Deeply Awake — Mayhem 12-14-13 By Kathy Vik

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Deeply Awake — Mayhem 12-14-13 By Kathy Vik

Many wonderful things have been happening, and I want to touch on some of it before I get into the mayhem, but I will tell you, I have been troubled by the mayhem here lately.

The 12-12 hurt. It was a weird, weird day. It was all symbology and warriorship. In the morning, I was moved to bitter tears. Now, I know anymore, a part of me does, when I am freaka thrown to knees in extremity anymore, a part of me is always, I can feel, standing over me, smiling, winking, and has an arm draped over me, feeling everything I am feeling, but knowing this pain is indeed purposeful.

I told them what I needed, and I could feel the earth move. I could. It is so. So be it. My only job now is to release attachment to outcome, let it ride, release it, let it come back to me in surprising, easy and humorous ways. That’s my request with them.

Make it so obvious a brain-damaged individual couldn’t argue with it. Make it easy and clear, easy and clear, as my friend says. I agree. I tell myself if it isn’t easy, it’s obviously something I shouldn’t be focusing on. Sometimes the magic works, and sometimes it doesn’t.

Anyhow, at the 12;12, I knew I had to be out on my porch. It was a typical Colorado winter day, sun hotter than blazes, ambient temperature around 40.

I did ceremony. I had a long, out loud talk with the Sun, which had seemed to explode into yellow body light, as soon as I’d closed my eyes.

I did many things I can’t remember. There was a feeling of ceremony and honor, passage and certainty. I knew, that old, ancient knowing, and was in a beautiful flow there on my porch.

I will tell you about a prayer I finally understood, and then we’ll move on a bit. There are miracles to discuss! And mayhem, too.

I only remember the sense of profound thanksgiving I felt, for being on that porch, on that date, at that time. I felt a circle close, and I had a homecoming. I felt honor and happiness, and sort of fell in love with what I am. It’s weird to talk about so openly. I hope you don’t mind.

And the prayer came from that place. A reflexive prayer, as I said it, I could feel myself coming together in new ways. Mind you,I was sober as a judge. I knew there would be no need to alter my awareness, that the energy, and anticipation, and high ceremony would alter me plenty.

I said,I am love, and love is mine. Three times. I am peace, and peace is mine, three times, always three times, each declaration. I understood this was my portal, to define myself in the ways I see fit, finally.

I am God’s and God is mine. This is then where I went, and I was then aware of my encounter with this light, on 5-25-12. You can read about it in “A Special Graduation,” in Deeply Awake. I am God’s, and God is mine. I am God’s and God is mine.

This, for me, is a portal all its own.

It turns out this was the day of conflict, which was weird, being a 3 day. But I had learned the night before that Sam hasn’t been receiving special ed help all this year. I couldn’t believe it. He’s pulled his grades up significantly, which he is very proud of, as am I, and did it without any of the support he’d had all through his schooling. He has Klinfelter’s, and so he has some challenges other kids don’t, but as long as there was support and someone sort of in his corner, I figure, he’ll be fine.

I rang the alarm bells, set up meetings, got advice from experts. I knew, at the end of the day, there was a challenge yet ahead of me, at 7:30 the following morning, to meet with the powers that be and teachers, to find out if it was true, and if so, what do we do about it?

By the end of the evening, after an episode where I was very close to “going away,” but just sort of hung in there through the physical discomfort, Sam and I were sitting on my bed chatting. We’d just made scotcharoos, our favorite Christmas cookie, for his teachers the next day.

I was at peace, feeling serene, finally. I felt so much love and camaraderie and tenderness toward this amazing creature who is my son, and I asked him if it would be ok if I took some cookies to the school for this big meeting? We talked about the issues at hand, and I again asked his forgiveness and expressed my honor for him having gotten through this year in a way that was unnecessarily hard.

He reminds me it’s a school with 1,000 kids. I mention that it might be happening to other kids. And that not one of those teachers gets in their car in the morning, heads to work, and thinks about all the ways they can fail their students, or screw over any of them individually.

