Deeply Awake — From Worrier To Warrior 1-15-14 By Kathy Vik
I have much to report to you today, and expect this could be a long one, but I think what I am anticipating is not length but girth, so to speak. The thoughts, the events, the understandings, they have come at me fast and full since my last essay, and it is wise to let come what will come, to share with you the point of it all, and discuss, then, how I got here, since this is my way.
Although my last essay may not have been the best, something happened to me after writing it. I felt so good, so unburdened afterward, and these sensations followed me, seemed to increase as time passed.
I had to scratch my head about it a few times. Within the essay was, I thought, nothing all that new, but, the act of writing it, and its contents, surely, led me to peace, to a clearing in a very congested wood. Usually this sensation comes after having written something of brilliance. My last essay was not all that brilliant. And yet, there I was, feeling like a newly minted coin.
I had been anticipating seeing Lee Carroll, being in Kryon’s presence, for many months. The date was set, Saturday, January 11. The whole thing had the absolute pristine quality of high, high ceremony, of sacredness. I think back on that day, and the night before, and my preparations that morning, and it still floods me, a stillness, that place I have reached at other important moments in my life when I know, I just know, I am doing God’s work, and God indwells me.
Because I have let much time pass, unpacking the events which followed may indeed be a longer project than not, but still, there are things to tell you here, now, today.
I think, now, that the biggest gifts I got were not even in the channel. Dr. Todd and another guy got up and did a tone jam, after Dr. Todd’s talk.
I preface this with telling you I don’t know much about what folks call toning, but that, when I was in tremendous pain in my hip, probably six months ago, while in a state of meditation, I was led to place my hands thus and so, and to utter the most powerful and weird sounds I have ever uttered.
I know now I as toning, I know now I was remembering, and I know now that this is something deep and true, just for me, maybe, but so precious I want to share it with you. I never questioned the importance, or the reality, of my Lemurian roots, but again and again I was shown, I could do nothing but conclude, that this really is my heritage. How nice.
The jam was so freeing. Any sound, any sound, it came, and there was beauty and humor and delicious freedom in each sound. They toned, and then many of us chimed right in, and I found I knew this way, I had memories, I had a knowing. Again and again, I knew I was remembering a home, a time of great happiness and integrity, home here on Earth.
The morning of the event started powerfully. I got there early and, after finding my seat, chosen months ago by me in meditation, anchoring a corner, I got up and looked at the vendors’ wares. I went to the Lemurian Sisterhood Crystal Pendant table.
There were crystal pendants, that my physical mind told me looked awkward and odd. Then one called to me. I picked it up. Good God Almighty. I held it, and from somewhere I am no longer unacquainted welled a tremendous wave, of longing, of home, and of homecoming, celebration, relief, such relief. I didn’t have the choice. I stood there holding that pendant, crying. Weeping, actually.
I did it discreetly, but weep I did. I smiled at the vendor lady, and the lady said, don’t worry about it, I have seen this reaction before. She was kind. I said I was light in the wallet, and she smiled and said, “Then you come and hold her during the breaks.” I did just that. It never got sold, that one. It’s mine, you see.
That was before the first welcome had been said to the group, before the doings. It started with a bang, with a gong of recognition and homecoming.
It was harder than I had imagined it would be, being in that space for nearly twelve hours. I felt, again and again, the desire to get up and co-present, or to at least add my two cents and augment the discussion.
I felt this dissonance acutely. Me, a simple nurse with a sad backstory and no letters behind my name, no long history of being a “healer,” no having given myself over to this counter-culture, I felt that I had no right to feel adept, and yet I knew of my right and ability to lead such a day, helping others. I felt awful, at certain points, sick with wanting to lead, and knowing it was inappropriate. It felt like nausea, but it was deep and it led to many changes, I will tell you.
