Deeply Awake — Welcoming The Golden Ones 12-23-13 By Kathy Vik
I was raised in a devoutly traditional Norwegian family, and so we celebrated on Christmas Eve. My mom and dad each have only sibling, as do I, and there was strife in their homes, let’s be honest, and so, we had a very very small family.
I married into a bigger family, not at all fussy, mixed European lineage, lots of color and benign eccentricity, in my opinion. Just blatantly, benignly eccentric. I couldn’t have had it any other way, really.
They celebrate on Christmas Day, which I was brought up to believe was just not as right, as doing it on Christmas Day, but have long since gotten over that prejudice. What silliness! In our lives, it just means that Sam gets to celebrate two Christmases.
Since Jerry and I split up, Sam gets two of a lot of things, birthdays, even Halloweens sometimes. His dad is a very right-wing Republican, I am undeclared Democratic socialist. Again with the contrasts. Sam set his life up very interestingly.
It’s all fascinating sometimes, just to take a step back and look at the weave. It was just stuff that happened, but then looking back on it you can see patterns, miraculous encounters, bizarre synchronicity, amazing timing, and you just have to know, don’t you, that there was some sort of weird, crazy, loving thing behind it, right?
And that thing, karma, that used to push and pull you and I, before we noticed it, took hold of it, had long chats with it, and then told it, finally, to leave, and then, at least for me, a number of sparkly, healing events occur, and at the end of it, I don’t know about you, but for me, I just feel, in my best moments, deliberate. I mean that to say volumes, you know. I know I am deliberate, when feeling clear and true, running as I am at the moment.
And yet, I have been at odds with myself, even now, even after all that has happened, the worst bout of it just last evening. I felt that old familiar blankness, no voices, no reassurance, and I knew I was in yet another void. Sam was so sweet to me, without my asking, treating me like a kid who’s under the weather. Best to just lie down and go away, when I feel like that, focus on love, and go to sleep.
People who elect to tell you about their pain, those people are few and far between, and those who are perfectly honest and candid about their souls’ troubles, riddles, puzzles, koans, in an uncloaked manner, fewer still.
And of them, there are but a few who can tell you that they got through it, and it’s over for them, and by extension, how you might be able to get through it, with viable, freeing, liberating answers, that requires one’s own self-examination, their own discernment to kick in?
A discernment and inner sovereignty that then requires giving the same freedom to others, encouraging individuality, with all being in such love, within self, and each other, that doing harm, telling lies, withholding good, these would begin to create pain within, not in resonance with the truth of it, that we are here because of love, for love, to share it freely and to expect only this from others. Peace on earth, I think it’s called.
And they have so much feeling of goodwill and trust, because it is earned, because you cannot find anything you cannot love, strife ends, and the painful behavior from others that used to plague you just begins to fade into an at times bleak, at times heartbreakingly pure and soulful song of love, well then, there aren’t many of those, I can tell you.
It’s still all spaceships and government nonsense, the haves against the have-nots, Monsanto and climate change and all the rest. For me, it translates into not having enough money to do things I imagine would be more pleasurable than what I am currently doing, in essence, and not being able to give Sam the finer things in life, like I had it, growing up.
Last night was the worst of it. I saw and felt it so clearly, this longing I have to just write, to have a life which does not demand the crude things, the hard and difficult things, things I have grown fond of, and weary of, the things of the flesh, of people lost in their own suffering, often lashing out like wounded animals. That’s the life I am sick of. Nursing. I really, really am.
And so all on the way home, and into last night, feeling this cleave. I have read my horoscope. I was a born philosopher and writer. It is just so clear. There is a paragraph or two about not being balanced in the physical, and one line about nursing. And yet, this is how my life turned out! What a hoot! I mean, it’s quite a setup, don’t you think?
I mean, honestly, in my heart, I retired from nursing almost two years ago. On January 25, 2012, I had an event which changed me. I had a choice to make that day, and I chose the unthinkable.
I was getting hauled in at work for something which was totally blown out of proportion, and all I could think was, well, here we go again. Once again getting booted out of someplace because I don’t fit in. Here we go again.
Don’t get me wrong, I am dearly loved by most of the people I hang out with, or at least loosely tolerated, and have had enormously successful job performance, but as things got clearer, in the late 2000’s I found it harder and harder to modulate myself, and often was unhappy.
