Deeply Awake CHANNEL Reprint: The Group 5-16-13 Consider A Phonograph Needle

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https://kathyvik.com/2016/03/28/reprint-the-group-5-16-13-channelled-by-kathy-vik/

REPRINT: THE GROUP – 5.16.13 Channelled by KATHY VIK
MARCH 28, 2016 / DEEPLYAWAKE/KATHY VIK / EDIT
Author Note: I discovered this today, and the timing, of course, could not be better. It is written largely in parable form, it is cajoling and familiar, as they have not been for a time. It’s from 2013, but as I read, I understood that one of the purposes for having written it was for it to be reread today, on the Monday after Holy Week, 2016. I hope it finds you well.
THE GROUP – 5.16.13

Channelled by KATHY VIK
http://www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com
http://www.kathyvik.com
http://www.lightworkers.org/magarth

We have allowed you to visit the great sky as we take on this task, this at hand, to speak to your friends, the ones who we are wishing to remind and touch and love. We love. We must, for this is the all. It is the only language, it is what give the sounds your lovely ears sense, it gives utterances the light of love, that which conveys meaning.

We wish you to consider a phonograph and its needle.

The needle does not know that which it will touch, that which it will glide across. It knows its function is to touch a surface, and in so doing, a sound is produced.

Can you imagine if the needle, the phonograph needle, had consciousness? Would it have favorite songs it likes to hear?

At first, the little needle may not understand that it is when the black disc is lowered onto its feet, then sound occurs.

Many days may pass before our needle understands fully that this black groove might be what is actually making the music.

More days to understand that it is the interaction of needle to black disc which produces sound.

More days to see, to feel, to finally take for granted, dear one, TAKE FOR GRANTED, that when black disc touches self, touches needle, that what occurs is actually very pleasant.

The needle spent the first few weeks out of its box feeling banged up and unnecessarily rubbed up against. Some of its finer crystals slip off, each and every time a black disc comes close, and for some time the needle feared the disc because of this, feeling this was somehow a true and grievous and unfair and cruel diminishment, and not understanding that this diminishment was actually just the removal of debris, the slow and steady removal of which, made the music all that more sweet.

Please understand the joy this little, conscious needle felt, yes, loved one, FELT, the day, it was a bright winter day, when the needle had yet another encounter with a big black disc, and this time, when the rubbing and gliding and sound happened, the needle felt the music.

Feel the joy and the bliss this little one knew, when its being understood the sheer triumph contained in the Ode to Joy! The divine bliss in Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus! The deep understanding and celebration of Lenny Kravitz as he belts out “Mama Said!” Yes, that day was a great one, that moment, that perhaps two seconds of comprehension, the moment the needle really heard this music, understood its beauty, for the very first time. Oh! What a moment!

Do you think the understanding and the joy and learning ended the moment our little fellow heard a snippet of music?

Oh, I can assure you, this task that used to chafe and anger the needle became a pleasurable one, one he anticipated wholeheartedly, and engaged in eagerly, and celebrated with sheer joyful abandon! This is because the needle began to anticipate the fun and joy and creativity it was presented with!

And the needle, bless its soul, the needle began LEARNING the tunes.

And then, the needle became anxious.

Our little needle liked certain music more than others.

It spent so many months, a lot longer than his training, his first few days out of the box, he spent most of his life, really, just putting things together, enjoying the music and humming along.

Then one day, something happened.

Something very unusual, to the needle. The needle had gotten very comfortable with his routine and had even gotten a little bored.

Yes, it began to recognize what sort of music it’d be hearing for a half an hour just by the look, the feel of whatever disc got plopped down, sure, it would then hunker down and say, “Ah, yes, well I knew it would sound something like this…”

It even got to be a bit of an expert. Of course, it’d never really spent any time around any of its kind. It didn’t even know if any other such things as it existed! Sure, it was always hearing other music, sometimes real close, sometimes very faintly, sometimes lots of music, sometimes not very much, but, sure, there was this other sound, but what of it? It never dawned on him, of course, that needles were touching black grooved discs, producing sounds from other record players. Oh my gosh, thinking such a thought? No, no sir. It just didn’t seem applicable to the needle. It was an abstraction, and it never gave it a whole lot of thought.

Such was the life of our little needle.

But, you must understand, this needle had been a diligent one.

He was in his own little box, in the factory he went right into his pretty box, and he went from there to the phonograph. Do you see? So he had figured out his purpose as best he could, given the stimulus and the understanding that had been available to him, already in the package so to speak.

There came a day when the owner of the record player decided to rearrange things a little bit. Of course, the needle did not like this too much, did not understand why it had not been consulted, since it, all by itself, had become convinced awareness was correct: it, this needle, was single-handedly creating all this music for its room.

It had gotten comfortable with its surroundings, our needle, and, when the lid was cracked, never something it could anticipate but something it always, always, always loved, it got to peek and see a few things. Movement, color, voices. And always the other sounds, the other music, in the background.

But all it really knew, when it’s all said and done, that it loved one thing best, this grand event that somehow make it feel like more than a little needle, when those black grooves came close, touched it, and then, it could sing again.

So, there came a day when the owner of the house felt it was time to rearrange things. She’d bought a new stereo system, and needed to rearrange a few things.

The needle was put into its box, and this darkness, and stuffiness, well, it worried the needle. The needle had enjoyed the peeking, the movement and lights and excitement. It had loved learning and assimilating new things.

And now it was dark. And our little needle was more lonely, somehow now more lonely now, than ever before, in an existence which the needle began to think, there alone in its box, had been a pretty solitary and selfish one.

Above all, you see, love, oh, our dearest love, the needle missed the music.

There in the box, the needle began to put a few things together.

In the dark, there was not a lot to do.

The dark extended before it, and the needle decided to just allow this new phase. There in the dark, it started doing something that surprised and then, began to delight it.

It began to sing all by itself.

It found that it could do so, just by remembering, remembering its most beloved music. It had wanted more and more and more of the beautiful stuff, the stuff it loved, and it remembered how it had once wanted to find a way to direct what music it played, so it only ever listened to Bach, for all its remaining days.

And so our needle sang to itself.

The needle thought that this would never end, so of course, melancholy would visit. Disappointment, longing, these became companions for the needle, there alone, in its box.

And then, one day, there was light.

That’s all the needle knew. One day there was darkness, and one day, there was once again light.

Imagine the needle’s surprise!

Do you know what happened, what greeted the needle when it was taken out of its box?

There, the needle rode, in a soft pink hand. It was gently and lovingly placed in a holder, just as before, only now, it felt a beautiful joining with this record player, a fusion of sorts. It felt sort of like it was part of the whole thing. Odd, the needle thought. Odd indeed.