I think that the worst is over. It took a few days to heal, to really really heal, and the holy people who helped us all that Saturday are my friends, my loved ones, each adding to a cacophony of dissonance and recognition within me that has since turned into a symphony.
By the end of it, and the day after, I felt as if what I have devoted my life to these last two years was as thin as paper, as precious as an innocent, as in process as a fetus. I felt unjustified, and I felt unlettered, untested, but fully certain I deserved more than I have allowed in my life thus far.
I will now tell you of a dream I had during these days of healing I have had. I dreamt I was in an old car, like a Rambler or a Studebaker, with three people I knew to be my angels, part of me, but bigger, and yet, they were just as physical as I. I wasn’t driving. We were driving up a hill, and I looked outside and saw a big river. And then, I saw an unthinkable thing.
A flood. A great swell of brown water was surging down the hill, and the water coming was, I knew, completely transfiguring the land and river. It could be no other way. Nothing could ever be the same. It was the big one.
I flashed to the enormity of the deluge, the great flood, the one that wiped everything away for one last chance, the chance we are now in. I turned from the sight in peace, excited in that weird way I have always had, when I see such events, sort of relieved, I guess, and excited.
Next, we were in a pastoral scene, and we passed over a bride. Under the bridge was a river, and the water was clear. I saw scores of lambs who were also dogs. They were lined up, three across, and this went on the for the length of the little river, hundreds of animals placidly underwater, very neatly. The animals were stock still, as was the water, really, but I understood that these creatures were fine, they were still somehow alive, but their state was one of being underwater now, that this is what they are now.
Then I was in a school, and I was changing into different items of clothing. I had my friends with me. I was a teacher, and I was a motor mouth, and so happy to be changing out of my wet clothes. I’d never been touched by the flood. I had gotten wet while teaching, others had gotten my clothes wet.
There was so much more to this dream, but that’s what I caught. I layed real still, wishing to capture all of it, and I thought on this fresh dream as I always do my dreams, wanting to capture the essence of it, knowing the visuals were much like mnemonics, so I laid there asking to instill within the images the understandings I had reached. I was told, I understood the following:
There has been a flood, and many people are now under water, the ones who have always done what the other guys has done, those who have felt it impossible or uninteresting to question, all of them are now still alive, but immobilized by this clear, clarifying water. It is not mine to grieve for those who now are underwater, and I was told, and understood innately, to not grieve for them. They are fine. They are fine.
And then I am told, notice where you were in relation to the flood. Notice you were never alone. Notice you had a light heart and you were safe throughout. Notice that you were a teacher, between scenes, between classes, so to speak. Notice you were always traveling, and that you consistently were safe above the destruction. Notice how lighthearted everyone was, how much joking and good humor and reassurance there was all around you.
This dream helped me a lot, as did another one I had just before seeing Kryon, in which a very very young man, still a virgin, but virile, he professed his love for me. He just loved me so much. He knew me, and loved me, unable to reach my maturity, incapable of it, but with such a pure, bright love. He brought me Korean, in little boxes and told me he was going to bring my favorite food to me every single night. He loved me, loved me, loved me.
And I felt sort of detached by it, but not creeped out by it, which is a real biggie. I chose, in the dream, even though there were others, mature, whip-smart, creatives who knew me and wanted me, I decided this pure love was more important to pursue and dwell within than any that could be given me by the others, with their deep thoughts and sparkling conversation. I understood this raw, unfiltered, eager and true love was my path, and after he complied with my insistence he tell his family of his great love and his decision to ally with me, we sat together at the play we’d gone to see, and I was home, loved and oddly more complete, sitting in that auditorium.
I tell you these intimate things because I think it matters to do so. And this, I think, is what has changed for me, most of all.
During the Kryon event, and especially when he was channeling, I saw my body all lit up, and I could sense there was a dark plug or cork in my pelvis, a plug which needed to get popped out, and hard as I tried, it wouldn’t dislodge. I asked for help, for continued support, in uncorking this blockage. I understood this was causing the hip and back problems, and it was purely energetic, and would, indeed, get dislodged, but it would take time.