I was sort of a pain in the ass, but there again, written by the stars, my horoscope soothed me by saying I have an aspect which is very challenging, sort of a catalyst for changing others. So it had always been there, the mal-resonance factor, but it got real bad, culminating in once again knowing people are gathering, there in an office on a cold January morning, trying to figure out how to make things hard, figuring out my penance for not fitting in, not pleasing, being challenging. It was finally realizing this that made things different for me.
And so I stood in the hallway, knowing that I was going to have to go in there and defend myself for half an hour, to people who I have no defense for, and they will probably try to punish me in the meantime, so, I got real still, and I realized I was needing help. I did as my teacher Norma said.
I breathed in green light. I could feel it go into my heart, and into my bloodstream, and into my lungs, and out into the air. It took me by surprise how instant and powerful it was. Then, the hall was green, I could feel that whole slice of highrise turn green, everyone in it, and then, I realized that everyone in the meeting room was green too.
I felt my awareness enter the room, and I could see each of their bodies green, abstracted, and they were pumping with green hearts, this green light. I realized I wanted to no part in this next part.
The part where I admit I am an asshole and did something grievous, and then they get to make things hard for me. Why do that? I thought to myself.
The woman in charge just plain and simple was beginning to hate me, and it was so bizarre. The whole thing, once it got going, it was super wobbly super fast. It was sort of the big boom, and I had been walking through fainter hits of it, before coming up to this big one. Yes, I think that’s it.
This was mainly self-perpetuated, you know. I know that now. I can see it even now at work. I don’t have the willingness to do small talk for eight hours. I can manage two. I have very good starts of shifts, and then, people just stay there bobbing on the surface, talking about their past problems, all their problems, all the time, either that, or their possessions, or the things they are doing to achieve really awesome goals, totally awesome, don’t get me wrong, but no one talks about why. And there had been so few people to take any comfort at all in alternative explanations, sparkly adventures, or anything that didn’t involve darkness.
And I tire of that, and so I turn inward, listening to stuff on the internet or reading, but off I go. It doesn’t mean I don’t like them, I just lose interest.
So, last year at this time, and on into the spring, I worked at a long-term hospital contract, and there I was able to do the really fine interpersonal work. I woke up socially, I think. And I became engaged at a heart level with people, without needing anything back from them, not depth, not weird interests, not spirituality. I had set myself apart, my whole career, without even knowing it, I see now. I see that now.
And now, I do not need anyone to love me, and I am filled with such exquisite bliss when I am loved, and I find that happens a whole lot more these days, and somehow this has all blossomed into peace.
And now I feel as if I am reentering the world. I am unafraid of rejection now, and do not shy away from talking with people, asking them questions, engaging in their happinesses. I see people as benign now, and usually as achingly beautiful. I had been so needy, I think, so hungry to connect, so heartbroken when people turned from me.
But I see now that this was just a modulation in the frequency, something I became aware of so that it could addressed. It begins and ends with realizing some things about myself, some fundamental things which I received in the dream state, over the solstice. I found it beautiful, so benevolent, in the end, that I worked the 21st and the 22nd.
I had a meditation on Friday, the 21st, my 2-11 day, my day of wonder, and in it I said that I needed to attend kirtan that night, rather than working. I commanded to be canceled for work so that I could attend kirtan.
I felt it appropriate to anchor this light there, among friends, among old souls, in full, or at least better, recognition of our true identities, soul to soul there. And then I felt, I just knew, that I would be canceled. I just felt so powerful, like a magician.
At 5pm, the agency called me. Confirmed for twelve at the geriatric psych unit. I had to got to work.
I drove to work angry, yelling a lot, upset that I could have gotten it so wrong, but worse, that I had called for it, cancellation and kirtan, and it had felt, to me, like it was mine. I had KNOWN I’d be canceled. And here I was, driving in a snowstorm, to work.
I can see now that this would have been nice, very nice, really, to have attended kirtan, but it was needed that I have the sort of sleep that I got, I needed to be up there for dawn, to be outside through the night, star gazing and contemplating.
