Deeply Awake — Misgivings 3-23-14 By Kathy Vik
This was a tough week. I was unhappy for much of it, and I felt oddly buffeted and blown. I got good news, I got sad news. And the hardest part of it all is that right now, I want to talk to you about it all, but it’s been so long, I feel like I am stammering and unable to get lift off. I feel like bagging it and walking away.
And yet, I have been looking forward to writing all week. I think it is an odd thing with us, that we believe, or feel it is true, that what we are doing emotionally and spiritually, actually effects the Earth positively. Our work, and connecting over our work, it matters, not just to us individually, but to humanity collectively. And the average joe would get one hit of that and call it narcissism.
I have gotten to see so much this week. The contrasts have been astounding, dizzying, even. Pillar to post, I have been. And now, I have just this tiny bit of time to wrap it all up and make sense of it for myself, and by extension, you too.
But I do not believe that this big week was just a time my energetic chickens came home to roost. I know too much about this to negate that if I am feeling it, others are feeling it, and it is valid.
I guess what I am having to adjust to is pace. I was formerly able to parse out one thought, or one concept, for days, weeks, months. I don’t doubt I am still doing it, it’s just that the texture of it all has changed.
Anyhow, before, I had lots and lots of down time, lots of contemplative time, and I kept busy and moving, but I just did not have a lot of interference around me, so I thought very clearly. Getting to the place where I understood fear is not the opposite of love, but an expression of it, just part of a complete emotional experience, a device, not real, not real like love… getting there took effort, and quiet, and contemplation.
And now, my consciousness has been flooded by others.
This last week, we had an outside agency come in and judge us. It’s a custom, a week-long inspection, and during that time, everyone walks around feeling alternately terrorized and defensive. It was a real hoot, I can tell you.
I was told throughout the week that I just need to get through it. That I was feeling so much that was not mine, and to just hang tight, find joy in simple things, find peace in nature. Still, it was hard.
This was coupled with what I am sure was an extra-big jolt of cosmos-juice. Monday I felt just as weak and physically ill from it as I did back in the day. I’d forgotten how awful a hit can make me feel. Body chills, cotton-packed skull, barfing, lethargy, just being so very distant. I’d forgotten.
That was Monday. It was better on Tuesday, but being in that soup was tricky, and tiring.
I found, last week, that I was angry most of the time. I surprised myself with pettiness, and my impatience was white hot, most of the time. Emotionally, I was healing something up that I had not fully appreciated needed healing. I could have written on Wednesday. I had that day off. But I took it off, completely. Off the grid. Gone. I don’t remember what I did, but I think it was mainly just being at home, quiet, waiting for the storm to pass.
Things did not really come together for me until Friday. By then, the inspectors had left, and on parting, they’d given great news. It was a belly flop of sorts. I did not expect the news to be so good. It changes everything. Everything.
Friday was also the day I learned that my aunt died. The only sister to my mother, the only aunt I’d known. She’d shown me kindness. She’d tolerated me. I worked a twelve hour day shift that day, and all day long, I’d felt things beginning to loosen. I drove to the hospice and sat with Vel, and tried to think things through.
Vel helped me more than anyone that day. Lying in her bed, slowly shedding the skin she’s called home for 76 years, breathing deeply and rhythmically, I let her truth steady me. Her truth. I sat with her for a long time, never saying a word, both here and far away, gathering everything I’d been feeling and fearing and wasting time thinking over the last week.
I remembered what Seth had told me on my facebook feed two days ago, something which made the clouds finally start to part. He’d said, holding misgivings for your reality is uncomfortable and untenable. It’s dishonest, basically. I listened to Vel breathe, and I thought on it again. Holding misgivings.
You see, over this week, something really ugly happened. It’s too complicated to go into, and I am sworn to confidentiality agreements. So let me say that it was basically a clash of realities.
Two seemingly mutually exclusive realities collided, and the one which I find morally repugnant and unthinkable won out. This was days before the news we got a great survey. So here I am, in a weakened position, for having stated my piece, knowing the consequences would be dire, and finding that no, in fact, there will be no consequences for it this time.
I was stunned, seeing management make a decision I would never make.
And this was a source of great pain, mid-week. I told you it was not fun.
And now, another work week looms.
And here I am, once again, feeling like the odd man out, seeing things so clearly and having no one else even know what I am talking about.