I found the channel, frankly, quite distressing, and I rebelled against it. It caused me to feel great impatience, feeling like someone out of time and at odds with the times I now find myself in. Grand impatience. Impatience that felt like I was drowning, despairing, enraged, even.
The time of incremental change and coaxing the lost, who are leading us, to sanity, I feel, is long past, and yet, there sat Kryon, somehow finding a willingness to feed breadcrumbs to tyrants and oppressors. I hated that part, have no patience for it. It made me angry, to be honest.
But what sandwiched this ugly was what I needed to hear.
This is now a time of support for us, for me. The stairs have been climbed, the summit has been reached, and the struggle, the incredible hard work, is over. Yes, there are stairs to descend, and new muscle groups will be screaming just like other groups screamed on the way up, but it’s all downhill from here. There is support. Watch where you put your feet, but take a moment to see that the hardest work is done, the effort has resulted in a tangible change of condition, and allow a warrior’s peace to replace the dogged determination I once ate and drank and slept.
I took from this channel that the work was about to begin again, but it would be easier now. And I guess that is what I was rebelling against, that there has to be any work at all anymore.
And so, now, let’s move to the increments which allowed a great healing, ok?
The day before the Kryon event, my dad invited me out to the house for breakfast on Sunday, and my teacher Norma called to tell me the hen circle was on for Sunday afternoon. I remember thinking, well, isn’t that a nice turn of events, my day-after-Kryon all lined up so nice and pretty.
I see now that these great teachers of mine, disguised as they are, were in cahoots, were always part of the healing.
I will not discuss the particulars, but let it be known that the breakfast was a difficult one, altering, and powerful in its rawness, its ugliness, in its dissonance. My responses to it, not the event, let’s say.
I made it to the hen circle ragged and spent, disappointed and in such distress that I was crying in the car, crying as I sat down, overwhelmed was I, overwhelmed with a sense of despair and fatigue and disappointment that felt freaking cellular. It was, of course, to get me to the place where I could release that plug, unpop it.
I know I am being obtuse, and that’s just going to have to be ok this time. I will tell you of my meditation, and then continue.
Our last session of inner work had Norma, under ArchAngel Micheal’s direction, to place ourselves in front of us, and to talk with our selves like our Higher Selves.
I have learned, in meditation, the value of the twist, of feeling as if I am twirling, twisting, from my body, from my countenance, at the level of my thorax. The first time I did it was visceral, unforgettable. This time, the twist felt organic and easy. And I understood that I was talking as a golden being, my golden self.
I saw the sights I always see when channeling, and I understood I was able to then talk with, see, and love the me I have fashioned through the last 52 years. I was overcome with compassion for myself, as her, I loved my hair, my teeth, my stories and longings and disappointments, and more, my triumphs, my kindness, my intelligence, and just what I have done, and become. I felt love for my foibles and quirks, the things I often fall back into self-reproach for. I loved it all.
And so, we were told to build a fire, there in meditation, and to place in the fire anything we would like to get rid of.
I tried writing stuff on paper and burning that, but it felt unsubstantial, inappropriate for the fire, and too ephemeral. Suddenly, I realized I had brought a suitcase, a big black one on rollers. I pulled it up to the fire, and tilted the open case into the fire, and out fell an impossible amount of moist, unburnable junk, just tons of it. Once the case was empty, I thought, oh what the hell, and tossed the case into the fire too.
Even though it shouldn’t have, everything in that case, burned up, was just gone, and the ash lifted to the skies. There was time, in meditation, so then, I decided I could just get rid of all of it. I summoned a garbage truck, the kind that mechanically poops out streams of garbage. I backed that thing up to the fire, and it was the funniest thing… only one little thing got pushed out, and plop it landed in the fire, fizzled, burned up. It was a little toy, I remember.