And then it saw its black disc, and the needle was filled with such a sudden and deep and true joy, that it swooned, because, there on the disc was the label of our little needle’s most cherished tune. Right there, coming toward it once again, flying now, here comes “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.”

This is what we want you to know.

At the moment of contact, when old needle, somehow newly regenerated, feeling brand new, once the needle physically approached that grooved disc, flew closer and closer and closer still, it could already hear the song.

And when the song began to play, it was nothing like the needle was accustomed to.

You see, while the needle was in the box, much had been done to the house, and to the record playing system, to the speakers, all of it, and now, the needle was firmly and forever a grand, integral part of it all! And, do remember, that there in the dark, our needle had chosen to keep active, and to seek out its truest joy, and it learned how to sing, there in that cramped box, in the dark!

The needle had always been correct to understand and appreciate its value, because without the music, the home would be dead. There would be no music, no joy, no communication, no love.

But the record player which formerly housed the needle had had its day. It was old, and the speakers, though adequate, were not state of the art, and the owner just got real tired of scratchy music.

So, the record player our little needle was so lovingly enjoined with, fused with, well, this record player had much different abilities than that old system.

The music this player could broadcast could be heard by anyone on earth, and it could be heard by very distant peoples on distant planets!

The music could be heard by whole groups of people, weirdly, strangely, to the needle’s way of thinking, at least initially, broadcast somehow in its entirety, to great groups of people.

Now, you can imagine, there was much in front of the needle to do. This needle was a music lover, and its time in its factory box had heightened all of its senses, including its will.

The needle learned quite rapidly that this new system had a cooperative nature, and if the needle thought about it just right, and held a very grateful heart, the music it most loved would be presented to it for its pleasure!

This alone soothed the last of the needle’s discouragement and anger at having spent so many long days in its box, without music.

What we wish for you to appreciate with this analogy is that you are needle, black disc, record player, house owner, composer, musician, recording engineer, record factory and listener.

You are not singular.

You are part of a new cooperative.

You may ask for what delights you, and it is our delight to provide this to you.

Think of your ego as the needle. It has a purpose, and if it does its purpose fully, mindfully, and with great joy and creativity, it has a great time, and the system really only works when the needle takes full responsibility for this: the needle is the only way in which the very music of the spheres can be heard here on your planet.

Everyone has this set up.

The records are not scratchy. It is impossible for these recordings to become corrupted, and now, dear one, you sense the power in this analogy.

Now you see just what it is we are telling you.

You yourself are the diamond light through which all is transmuted, all potential, into sound, which is light and love. Sound begins and ends all. Sound contains all. Sound is all. We can say this is true as well about spin, about love, about integrity, about balance, but today, our focus is here, on sound.

You have within you the diamond needle with which you can play any Akashic record you wish to play. You dwell in a home which delights in being filled with the sounds of the ancients, and the sounds form home itself.

Through the dark nights of your soul, through your nights in the box, your days in confusion and suffering, your years in the desert, these were necessary, to tune you to a more clear sound picture.

Do you think you were left alone while in your factory box?

You remember our analogy of the farmer and the bean, all his little covered pots of sprouting beans, each one thinking they were going to get eaten, each wanting to be with The Others, because they beans prefer to be together when being consumed, all the time unaware the purpose of the dark and of the water in which it rode was not to boil, but to germinate!

But as the lid went down, and as the darkness closed in around the bean, the needle, the human being, something was happening.

We told you of the null zone.

We told you of the three days of night. Three nights and days, full nights and days, of nothing, null, the void itself. We told you how the Pueblans understood it and have made entire cities which can run independent of the man made grid, for they needed, wanted to be ever aware of the old ways, and they liked the reminder of the days to come which they could drive their trucks through, which their children and puppies could kick up dirt within. You and your loved one visited such a place, and you stood there in deep remembrance of this very time, my love.

This null zone, you have passed it.

We told you it was magnetic, did we not?

We chuckle, as you grin, as you see the absolute fun in all of this, as the personalities and faces and responsibilities swirl and soar, and each of us plays these roles gladly, from time to time, wearing different quits, telling ourselves vastly different stories about where we came from, what we once knew to be true, and what we now know to be a bigger, more inclusive, happier and more satisfying truth. Just for ourselves.

You see now how this meld is entirely possible while you are doing your laundry? Oh she’s got it! Oh she’s Got It! And she let[’s everyone see her do it.

Oh we have a clever one here.

(freaking transmission ends… I did that during second edit…now to continue…)

And you did not have to hunker down in the dark for three nights and for three days, not literally.

You see now many of our teachings were said in a literal tone never to be taken literally. You were not yet advanced enough to take this in whole. No one was, love, no one.

The null zone has indeed been passed.

Now, what did we tell you of the time after the null zone, do you remember? Quiet, listen to this music, and remember, love, because we are here. Acquaint yourselves once again with this knowledge.

AND THEN WE ASK, AFTER THIS TIME, THAT YOU AGAIN STEP ASIDE, AND BE IN THE STARS , AS WE HAVE INSTRUCTED, SO THAT WE CAN CONTINUE. (caps went on “by accident” sorry…. I am going away now…)

Of course we are from the Seven Sisters, as are you, but love, we are from the stars beyond, each but one set of incarnations, one set of instructions, one glorious assignment we gave ourselves, one after another.

This has been going on as long as you think. There is no beginning, there is no end, and so this focus, the blue planet you have longed for, of course this is where you feel resonance, because we are entangled, we you, you we. So you can call this Pleadian, sure, but it is so much vaster than this.

We are what you have termed The Teachers, but we are part of a group of energies which were allowed to expand, and we thank you and your collective for this.

We said we would not be back, and in certain ways, we are not, as how you knew us was through the filters of another grand and true soul sister. Your brother/sister. We are one.

We tell you now of the time after the null zone, a time you have fretfully passed from.

This time is one of newness. It is no accident you pulled only one major arcana card, and it the fool, and it ‘covering’ you. You, and your friends, are freshly birthed in so many many ways.

You know you hear the music of the spheres. You know a new balance and integrity. You know little of the fear and panic gripping hearts. It is a reality for many. But there are now ones on this earth who do not resonate in the old way, no, not at all.

This will create many quite humorous and enjoyable situations, and not one of them will cause any one of you giants one bit of harm, for you now wield a special balm which covers any sting your simple words contain for those who slumber.

You know now that it is fine to completely miss the point of what is happening, because to understand takes a lifetime of devotion.

And now, the part we love.

Get used to relinquishing ALL EXCLUSIVITY FOR THIS VIBRATION.

Forever please we ask you forever abandon the notion that you are in any way special, in any way at all, please, for the love of all that is holy, we pray. You dwell in the knowledge, in the joy, in the happiness, of knowing yourself as you do. And that is all. And that is all. And that is all.