It was an easy couple of nights, pleasant all around, and I had no social awkwardness, not a touch of it. Everyone, I can feel when I work, these last three shifts, everyone sort of eases, and people are gentle toward each other, and nice to each other. That happens anymore when we have a family dinner. A sort of peace falls into us, and they are magical, those times, but only with family, up until now.
Now I can see it spreading to work, consistent and gentle, not overwhelming, just peaceful, and I know I am a generator, so I sit there and generate. I am finally able to do what my teachers once told me was the goal, one of them. Can you, they asked, in any room, can you be the one who holds an open heart? Can you hold that for everyone?
And I can see now that this is what is happening.
I want to tell you of my dreams, because they soothe me, thinking on them now, and puzzled and excited me, thinking on them through those nights at work. I want to share them with you. You may see my last entry, “Duality’s Illumination,” for the dream I had on 12-19/20.
First wake up – I understood the light body, the Merkahbic DNA field I always imagine is outside of me is actually my DNA. I saw my cells, understood I am made of this DNA, and it is in my physical body, all the same, in my toenails and in my hair. The Merkahbah is my DNA, and this body is constructed of DNA.
2nd wake-up – now, understood that my soul is my higher self. It’s what kept me from shattering when I was a kid. It’s what kept me going all this time. And it’s what creates my circumstance, my choices and my situation. Like last night, when I am in opposition with or hold resentment for an activity [having to work] I am in opposition with my soul. Arguing with the thing that loves me, makes me, loves me. I layed flat arms out and thanked, loved, my soul and heated up instantly. The heat is me. It’s the meld. [Happy face.] I am my soul, my soul is me. It is melding my DNA, my field, my experience, it is me, and I it. My soul is me, I am my soul. My body is my soul, and my soul is my body.
When new circumstances and opportunities enter my life, that too is my soul, offering me doors I can walk through. I can TRUST these new doors. I don’t have to be in fear or opposition to them, and I shouldn’t think that refusing them will hurt me, but when I turn from a new opportunity (like that traveling job), I am saying no to something my soul has lined up. If what stops me is fear or “fatigue,” I am slowing things down, and missing opportunities to express the new me. They are NOT my good, they are adventures. Feel through them, scan them, and I’ll know, and can trust knowing, if they are loving, pleasant, feel through them first and you can trust if they feel good. It’s like hating or resenting something in my life. That’s me hating and resenting my soul. It’s CHLIDISH. A house divided.
Third dream – I lived in a house like dad’s, with many steps, and I had been gone a really long time. It was Halloween time. It was my house, but I was moving in, and I guess there were repair people, people responsible, former owners, but I got home after a long time, felt like I was a brand new owner, and the house had been left wide open, two glass doors, both propped open, an outer and an inner door.
And I saw, I remembered when I saw it, I had left a big white candle burning, a fat white pillar candle. It was still burning. There was a Halloween decoration over the front door, black wire covered with black fuzzy shiny stuff saying “Happy Halloween, Bitches,” I guess meant to be hip or cool, something the former owner had up. I was going to take it down and throw it away.
It was a huge house. 2 entrances. One, that I arrived in, was in the below, under, and connected to many steps, and also connected to the outside world. I’d come from a very busy time in a mall, I think, and had had touching relationships.
Then, the front door, that had been left wide open, this is the part I saw so clearly, it was reached by me differently. It was lighter, more open, made of glass, and I could see out into the wilderness and neighbor houses from there.
Sam was around, but not, too,and I felt very loved, like a star, and I know I had been difficult and erratic and some people I needed to come in and fix or help my house and now the former caretakers were sort of “hands off” and relieved I was different and I knew I wouldn’t be seeing much of them now, but I was communicating with them in my mind.
I decided because it was such a fine house that I would treat it with care.
I, I am missing the part with others, the ones who love me so. They weren’t there in the house, it was me alone, and I was closing the house, or planning to, thinking it is fine and right to close the doors so that just not anybody could come in. But the front part of the house was all glass and even if the doors were closed, I’d never be unaware or disconnected from anyone, with the outside, ever again.”
So, I think it is good that I worked those two nights, compelled to self-care in its extreme, when working two twelves back to back, and they were easy shifts, with colleagues I had known before and usually enjoyed, and I felt no slights. There was just one little jot of discomfort, from a formerly awful nurse, now so gentle, and only once in twelve hours did she misbehave and project things that weren’t nice, but I ignored it, and all was well.