I felt new afterwards, and when I told the group about what I did, they laughed and laughed, because I had burned up all my baggage. I laugh now, too. That’s exactly right.
But the thing that healed me the most of all was what a woman in that circle told me. I was in distress, and had completely and with disciplined abandon unfurled my pain for them.
She said, “You emit such love, you just give it off,” (and the others all said, oh that’s so true!), “and you’re trying to figure out how it is someone could act so bad, and, Kathy, the problem is you CAN’T understand it. It’s not in your nature to understand this awful stuff. You don’t have to make sense of it. Just see that it is not something you can even relate to.”
And then, as I was processing, I said, “I don’t want to do this wrong!”, and there was this great soul, again saying, “You aren’t doing any of it wrong. You can’t. You’re doing everything right.” Hugs, tears, relief.
There came upon me a peace, a gratitude, that I find so beautiful, so strong and pure, sitting there knowing I was being healed, not by a great channeler or a world-renown philosopher, but my friend, who said just the right thing, at just the right time, who let me have my tears and my fears and my doubts, and who, big as day, bright as the sun, told me I was ok, I was doing fine, I was love itself, and to just relax…
I have no way to ever paying her back, and I guess that I say that because I understand that I have been given something by her, by all my friends in that circle, that I needed, and that only they could give to me.
I think that the biggest gift I got at the Kryon thing was my impetuous decision to attend the three hour Lemurian Sisterhood ceremony. It was the highlight for me, and because I really do not know how much of it is ok to share, I will tell you of a few things, and the impact it had on me.
Thanks for reading along. I feel so good talking to you. I love you, you know.
I want it said that I am in deep awe and reverence for how Lee Carroll conducts himself and his enterprise. I felt none of the pushiness that I feel in the general marketplace, with the products sold or the messages given.
I felt so honored, and so loved and respected, in that group. There were some massive egos in that room, but Lee was not one of them. A gentle man of peace. A good man, a kind and honest man, acting in integrity and honor. That I responded from a wounded place within me, the place of a leader without following, well, that is on me, not him.
The Sisterhood event was high ceremony, and led by a gentle one, steeped in metaphysical tradition and training. What has stuck with me are the exercises we were led in, and the meditations we had. It was so healing. I have long felt awkward as a woman, knowing I am powerful and not having any metric for it but maleness. To be around women who were also powerful, fully embracing their divine feminine bodies and beings, oh, this was the most healing of all.
Acknowledging we have awarenesses that men do not have, that we have a sacred power specific to our gender, oh my, this was central to it. To feel no shame as a powerful being, and to do it in the context of feminine power, this was key. Permission to be a powerful, knowing woman.
Again and again, it seemed that the theme was that we all take turns, healing and needing healing, in the group of women. Each able to help the other, each in need of help at times, we take turns on the table, at the center, we each can submit to help, and give what is needed.
We take turns, we women of power. Sometimes weakened, strengthened through the act of allowing others to minister to us. And this theme played itself out in my little hen circle. Being unable to do anything but crawl to the center of a circle of great lights, and lay there immobilized by the crushing weight of It All, and allowing another to love me, and by doing so, heal me, each of us had that experience that Sunday, its genesis in the rituals of the night before.
And so, it is time to discuss how it is that I have moved from the state of worrier to that of warrior.
Yesterday was one for the books. There was a ramp up of this energy Monday, several things coming to my awareness, in my activities, which were hard edged, an edge to everything, feeling out of place, but centered. And then yesterday. The troubles at school, with the teachers, it continues, but now I have such a strong advocate working for me that I can, and will, I have told her, let her take me inside the folds of her cloak, and she will be my protector, my champion, and my guide, through the next bit. It is ugly, what has been happening there, and without this help, it would be unbearable. I was confronted, again and again and again, through the day and into the night, with such rank stupidity, such bizarre stuff coming right from the center of fear itself, again and again, yesterday.