See, this always happens to me, and I am not the only one. Are you one, too, who can see things whole, can see many things at once, and who just can sort of read things? And you just instinctively know what could be done to make things easier, less chaotic, maybe, more enjoyable, and No One Wants To Listen To You???
I think that’s my journey this week.
I think, by week’s end, in a darkened hospice room, listening to a member of my family quietly breathing, I understood that this whole thing has been about just getting comfortable with this being a place of free will. I had had a week of feeling so controlling, so angry, so fearful, and I realized what I’d done is try to take over.
And maybe this is what I have been doing for a while. The anger I felt so often, late in my career, came from just not being able to tolerate other people’s foibles, their blocks, their stupidity. I felt it again this week. I didn’t like it. I don’t want to be that way anymore.
I am not alone in being able to intuit as I do. I know this is true because there are always people who can see as I do, who have the same odd humor, who feel the peculiar lift I feel when in the presence of this work. I have people who see me, and who value me.
And the funny thing is, thinking now on this new work tableau, it feels less constricted, more open, with the same stupid problems, generated, basically, by an unwillingness to see and understand the obvious. The big themes. The clear and present patterns of behavior I see from those I work with and for. But here’s the thing, here is what I learned this week:
It’s not for me to share what I know unless I am asked. This is a place of free will, and I cannot, I will not project onto another how they should do their life. Sure, when it comes to technique, I can teach, but when it comes to the big questions, of how to handle a dysfunctional system that I did not create but have to function within, this is where the rubber meets the road.
It’s my responsibility to decide the level of dysfunction with which I can effectively create a work product. And because I have a job as a caretake, this is where things get tricky. This is where the green, slobbery demon of moral indignation comes up. If I think a system is harmful to someone who cannot defend themselves, and I am part of that system, then what?
As moral people, are we not supposed to ask such questions?
But I remember when my hen circle asked me why I did not call the authorities to get “help” for Vel, I calmly said, “It’s their dance, not mine. I am not going to engage in their karma. It’s not for me to do.” It felt odd and weirdly cold to say that, but I knew it was true. I knew I wanted it out of my hands.
I found it harder for me to feel that way about the people in the old folk’s home. I had to decide a few things this week, but at its root was, do I respect these people enough to work for them?
And now, after the tumble and spin and rinse cycles have all been gone through, now, here, sitting in my granny chair the day before needing to go back into this thing I have created, I am trying to decide how best to approach it all, knowing what I know now, and feeling as I do.
The change has been a gentle one this time. It was a difficult week, many ups and downs, and many, many misgivings.
Vel and I sat, as I contemplated being in the truth of it, in this moment, so close to death, so close to life.
I will speak honestly and compassionately, for myself. Again and again, I have been told, like a broken record, walking through the halls of this facility, this is not your creation, this is not your drama, you are here to hold light. Again and again, told to relax, to let go, to stop feeling so responsible for others’ blind spots.
So, I have people higher on the food chain who know less than me, and who are ambivalent about my wisdom. What else is new. So what. The danger is in wanting to take over, and often there is someone up above more than willing to have the smart girl do the term papers, so, finding a balance, that’s wise. Keeping my counsel, that’s always wise.
And I remembered Vel, all her silence, her great, happy silences. The silences were more frequent and pronounced as things progressed, but sometimes, a whole meal would go by and she would say nothing, happy, though, you could just feel it coming off of her. And then, she’d look up, smile, and say, “You know, love is all there is.” And then she’d go back to picking at her food.
She said little. She offered little, conversationally. And she rang clear. Sometimes, often times, the quiet one is the loudest one in the room, and often the most profoundly injured. I don’t like quiet ones, that much. But Vel, Vel was clean. She was pure. She was a pillar of light, of love, of acceptance. She accepted so much. That was her stance in life. Accepting.
I really stayed with it, sitting with her that night. To be that quiet, and that accepting. The thing is, I am verbal, and sometimes verbally incontinent, but, I think it is one of my finest qualities, inconveniences aside. So, I cannot hope to embody Vel’s quiet, but her acceptance, this I can emulate.
I thought then of the others in my life who bring to me a sense of feeling whole. I thought of Grandpa On the Farm, his love for me. I felt it so well. I remembered then all the ones who have loved me, and I realized, this capacity to love, to be able to be the one to hold another in my heart so completely that they can do no wrong, this, this is the essence of love, of unconditional love. Vel knew it. I want that. I can do it yakking or still, doesn’t matter, really. That’s just style. The heart of it is this love.
