Deeply Awake — The Sun And The Still Point 1-9-14 By Kathy Vik
It’s been a weird few days, fallow, quiet, sleep-filled days, getting canceled, sleeping as if I’ll be working that night, up for a few, then back to bed. I hadn’t had this much sleep in years, really. Without any drugs of any kind, falling asleep on a dime. Until yesterday.
What stole upon me was a particularly vulgar monster, one which distorted my sense of self in most peculiar and irregular ways, and helped me to finally, once and for all see, a few things.
I want to tell you about something that happened this week which then allowed me the sleep I have known. I have had, I think, a lot to assimilate, and I knew the sleep, like it has before when these things have happened, would steel over my days and mights for awhile, and then, things would start to rattle and roll.
I was in my car, and feeling a sense of euphoric peace, just such a pure sense of pure, true and strong joy, and it had a sound to it, and then I was overcome with a white light. I’m sure it looked like I fell asleep in my car, but I wasn’t even there.
The light began to inform me, and the weirdest thing about this was that I narrated it. It was my voice that was teaching me, and I was learning from the narration, but it was my voice. It felt good, at the time, but at the beginning of it, I noticed it, and found it peculiar.
There were lots of patterns, geometrics, light mandalas, patterns, lots of patterns. And then I was in a cone, my being huge, but in a big golden cone, up to my teeny tiny neck, from the distance I was at, and then a light which I really cannot describe made me lean all the way back, and the light entered my thorax, and penetrated my body, and then went into the earth, I was connected to and by it, we all were. I heard a phrase I will not repeat publicly, and it helped me to understand just what was going on.
I asked about my hip, because I am worried about it. I have exquisite pain, and now it hurts to bear weight. I am having weird things go on with my sensations, and my gait has changed. I am worried about this. And I saw them work in light, all white light. I saw grids and patterns placed within my physical body, and lots of the inner muscular, bony planes, structures. It was beautiful.
They told me what to eat and drink for the next three months, just three things I need to add, and they told me I will have much improvement, but it will take time. Do the diet things. It’ll help.
But then, something came to me and had a little talk with me.
I said, I know that these things in my body are me talking to myself, and I want to know what core thing is trying to be expressed here. What should I be aware of on a soul level to help this healing?
They explained that my core fear, the seed fear, they called it, was doubt. That I have doubted all of my life, and I doubt myself most of all. I cower and I make excuses, and I doubt my worth, that I belong here, that I have a place here, and I have a purpose of benevolence.
They told me, now is the time for confidence. You have earned your place here, and you may be confident in your actions, words, thoughts and emotions. Confidence! Confidence! Confidence! I could feel doubt like a weight in my pelvis and in my back, how white it was, how blazing, how in need to transmutation, acceptance, understanding, empathy, speaking to it as I would my most wounded self, someone beaten up so completely, by herself most of all, that there really is no other way to go but through. Unpacking all of it, meditating and hallucinating and seeing all as metaphor and storylines.
And that is the thing that works for me, it really is, but after that episode, from which I came to, felt like barfing and passing out, twice, but finally just got out of my car and lumbered up to my apartment, and went straight to bed. I could. I was supposed to work that night.
I knew I would have a time of dullness, and then a real black moment or two, and then the clouds would clear, just like they always do.
And so, I really don’t like to “bring up negativity,” and the denigrating, whining voices I have listened to for a few days keep telling me love to point out how, if I were really any stripe of metaphysical, I wouldn’t be in so much distress, ooh, it LOVES that one, but it is over, for now.
You see, I have come to find these big energetic aha moments are followed by a series of upgrades, or physical changes, and with it comes innate changes, in intellect, emotional range, behavioral flexibility, and, most striking for me, is my psychic range.
I am able to get a read, in the most loving way, honestly, but I can just sense people, sort of whole. I don’t know specific storylines, and am at times completely barred from any access, which suits me real good, actually, but the essence, the energy, I guess, that I get in a flash, anymore.
I can feel heaviness, self-deception, anger, weariness, all of it, and sometimes I can see stuff, but not a lot, and only if it gives me a more sympathetic view of the person.