And dear one, understand, it is all there is to do. You have done all there is to do.

Do you understand?

Your job, from the point forward, is to give away the keys to the kingdom, without ever saying a word.

We urge you to still your tongue and let your other abilities come to the fore now.

We speak to each readers heart now. Each reader, each old one, hear us and feel us, and wonder if perhaps it might be true for you, too.

No longer must you study so slavishly, though we do enjoy speaking through the materials you choose. How can we not? We are in love with you. We must touch you. We are touching you now. We love you into stillness now.

You may drive and think on the image we have given you, and each of your readers will come to conjure up a handy image that takes them swiftly into bliss.

There is something there for each that has been brewing, cooking, readying, and has indeed been delivered, just overnight, as they say.

This is another reason we ask you to do this daily, just for a time. These solar blasts are mighty, and so are the gifts they contain!

Each of you are now connected to us. There is no longer the filters which kept our whispers silent. Can you hear us? You hear the buzzes, you feel the plucking, you all get the headaches. We soften as you soften, loved ones.

Do you see?

So sometimes, the context is someone who is hungry and wants to have a bite of your apple. You need not deliver a sermon, or even say a word. You hand over the apple.

Sometimes the context is your writing a novel, passing a pill, telling a joke, petting a cat, calling someone who you sense may be in fear or pain.

Do you see how easy this gets for our needle?!?

You need not light incense and put on the pretty music, although we prefer it, as you wish. Always and forever and a day, as you wish. Consider that our heart song to yours. As you wish.

You need not cloister yourself further. Consider the doors of your home, your heart, your very fields! forever open to friends and family, and everyone encounter, everyone, everyone, everyone, is a friend, and everyone you encounter, everyone, everyone, everyone, is family.

And those now entering your fields, from this time on, they simply sense that in your presence, there are certain expectations of conduct. Expectations need not be met. But when they are, oh does the dancing get hot! Sweaty! Orgiastic! One your side and on our side of the veil. Your work can be quite sedate, dear ones, as sometimes it still must be, but do not doubt that when there is mutual respect, when others sense that you offer only peace, and they need not feel shame near you, oh does everyone rejoice!

That’s why you climbed the mountain.

That’s why it hurt so bad.

That’s why you often felt like nothing.

Sing the song of the shameless, the blameless, the guiltless, the fearless.

There is power in shedding this gift of your fathers, a gift you meticulously and methodically and with great love and foresight gave yourself, if truth be told!

But it is gift from a male energy that is unbalanced, that chose to be deaf to the proclamations of love that were never spoken clearly, anyway.

This is an old gift, and you know the importance of honoring a gift, any gift, any gift at all is sacred, and it is profound, and it is deep. Any gift.

And this one was such that without it, you would not be sitting here tapping on this keyboard, mapping out a very interesting future.

So, how is it after the null zone? Do you remember now?

We told you that nothing artificial would remain. Of course, you took that quite literally, as did the Pueblans, as you yourself incarnated and interpreted it, on the plains of New Mexico, and then visited with that beautiful entity who loves you so very dearly. You stood on the very dirt of your family estate with her! Ah! The symmetry!

Do you think you are alone on these grand adventures? Oh silly one! Why do you think we are writing this day, why posting this seems more important to littlemind than going and getting your chores done?! It is because others’ time lines are also closing within their consciousnesses, and you are so verbal, and a little pushy, and pretty opinionated, truth be told, and far too coarse, you must work on that. But, really, come on, honestly now, do you think you’re so special that you’re the only one in the universe who is experiencing this.

Now we have you laughing.

Good.

It’s the same damn thing we had to repeat to you again and again all through puberty.

That’s why it’s so familiar.

As was the language, and we thank you for your tolerance of your love of appropriate profanity.

Back to life after the null zone, and then we will end, yes? This is a complex one. Fun, though.

We told you that nothing artificial would remain. Nothing that was not natural could be sustained. It would be vanished. It would just be gone, and you’d have to figure out how to get along without it.

We reminded you, did we not, twenty years ago, to ready for the null zone? Be ready for the time when nothing artificial remains.

Do you remember our first, our primary admonishment, to always be honest? Recall now why we said what we did.

We told you there had been an alignment, a shift, and as such, it would be increasingly impossible to hide anything about yourself.

We helped you, week by week, to learn the ways of true honesty, of true shamelessness, of true acceptance, and we showed to you in all of our encounters just how valuable you were, in all your affected and really pretty convincing victimhood and sadness. The homesickness, that needed to be addressed. It was a bit of a malfunction, truth be told, but most of the first wave have it, so this is another reason we are here. To help calm the nerves of the oldest and bravest warriors among us. You. Your readers. The rainbow tribe elders. The ancients, we like to call you. Makes you feel good, we know But it feels good because you know in your ancient heart that it is true and right and straight and pure to say this word in connection with you. You know it to be true, and so it is.

And so it is.

This was the reason we came to visit you, love, because, dear one, you decided to bury your great light, and you were needing to remember how to unbury yourself. You set it up that your burdens would be too great for you yourself to carry. Do you understand now why you know what you know, and have known what you have known? Is it beginning to make sense?

There is not one reader with their eyes on this page, at this point, who has not been just a breath away from leaving this earth, many times, most of you, many times, and it was always surprising to you when you came back, and yet it was never really in doubt, was it?

Most of the daredevils did it consciously. The poets did it metaphorically. The religious ones did it through addiction, many times. And many of you did it while you slept, loved ones.

These were simply journeys your consciousness had to make to get you comfortable with the notion that there is no death, to own this on a cellular level. You understand about the stability of your own soul as a result, and you would not have really understood this had you not flirted with your own annihilation quite so much.

Many of you lived out the termination sequences again and again, and were more than ready to assist in the termination which was a possibility.

Remember, those who know of the termination codes also appreciate the codes to activation and active, full on ascension.

But none of you had to do it, and each of you are deeply gratified that the destroyers did not have to once again plunge this experiment into stasis, waiting once again for another chance.

Because there really was no chance like the alignment, and there as no other way. It was a decision point, a turning point, and the beginning of your lives now.

Remember, you of the first wave, that you are of the earth, but you are not from the earth. You came in to help. You came in to do this thing. You came in to hold the awakened DNA, and then pass this awakened state to others through magnetic induction, and the very power of love itself.

Your bodies are beacons of divine love, whether you want to cop to it or not.

Get used to it.

It is funny to us seeing this management you have done with so much grace and humor, riding these understandings, playing with us and yet going to work, conducting business, satisfying people who do not conceive of these ideas, who would cry if you spoke of them, who would be quick to anger and dread.

