Deeply Awake — Self-Evident 4-6-14 By Kathy Vik
A grand integration has been underway for me this last week, and although there have been times when it would have been perfect for me to speak, I knew to hold my tongue. This, I think, comes from becoming more familiar with riding these waves, these waves of re-introduction, of remembering, of coming together.
Last night, I watched an Ancient Aliens which discussed shamans. Just writing that word seems to transport me to a room with many doors, behind which there are complete and beautiful libraries of information. So many ways to take this.
It started last week, this most recent oddity of “time.” Not being too tied to time anymore, I see it not as a week, week and a half, but in packets of understandings, chapters of summaries, outlining the integration, any word read touching off a landslide of emotion, of memories, of resolution.
This week started with a change in the patterning, the configuration, at work. An event had taken place, and I could feel everyone moving to new positions after this event. I like it when the feel of a place is moving. It feels like tectonic plates slowly shifting, and this movement colors what is said, done, thought, in the workgroup.
With these shifts came understandings.
My latest problem has been with just one individual, although there are three who are reacting poorly to me, at work. The one who I’ve recently done battle with and who has given me great gifts, well, this interpersonal issue has been central, key, to how I have conducted everything. And this is precisely why I do not enjoy working in groups. I don’t like to do so much work.
This conundrum had to do with, what else? Not being liked, being rejected, being found to be without worth, or worse, a detriment, to the group.
The thing is, I have had an unusual vantage point for this last, great battle. I have taken to a hill, and I have been observing it, rather than engaging in it. I feel what I feel, and release what needs to be released, without saying a word. This person has been in my consciousness, but not in my daily life. Odd. But certainly not unusual for me.
From here I have come to understand many things. First, I have gained the gift of perspective.
I woke up yesterday with the solution, actually, after days of the old self-negation I feel when I am being rejected, made small, seen as nothing, or a threat. I tried and tried to justify myself to myself, trying to justify my existence if someone else hates me or opposes me.
I heard, so loud, and felt it in me like a drum being banged in time, these words, this essential message: It is ok to stick out. It is ok to not fit in. It is ok to go unseen by some. Know them by this, love them and forgive them, and treat them only with generosity, but you are fine, you have a place, you are welcomed, you are valuable.
All these thoughts, which had been tiny, many, but tiny, too tiny to overcome my doubt, came flooding to me as I raised my body from sleep. You are fine, you are fine, it’s ok to be exactly who you are.
Now, I understand that this sentiment is on many, if not most, of the facebook posts I see, so I know that the words themselves are helpful and appropriate, but I did not see how these words applied to me when in conflict.
I puzzled on this, why a catty little fight could blacken my worldview, why panic and darkness seem to overwhelm me sometimes when I feel rejected. And then, it all came together for me.
This is the same koan, the same old conundrum. How can I still be working on THIS?! I wondered, over and over, as the pressure got turned up at work, the interactions becoming more frequent, and more adversarial, each day, last week.
And then I decided it would be wise to watch Band of Brothers.
I will tell you, this time, this time I was ready to heal it.
I have been watching long, painful documentaries about the camps since I was a young woman. I couldn’t not watch, that is how I felt. I needed to learn about the camps.
And with Band of Brothers, came my epiphany. I’d seen the series once before, but this time, when I got to the episode called “Why We Fight,” everything came together for me.
Understand, it was in the same time frame that I discovered a key, a true key to me. I discovered a website called Foundation for the Law Of Time.
There have been many such moments for me, on this walk of enlightenment, but none quite as profound as what I learned the day I stumbled upon this site. I instantly understood all the numerology, understood the complexity of what they were explaining, and suddenly, everything came into view for me.
I saw that it takes 52 years to go through a life cycle. I had been told, in my head, in December or January to just hold on, that everything changes on my birthday. I knew it to be true, but why? And there, on that website was my answer.