Of course, I have always had this, and it spooked people, I am sure, because, although I have been dead on a lot of the time, I was also wrong a few times, and here we find the gem, sitting there sparkling, wondering when I’d finally mozy by this way.
The seed fear, the core set up, that of doubt, this is what has crippled me, in a way, and given me the biggest gifts as well. Here is the core of it, that I can trust myself and my god. I can do that. I have so much to be thankful for, and so much that I have been given. I am alive, against high odds, at times, and I am intact. I am different than I was before , but still liable for all the messes I made when less aware.
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And with that, I busied myself with Sam last night, feeling the pull toward my bed more and more strongly, grateful to finally lay down, by 8:30 or so. I know that when the sun goes active, there are physical things to do, and feel, and so it felt good to lay down and rest.
I dreamt, again and again, about integration. That was the word of the night, and although I have no visuals, I feel as if some things have been settled, today.
I want to tell you of a trick I do, have done, and had forgotten about, but which helped me feel a modicum of peace as this last wind of disquiet came barreling through my reality lately.
I’m reading the complete, illustrated Sherlock Holmes right now, and, taking a little break from it, I thought about storytelling.
What a character in a story says is often, or can be, at direct cross-purposes to what they are after, how they really feel, what they really want. We all know this. We have all, each of us, been lied to, right to our faces, most often by employers, but often by colleagues, clients, family, friends, lovers.
We all know this, it’s nothing new. So, there I am thinking, in my granny chair with this huge book teetering on my armrest, ok, then what a person does, this moves the story along, the action is the set up, and what a character says and does, this is important, it’s all got to be believable and interesting and unique, but, who the character IS, the well from which they drink, that is the real crux of things, what they are really doing. Really doing.
This is what matters.
The integration of word and deed, but, more, the originator of word and deed, the place from which decisions are made, words are uttered, fates are sealed, that comes from the bigger part of the story, the seat of the story.
And so, I thought to myself, ok, let’s talk about my story.
I had driven home from a shift with a stark understanding and compassion for my situation, last shift I worked. I considered this, sitting in my chair. And I write about it yet again because I think it is not so much a personal schism but a universal one. I am sure there are some who are so seamless and aware, that their insides match their outsides and there is nothing but peace in their lives, and to those I say bravo, well done, and thank you.
But here I am, this poet, this philosopher without alphabets behind my name, a spiritual psychologist without degree, a teacher without students, an author without readership. And I have, for many years, worked in an industry which does not value this depth. Sure, it’s tolerated, now more than ever, but after that shift, I could see it much more clearly.
Sure, working psych makes more sense, and geriatrics is actually the very best blend for me, but the whole system is out of joint, out of synch with what I think is true. I have gotten used to it, and I function well within it, know what it can and cannot abide, but to get ahead, it seems, an advanced degree is required, and an advanced degree seems to squeeze out of people their creativity, their daring, and their ability to tolerate innovation.
I think this can be said of our educational system, at this point. Yes, there is creativity, and many areas which support and promote it, but even in English, I think much of post-secondary education is derivative and highly bordered. And the ones who emerge from it as our managers are often socialized to protect the system, completely missing the truth of it, that unique, creative beings are what a system is.
Each of us come together, in whatever endeavor, from our homes, our lives, and our stories, and we choose to gather and create something. And my system of endeavor these many years is a highly patriarchal, linear, evidence-based system, one which values order, structure, reproducibility and projection-thinking. The same can be said of many sciences, many endeavors.
So, on the road home, I saw that yes, this is just a bit of a mismatch. Good reasons for having contributed, and it has treated me well, but, gee whiz, I feel now like I really don’t fit in like I would like to. I feel bigger than the work, somehow, although on the surface, neither me nor the work has changed a bit.
And in my comfy grandma chair, I told myself the story of me, in the terms I considered while reading Sherlock Holmes. There is what I say, there is what I do, and then there is what I am doing.
I realized that often, if I am not in my heart, I am quite critical, just internally, but it shows. Even so, what I say, anymore, sort of surprises me. I have found, over the last two years, that I am so comfortable, in any social situation at all, and have such an unexpected ease with people, that I have just had to relax, finally, and let whatever it is that comes out sort of take over.
