Deeply Awake — In A State Such As This 11-22-13 By Kathy Vik

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Deeply Awake — In A State Such As This 11-22-13 By Kathy Vik

When writing Deeply Awake, oftentimes I thought of myself as a bit of a spiritual reporter, someone who liked going down rabbit holes, and sending notes, in pails, up the the surface now and then.

I feel that way again, now, but this is something new, something different, I feel freer, now. I am now, thankfully, without my faithful companion, doubt.

I puzzled over all of this so much, because it mattered to me. I did not speak of it freely, not at all, during most of my time here, just because, I needed to make sure I had it right. I would balk at seers and bloggers who speak with crashing authority, but still in highly linear terms, still bending low to gods, still looking at self and coming up short, and being mad about it.

I would read some folks, and just be floored at their arrogance. It used to crush me, that I didn’t have their marketing skills, but, there it is, the idea of selling this stuff, holing it hostage for a few rectangular, quite ugly, pieces of paper, or zeroes in a bank account. So, I did the poor me thing, but, riding along with it, always, was this sense that they didn’t have things quite as sussed as they should, before opening for business.

That is a gloomy way to live, and I stopped thinking that way. Although I think the way UFO stuff has been interpreted is pretty dark, how full it remains of creepy duality, intrigue, mystery. Men have warped truth into monsters that eat human flesh and do science experiments on us like lab rats. It’s pretty dark, a lot of it.

But to me, that’s just an interpretation, an understandable one, but laughable. Are there lesser, darker beings here along with us? Maybe. But I have seen people who have given themselves over to darkness, and they can get pretty nightmarish, without scales or putrid smells. I am done with thinking anything but that I will probably be surprised at how huge, and clever, and amazing it is, once the galactic piece is clearer. But it’s just the god-the-father overlay to think that galactics are among us, unless you want to consider those of us who know we aren’t from around here.

You see, I just had an amazing experience, and it is this that I need to cement, make real, and hold a light on, for all time.

I drove home this morning after dropping Sam off at school, and as I drove home, I could not access one bad thought. Not one worry, no anxiety. It was all real solid, a good, grounded happiness, not thin and cute, but strong and sturdy, this happiness. A great fondness for myself, I think, is what was its strongest generator. I thought good thoughts, not trying to, they just came.

I remember driving by a house, and there was a “For Sale” sign on the front lawn. I imagined moving in there, and realized it would feel too fussy for me. I need funky. And with that, I was off, imagining where we are going to live, and, you know, now, it feels very immediate. I have felt that the last two days. Immediate change. I can’t imagine how that could happen, so it seems odd and sort of erroneous, but it also feels really, really good.

So, I hung with those thoughts, and it was all sweetness and light, all the way home. I came home and continued some correspondence, checked out the web. I found a Kryon post on the feed, and that is highly irregular, so I read it.

Here is the link to this info on Kryon’s own website:

It was The Recalibration of Self Part I, and it spoke to me about light and dark, and about ascension, I think, but there were two or three themes that I had needed to hear, but hearing them (reading them, I mean), I started to get a brain itch, a need, a restlessness.

I needed to go to the Kryon site. I needed to check this year. I scrolled, but knew that’s not where I needed to go. I scrolled back up, and felt I needed to listen to The Ascended Doors of the DNA. I listened to the pre-party, liked it, started to feel good, kept playing my restaurant game on my phone.

Then the big event came, and, within a few minutes, the phone was down, the glasses were off, and I was with him, them, away, getting helped.

Four doors, they explained, four doors which we can’t open yet, because it’s not time, spoken in February of 2013.

I understood, from the first few sentences, I was needed in front of my computer this morning. It was necessary for me to have heard that today. I needed, wanted confirmation, and now, thanks to Lee Carroll, Kryon, and me, I have it.

The information is still too abstracted within me to stretch out and discuss, point by point. As I listened, I thought, I don’t need to, don’t want to, no need to share what I think I have done. Those who read me know, I kept realizing. Those who read me will know, some of them. They will understand. And they will know, only because they are also aware of what I am aware of.

What I know comes through this writing, has informed it and enlivened it. What I know now was just a doubt, for many, many years. The pain this doubt created was excruciating. The waiting was really hard. Let’s just be honest about this.