The thing is, we instructed you well, and you understand now that this is the time for the first wave. It is now occurring. We have much to say about this. We gave you a parable last night. We will stop dictation soon, but rest assured, yes, finally, the information which you handily forgot about the days after the null zone, this information is now available. There was a reason of your amnesia, and we wish to explain it before we sign off. Before this we will say – this is the day of loose ends. Do not attend to these, your own looses end in anger, fear, dread or resentment. Do each joyfully, find fun in each unpleasant task you have preconceived as unpleasant. Many of them on your schedule today are highly so. But these are your assignments. Start remembering our heart prayer to you, as you wish, dear ones, all.

Now. Where were we…We speak of your amnesia.

You have been disappointed and worried because there is much you do not recall about our talks. So be it. Do you recall what we told you about your home planet? We wish for you to end with this because we think that the readers will get a kick out of it.

We listened to your fervent pleas, to tell you all about where you come from. Your longing was so heartbreaking, magnificent, such a burning we felt from you, lighting you up so. We loved you so very much during those deep days of despair. We know that being around us was all that mattered to you, and being apart has been painful. We love you and want you to know we never really left you, we just have not been able to be experienced by your senses, such as they were. Now you know this is true, and that this is the difference in consciousness, the key to so much.

And the amnesia we allowed to settle onto our words is the same amnesia you have for your home.

We told you that it was called the blue planet.

We told you it was beautiful.

And we told you we could tell you no more.

Oh how we wished to give you more, but remember what we said to you, our reason for our gift of silence, dear friend.

We told you that if you knew more than its color and its incredible beauty, you would remember too much, your longing would overtake you, and you wouldn’t stay.

Do you understand the profundity of what we said to you that afternoon?

We leave you with that, we each and every one who ever reads these words, and every one who does not, who turns away, in disinterest or fear or revulsion, each and every one of your now, the changelings.

We leave in the arms of an angel who loves you only as your ancient mother can. How can she be apart from you now, after all this time? How can she really leave you now, now that you can hear, now that the stereo system is wired for sound for the entire universe, and the very needle making the heavens sing is within your forever open, grateful, loving, tender, soft, giving, generous, heart.

Dear one, you may be the needle, but your DNA is everything else that was described.

And one by one the lights are coming up, there are all sorts of phonograph players sounding out, and the music, the beauty of this music, it is nearly deafening.

Nearly.

But not enough to be able to bend into your ear right now, and speak to the part of you that knows us as yourself. Let us whisper, speak, love you now and forevermore.

Thank you for what you have done for us, and for yourself.

Until tomorrow.

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Deeply Awake Chats 2017: Calming Thoughts At Journey’s End By Kathy Vik 8-21-17

 

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A deep, honest and true talk which feels much like final thoughts.

It’s saying goodbye, self to self, self to others, self to my understanding of creator.

Triggering, complete and moving, it stands as a testament to a life lived in clarity and confusion, bliss and pain, love and hate.

And today, finally, there will be something more.

I need to do one more, after a HUGE aha that is delivered at the end of this offering. It’ll be short. We leave for Leadville in an hour.

 

 

 

 

 

Deeply Awake Chats 2017: Survivor’s Guilt By Kathy Vik 2-18-17

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Collective Soul’s “Burn,” a song that has set me right, made me smile, and brought me back to center again and again, since 2012. Consider it a theme song of mine, because it is. 😉

 

 

 

 

An honest and intense discussion of how this new energy is being translated in my daily walk. I know this is the time of The Divide, and it is time for me to once again separate from a reality which has been my wounding, and my healing, my physical home and my personality’s sense of context and identity.

Fascinating, these changes. The song is something that always has and still does speak to me. I know I need those around me who are like me, and now that I have that, just the start of that, and this energy intensifies, I felt it proper to discuss the feelings that go along with leaving those who, with their free will and choice, choose to say “no” to moving forward with me, with us, with the incoming realities flooding this Earth.

I reveal many visions I have been having, and put things together, my life, my walk, and this astounding energy, in new ways, which have led to peace and exhilaration and certainty. I hope you enjoy, and if you do not, that’s more than fine with me, from now on, in a brand new way.

 

 

As referenced, this is one of those raw, unusual, huge-ass energetic reports of mine, of an real event that everyone went through with me, in May of 2014.

https://kathyvik.com/2014/05/26/deeply-awake-entangled-tornado-by-kathy-vik-5-26-14/

DEEPLY AWAKE: ENTANGLED “Tornado” By Kathy Vik 5-26-14

DEEPLY AWAKE: ENTANLGED By Kathy Vik

“TORNADO“ 5-26-14

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www.kathyvik.com

www.lightworkers.org/magartha

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What I am about to share with you is unique, to Deeply Awake, an maybe to you, too.

 

Before we begin, I need to explain a couple things.

 

There have been massive changes within my consciousness, and this has been going on for about three weeks. It was, until recently, standard that my time feeling bad was loosening up, getting ready for a showdown, maybe, but, still always present, and something I actively worked on.

 

I can see now the sheer force of will, and I am staggered. The unwillingness to be ok with discomfort, with not liking, with judgments which made my skin feel like glass an my backache.

 

I cannot pinpoint a day, although, if I looked over my notes, I could probably get it down to an hour, a minute, that one shining moment when momentum had finally and for all time been achieved, but, this, again would be a personal journey, and there would be little I wold have in my hands for you at its end.

 

Walking, then, from this now hazy moment of starlight and sweat,when things finally shifted and I could no longer access the darker variations of thought, has been glorious, and has been proof to me that the death motif alive and well in the ascension philosophy is no mere metaphor.

 

I have been working on this puzzle for a while. In an essay where I describe a visit to a local channel, doing a group reading, I told you about the gesture this kind soul bestowed on my shoulders, tapping his cane to one shoulder, then the other, and this had been precipitated by a question, asked in suffering and fear. How do I get my new life to start? The old one is dying and I don’t know what to do.

 

I have not re-read that essay in a long time, but today I will. Peter had smiled at me so indulgent, in his altered state, and they had said, Oh, no, it’s really not like that at all. You carry the new with the old. You have led a master’s life. Why on earth would you want to discard that? This is about bringing what you learned along for the new life you carry. Words to that effect.

 

It was a puzzle, it was highly unsatisfying to hear that. I wanted my old life to end and, maybe in a flash, or with some sort of fanfare or ritual, this new me could just freaking take over already.

 

Instead, probably a year has passes, and more changes than I could chronicle, though I wrote down the big ones.

 

And here I am, having lived as an exposed nerve in the blogosphere, telling you everything, leaving nothing to the imagination, fully embodying this notion that life is best lived without shame, and, here I am, silent to you, when the biggest shifts are occurring.