No one knows, really, the inner dialogue I have, the impressions I receive, the things I know. No one asks, and I don’t volunteer it all that often. So what I say, often, is from someplace I forget will just be there, is always there.
I really must start owning this, I thought to myself. Even though I may not feel all that comfortable in social situations, I appears as if I am, and in the moment, I really am. I have learned to trust myself, this self that pokes out and makes things smooth, makes people laugh, complains and talks and informs.
And there is what I am doing. And I am not all that impressed by this, when I am not in my heart. I beat myself up for not being where I think I should be, for not doing what I think I should be doing. Even so, when I take a look at it, I realize that I am not doing anything all that unforgivable, and am justified in the decisions I have made thus far, and sere that decision making and movement forward are just choices, a series of choices.
But then, there is what I am DOING. And this is where the good stuff is. I could feel an elevation, a lengthening of my shadow, there in my chair, and I felt the narration once again flow through me.
I once again had the sensation I had before pulling into work for my last shift. I said, clearly and loudly, when the worry thoughts and small thinking had just run me ragged, finally I said, “I am an ascended master of light. I am an ascended master of love. I am an ascended master of peace. I am that I am. I can do this. I feel my truth, I know my truth and live my truth, now.” And there on my chair I had that come to me again. I saw bigger, saw broader, and felt peace again.
What I am doing is not what I am saying, and not exactly what I am up to in my daily life. No.
And this is the schism, the primary issue confronting me, and probably a lot of other people like me. Who and what I am is not what I have been or thought before. There is something so different about me now, and although it has taken years to get here, I feel a before and after quality sidling up to me.
I have heard that Hawaiians, the kahunas, they see a human as having three parts, and maybe this is what they are talking about, because I can still see it so clearly, and know that this concept is what I was working on last night, in my dreams. Could it be that this is the meld, this bigger me, the universal, plugged in me, doing and saying what must be done and said here in my life?
I see, often, the human being as a sliver coming off of a ball of light, made darker and more visible by its contrasts, its own definition of itself.
And this is the point, to both literary theory and life theory, I think. Those definitions of self are as mutable as the actions we take and the words we make. That we can choose any definition at all of this sliver, and can, indeed, fashion for ourselves any backstory we like, at any time.
I saw, sitting there, a plasticity, a fluidity, to self-definition, because I saw the self as easily changed, easily explained in any number of ways. I believe that what I think and feel about my past, and my future, at any given time, impacts the past and future I am contemplating. I
have healed things in my past, and I have seen the future, and here I am, just this dumpy looking woman with financial woes, just this writer who has gotten in the habit of waiting until my life starts.
But that’s the thing. I feel like what came before really does not apply to what is happening now. I feel this most of all.
I choose not to define myself as I once did, and by doing so, I believe I change the whole system, the whole matrix, into something new, and hopefully something more sustainable, happier, more at peace with the whole.
I am going to see Kryon tomorrow, the first time I have been in that entity’s presence while channeling live. I have come to trust the relationship I have with them, and so, last night, it was soothing when I found myself in the room, as I have since I purchased the tickets, I saw and felt them there in the hall, impregnating the chairs, the walls, the stage, and holding a presence which will only intensify.
I understand that I am able to receive gifts from them tomorrow.
And so I will end talking a bit more about this orthopedic issue.
I know it might seem real crazy to read about someone who is healing themselves of an orthopedic problem with thought. I know that. But I have been here before. I have done this before. Not anything this challenging, but I have.
I have never believed that the body is anything but a powerful entity which is hell-bent on loving me. I have believed, known, since well before nursing school, that the body is always wanting health, always capable of it, and wished only to serve.
I know that there are people who come in disabled, crippled, and others who have things happen to them which change their bodies in unalterable ways, and I have always seen this as nothing but a soul expression. And so, if my soul wishes I have this back and hip problem, so be it, it is a gift, something I am intimately engaged in.
I have a belief that I can heal my back and my hip without going to a doctor. That does not mean that I will not be getting help, or have not had help. I feel my muscles do weird things now, when I listen to Kryon, when I have certain thoughts, and I understand that the body, when in a state of distress, alters thought, makes it harder, sometimes, to reach clarity, because there is interference. And so, healers must at times be brought in to help clear the debris. My healers have been Kryon, my soul, and my melded intellect, this time.