I understand that what I know is new to the age, but it is so old, so revered, and so comprehensive. I feel a bone connection to places I no longer long for, know are within my breath, inside my heart, waiting on my tongue, for the words, said in peace and reverence, for a remembering of what is real.

How magnificent, that the wonderful feeling I felt while looking out of my window at the mountains, while Kryon was talking, it is still here. Still feeling like it’s now something I am wearing, but inside my skin, something I can feel from the inside, coming from everything.

We know that had we talked like this only five years ago, well, it just wasn’t time for it, was it? It has only been the last several weeks that I have been feeling very different, very expanded, easily remembering things, bigger things, upon awakening, not having to dig myself out of a huge pile of pain to get to the truth of it, to start feeling good again.

It’s as if the things that used to just break my heart, just fill me with a poignant feeling of imperfection, that is gone. It’s just gone. The sad feeling I used to carry with me, that there is no point, that’s gone too. There is no futility. There is no futility. There is no futility.

Do you have any idea how revolutionary this is, coming for me? Do you have any idea how depressed and full of despair I was, most of my life? Filtering through to me, on the happiest of occasions, was a weird sort of doom feeling, that things aren’t right, and may never be right. That’s sort of how I felt, most of the time.

How odd to find out that this is actually not so far from how things could have gone. My teachers, when they explained about ascension, it was rarely about the mechanics of personality structure. They talked about how things really are. That ascension is how planets evolve. That it is normal and beautiful, it is sacred and it is complex, and it is possible to understand. It is real, and it’s ok to feel these things so deeply. It’s ok to remember.

Although I am happy to think of my larger self as Pleadian, I will tell you, I think that is pretty limiting. I was told I came from Antares, one night, in the parking lot of a hospital, on my smoke break. A red flash. I kept hearing “Quasar,” and I googled it and learned about space stuff right after that, but I have no idea if Antares turned into a quasar, or I am from somewhere else.

Does it matter? They’re details. They are riding along with me, and I don’t access that stuff by pondering what color my skin is on other worlds, I get there by knowing that I have lives going on, right now, on faraway galaxies, and we are connected with my consciousness and heart. I can join in as much as I want. They’d like that. But it’s all up to me, and this DNA of mine.

What we are capable of imagining is a result of how our DNA is functioning. This is a time of massive DNA acceleration, for those who have spoken their intent for it. Mine was spoken long ago. This is why I am here. Everything else is details. My sister knows of this madness, and we rarely speak of it, but one day, on the way home from Central City, she asked me what I thought my purpose was. Without hesitation, with a clarity that frankly surprised me, I said, “Ascension.”

it’s all that has mattered, and although I got as hung up as the next person on who likes me and who doesn’t, all that old stuff just feels like fussy filigree. It’s just fading into a blur, and it really just doesn’t matter.

I have always felt that if I am not putting people at their ease, I am bad. And I think that is only a dysfunctional stance when I surrounded myself with people who could not, would not, simply refused to do anything but criticism, hate, fear, name call, minimize, resent me, their circumstances, their government, themselves.

It’s only really stupid to love when those around you prefer punishing such behavior.

I learned early to hide my light, and to expect brutality from people who said they loved me. That goes for employers, lovers, friends, family. The whole lot of it.

But those were different times, you see? There have been upgrades, changes, beautifications, all along the way, but just like the 100th strawberry, sometimes it just takes a perfect moment for things to turn. In this case, they have turned sweeter, more gentle, more recognizable.

I know that these ascended doors open slowly. I saw, while listening, how my summer and fall were the opening of the never alone door. I am not alone. I am comfortable with my multiplicity. I am beginning to sense my imprint.

I want to dwell within the light that was given to me on Christmas Eve, all golden and liquid intelligence, true recognition of how much everyone loves each other, understanding how I am physically constructed out of love, benevolence, creativity, source. It was something I want to know all the time, and like that, a moving golden take-your-breath-away reality. Where I could see into other galaxies, or at my son’s hair, flittering in the air the heater spat out.

I’d like to be able to materialize things in my hands, heal infirmities, channel 24/7. I’d like all of that. I was told at a young age that this sort of love, loving everything, seeing everything as creator, this would be what I would have. I thought it seemed like a good goal.