I felt, for those two days, as I learned and learned, as I remembered more and more fully all that had once been my understanding, that this was a special time, and that the timing of my life had been impeccable, I had laid everything out very well, and I was well satisfied.
I felt such completion, and that sensation you get when the earth beneath you suddenly, surprisingly, gives way.
And then comes Band of Brothers. I walked into it with this burgeoning sense of completion, and then, I see the liberation of the camps, on the small screen, done well, and lost was I, not in film critique or thinking the screenplay though. No, I was seeing the camps for the first time. I was remembering. I was reliving it.
This residue stayed with me for a day. I wept, I felt that old heaviness, and I finally understood why I have been so hard to get along with sometimes, at work.
I understand how it is that small, bad decisions are just a window to what else a person might feel is ok. There were always plenty of guards in the camps, you know. Always plenty of people willing to be the enforcers, the ones who carry out the nonsense, hiding under the puerile excuse of not being allowed to think things through.
This sort of lock-step thinking infuriates me, and, I can see now, it used to panic me, when in the context of giving care to the vulnerable. With a great sense of moral rectitude, of integrity, honesty, humor, light, clarity, I have seen care given, and I know what is possible.
And when I see it being done by those who devalue those they serve, when I see no understanding of the great sacredness of what we choose to undertake when we clock in for work, this makes, or made me, very very scared. Panicked, and angry. Very angry. And sometimes even morally indignant.
Now, it’s not bad to have a strong super-ego when doing what I do for a living, but I have always had an overactive one, always. Even as a candy striper, as a volunteer, that urgent need to practice with integrity, honesty, humor, balance, presence, that never has diminished, has always burned bright. But it led to mental health problems, and made fitting in hard.
I put all of this together last week, and in the height of it, as disbelieving and as discounting as I got, I have to tell you, getting body chills and nausea every single time I said, “Birkenau” out loud, well, there are some things it is hard to dispute.
I crested the madness, though, and I want you to know if it. That is the point of this, of course.
I came to see, as I traveled to the camps, as I felt and smelled and witnessed and relived, I came to see that this was an exercise in consciousness. It was a scar, a dip, the last time we would fall so low. Now, thinking on the horror of this time, all over the globe, the darkness was pervasive, and yet now, thinking on the time, the darkness doesn’t strum me like it did last week. My body is not singing the songs of that time, like it was, even last week.
This had to do, in large part, with what was written on that website, and I am going to cut and paste so that you too can gain resolve and recognition from those words. It brought the experience into my heart, into my DNA, into my field, and helped me to remember the context of all of this.
And this is what my consciousness has been revolving around, this last week, I guess. Context.
The World War II healing continued, but first, that article on the shifting of our consciousness from http://www.lawofltime.com…
2013 – New Aeon of Consciousness
We are the Elders of the Supreme Star Council of the Federation of Galactic Federations. We speak as a unified voice of matters that concern all of you. As a unified voice, we can only be understood by a unified consciousness.
A unified consciousness is not just the consciousness of a single being unified in itself, but that of a brother/sisterhood of beings unified as a single organism.
Many of you are feeling the accelerated changes taking place within your organism and on your planet. These shifts are coming because your collective inner dream is beginning to assert itself in the third dimension.
Everything that is occurring in your world is a symptom of rapidly approaching the major event point of the changing aeon of consciousness. The earth is shifting frequency from 12:60 machine “time is money” domination to 13:20 spiritual/mental “time is art” evolution.
Many who are talking or writing about 2012 are passing their intuitive perceptions about the event through a 12:60 filter, and presume, through their work, to be the spokesperson for a particular point of view which they invariably think is the correct one. They are not to blame.
The mass mind has not yet fully realized their consciousness is still immersed in the aeon of consciousness that is soon to be terminated (12:60). They are not communicating yet from the perspective of the new aeon of consciousness (13:20).
The new aeon of consciousness is the aeon of universal unified consciousness. The old aeon is the aeon of the evolution of the egoic individualized consciousness.