 

And it is all just as it should be, so complex and lyrical it is dizzying and moves me to tears in gratitude. I feel love so thick and real now, I move with it, I breathe it, and my laughter sends out its sparks, turning everything firey and clean.

 

So, this, this is not channeling.

 

And that is what I have been ramping up to say, dear reader, precious friend, my own.

 

I have long had an argument with channeling. Not because the content is not amazing, because, well, just look at it, it’s a gift, it’s mind blowing and prescient and beautiful. And I have had ample proof that it is real, for me, for me, just and always, only for me, and, then, by extension, maybe you, but, you see, a part of me always really really resented this separation. It makes no sense to me really. Not really. It is a false division. Necessary at present only because our DNA was not wired for sound, and we are still well within incredibly low agreement fields. They are breaking apart, but still tenacious.

 

So, channel is purposeful and good and true, for me, but, how does one live it, that was the question, the secret tiniest of shame I felt, having to channel to get the good stuff.

 

This I see changing now.

 

I will tell you next of the crow. Each reader must know what it is I am going to be doing with this next part of my life. I will need your help. Your encouragement. Maybe even some of your support. And I will make a case that will have you, by its end, convinced that you are on the right side of history, here, standing with your arms wrapped around me, and each other, but for now, because we always have to start somewhere, I will now tell you of the tornado, and why May 25 is a day I will forevermore honor and celebrate. It is my graduation day. It is my anniversary. It is my marker, this date, and it is nice to see a pattern, you know?

 

What I offer you now was written two hours after the event described. I was beyond abstracted, and mention it. I did not want to write it,I needed to write it, and there is an immediacy in it that I hope I have not edited out. I left things just as raw as I could.

 

I know I am not the only one. That one thought has kept me sane more times than I can count. I am not the only one.

 

And so, dear reader, I want for you to make some sense of this story, once you have heard it, inside your own skin. And then, I want to hear from you, I really do, and I want for you to tell me your thoughts, your reactions, and , if you have had such an event take place, please, share it here, or with me privately. I know I’m not the only one.

 

This idea of new life/old life, it is not that simple, and yet, after all the work, the trust, the walkabouts and the changes, sometimes I think it does come down to perfect, perfect moments. Those that will shine for me,that I takeout at night sometimes, just to fill my room with sparkles before my eyes close. Miracles are afoot, they always have been, but now, oh, now, we are on new ground, ground opening up for us, pulling us onward now, magnetically singing to our atomic structure, walking us home.

 

I hope you feel the immediacy of these events. This is the story I wanted so much to be alive to write, and would have liked to have been told, as I braced for impact, laughing, crying and holding my brother, Bob.

 

I have a readership, and, I used to feel that my greatest responsibility was to them, in a way, my first responsibility, and so, I was willing to write about anything, and the work pushed my life, and my life pushed the work. And I wrote and wrote and wrote. When something sparkly happened, it went out.

But this, even though I started this out as a Deeply Awake, this, no, my friend, I just don’t want to share it with them just yet. I want to tell you of this night, and maybe part of it is reality testing, and maybe, just a little, it might always be about that, just a little. And maybe, just maybe, with context, you might come to understand why I am sort of hardwired with doubt.

How could I not be, knowing what I know, or imagining what I imagine? And this then is the the point of telling you, of writing and posting month after month, now year after year, and sharing with the world out there, too. Without doing so, this stuff just never feels entirely real.

I thought, on the way home, I wouldn’t be writing to you about this for your approval, or your awe, my god, never awe, please, but just because I am witness to miracles, and they are best shared, and they are not seen by many, not really that many at all. And this miracle, above all others, must be honored, asked how it would prefer being given away. This it deserves.

I was at work, it was getting late in the shift, so I was going around to the units, getting report for the night shift nurse. It was after 6, and I had had a very odd day. I felt very nearly absent, at times. I kept feeling pulled away, and then I would find myself having forgotten to give that pill or this treatment, and found it had been a long time since I’d last been fully present. Odd.

I was halfway done, on station 4, jotting a couple notes, happy to be going home soon. And then I heard a siren. At first, I just sat there, wondering what I should do next, if I should react, and how.

I checked my phone, but there was nothing. I thought I’d better go up front and  see if I could find out if there was a threat or not.

I don’t remember how it happened, but it got clearer and clearer to me as I made it to the front of the building that something was very wrong, off, different, new. Then I heard a big, reedy male voice, coming from the air itself, outside, talking. I found a door to the courtyard off 5, and there was Leisa and Melvin, leaning into the wind and rain, straining to hear. I yelled, “I can’t hear! What is he saying!?” to Leisa. And then I heard it. “Seek shelter now.”

Seek shelter now.

I took off to the front, the lobby. On the way, I didn’t check the weather radio in the supervisor office. I went outside.

Out there was Darla and Dakota, and they were looking all around and wondering. The sky was sick, it was spinning and it was alive, the whole sky. There was blue, way out east, and this was reassuring, but all around us was sick, spinning grey clouds.

And then, I looked up. Just up. And there, in front of me was what I have been dreaming about, a lot, I remembered. All the nights of feeling the spin, seeing clouds, knowing I was dying then, that this was how I die. I knew those clouds, and I could feel them, and I knew I was in deep shit.

Even with this evidence, I heard myself babbling on about tornadoes I’d been through, what they’d felt like, how they smelled and tasted. I said I couldn’t see green skies. I couldn’t hear the train in the sky. I watched, only vaguely knowing I had to do something about this.

They were not being shy about what they had planned. I looked up directly up, in front of me again, then, and the clouds got white, a  little bit, and then, in that swirling grey white mass, they parted. Just sort of drew apart. My chattering was stilled. Those circling clouds parted, and the sky was green. Sort of a sea green to lime green. Darla and Dakota were sort of turning, looking, and concluding that there was not a problem. I said, no. I said, look up. It’s RIGHT THERE. That’s a tornado. This is real.

Then I felt what I always do in these sorts of situations, but nothing like this has happened, not to this degree. I knew what to do. I knew where to go. By that time, the night supervisor Arlynn was there, she approached me, and I was calm, I was quiet, and I was forceful with her. It’s the real deal. We are in  danger. We have no time. We are already late.

She’s an old nurse, for goodness sake. She knows the drill. But something about it, a loaded gun pointed at you, a tornado less than a mile away, it turns a person gushy and makes them want to have someone tell them what to do. She was sort of stunned and paralyzed.  So, I had to get pushy. I made her get me on the intercom, because I did not know the code to activate the all-house pager. I announced overhead that a tornado was imminent, and they needed to get into the core of the building, away from windows.