I have been creating a space, in the room where the Kryon entourage will meet, which will be conducive to healing, and I will ask for healing there. The energy will be sweet, and intense, and I look forward to seeing the light show, and feeling the waves which I know will hit me full force in the presence of so powerful a presence. And so, I set my intention for healing.
It’s funny, how a healing might look not like spontaneous healing, but an alteration in approach, in thinking, in circumstance. I am open to all forms of healing, tomorrow, today, all through my life, now.
I write this with a little trepidation, because I am being more honest than usual, but I am pretty much done with hiding.
Much of this new earth’s life, I think, has to do with suspending expectations. I have gotten so used to certain things, certain responses and behaviors, that I sometimes don’t believe that miracles can happen, that things can change, that peace can be found. I place upon my future, and my present, the reactions I have seen from people for two generations, now, and the weariness at times makes me think that nothing is changing, that nothing has changed. And this, in the end, is the biggest joke of them all.
I feel that everything has changed. I have proof of it, and in my better moments, I can grab a string off that ball of hope and hang on, and the ball unwinds into a lovely pattern, rather than being useless and undecipherable.
And so, I end this telling you what I was aware of during the depth of a night working a psych ward. I had gone through many waves of thought and layers of feeling, and was outside smoking, thinking on things.
I have proof that things are different. I have these writings. I have notes, here on the page, of meditations and events which have, in every way, altered me. And I have, in the end, no other natural choice than to admit that everything has changed, and that I can, indeed, trust myself and have confidence.
I have written to you about very personal things, and that may seem boring, or narcissistic, but I have not felt it appropriate to place upon others what I could not figure out on my own.
To tell you what to do, how to feel, and how to interpret your life seems like quite a stretch for me. It isn’t a stretch for a lit of people, but for me, it is. And so, I layed bare what was happening, and in real time told you of visions and hallucinations, synchronicity and meditations. I have showcased it all.
I stood there smoking, and realized, heck, maybe all this writing was just all for me, this whole time. Maybe it isn’t for anyone else’s benefit.
And I liked that idea, finally. I really, really did.
Because I thought, well, if that’s the case, I have done well. I have blossomed into someone who does trust her voices, all of them, who takes down dictation when it comes through, who has healed herself of tremendous pain and who has put to rest relationships which had known nothing but alienation and disregard.
I have brought peace to my family, I have disengaged from some serious karma, I have good relations with wonderful friends, and I am at peace with all that I was told, all those years ago, at the foot of my last true master, The Teachers.
I realized out there smoking that I am finally at peace with what they introduced me to, what I needed to have introduced, back in the early 90’s.
Nearly twenty years later, I can admit that I have power, I am smart, I am connected to spirit, and I am a big soul.
I can admit to myself that ascension is real, and I can be at peace with this having been my only burning desire, the one thing that has kept me going, the one thing that I think is the point. And if all this writing, two years of part time work and poverty, all this time, if this is my reward, then that is enough, really. It is a bounty, actually.
So it is time to disengage, I feel, from the small answers, the mean definitions, the critical thoughts which had been plaguing me. The sentences of doom I have placed on myself, the fear that poverty creates and then sustains. I don’t know very much about how to do the 3-d thing, I tell myself, but then, I look at what I was compelled to do for two years, inviting you in and asking you to read along with me as my heart and mind and body changed, so maybe even that definition of self can be disregarded.
I saw, thinking on character development, plot and motivation, with Sherlock Holmes resting on my though, that there is a much bigger picture here, one that a part of me has always been working from, and wishes to bring to fruition.
So I left that job, that morning, feeling weird and wrung dry. I feel the same way now, only a sharp sort of intensity is in my fields now. I feel and give permission for being in a still point, in a null zone, in a time of perfect balance, the place in between before and after, and I am fine with it.
It’s all good and well to say that what matters in one’s physical life matters, but to me it really never has all that much, and now, I like the thought of marrying it all, putting it all together, so that what I say, what I do, and what I am doing are merged, and are coming from the place of creation rather than reaction.
It’s easy to think there is no plot when things stop happening, but the point of this is, maybe, that it is in that pause, in the spot where all is known and nothing is done, said or thought, that is the truest place of all.