During this cycle, consciousness has emerged from a tribal unconscious of spiritual equality into a dialectical struggle between those who dominate through the reinvention of reality and those who uphold the sufficiency of spiritual Reality. The upholders of the reinvention of reality have incarnated to play roles such as politicians, bankers, CEO’s of pharmaceutical companies, etc.
This dialectical struggle has created the tension in consciousness that has dominated your line of force for the last six thousand years. This is the climax of the struggle between spirit and matter.
All the sacred books and teachers of holy truth have arisen solely for the purpose of upholding the remembrance of spiritual reality against the rising tide of materialism.
Even so, the followers of these sacred books and holy teachers themselves always end up reinventing reality and calling it by the name of yet another religion.
In this way, the progressive force of the upholders of the reinvention of reality have come to prevail. In this patriarchal script, the weight of matter always proves superior to the etheric mantle of spirit, which it easily tears to shreds. But this is soon to change.
The dialectic between spirit and matter is known as history, the progress of the reinventers of reality in time – the dominating patriarch – and their unceasing pursuit of power and total world conquest.
Finally, about 500 years ago, the objective of conquering the entire line of force for the benefit of those upholding the reinvention of reality as the principle purpose of human existence had been attained. The last remnants of tribal consciousness could then be squeezed into this artificial matrix fueled by greed where money reigns as the supreme arbiter.
Now also the final stage of the present aeon of consciousness was able to flower. This was the age of the flowering of ego, male dominance and the triumph of the individualization of consciousness. In the New Aeon comes the emergence and balance of the earth-centered feminine energy that does not fit into existing frameworks.
In this final age, all vestiges of the tribal unconscious and the older hierarchies of spiritual reality were pushed aside in favor of the complete reinvention of Reality, the new world order. Consciousness was now privatized through media of mass communication. Anyone could think and do what they wanted – within the limits set by the protectors of the social order. What you call nature was devalued to the condition of a raw commodity resource bank where Earth’s precious resources were unfeelingly stripped and sold to the highest bidder.
We are the Elders of the Supreme Star Council of the Federation of Galactic Federations. We have studied your line of force through different aeons of consciousness.
The aeon now ending is the Aeon of the Testing of Consciousness. It is the testing of the individual soul. Who you think you are and who you actually are, are two entirely different things.
You have theories about how you came to be which make no sense. You are closer to the truth when you place GOD (Galactic Ordering Dynamic) in the position of having created you.
As the emanation of the Higher Reality, the template of your being was “fashioned” by divinely directed “biological engineers” in another line of force of reality. Your galaxy was selected as a test zone. The test zone was designed by cosmic engineers to accommodate sequences of aeons of consciousness in which your species was the test case for the emergence of “spiritual consciousness.”
Following the final testing of the present aeon of consciousness, the new aeon will dawn, the aeon of the flowering of spiritual consciousness. For this, we are being prepared as a new cosmic species.”
I began to understand, as the week progressed, as I applied it to my work situation, my family stuff, all of it, that the panic I used to feel came from anticipating more horror, always knowing more was around the next curve.
And that is how it used to be for a lot of us, and I think it intensified for many of us during the last couple of years, when we sort of came out of our caves and began to stretch our legs. We’d had to shelter, and had to seek refuge, often and much, because it was brutal out there.
Now, I really do not expect everyone to be able to understand this experience of mine, or any of them, frankly, but I do know there are others out there who see that their lives are more metaphoric, and works of living, biochemical high art than the grind most have concluded life is. We are here. We are awake, and we are using our experiences to transmute for the group, if you don’t mind me putting too fine a point on it.
I realized that I had to discard the futility, the resignation that I had come to know so well. I think the panic had to do with the futility I felt, that really, I can shine just as bright as I wish, but I will get ejected from the group for it, at the least, and possibly some other form of struggle, to pay for the stretching I’d done.