He agreed, and it was agreed, cookies were ok. I told him, you know, when people get caught screwing up, it’s a test of their character, and most people just get super defensive and awful. It’s embarrassing.

So if I can put them at their ease, and let them know I value what they are doing, and it’s not a sin, what has happened, just something we need to be aware of and fix, well, then, that would be a pretty good thing. He agreed, and I hoped that he heard that bit about defensiveness, that it’s a mechanism of shame, but who knows if he did or did not. Time will tell on that one.

The meeting itself was just amazing. It started out rough, being chastised by someone who now has her ass in a sling, that I shouldn’t have called the district, and I’d broken a promise. I admitted, yep, I broke the promise, and I shouldn’t have made a promise like that. I had left a voicemail saying that if they got back to me by 10, I wouldn’t call the district. Dumb thing to say.

I’ve worked with Advocacy Denver and the school district’s special educators throughout Sam’s career, when things had turned difficult, which at times they did. And they were such amazing advocates, such peacemakers, and all of them I’ve ever gotten involved to solve problems at school, these guys are a class act, and well respected.

So I found it odd that this lady would be grousing at me, but realized she’d felt understandably messed with. I apologized, but then, I stopped her, at the end of our little chat, and with all the power I could muster, all the courage and precision I felt I had in me, I told her, don’t make me wrong for doing what’s best for this little man.

I am sorry I broke a promise, but it was a good thing to have done, calling as I did, because I got help, and don’t make me wrong for doing everything I can for this kid.

She was recalcitrant, remained belligerent. Pissed off, walking away in a confused huff. Then the principal did his mind game crap, and then I got to sit down with the meat and potatoes. An associate with the district showed up, put everyone at their ease, and we began.

I tell you all of this because it is pertinent to mayhem, honestly, it is.

In the meeting, the teacher didn’t jump me for getting the district involved. It was clear he was unsure about exactly what the forms were and the procedure and the rules, even, but he kept pitching, putting out great ideas. I told them both, we are going to not address his getting bullied, or his gayness today, so please don’t bring it up.

I am now working with the psychologist, who has assured me she’s going to contact the youth director at The Center, and will talk with HRC, so that maybe we can form some sort of alliance for Gay and Lesbian and Transgendered kids. It won’t come from the top, so we’re going to subvert the dominant paradigm from within, baby. I didn’t go into that level of detail, but the point is, this was an academic, and an educator issue, not anything but that. It helped a lot to do that.

And in the end, Sam is going to get about 65 hours of compensatory schooling, to make up for what he didn’t get, and he’ll get the extra time he needs for testing, since that is hard for him, and he’ll get 5 hours a week from someone who gives a damn about his overall progress, and has to answer of its presence or absence in the spring, just like the good old days.

This was a mighty outcome, and one I am very proud of. No one had the dignity scraped up, no one did any shame crap, and everyone acknowledged that there was a failure, a problem, an issue, that they’d fallen down, and there was no shame, no recrimination, and no threats. We got down to brass tacks. We got it done with compassion for all.

I went to work that night and got onto Google News, as I do at work. A 17-year-old had gone into a school with a shotgun. It was my nephew’s old high school. Columbine, Aurora, and now this.

This is mayhem, and it is a critical thing, my friends.

I have worked in environments where I understood, accepted and took precautions against assault, violence, mayhem. I have worked with murderers, some before and some after they’d murdered. I know of what I speak.

I know what it is like walk up to your place of work thinking, knowing, that this could be your last day. If not from a patient, then an armed visitor, an outsider. Maybe it’s a customer, maybe it’s someone you fired.

I heard a gruesome tale of a DON andAdministrator of a nursing home who were walked out of their nursing home and shot execution style in the parking lot, over something that was the last straw, something, none of us knows, you see?

I know it, and it’s a fairly dark way to live. Police officers know of it. They interpret the specter far more darkly than nurses do. And now teachers get to join the ranks of the sitting ducks, the unarmed warriors among us.

And this fills me with a strong sadness, a fatigued, and an increasingly active part of myself puzzling this out, puzzling it out all night, really.