And yet, I had two episodes of sadness, crying, last night, about little things, that telescoped into huge things that were crushing my tender heart, wanting, in the end, for a way to ease the road for Sam, not half-assing things anymore financially, safe and sound, finally.
I know it is a self-perpetuating thing, that if I applied myself I could be able to give him the moon, and I have now gotten so far as a callback, but then, the juice stops, and no more nibbles.
I have made calls, put in applications, lots of things, and it is truly odd, one of the oddest parts on this journey, how my mojo has dried up and I can’t get people to return my calls. Bizarre. Just bizarre. That’s the part I haven’t really talked about, how I just can’t seem to get my foot in the door anywhere. For all this time, since my inner retirement, actually, my inner, psychic retirement.
Because that was the outcome to that fateful day, nearly two years ago, that cold, bleak January morning, going in for the guillotine.
I sort of came back into my body after that green experience, and I felt nothing but love for those little ones, heads together, conspiring and calling it compassion. They had me come into the room, presented me with a very official document, and told me that my hours had changed, come down from corporate, and they happened to be exactly opposite the hours I was able to give the company.
Continuing would have meant never seeing my son, and they knew it, and sat there with a grin and offered it to me like I deserved it, like it wasn’t a very loud “GET OUT OF OUR COMPANY!”, and, I’d also have to sign some sort of form admitting that I was a piece of shit, basically.
So I smiled, and I leaned back in my chair. I asked them if they were aware that this seemingly arbitrary change in hours would be something they knew I could not do. They said yes, and hid behind the magic word “corporate’ again.
I said, well, we’re done then. Thank you, but let’s be honest. You are telling me to leave. I hereby retire. Knew it out in the hall. Knew I was done. And done with this sort of nonsense. They agreed to refrain from bad-mouthing when I went job hunting, and handed me some checks.
I had one friend, Linda, who urged me to go on unemployment, to take time off, maybe to write, if I wanted to.
And so I did just that. I retired, I got into the blogs, and I had an exponential amount of growth occur. I began writing in March of 2012, and am now writing the third, or fourth, one, depending on how you look at it. Of course, as it is in America, even though I was layed off, technically,
I did not get unemployment benefits. They were denied, and I didn’t see the point in wrestling with the dragon. Not anymore. I was on to other things. I lived on prayers, generosity, and miracles, for four months, exploring, writing, waking up. By March, I’d written my first essay, the name Deeply Awake still unformed in my mind.
I have been unable to give Sam the things I believe would enhance our lives, and I am sad about that, but, looking at how he set things up, and what he has told me about his most recent past life, I think it is true, what I am sometimes told about my current situation, that some of this is not even mine. I am helping out. I am in a set up for the benefit of others, holding compassion, hopefully, helping with the healing.
And so my fortunes are tied to others. I am out of karma, but I am not in this by myself. There are others who need help, in a soul, set-up sort of way, and they help me, too.
Sometimes, even still, I long for the physical circumstances to be different. This is a total mismatch, I hollered, on the way home from one of those shifts. Just seeing the absurdity of it all, the mind-bending sacrifice, the gut-wrenching act of love my being a nurse has been. I have been marking time, and I did it in a way that could only benefit me and those around me. Practicing compassion, twelve hours a night, sometimes 60 hours a week, in the old days, for nearly 30 years.
And so, I can spin it any way I see fit. Try as hard as I could, last night, I just couldn’t spin it in my favor. I was overwhelmed with fatigue, with longing, for something better. I deserve better, I say, sometimes. But I know, in my clearer moments, that this is all about timing, and nothing more, and to just chill and relax and not get to worked up, but gee, sometimes, it gets me.
I will tell you that after this is written, published, and then re-read, by me, I feel something is going to click. Even after all the sparkly stuff, that I wrote, often times, to you about, in disbelief and wonder, even now, I am not owning this. Writing and then reading it helps make it real for me. And this is a big one, I think. Because I am talking about a meld, a new way to live.
And this is the golden one, when soul and body are finally greeted as one in the same, when all is seen as love, soul expressions, everyone doing their best, even when their best is just god awful, this is the golden one, the soul lighting up a biology that is awash in a vibrant, colorful, beautiful and compelling electro-magnetic chemical hypnotizing technicolor reality. Bathed in and emanating from divine physics, each of us, doesn’t matter what sort of babble is coming out of the mouth, the words and the one speaking them are soul expression, and must be treated with respect.