And now, this is different. Is it because I feel I transmuted some of the energy I was aware of around the camps, is it the whispers of sanity Jose is offering me on that web site, or is it simply time for me to outgrow the koan of my first 52 years?
I don’t know the answer to that question. It’s too big. I only know that I feel a soul relief now that I was not aware was possible last Sunday.
I finished up my WWII spree by watching a documentary called Heir To An Execution, and it featured the oldest son of the Rosenbergs, murdered nearly 60 years ago by our government. I watched the old energy once again morph into a murderous mob, hateful commentators, misguided protesters.
I saw the darkness, the primordial fear we stewed in for so long dance these people like puppets, and saw, two generations later, that there were finally two family members, second generation, who chose to come together, one offering the other, the one who had suffered from the isolation and fear-based behavior a tearful apology.
I watched the son of these complicated human beings. I heard in every silence, in every utterance, balance, strength, self-knowledge, peace. He had suffered as few have, and he conducted himself with gentleness of spirit, intelligence, passion, but through all the fire of mind was a wise, and old, a calm spirit.
I thought then of my current job, my current group. I am told, always, to look at this as a lark, as fun, find joy every day, teach, laugh, love, but take none of it too seriously. I have it shouted and whispered, all day long. And still, sometimes, the sensations I get from the others is overwhelmingly dark, just dumb, fear-based, shame-based, ineffective, blaming and dumb. And I get tired.
So, while feeling a little lost, a couple days ago, having had a clearing, and having felt some healing, I was driving and listening to the radio, when an ad came on for massage therapy school.
I listened. I let it sink in. Hmm. Having clients who understand they are quite possibly spiritual beings? People who are motivated to explore being an active partner in their health? Hmm… Hmm… And then, a big smile rolled over my face, and, very loudly, waiting at a light, laughing by the third repetition, I said, “I wanna do THAT!”
Since then, I have spoken to my sister who reminded me of a healer she knows whose work is in alignment with how I do my work, with energy, with self. So, I am going to be calling him, go in a get my hip tweaked, and perhaps take up with him.
All of this is happening while I am witnessing many timelines closing, of their own accord. Superimposed on this is my knowledge of my own life path, my 52 years of progression as a soul, wrapped in this odd personality, has come to an end, is morphing, is looking for another, maybe even lighter, brighter, expression.
I want to end this by telling you of an experience which occurred for me two days ago. I was at work, reluctantly attending a celebration for the crew. Not being comfortable in social situations at work, I’d taken to the back,taken to silence.
I patient came to me in a lull in the festivities. He was allowed entrance because it is known that he likes to give me gifts. He goes around and gathers magazines, then seeks me out and gives me stacks and stacks of these things.
As he handed me a stack of Guns & Ammo and Elle magazines, I was overcome, just overcome suddenly with the truth of it. Here was a yogi, a sage, someone who owns nothing, whose greatest defining characteristic is his generosity. Sure, some make fun of him, and few understand him, but there he was, yet again, looking me in the eye, handing me a gift, smiling, wanting to make me happy.
I teared up and told him he was the most generous person I had ever met. We hugged, and off he waddled, off to his bedroom on a locked ward, which he shares with a floridly psychotic elderly gentleman.
And so, the dictation came, and I let it, and it is this dictation I close with. It explains why I have done as I have done these last forty years, and it further explains why this leg of the journey may very well be complete.
“As part of All That Is, in this Divine Mind, in accordance with the dance of the universe, I will say now how I wish for my lifetime to go. Let me speak to you now as a mother, one who knows me best, and wishes no harm to me.
Please make me slow of wit, quick of temper, unsteady of gait, and make me deaf. Give me weak eyes, and difficulty understanding others. Let me have a wild and reckless youth. Let me break everything I touch. Let me have had the sort of life which makes for legend as I finish my days with my companions, my fellow teachers.
Let me finish my lifetime behind a locked door those with sharp tongues and intellects guard. Let me be poor, let me be found begging for trinkets, reduced to asking permission to take a shower.