What has become of us?

What is it but an act of enraged futility, to find a shotgun, walk into your school, go looking for the teacher who kicked you out of an extra-curricular club, gun in full view, and then just shooting off a couple rounds, injuring a girl, someone the media says was an innocent bystander.

There are no innocent bystanders.

Maybe I was more mixed up than a lot of kids, sad and deep and misunderstood, maybe, but this act is not in my repertoire. I do not understand it. But I can go there, you see. We all can. And I think it’s time some of us do.

What moves someone to do this? Why is mayhem not just being considered, but being acted out so much anymore?

Funny how Kryon has been with me through these hours. On the 13th, upon awakening, I needed to look at his “Journey Home” book. I went to the scene where Michael has had a hard night. He felt lost, and like everything had gone dark.

So he put on his armor, got his shield and his sword, and went and sat in the room he was receiving lessons from his angel in. he sat through dusk, and fell asleep in the chair. The narrator says, as he slept, Micheal’s armor, shield and sword were humming, and he was physically changing.

In the morning, the angel is there again, and they discuss what happened. Michael had gone through another transformation, moving up an octave, so to speak, and he was adjusting. When this is happening, your support team, out of love, leaves you. And so, the angel asked, what got you through it?

Michael said he focused on his love. He thought about how much love he felt in the angel’s presence, on how much the angel loved him. And this was what made the transformation complete.

He came again to me at work, with the recording from the Global Consciousness Change, or some such, day two.

There is a lot said int here that I think it’s best just to listen to, if interested, but I see how it all correlates, and so I want to discuss it.

The idea is that we are functioning at a certain percentage of DNA, and the DNA functions higher with the more spirit we can hold, that we can physically and in all ways, embody.

He said that the Pleadians’ question to themselves was, how much can we embody and still live? And this is the question the masters know as their true north, and spend their lives finding out.

How high can you go? How much of All That Is can you do?

And then, the other thought that is pertinent to this discussion is this. He says, imagine someone in jail. Imagine this is someone of very low consciousness. {Perhaps he has hurt other people, and perhaps he doesn’t care that he has. Imagine this. There is only 30% of him here.

The rest is on the other side, part of the collective of god. His higher self is right there, and his higher self is saying, “I see your light. Keep going! Keep going!” He says, to close his talk, he reminds all of us what it is like to come into the planet with our awareness of our grandness stripped away, lonely, alone, feeling abandoned, and always, there is a longing. Always such a longing. And a loneliness, for that which has been voluntarily shed, our divinity, our connection with god, our multiplicity and timelessness.

Can you look into his eyes with tolerance? Can you remember, and can you demonstrate to him that you understand?

I remembered then my mentor, Marge. It used to really confound me, puzzle me, and I asked her about it, how is it that you can find something good in everyone you meet? Everyone loves you because you love them, and I have no idea how you do that/ Some of these people are god-awful.

She was no pushover, let it be said. This is not a passive love, dear friends, this is as full-on warrior state as one can get. But the battle armor is not for defending. It is for illuminating, for seeing worth, for loving.

Can you do it?

That is the question.

I wonder about kids, and others, doing these acts of mayhem. You and I both know that if there wasn’t a gun owner in their awareness, they would have no access. So it establishes that there is someone who is feeling powerless and afraid. Try as I might, I can see guns as nothing but metal reminders of a person’s fear. And so, with a projectile weapon, an impersonal and lethal one, someone goes out and does mayhem.


I drove home talking out loud about it. It’s been bugging me.

I see it as the ultimate act of alienation. A desperately twisted and perverted cry for help, one that ends in explosions instead of a good cry.

A demonstration of a person’s belief in their alienation and a dual message of see, this is how powerful I am, with an equal cry of oh my god, I have no other way of exerting my power than this.

Please understand that I believe that all such acts are committed by angels, and they are doing these acts to assist us in many many ways. We are rethinking the very appropriateness of such fear stances, you know.

We are deciding, as a group, how we are going to go forward as a people.