Growing up was hard, being an adult, in this timeline, not easy either, but here’s the thing. I look back on the challenges, and I can’t feel the pain anymore. It’s not there. I see the sense, the timing, the way x moved me to z, but I grieve nothing. And neither, in this state, do I fear anything in the future. It is an impossibility, here. Not a faux pas, an impossibility.

As I have said from the beginning, I do not know how long I will be able to sustain this, and so, I am writing about it, to capture what this is like, so I can remember. I try to be clear, use anchors I can remember, and I worry this has been yet another cryptic essay, rather than being a song of celebration.

However it comes off, it’s ok by me. I know I will be helped if I read it again, and, like all of these essays, I don’t doubt there are other messages, coded within, ready to bump into me and wake me up, if I do re-read.

I know this isn’t for everyone, and that’s more than fine. Not everybody wants to think or live the way I do. No biggie.

But with the change comes the hope for the future. Those who cannot act and think and be in their love, those who must fear, and must drink its koolaid to feel “normal,” those days are done. It’s over. It’s just so over.

And when the young ones come in, they’re the ones who passed away clinging to old ways, the old energy still their only yardstick. But everything changes, in this new energy, within the DNA there are changes, now, and these changes will ease the burdens of the ones so set to carry them for eternity. T

he burdens of fear and anxiety and worry, of separation and suspicion and derision, they are ended. These are weak constructs, and they will fall, and from here on out, those who come back in have a new set of rules to start off with.

And you know how this came about? People like you and me. People who found no satisfaction with dogma, but were drawn to spiritual things. And many who pursued none of them this lifetime, just holding that high energy, on vacation. But, I think I want to pat you on the back today, actually.

High consciousness, to me, is loving consciousness. Inclusive, merciful, imaginative, funny, often times, but at its base, it is generous kindness. Benevolence. This is the mark of a master, for me, and also, mental health.

I grew up around mental illness, and have practiced as a psych nurse. I only have one definition of mental illness. Those who are intentionally mean, they are the craziest. Who dip into the crazy well over and over, and deliver insult after insult to one’s being, those are the crazy ones.

Mental health is seeing things whole, seeing people as more than they present, being willing to guide and teach, and even to admonish, as necessary, but only with great great love, and this sort of person is patient. More patient than they should be. I’ve had many people in my life like that, and I am blessed for having known each of them.

What has steadied me, from time to time, when things have been bad, is knowing that there is always going to be a way to change whatever is in front of me. Nothing stays the same. What was science fiction is not fact, what was once uncomfortable can be mended, and no one turns down love unless they are having problems understanding their own magnificence.

I am no one’s critic, no one’s enemy, and everyone’s friend. I mean no harm, and know that I am unable to do harm. It’s not in me anymore. If I feel I am off the mark with someone, I make it right immediately.

Folks didn’t know what to do with me, because I would call or revisit them and tell them I was sorry, for something they failed to notice. Some snag in the conversation, where I thought I’d missed an opportunity to be clear, or kind, or more gentle or thoughtful.

I felt, after Deeply Awake was finally done, that I would need expository writing less, or that it would morph. It has changed, in cadence and complexity, and, I hope, in tone. I revisited sad things, yes, that’s true, but it was a final foray into that land. I think it Is well past time to stop resurrecting the things that were hard, and to cherish that I understand, now, why they were hard, and I love it all now, so it’s really ok, whatever transpired.

I heard the admonition, to be quiet about this, from Kryon, and maybe that’s a poor translation of what was being communicated, run through a filter of mine I had lying about, or maybe he did say to be in silence. To show your mastery by giving silence. If you know all things, he said, then it becomes unnecessary to tell anyone anything.

And that’s where I want to be. I really do, but, you see, I have this need to speak. I know I must, and that this feels best, not channeling, and not fiction, but exposition, yet again, today.

Because where I have been, what I have seen, today, it is a joyful and completely unspeakable place. The word god is a misnomer, a shiny marble, a pretty bauble. Source, Creator, That which I know but cannot name, that golden light and benevolent person, this is my god, unnameable, unending, and I am part of it. Imagine such a thing. It is here, tapping on this keyboard, eating a twinkie, smoking. Imagine such a thing!

It is fitting to write to you about such awarenesses. In such a state. In a state such as this.

Thank you for reading along, my dear friend.

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