I told her I’ take 2, she could take 3. I got to 2, and I called out, and I love my body and voice when this happens, and it very, very rarely does, only in medical emergencies, really, maybe once or twice in real life, but, there came the voice. Ultimate authority. Clear. Surprising me. I like it, it feels good, so natural, but, a part of me at this point has stepped aside, unwilling to provide commentary.

I evacuated that dining room in no time. I put the fear of god into them, sitting as they were in a glass encased tomb. I made it plain, they have no choice, this is not up for discussion, because I know something they don’t, and what I do now with what I know is more important than little will and bitching about inconvenience.

They did great. We floundered a bit at first, but then I saw it. Move  them all out into the hall way, away from windows. Let them sit tight. So we ran it like a fire evac, used the magnetic deals on the doors, up if someone was in the room, but pulling the washer away from the magnet and letting it dangle if that room was clear.

I saw Arlynn in the back hallway of 2, doing her best.

The thing was, there were three more units, and I had just got the hang of this thing. I found myself up front again, needing to talk to everyone, telling them what I learned, how to do this better than I’d thought up at first. I wanted to use the intercom. And I didn’t know the code. I got out the supervisor book, and I start crying as I realized it’s not there. There is no way to warn them. I can’t help them, because these fuckers don’t take their very serious job seriously.

I thought, I  am never coming back. I can’t be part of it anymore. I can’t stand idly by anymore. And then Rhonda comes up and sees I’m upset and I turn to her, it doesn’t have to be like this. I wept, as I shook. I can’t do what I need to do in this emergency because they are so disorganized. They don’t understand how important all this is. I’m no longer looking at the pages I’m turning, so blind with rage for these people’s failure to care, no precision, no responsibility, no thinking ahead and preparing people, making certain none of us talk with each other. God.

I just decided, Arlynn isn’t a monkey, and she saw what I was doing on 2, and she can just copy that.  And she did, it turned out, but when it looked too tricky, I somehow found out that she’d left the bed bound in their rooms. My third announcement corrected for that…

I pushed on,  to 3,and there was one of ours, in his bed, acting assholish as usual, refusing to get out of bed. I heard he was being a dick, so I said, honey, in this state, he just needs a whiff of me.

I marched in there, and he’s on the phone, and actually putting me off So I tell him, I know it’s very rude of me to speak so forcefully, but this cannot wait. He tried to engage in conversation with the guy on the phone again! So I laughed, and I said, you don’t understand. We are moving  you out of this room, in your bed, and you really don’t have to like it. It’s happening.

His whining ceased and instead he yelled at me, “I have a right to refuse! And I refuse to be moved!” And I am thinking, I will not have him get in his own way about this. I laughed again then, and that other thing took over. I pointed my finger (I purposefully never do that) at him and said, Good! Yes! Yes! You have the right to refuse, and you can refuse loudly and angrily while we’re pulling your bed out of this room. And we did. And he was insufferable the entire time.

I got done with this nonsense, and went down a hallway, but realized I didn’t know where to go. And what I thought was, I’m not sure where I want to die.  Who do I want to die with? I didn’t feel comfortable anywhere, as I thought about the units. And so, I went outside, out front again. By then, the clouds were massive, truly ponderous.

So exhilarated, so sure, so dead on. I can feel it now. Knowing I was confronting that which I had been fearing, in my cells, what I had been preparing for. And it was raining like a motherfucker. And then, I heard it coming, and then, there was hail. But it was just baby hail. Lots of it. And I got so close, out in the rain, wind whipping, weird sucking feeling  in me, and I was laughing and crying and hollering, Is that all you got? Is that all you got? And I giggled and shook my head and moved my body, and I felt good, very real, very alive. The sky was alive too, dark, moving, constantly moving.

And so, I understood this was real, it was possible that this is how I die, and, isn’t that something, tonight is that night of nights.

I stopped at the supervisor office to give one last message. It was simple and true. I told them that even though it was, at this point, risking their own health, I needed all staff to go pull the remaining patients in their rooms out into the hallways. That it would be over soon. Hang tight. We are safe.

I headed back to 5 then. I knew where I had to be.

I was greeted by Leisa, and she understood I would stay here  now. I found my dear friend Don, and I boomed, Oh, my friend Don! You must be in HOG HEAVEN!
He sat, there, meek, one of many, and he sort of jerked up straight, cocked his head and said, “I am!” through his big, toothless grin that I am  glad I have with me now. I put my arm around him and asked him if he was ok. He told me yeah, but his weather radio was alarming and it was making him not feel good, and asked me if I would turn it off. I was hugging him, by then knowing it was almost on us. It was time. I told him, ahh, let’s just let it ride, OK?

He said again, that it was making him feel real bad. It would not be a good storm for him if that alarm continued.

So, I disengaged from Don, the sentinel, the one who was built into the system to make sure we were ready for this outcome, this odd day in May. I go into his room, as people are telling me not to, and I couldn’t find the damn button. I felt just such urgency and dread, foreboding by this time. I knew I was dying, but I wanted to do it out there, not in here banging on his five weather radios, obsessed as he as always been with early detection of weather.

 

And then, I find the buttons, there is silence. I turn to leave his room and see my friend Bob.

I love Bob most of all. We are in full on love with one another, and we call each other as we know each other, brother and sister. I love him so intensely it knocks  me back sometimes. He is a living embodiment of gratitude.  Here, I want you to read what I wrote about him, something I wanted to read at a staff in service, to help them understand  why it matters, what they do,  how they act, what words they use… wait… here it is. It’s from “Self Evident”

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, bu 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 work group 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.

I exited Don’s and at the end of the last couch in that exposed, lethal hallway, sat Bob, the  most vulnerable to the glass that is going to hurt all of us, but him, it would be worst for him.

I stood with my back to the window wall, and held him, sideways, me bending to him so that I could rest my cheek on his bald greasy head. He just naturally pulled his arms to me and we embraced. We did not have to speak, though from time to time we would untangle from each other and seek out each other’s face. Twice we did that, as I kept seeing the wall we were leaning on implode. I saw wood, I heard glass,I could feel the release, I felt like laughing and praying, and I wept. We would look into each other’s eyes, and so in love am I. So in love, so whole and happy and sure, with him saying I love you to me, and me knowing he  means it and needs nothing more than to say it, and me saying it  just like that to him, and then, I would put my head on his,  and he held each other.

In those moments I will tell you what I knew, although I was far away, and it is hard, even now, to focus on any of this, oddly. I feel robotic somehow,  but now, finally, my body is heating up.

Here is what happened.

The first time, that first embrace, finding Bob and him pulling me to him, knowing the glass would get me but not him, oh I was overcome. With gratitude to take the glass, to let him live. God I love him. And there was Leisa, somehow, arm around my waist, bending to me, me saying oh Leisa I love him so much. I love him so much. And then, I could feel all of us, all of us there,and oh, the love I felt. Oh how much I love them, I kept repeating. Leisa saying,I know, I know,I know.