I’ll end with some thoughts on a new system I have been given access to. A friend of mine allowed me to run my demographics through the Human Design System, a quantum astrology system which, I must confess, at first, made me feel very uncomfortable. I read my personality printout, and there were all the things I really really would rather not discuss, there in full view. So my initial reaction was a quite aversive one, and then, I decided to give it another try. There has to be something there, and I was determined to find it.
There is a lot about it now that I find prescient and instructive, but none more than one of the traits I was shown. I have a 6/2 path, a triple something or other, but the bottom line is that I can be categorized as a Hermit/Role Model. One of many life paths, it really is the only one I would want out of all of them, and I am relieved it’s mine.
My story is that for a third of my life, I have the shit kicked out of me, then another third is lived trying to get right with this, and only after this has been done can I emerge as a role model for others, a wayshower, someone who can say, hey, I get it, I was there, and this was my way out. Maybe it can help you too?
Freaky deaky, how true it was for me, echoing what The Teachers once, almost off-handedly, told me was the point to all that I was and had been wrestling with. “It’s so that others can look at you and say, “Well, if she can do it, so can I.’” Funny how such a comment has, ever since, lit my way and made even the worst embarrassment livable and forgivable.
So, I feel the schism reaching into this writing too, and I have indeed written as much. I feel like the time of exposition is over, and yet, the fiction is still brewing, still working. I’m nearly ready to do fiction again, but I was hung up, so hung up, and this essay explains just a bit of it, the crazy thinking, the doom, the “negativity,” from which I feel I am finally emerging from.
Not defining myself as I once did, not using old experiences as the template for how things will now go, what comes next? I sit in this still point, in this null, and I do have anticipation, and I notice how this can feel much like fear, and have had to do some work to identify the fear thoughts and do what must be done with and for them, to still and love them back into wholeness. Without expectation, with hopes but without need, I face this next part.
It is funny how my mind works around certain things. There are certain dates, certain moments, that I can feel for miles off, knowing something brand new is coming. I feel seeing Kryon is one of those, much as my 5-25-12 premonition was accurate and true. But it is a joint venture, this, and one which calls for my integrity. To suspend all expectation, all of it, and just allow this moment to be what it is, that is the way to peace for me.
I’ll mention, to end, about my job. I had a strong interview, and have been told the job is mine, but always with a caveat. I sit here, underemployed, still, and waiting for the final shoe to either drop, or get thrown at my head, or get slipped on my foot just a gently as a genteel clerk at a shoe store would.
I have no idea what will come. The lady tells me I am in, and yet, there is just this one little matter, and she’ll get back to me. It has been two weeks of absolute anticipation, and I cannot for the life of me figure out why it has stalled so. My counselor, Norma, told me it was because I carry within me ambivalence, and to that, I hooted and said, “Well, yeah!”
I want to time to come be now. I want to be among artists, philosophers, those who are concerned with things that I find fascinating, healing, thought, effecting matter with consciousness, all that stuff. I want to write, tour, channel, I want my new life to start. That life that I came in knowing I would have.
And yet, here I am. It is just really hard, being as torn as this, living in these two worlds. It has been a real bitch. Sometimes the fatigue overtakes, sometimes not fitting in takes its toll, and sometimes I am blazing with hope.
I sit now, once again, in my granny chair, wishing things were clearer, wishing that I had an answer, just one answer, and there is no phone call, no mail, no sign that this stasis will end.
So I look forward to Kryon and to breakfast with my dad, seeing my son in a couple hours, doing laundry. I am keeping busy, keeping my chin and my hopes up, but I want this still point to end, I want the action to resume, and I want, what happens next, to be the best story I have ever conceived, me a character who thinks as she feels as she says and does, someone who loves herself and trusts herself and is her own champion.
So the perspective exercise helped, as did this, although I still feel it is murky and none too helpful. Regardless, I will send it out, imagining that it may actually go unread, and not even caring. It may go unread, but it mustn’t go unsaid. This may change for me, but until it does, this is how I roll. I am feeling this too is changing, but it hasn’t yet. When it does, you will know. I’ll tell you about it. You can trust me to do that by now, right?