Let me have odd habits, and let me, in the end, become a bit of a caricature, a character.
I give permission to be a fool.
I understand that as such, I am a teacher, and I will hold an energy few will recognize, and most will discount. Let me then, have my friends, and let them be among my table mates, and those who tend to my self-inflicted wounds. Once in a while, send me someone who understands my role, who, perhaps, might be able to gain access to this conversation.
I choose this life so that, at the end of it, I will have embodied gratitude. Let me know this vibration as I never have. This is what will burn in my heart, and it will be my true north. Let me know gratitude. My service will teach others, and I will come to embody that which will give me the strength to pull this off. It is a graduate life. It is a saint’s life. Let me do it well.”
As my coworkers swirled into their ever-changing groups, as their air buzzed and crackled with rumors and all the other nonsense which drives so much human behavior, I heard this, I knew this, and I understood some fundamental things. Primary among them was that not everyone in this big dining hall sees this man as I do. I am so grateful for this knowledge, I thought, and then, all the bad feelings I’d had about not fitting in well in my workgroup just sort of melted away. What mattered was me and this man, having seen and loved each other so well. It’s the only thing that matters.
I have been among the suffering for many years. Nursing called me, I did not want the role. I have done it gladly, because through the years I have met these yogis of love, these saints, dressed in rags, burned or broken or disfigured as they might have been, each of them a teacher, each of them an elder.
I understand the suffering, and wish to alleviate it. Sometimes I misread the suffering though, and the panic sets in.
These WWII experiences helped to bring it to a head, and helped to me apply that which I know to be true, but could not integrate until now.
Each one who tortured others in those camps, and each of the tortured, they played their roles. Of course, it was all voluntary, and it is just so sad our consciousness got so low, but what is done is done, and each who suffered and died in those camps added fuel to a fire that is now out of control, that fire which makes cruelty unthinkable, abuse unspeakable, punishment unintelligible. Each atrocity added to our later resolve, to our shame, to the moment when we decide, as a group, to forsake such behavior.
Each time anyone slights another, this is just us bumping into each other, negotiating agreement fields.
I see that I am in an agreement field that is rather low level, from the top down, not too enlightened, often fighting itself and ignoring its mission. And I observe it now, I see it, and I understand that this is a new age.
It took some convincing, you know, to get to the place of hope, true, organic,take-it-to-the-bank hope.
When I was knee deep in trying to sort out how to handle the petty issues in my workplace, they’d taken on such significance, it felt like I was solving a soul puzzle. Now, a week later, I know I have.
The timelines are closing, and to what new treble of existence I know not, but I trust it will be good, it will be instructive, and I am beginning to admit that joy and acceptance, laughter and ease might also be part of the bargain.
Along with the same old characters, resistant and suspicious, are the new characters, who are inviting, raucous, good-hearted and kind. The darkness used to be the focal point. After this week, this has shifted.
I feel some of the bounce in my step I used to, while I was waking up, right at first. The same lump-in-my-throat excitement. It feels good.
So, this idea of context. I see now that a lifetime is just a spiral, and the themes we choose to take on are achieved, and things we could not have accessed before become visible. Perhaps some themes never dissolve, but I think the significance of the themes, the driving factors, morph as we do.
To end, I tell you of how Kryon has explained things. He says there are Akashic Drivers, those things which compel us to certain actions, due to our world-view, our proclivities and our interests. The drivers, in the old energy, were fear, drama, and unfinished business.
I am seeing that as my business gets finished, as I acknowledge what I have done consciously and in a greater sense,I see that my drivers are changing. To finished business. To peace. To connection.
Context. Frame of reference. Natural bent. These things matter. They drive the discussions of our souls. I am glad that things are quiet now.
That was a long, lovely, cathartic discussion I just came from.
I rest, I smile, I breathe. My context, more and more, is soulic, multiple, big.
From here, all good things come.
This is a good context for me.