She said she would hold me, and I said no, I need to be with my brother, and she said, I know, and again I felt the wood and glass go through us, I saw the flesh,i heard the wreckage. I told her, I feel so good having your arm around my back like this. Please let me work.

Something came over me. I stopped crying. I heard them and I felt them, and I could feel this enormous bubble. I saw a pure white beam of light, so sharp, so beautiful, so intense, god, and then this huge bubble come off it, and then the bubble turned gold and it was the place. We were in a sphere.

They said, get a grip, sort of. I told them I was afraid that my energy had somehow called  this to this place and I was sorry, I just don’t know what I am doing yet. And they said, quite the opposite.

They counseled, this was expected. It was a strong potential. This is one of the many reasons you are here, this night, of all nights, given all the potentials before you. It is purposeful, because it was coming. This is why the dreams. Don’s presence was to keep you mindful, and he played his part well. I felt him bow. And then, I understood, it was not language, I understood that I, like so many of us now, effect the weather, effect matter, can bend things and protect and  assist.

There are no accidents now, you are always on time now, I understood. And I could feel release from the bubble. It was done, and I could see how the  clouds were repelled,  and moving away. I kept calling the twister, wanting it to just be over, ready, ready, strong and ready, but it wouldn’t come. I felt the sky and saw the energy moving, and later, when I was watching 7 news, I watched the radar patterns, the same patterns I had felt and seen while holding Bob.

So, the weeping had stopped, and I felt weak and silly, but I knew I had protected the building, and this had been what was to have happened, but there was always another way, and there is now a new set of probabilities with which people will work, because the fields are different, since the outcome was not the strongest  of potentials

In the midst of this, I felt myself as the storm, and I felt so free, and I was told, this is a gift. I knew I was seen, that my presence was felt. I understood that one of these gifts was give me proof, they said, and to show me now what is possible.

(Just had an intense feeling of thinking you must think I am certifiable…)

I was fine, after that. I knew it was all done, and the hail was still there, and the wind, but I knew it was just another spring storm now.

I made my way through them all, after saying good bye to Bob, and I left the unit, cutting across that courtyard, to go back outside. The clouds were beautiful. I feel like I spent more time out there than inside, but that can’t be real. I watched, and I really hate lightening, so I timed it so that it was  not likely I’d get fried, as I scampered over to the porch that leads to a tv room. This gigantic tv was  babbling about something inane, so I finally found the remote and changed it to the news channels. Channel 7 had so many eyes on the ground, really good cameramen, and they put on a great show. I watched the pictures and was stunned.

This motherfucker had been on top of us.

It still sort of was. But within minutes, it got boring, because the threat was moving up. They said this was a really weird storm, because it had started in Sedalia, and then made a very abrupt and unexpected turn, and it followed, basically, Kipling all the way up. It nestled into the crevice between mountain and land, and then sidled up, winding north,  staying in that valley it shouldn’t be in.

And so, I had then remembered that the tornado warning was up at 7:30, and this wasn’t interesting anymore, and then saw the always-had-been-there time stamp area, and the time was 7:29.

I deliberately walked up to the mic, not consulting Arlynn, and announced,  pretty much word for word, after getting their attention three times, “The tornado warning has been lifted, and we are safe. I want to thank everyone here for acting so professionally, and for everyone’s kindness during this. I am proud of each and every one of you.”

And that was all, really. Except for one very curious thing.

I began to feel really, really embarrassed, because I had become this massive presence, just fucking  no nonsense in a way that people just bow. They really have no other choice. God knows I think it’s weird, and I keep a lid on it, but, good god, if provoked , properly provoked, appropriately provoked, then, well, it cannot be used often, because it is so powerful, and now all I was feeling was exposed and stupid and silly and over reactive and bossy and awful.

And  Arlynn said, out smoking, there are some pictures you need to see. A mom of one of the residents had been driving in when the storm hit. She had her camera, and she took pictures of ACTUAL FUNNELS, fully functional, thick, nice funnels, blocks from where we were. Imagine! A mom driving in for a Saturday evening with her crippled daughter, and she sees this going on. Imagine her worry, I thought. Imagine to courage to come anyway, I thought. It was impressive, as was the size and vitality of the things. There, I think, were three. I told her, you know, I really needed this. My panic over how people would be treating me, now that I showed them this, it eased. It had been real. It had been real.

I realized then, she had been the woman who had come in from the storm right before I made that first announcement. I had looked at her and said, dead on, we are in the middle of a weather emergency, so you’ll have to go to the dining room and stay put until this is over, or you can go, but we’re tucked in. This had been that woman. I realized it and I apologize for having been so gruff, and that I hoped I had not been too rude, but it had been serious. She said, oh, no, oh no, that was fine.

And then I knew I had to end by going back and seeing everybody again. I stopped at the desk, and this really bitter, angry, sneering CNA was saying that before it happened, Don had come out of his room just all bananas, saying he demanded to speak with a supervisor (he knew it was me, I’d hung out with him earlier that day, after weeks of not being available), saying “It’s coming! It’s coming!” Through snide laughter, he laughed at how ridiculous Don had been acting,how foolish. And so, without another word, I went to see Don.

He was coming out of  his room as I got to his room, and he broke open into this sweet toothless happy, just genuinely happy face, and we hugged, and I told him I had to tell him something.

We went to his bed, and I asked if I could sit there with him. He let me. I looked at all his radios, and the two big cardboard weather siren models he’d made out of old toilet roll cardboard, and I said, I want to tell you thank you, Don.

For What

Well, you’ve given me something, and I want to give something back.

He scoped me out, and I said, no, Don, and I took out my hands, no, Don, I have nothing here to give you, but I need to tell you something. Is that OK? He nodded, excited, happy, so, I said,

You are the  one in this whole place that I admire the most, Don. I am really proud to know you, to say I know that guy. And that is because, before anyone else, in this whole building, before anyone else knew we were in danger, you did. He nodded.

And what did you do with this knowledge, Don?

He didn’t know what to say. I asked him, did you go off into a daydream?

No.

Did you  keep it to yourself?

No.

No. You did not. You got up, you got out, and , even if no one understood it, you said, “I need to talk to somebody now!” Before anybody else, Don. While they still thought they were safe, you knew different, and you did something about it. That is what a hero does.

And then, oh I have never seen such a face. He sort of crumpled into himself and leaned over and just fell into me. And we just sat there. In silence, just for a little bit.