If this is the sort of love that floats my boat, and it is, it’s the kind that makes everything good, everything right, everything possible, and no one has to embarrass themselves or get undressed, then, maybe it’s my job to be that. How do I do that when people are behaving badly?
And this is the depth of it. Holding misgivings means I’m buying into whatever little play is afoot. It’s guaranteed people are living out their mommy and daddy crap, and their deep=dark-issues crap at work. The average joe does not prepare and purify consciously before barreling into work and clocking in. So let them.
My anger comes from everyone not getting it, and I know that is really presumptuous, because for years and years and years I didn’t get it, and still I have off-days.
And maybe that was the point of my week of bad behavior, cattiness, snide comments and negativity. To remind myself that I am not guiltless, that everyone goofs up from time to time, that better behavior is easier when you can breathe and aren’t being choked with fear.
That has come through a lot recently too. I forget, I think, that not everyone thinks as I do, and not everyone is paying attention. That was brought into crystal focus midweek. But pointing out to someone what should be obvious creates shame, and that shame can make a person do wacky things. Some people can’t be wrong. They are often in management positions. Such is life.
But, I’m not alone, and that’s nice. And it’s nice to be here chillin’ on a Sunday morning, thinking of the week ahead, with the truth of things becoming clearer. I think about the sort of love that sustained me when I was a girl, and it was just a flicker, but it was there, and Grandpa held it brightest, but my aunt held it up from time to time too, and she is gone now.
I’ll end with telling you the happiness I feel when I think about my mom and her sister finally being together again. My mom finally not seen so hatefully and condescendingly, her sister able to see more clearly the impact she had on all of us. I could feel them dancing together, in the high ceilinged hospice room, that night with Vel.
I’d gotten the news in the afternoon, and had so little time to process it. It felt good thinking of them together again in love, roles discarded, flesh masks dropped, love ablaze.
I went into this work thinking that everyone I was meeting was a friend, someone I have an agreement with. And then, this last week, I felt, in so many ways, pulled through the eye of a needle. I felt such misgivings for the work, the people, the systems, and the willingness to improve.
On Thursday, I had an odd feeling, when I woke up, like I was a cork, bobbing on water. I could feel the lift, the buoyancy. I realized that eye-on-the-needle stuff was from the day before. It felt good to be buoyant. There was more to go through, but it was nice to get a reprieve.
I’d felt guilty for not writing mid-week, and felt more and more removed from this endeavor as the days flew by. It feels good to sit, think it out, and then make sense of it in this fashion. I know there was a full moon, and the Equinox occurred. A year ago I would have been grateful for the one shift a week and all the mandatory napping. It’s easier to anchor this stuff without this interference.
So, the us and them stuff goes on, as it probably always will, but it is easier now, because I have Vel to think about, and Grandpa on the Farm, and others whose love for me was pure and kind. Imagine. The power of this love. That I can call on it and it makes me feel whole even now.
To end, really this time, I will tell you about what I saw while listening to Kryon on a lunch break. Oh, I didn’t mention it, but, of course, along with all the other stuff this week, I cried a lot. And barfed a lot. I was real hoot. Anyway, he was talking about how ascension is intergenerational, and the seeds we are planting now will blossom when we come back, as the children.
It dawned on me that the acts of kindness and mercy I do to others and to myself, it sort of is like a down payment on an awesome reality. I mean, not every sour puss changes his ways when treated well, but this sort of behavior then becomes more of a norm. These are the seeds we are planting.
The longer we stick around, glowing and loving and giving each other slack, and love, the more cushioned our next arrival will be. I saw how I had handled a potentially dicey situation an hour back, and it had turned out so sweet, so sweet, and I saw how this spreads, all of it.
So holding this sort of love, even for those who insist on marching themselves and their group into trouble, regardless of counsel offered, well, then, so be it. For now. I’ll say my piece, always keeping in mind how much nonsense I’ll put up with, and have not one shadow of a misgiving over any of it.
This is something I have created, the voices tell me again and again. This is what I called to me. By agreement. Right on time. Figure it out, they’ve advised.
I’m in Vel’s debt for her help in figuring out that the wise one allows others their choices. Even advising is best done by invitation.
Allow others their experience, stop trying to control everything, because that’s just misplacing your power, and ends in frustration.
People will do what people will do. Love them anyway. Love them without misgivings.