I understand taking a defensive posture when being attacked. It makes sense. It is how we were trained, and seems to be the biological imperative, but I think there is a way to fix this whole mess.

I know that the times in my life when it changed, and when I was changed, really changed for the better, it was when someone saw within me someone who was worth being nice to, even when I was totally screwing up.

When someone reached into my confusion and pain, and they were kind. They gave me, usually, what no one else could have, and they didn’t have to. One time it was with a boss. Many times with co-workers, and it can be big or little, this sort of act. This morning, after work, it was having two sweet nurses scrape off my icy car, without me asking them to.


But there have been big times, huge sort of milestones, and when things could have gone either way, but ended with someone being kind to me, this changes things.

When someone is pointing a loaded gun at you, it is perhaps past time to show it, but even then, I am not quite so sure it would be wrong to do, even in that situation.

And this looking into a hateful, spiteful, scared person’s eyes, maybe even someone who has betrayed or manipulated or tried to hurt you, looking into their eyes and seeing that they are not even all here, they are not even aware of what we know… it changes things, it should change things, and I think it will.

I like what Kryon said, being able to see someone as an emanation of their higher self, cut off, not knowing about their support and their worth, this doesn’t make you better than anybody else. It makes you better informed.

There is no need to act this way, and there is no need to receive any of it gracefully. Some people who are able to, don’t. We all have off days. But, to remember, with EVERYONE, the troubled and the content alike, too meet everyone understanding that they might be lonely, they might feel abandoned or alienated, and it might be based in fact, and it might appear as if it is not, this is something that will lead to peace on earth.

This comes not from shutting ourselves away from these difficult discussions, but being open and honest about what is going on.

I think that the energy is such that many of us in this community are reacting so favorably. We are, some of us, getting very psychedelic, and I do believe the time of manifestation is upon us.

The juice will get cranked up come the solstice. I think we are in amazing energy, but I think it is not perhaps as well received by some. There are those in great imbalance, there are those in difficult, untenable lesson, and there are those who are here to assist us in ways we cannot understand fully when thinking with our heads. But with our hearts, we know that the ones who snap are sort of hard to ignore at this point.

I’d rather not die violently, and by surprise, and over something dumb, but if it were to happen, that’d be ok too. It moves the game piece a little further along, and these sorts of deaths are also instructive, messaged. All deaths have messages, but the ones that crash into a nation’s psyched, like Sandy Hook, and a year later, Arapahoe, well, how long do we ignore talking about it?

And how long, as a community do we decide to gloss over the MSN? I think it is macabre the way the coverage went on this thing. In the morning, at work, the TV was on, and it was hard to escape thinking about this recent shooting. It was all emotion, getting emotional reactions, getting the details. I think it’s perverse, what TV journalism has become, but that’s just because I want someone to discuss these issues as I am, I guess.

I am aware that I am preaching to the choir, and I hope you will not find me a show off for pointing out these obvious things. We know that love is the answer. We know that we are never alone, that we are part of a collective of benevolence, and that all is in a divine web of love, but, good god, how do you translate it into such mayhem, right?

And this is where our angels come in, to whisper into our ears and into our hearts, it begins and it ends with loving everyone in our reality, us first, and most profoundly, the fount of the love, the geyser re-established, bursting with recognition of the miracles we indeed are. Being so connected without souls, we hear them whisper to us as we pay bills, do mundane tasks, answer the phone, problem solve with others.

Can it be that love is the answer? Is it this simple? No need to recite philosophy, to discuss all the far-out things that make my heart glad and remind me of home. In hand to hand combat, with those who would turn away if you told them what it is you’re aware of, can you just radiate it? High regard, acceptance, permission, tolerance?

I think this is the balm, and the cure. I know it is the only thing I want, to always be in that space of high regard, for myself and for others. I know I fall down a lot, and I know I am still sort of hard on myself.

The Love Puzzler, I think of this vow I have taken, to always be looking for the love, in every puzzle, and I do my best. How much, the voices ask, can you embody? How high a perspective do you want? Are you willing to see the love, where it appears none exists, none at all?