I pulled him from me and got his eyes, not easy with him, and we held them and I told him, from my heart, thinking of everyone who shits on this guy and treats him so bad, Don, from now on, no matter what they say or how they say it,no matter what they do to you or what they take away from you, it doesn’t matter anymore. Do you see this? I just doesn’t matter what they say. You are special. You prove it. You are a protector. You are a hero.

We sat with that for a while, and then got up from his bed.

Walking to the nursing station, it felt just like when Marge and I reconnected, and I realized it was two equals walking down that street in Central City, on a Tuesday afternoon, not a student and master anymore. Equals. And we always had been.

It felt that way with Don, and of course he babbled and mumbled and talked in patterns I could translate, and as we walked, I knew then, because he told me, that he had been there waiting, all this time, for this night. He had been there knowing. And watching. And he had been there for me, right on time, leading the way to today, that day, the day he had been obsessing about for so long. Purposefully obsessing.

And then we got to the  dutch door nurses station, and that sour little shit of an aide was there, and Arlynn, and Leisa, who is love itself, and Rhonda, and I knew that what had been private must become public.

I said, I have an announcement. And then I told them what I told Don. I looked  into their eyes as I did, making it plain that I knew each of us had taken turns being thoughtless to Don.

I repeated to them what I had told Don, and that I think we all owe him thanks. And they all agreed, very honestly and sincerely, and it was good to see that Don was seen as something other than a pain  in the ass obsessive, which he is, so much so, poor thing.

I slept like the dead that night, first time in weeks, and I spent the day in bed, creating and writing and connecting with friends.

I wrote this piece, most of it, that night, and in the morning, I sent it to my friend Nancy. I’m a prodigious writer, and much that I write is what the two of us are experiencing. It is a twin or deep family bond there. When I talk to her on the phone, she has vision, which I can see too, and I see things as she speaks. And I love to hear her speak.

She got the piece in fb messenger, and I got a call a couple minutes later. She wanted to talk to me.

It turns out, she’d posted on my wall last week, asking about the weather, innocently enough, and I had liked it, or not, I couldn’t remember. Quietly she told me that she was worried last week, genuinely worried for my safety last week, seeing storms, seeing tornadoes. And then she said, Kathy, when I posted that, I thought you were already dead.

This morning, amidst loving words and deeds, I had a moment. For just a short time, I felt what it was like to hold Bob. I wanted to explore it. I wanted to go into that place where I knew I was already dead. I wanted to really feel what I had done, whether I ran energy or not, just what I had done, how had acted.

I knew during the height of it, was told, understood, I was being wiped clean. All of it was gone. The history, the stories, the habits, all, just, gone. I saw the swirling grey wall again,themas and the eye, and I realized it was no little storm, at least, not for me.

Yesterday, I finally got out of bed and made it to the facility at 5. The supervisor was in a tizzy about a list of things I found highly disinteresting, and so I drifted off, plastic bag in my hand, telling her I’d be on 5 if she wanted to hear about what happened last night.

I’d bought a tea for Leisa, Bob and Don. I’ been sucking on one during the storm, and Bob especially expressed great interest in this drink of mine. So, I gave Leisa hers, and she hugged me, and let me go see my friends. She joined me, and we went outside and smoked. I told her some of this, and I cried, and she cried, and she told me, looking me in the eye, no matter how I feel is just beautiful, and it was ok to eel all of it around her.

She negotiated with her staff and we poured our friends their beverages. There was love all around that dining room. Leisa and I went into the nursing station, me ready to leave, after 45 minutes, and she said that she had to tell me about Bob.

She said, when she got on, it was the weirdest thing. Bob had seen her from across the room. He had gotten up and gone to her. She said he hugged me, but it was like when he saw me it was you he was seeing, or something. He hugged me tight and asked me how I was. And then he asked about you. She told him that I had gotten home safe, and she knew this because I had called the facility to tell them, something I just never ever do with anybody. He was relieved, she said, and then he told her “Kathy is my friend.”

We stood there, feeling so full, just so much love, and I said, you know, the way I know Bob is how I know you. He knows we are family. And friend, oh, Leisa, the way it is said between us, it’s a sacred word, I said, wondering if I’d gotten too preachy for her. She nodded and smiled, and said, friend means a lot.

I’ll let you decide whether I am insane or not. In my reality I am not insane. I am inspired, and I have my heart so wide open that I have come to find this is my most protected, safe state. I love, and I love, and I love, and if that means I can repel a tornado, done in the arms of my brother, as we wept an breathed, then, I’d say the metric might need some tweaking.

I hope this helped you. It has helped me.

Deeply Awake CHANNEL: What Lies Beyond The Last Rung By Kathy Vik 2-16-17

 

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A powerful and moving channel chock full o’ anomalies, powerful in its imagery of once again equating ascension to being able to stay in the void, in trust. It’s the first time they have given me a glimmer, truly a feel, for what lies beyond the last rung. It is the third of four videos I will produce today, but the last will come later, once I have lived out my day. Enjoy this gift in good health and humor. Namaste.

The channel is induced beginning at 7:55, and resolving into full channel at 8:18.

 

 

 

 

 

 

An astounding anomaly when they say the word “atoner,” the whole word slowed down for emphasis. So I looked up the word, and now I better understand the recorded actions of our dear brother, and maybe understand a bit how to navigate this next part with grace, balance and honor to all.

The teaching begins at 18:28, with amplification at 19:55, another at 20:55, and the anomaly’s start at 21:28, and then the big one, this word, at 21:35

 

 

British Dictionary definitions for atoneExpand

atone

/əˈtəʊn/

verb

1.

(intransitive) foll by for. to make amends or reparation (for a crime,sin, etc)

2.

(transitive) to expiate: to atone a guilt with repentance

3.

(obsolete) to be in or bring into agreement
Derived Forms
atonable, atoneable, adjective
atoner, noun
Word Origin
C16: back formation from atonement
Collins English Dictionary – Complete & Unabridged 2012 Digital Edition
© William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd. 1979, 1986 © HarperCollins
Publishers 1998, 2000, 2003, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2012
Cite This Source
Word Origin and History for atoneExpand

atone

v.

1550s, from adverbial phrase atonen (c.1300) “in accord,” literally “atone,” a contraction ofatandone. It retains the older pronunciation of one. The phrase perhaps is modeled on Latin adunare “unite,” from ad- “to, at”(seead- ) + unum “one.”

 

 

 

 

 

Deeply Awake Chats 2017: Instant Manifestation In The New Energy By Kathy Vik 2-16-17

 

 

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An addendum to today’s essay, this is a briefer talk, with many fun and unbelievable real life examples, of the level of synchronicity about, the mystery and excitement within instantly realizing a desire, and more on what changes are on deck for realization and enjoyment through the celestial garden path we have found ourselves on at this critical time for humanity.

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