This morning, I understand some things.
I understand that this next part might get tilty from time to time. People are off their nut, a lot of them, acting in bizarre ways that I cannot fathom, and often cannot seem to predict or know to expect.
I used to get so upset when people acted badly. I felt implosion within me when confronted with unthinking, unkind, punitive behavior. I felt it might be mine. And, you know, sometimes it was, it really really was, but, I have moved from this now.
I understand that there are people, now, just like those lamb-dogs, who have gotten caught in the flood, and the water is a clarifying kind, one which makes these beautiful creatures act in odd and bizarre ways.
In meditation, after burning up my junk and my suitcase, this is what I was told: This is what you have trained for. All bets are off ( a favorite phrase of The Teachers). You are ready. Expect the unexpected (three times repeated). This is what the training was for.
And I see now that this might indeed be true. It’s not appropriate, now, to wring my hands in the face of grave imbalance and wonder how I brought it on, if I am the cause of it. No. And recognizing it does not make me bad or wrong, as loudly and hatefully as others may level such a lie. And shining very brightly while the trouble is going down, I am keeping my head, now, and staying within my power. This is the key.
Kryon said something in channel I wish to repeat. He said, turning the other cheek and staying in the power of the Love Of God, this is the path now. I think I was rebelling, that I would have to do this, that I would have to turn the other cheek, I did not like the thought of it.
But, the truth is, there are folks out there, in the world I know, who are unable to curb their reflex of attack, who act obscenely, minds and hearts overcome with the darkness each of us have battled and conquered, through these last years. There are those who are not in balance, not in alignment, and this will, I am thinking, only become more obvious. If I approach such things upset and saddened and a wreck, self-referencing and in despair it is happening, I can not be of help.
And this brings me to divinity.
Ever since the Kryon event, and during it, I kept feeling, seeing, me as golden. I could feel, even when I was working on Monday night, my body turn golden, and I felt like a golden one. I felt like a living angel. When it comes upon me now, I can feel my chest heat up and start tingling, and then the body flush. I feel my chest turn bright silver, with a huge geometric spinning within it. It has the quality of being like a new gift that I keep getting to unwrap, and I keep being floored with how good it feels.
At work, during one of those moments, I looked up at the monitors, which show every hallway from two angles, and I want to tell you what I saw. I saw a man’s face, looking at me. It was long enough and real enough that I unplugged my earphone and hid my phone, because I thought it was a stranger coming, who might think bad thoughts about my watching youtube at work.
I felt like it was a friend, and I got a flash, once I realized there was no man, no physical man, I heard, he’s on his way. This is the face. You wanted to know who is coming, and that’s him.
Your friend is real, can show up on the monitor, even, and he on his way.
He is real.
I saw him on the monitors. I considered asking the staff about whether the data is on some sort of recording, because I would have loved to search the tape for this face. But I smiled, knowing it maybe would and maybe would not show up. It was a gift. And the golden angel thing just burned and burned through me then.
Divinity. The whole Kryon thing was steeped in this message to me, to all of us. Kryon said, look a your Akash, understand that your DNA has within it the encodings of the grandparents of this whole project, millions of years of divinity, and you think you can just turn your current divinity on and off anymore. No. Walk in it, know it, own it, and act from it. You are divine. You are divine. You are divine.
And the Lemurian Sisterhood, the biggest gifts I was given were the prayers of acknowledging self, other, and all as sacred. Owning and walking within sacredness, within and from a knowledge of, not a hope for, divinity. Owning that I am a divine expression of the love which has always walked with me and guided my life.
It is hard to manage feeling this when being attacked, when being disrespected so thoroughly as I have been lately. It is hard, but it is no longer impossible.