I am, and, after this 12-12, my guess is there are others who are too.

We cannot rid this world of all mayhem at the moment. The best we can do is hold light in the dark, shining for others the great love we have found, a love with is our privilege to embody and give away and accept when given to us.

Before I began this essay, I listened to Maroon 5’s Harder To Breathe, and if I can swing it, I’ll include the link below. It’s a fantastic song. It’s how I have felt so many times, and it is a song, I guess, of defiance in the face of alienation. At least that’s how I’m taking it. One of supplication and power. Is there anyone out there, cos it’s getting harder and harder to breathe.

I want to be someone who, if I encounter someone, will not have any anger or pain from our encounter. Someone who will feel honored and listened to. Someone who feels special, because everyone is, everyone is.

So I end in a surprising way, surprising to me, anyhow. It used to bug me to no end that no one recognized me, and by that I mean, there was so little kindness around me. So little, I thought. And I spent most of my life feeling like a misfit.

On the way home from work, I was reminded of a realization I’d had while getting ready for work. Sure, I have been awkward, but the truth is, I haven’t had a real awkward encounter for a long time. I have had conflict, don’t get me wrong, I have, but not that awful feeling of being The Other. Not for a long time.

I realized, turning onto the I-225 ramp, I had so many years of it, I think sometimes I still think it’s pertinent, but it isn’t, this sense of awkwardness or not fitting in. It is a phantom, an old tape, and it is well past time to stop it once and for all.

The truth is, I really do love myself, and my god, and my fellow travelers. A lot. And I find that folks sometimes shy away, but it’s now, I think, because they are not maybe used to being automatically loved. And I do just automatically love people. Some disengage immediately. Some think I am flirting, evidently. And some bloom. Most bloom.

But it is not a love that goes unnoticed, and please, this is the whole point, please hear me when I say this.

It matters. It matters how we treat one another. It matters to see everyone, regardless of their spiritual acumen or knowledge of esoterica, or their own worth, it is important to love them.

Please just love me. Please hear me. Please recognize me. See me as unique. Understand I have faced difficulty and overcome it, see that I have suffered, and see that I am here, now, in your awareness, on this day, for a reason that maybe makes sense, and maybe seems random, but here I am. Love me. Tell me something good., with words, but, better, with what you can do for me that no one else can. See me whole. Love me. Love me. Love me.

Is there anything else that people are saying, when they are their meanest, and their most dangerous.

I know there are the lost ones, those still stealing, still making unjust laws, still militarizing the police force, still defending, defending, defending, and there is no talking sense into some of them. Just look that gun owners. SO defensive about their need to be armed, such bullies.

They need, too, to be seen, but pointing out their fear doesn’t seem to do much good. And so, it is acted out, for all to see. This is what fear does, alienation, panic, powerlessness. End results, on a scale that is boggling, the finality and brutality of some of this mayhem.

The time of believing we don’t have a right to love is over. It is well past time to love, and to be open in our regard for others. To soothe them, and sometimes that means being very clever indeed! Seeing past the bad behavior and seeing the person whole.

I want to see an end to this mayhem. I want to see us calm down as a species. But I have a feeling this next part might be what some of the training was for. To speak our minds and say radical things, like, gee, a lot of these shootings happen at kids’ schools.

Might this be a symptom of how alienated and not seen and powerless some kids feel in that environment? Not to victimize the victim, so to speak, but come on, we are failing these kids.

As grown-ups, at home and at school, we are failing them. I know the troubles we have had, and I know we are not isolated. The heart, the soul, is missing from education, from news outlets, from our interactions sometimes.

Maybe we are enough, those of us who can forgive, who can get past the nonsense and see people whole. And it’s no longer time to think of myself, ourselves, as weird.

We are here to hold the light, to help the others to see that love is the answer, self-acceptance is a joyful duty, and holding others in high regard isn’t weird at all. It’s the next step in evolution.

And it is,

I can’t help but think, and hope, it’s the cure for all of this mayhem.

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