This is a golden age, and when people begin to see how much they can and should and do value their own souls. It then becomes impossible to be anything but funny, kind, light-hearted, outgoing, perhaps, thinking about the others’ comfort, showing it, and wanting just to blend, cooperatively singing our beautifully individual songs, harmonizing, laughing, loving.
This is possible, I think. And it comes not from others finally getting their shit together, the ever-present “them” finally behaving, doing, better. No. It comes from understanding that the one you are observing, whether acting unjustly or justly, that one, too, is a soul, a timeless, eternal, immortal soul, as you are, focusing on something and having overwhelming thoughts and feelings about all of it.
So often, this Christmas, I have heard Christmas songs about this future time when Christ returns to Earth, or Peace, or what have you. This Golden time when everybody is nice to everyone else. Imagine living in peace and harmony! Imagine a world without war!
And this year, this is the year that I have felt a divine, cosmic, funny-as-hell wink, when those songs come on. This is the Christmas. This is the return of the golden one, the immortal soul each of us has some awareness of, some only on their deathbeds, some every morning, every night, and every moment in between. I’m not there yet, but I am getting there.
And to know this is possible, this is real, this is the best thing of all.
The Christian faith hijacked something. It’s weird, that Jesus’ words are actually in red in some Bibles (my favorite kind, I like to get tot he good stuff…) but he said, repeatedly, what I can do, you can do, this and more. Over and over, did he not? And yet there is all this worship around him, bending our light through him, instead of running straight up and down and reaching out from our hearts as a family. That’s the part that got hijacked. If I can do it, you can.
How would you like to see a painting of Jesus, smiling, giving you the thumbs up and a winking, grinning broadly, and a caption that reads, “If I can do it, so can you.” But Christianity is not much of a road map, basically, “Surrender your critical thinking and just trust me on this one.”
But each religion has a portal, and much to teach. I’m in love with all of them, but see, if you just gloss over something like that, what he said about the availability of his abilities, then a disservice is done to everyone.
Since I was a girl I thought that it was possible, that there could be a way to embody that sort of beyondness. And thinking these thoughts was and still is considered quite devious and depraved by some, but I think it only makes sense to assume that Jesus was past lying or exaggerating to make a point. Sure, he was a great storyteller, but he was dead serious about some stuff, and none more than, “Hey, you know, you’re going to blow me out of the water,” which, I am paraphrasing, but he said that too.
The return of the golden one, and this return of Christmas is blessed. This is the first year I have really felt happy, solid, sure. Some measure their happiness with dollar signs, and those who do make sure they have more than others, and this Christmas,
I am once again living like a pauper, but feel it is my last year to suffer for my art. I know that the month I wrote Patrick I was the happiest and the clearest I have ever been. I know where I am headed. That I don’t quite know how I am going to get there, well, isn’t that the fun part?
Like when I tell Sam of how his dad and I met and happened to fall in love, how he was born, that silent, odd night, and many other moments, too, when things got clear, and changed, in a moment, in a wink of an eye. Our circumstances, the events in our lives, the before/after moments, all orchestrated, all representing astonishing synchronicity and love.
So I am at peace, I have enough, and it is all well with my soul. The angst and, I guess it could be called self-pity, has left me, the sadness over this odd cleave in my life, always the dual life, the compartmentalization. That is maybe the worst of it, feeling fragmented, not cohesive. And I write to you because I know you may have the same thing going on, not feeling entirely genuine, or congruent, yet.
I write this to solve my own puzzles, and to sing great songs of joy, but also to reach out and to demonstrate that you are not alone, because if one thing is true above all others, I am just like everyone else. I am no different. And if you are reading along, we are one. We are family. Whether I ever meet you or not, we are one, we are family, and it can be no other way.
We have scaled great mountains here today, and not everyone is up for the task. That’s how I look at it anymore. As my confidence and esteem has risen, I understand that these pursuits, though valid, are not as popular today as they will be in a while. How long is dependent on how clear and bright you and I are. Our light is helping. Our love is healing. Our presence was foretold. We have returned. The Golden Ones.