And this takes me from the worries I have had, the anger I have felt about how my little life just will never work out the way I want it to (cue the mewling and tears…) to knowing, understanding, owning the truth of it, that as a divine being of light, as a profound truth-teller, and a powerful angel of limitless love, imagining that my little life will never work out is just an exercise in self-pity, fatigue and disbelief.
As a worrier, I thought on how I have failed. As a warrior, I understand there is nothing here but divinity to express, to experience and to integrate.
So, now, I want to have a little walk through the punch line, and then I will end for the day and do other things.
The punch line is that I have always wanted to know I can handle myself, to know I am intact, to know my power and use it well. I have longed for this work to be read and used and seen as something other than the mad scribblings of a narcissist. I have wanted to be heard, understood and appreciated for my wisdom and wealth of knowledge and my great thoughtfulness.
I have wanted to be valued for what I bring to the table, talents and abilities which are, frankly, immense. I know I will never, am incapable of the abuse of my power. And yet, I have spent a lot of time fretting that this writing of mine is not an act of power, but one of vanity. I know it isn’t true, but I have had a deep worry about it. I have thought it is not valuable because so few see it as valuable.
And the punch line is that what I have feared the most is just my getting into the jumpsuit. A friend in my hen circle teared up when she expressed her inner desire to be more fearless and spontaneous, when she is the hands down the most fearless, spontaneous one of the group. And here I have sat, fretting that my great ability and love, this writing of my soul, is unimportant.
The worry is not fitting of the work. Of course it is valuable. If only for me. It has saved my life. My power of melded emotional intelligence shines through every line. What is on the page is what I have been and what I am becoming, and to think it is not valuable is the real ugliness. A trick of the dark, and that is all.
Seeing The Other as someone who may not actually be a direct reflection of my inner state is a breakthrough of unprecedented proportion.
In a sword fight, with an aggressor coming at me with a sword that can surely slit my throat, wielded by a madman unaware of his or her innate power, that is not the time to dissolve into a puddle of tears, or doubt, or fear. That is the time to understand that all those years of training with the sword has made me a consummate warrior, one who has already won the skirmish, and one who does not want to draw blood, who wants to use her sword to quell the aggressor, and demonstrate that the aggressor is outclassed, from before the battle began. I can use my sword to deflect murderous blows. I can use the blade to catch the sun and blind my opponents, bringing them to a still place, one which cannot and will not support further aggression.
I am a warrior of the light, and I am no longer afraid to speak my truth. I trust my words are gentle and kind, true and just, and that this heart is one which is unwilling to harm. I am unable to harm, and maybe that is the biggest punch line of them all. A warrior disinterested in fighting. Someone quite capable of simply decapitating the enemy, wanting instead to lead the enemy to a clear brook, where we can lay down arms and have a nice chat.
There is no fight left in me, I have said again and again in this writing, and it continues to be true, but the last few days have shown me that this next part may be punctuated, with moments of standing tall, bringing myself to full height, and using all of what I have become to help another.
This can be done in clever ways which will not draw blood, and after the battles which I expect may be part of the weave, I will rest, lay down the sword this silly aggression mandates I continue to wield from time to time, and I will sit with you, dear friend, and we will talk all about it, how hot we get in our armor when in battle, how relieved we are when everybody can just put down their weapons and laugh out loud, and we can, too, take time to think lovingly on those who are still so convinced that the way of it must include mortal combat. We know, by now, that we cannot die, that we are protected, and it is we who have made ourselves undetectable.
I end with a thought I have been having lately.
The Teachers trained me for this time. They told me there would come a time with the light would become very intense, and the dark would fight tooth and nail. I asked them, well, it’s happening already, so why is it that sometimes I lose?
They said, you know, sometimes the dark appears to win, in a battle. Sometimes things look a little grim. But it is not true. The light always wins, and this is what will improve. You feel beat up now, they would say, but you just wait. There will come a time when you will not be beatable, and you’ll know then that time is.
That time is now, my great, mirth-filled, profane, sainted friend. That time is NOW.