little too much on externals, was my thinking.
I will save the tattoo for when I am not elbow deep in other people’s nether regions. I will wait until the time is right, when there has been a release.
I wish to be a blessing for others, and know if trouble comes, I am there mainly to assist, to hold light, to not take the things others hold as fact quite so seriously, to see bigger and to love more. To act as a catalyst for the highest good for all parts of all selves involved, whatever that might be.
But, you know, it can get mighty sterile there. Humor, though, is even more active there than in this secondary land of “things happening.” Humor. It’s all pretty funny, if you look at it just right.
That I think a simple, cyclic solar event is going to switch me into higher realms of awareness, is that funny? Is that serious? Is it real or is it nonsense? Over and over, this work has asked just those questions. What stands up to field testing, what is insufficient for me to believe in too much anymore? That I am fragile? A victim? Psychotic? Damaged? These are silly notions, they distort, they blind, they anger and they suppress. They are discarded. They just don’t make sense.
Everything I know, feel, taste, hear, think on, all divine, all from me, from god, for my pleasure, as I have interpreted things this far, but also, it is the set up. It’s just the set up. Love it. Love it. I wrote it. I set it up.
I’ll end with a thought that keeps coming to me.
I was at the Riviera, feeding a penny machine with heard earned dollars, enjoying losing, liking the lights and sounds, but wanting so much to win.
And I had a talk with “them” about just that.
I told them, in a moment of receptivity and calm, as I hit the “Same Bet” button, watching the tumblers blur and settle, I said, here’s the deal. I used to have the juice. You used to point me to the right machines. I hit so often. And the juice has stopped. And I want to know what to do. How do I get it to go on again? Why aren’t I lucky? I want to win. Need to win, actually.
And this is what I was told.
Love it all.
Love it when you are losing.
Love it all.
This morning, I woke up understanding that there is a trinity involve. There is God, and then there is me, and then there is my reality. Me, and my situations, they are from god, direct emanations. So to not like or to argue about or fear anything within me is to, by extension, be alerting myself that I am believing, thinking on a falsehood. Because I love god, and there is no arguing with source, and there is nothing but benevolence, so what is there to fear?
Certain things, in this light, seem so silly, so wantonly harmful and ridiculous, just dumb choices, understandable, yes, but unnecessary, for me, only for me. Resentments, impatience, worry, anxiety, doom thoughts, all that stuff, just nonsense.
It hit me first thing. Now it’s after 10:30 am. I feel the same, effortlessly maintaining this new awareness, handed to me upon awakening, another in a long line of gifts, things to love, things to try on and wear around town, getting compliments, giving smiles and walking tall, because I know I am handsome. I am beautiful. I have proven to myself I am strong and kind. I have proven to others I will not harm them when they are not nice. I have proven I can ask for forgiveness when I make judgments or think thoughts that are not nice. I can say I am sorry, and I then prove to those involved I am good to my word. I am your friend. I am my own friend. And I have friends, always with me now.
Thanks to the effort I was willing to exert, the crazy voices I was willing to obey, now there is this Deeply Awake to help others see how I thought it through, how I solved big chunks of my, to me, at one time, absolutely and completely unsolvable puzzle. Am I a saint? Hell no. I am a creature of this earth, as carnal as they come, as obscene as your dirty Uncle Charlie, as funny as your favorite comedian, as sentimental as you are, and just as vulnerable, sometimes, still, to the pain of others. I wish to ease that pain, and hope that Deeply Awake can help others lay their burdens down, laugh at it all, and move on feeling refreshed and somehow stringer, feeling less alone, feeling bolstered and hopeful.
This is fitting way to leave this work. I am leaving it in deep honor, deep pride and deep faith. I am, and will forever remain Deeply Awake.