Deeply Awake – Confessions Of An Old, Sovereign, Soul By Kathy Vik 10-20-18

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Deeply Awake – Confessions Of An Old, Sovereign, Soul By Kathy Vik 10-20-18

www.kathyvik.com

My work lately has led to many conclusions, some completions of open circuits, and hearing a sustained, returned ping, now, for nearly a month.

A ping, to me, is something I do, that my soul has done, in response to a seemingly unsolvable question, an unthinkable paradox, an unsustainable and yet weirdly entrenched, immovable reality, that has become a problematic area in my inner landscape.

It has forever felt, thinking on it from time to time, as if I am a little green alien who was plopped onto some random planet, with only a box in my hand, a little box with a big button. I press it.  Instinctively I know it’s my only connection to where I came from. Pushing the button elicits neither sound nor light, the box unwilling to confirm it even works, while I stand there pushing, in hope, in confusion, in despair, alienated, pushing that button, sending out a ping, while asking only one question, a fundamental one.

Why?

And then came living on this globe, inculcated into systems and agreements that seemed reasonable at the time. Once in a while, the button would be pressed, sometimes frantically and for days on end, sometimes just year to year, sometimes far longer, as the situation dragged on.

Finally, after I found a place of my own again, in 2003, I discovered that box, dusty and still silent, immutable, opaque. The button was pushed hard and long, then, and since. And in 2012 it seems the box came to life and turned into a communication device. Since then, I have gotten my pings back, those sent out in grave isolation and in utter frustration and in deep, soul-crushing fatigue, now finally returning in celebration and relief and homecoming.

I didn’t like being a kid for a whole host of reasons, but one of them was how weird grown-ups and sometimes my own friends reacted when I revealed my intelligence. This did not resolve. It got worse. But it started innocently enough: I stunned them with my easy vocabulary in elementary school, and remember reading books on stars and geology very very early. I was questioning the bases of Lutheranism with my pastor during our catechism times. My essays won awards in school contests when I dared write them, which was rarely. My writing has stunned my teachers, consistently, since girlhood.

I say this not to brag. I say this to let you know that far from feeling like an achiever, an attractive person, an ally,  I saw how “normal”  people behaved when I was myself, and quickly understood that most of what I liked about myself was intimidating, scary or ugly to those around me. I adopted other ways to get along with people, I buckled down and learned the script, and played it out as well as I could, never really fitting in, always feeling weird, way down deep.

The circumstances of my nursing education and career are, to me, epic and interesting, and I have mined the meanings and levels behind this odd bifurcation in my life, moving out of academia, out of my comfort zone and my source of happiness, learning, and into the physical realm of allopathy.

I understand today, after doing this work on self, on the fragmentation required with role adoption and social agreements, that the circumstances allowed me to become re-acquainted with my true, bigger, happier, more expanded self. I was free, for a couple years, and I allowed reality to guide me, then as now. During nursing school and because of it, I was led into grand, safe, pure self-expression, I can no longer hold this decision in as much angst. The circumstances were the core issue, and it was not time to deal with the core. It was time to get free.

So I did.

I got comfortable with myself, and I liked myself, because that seemed the only reasonable response. Never attempting to get anyone else to join in, just learning to appreciate my Self. Always, until this very day, there were loud squeaks in my machinery, dissonance brought on by vast fields of unconsciousness, even then, but I explored me, how I mattered, what made me feel good, and it was great training.

So was the technical college. I had been brilliant in school, and it was easy for me, once I got the hang of things, but, as in childhood, and as it is today, during this again-flowering time, I still couldn’t read a regular watch, I still mistook “b” for “d” consistently, I never had “left” and “right” internalized, and I needed an aid to remember what day and year it was. Always. That’s how I am built.

The diagnostics I have taken confirm that I am very deeply, happily and truly on the spectrum, and that makes sense, I think, on many levels at once, not just one. These “autistic” characteristics are evident both because of the family dynamics I knew {the energetic/karmic reality)  but also because of my neurobiology. It was the energetic set-up, the parameters, the game afoot,  but more, the presentation of spectrum behaviors is evidence of being able to grock rather than simply think.

We’re grockers, not thinkers, we multidimensional ones.

Those who begin the ascension process have to come to terms with losing a degree of specificity, and need to develop tough skin and good humor, because this is a weak area for some of us. We can appear inattentive, spaced out, aloof, disinterested, neutral, disengaged.

I have heard many on the internet worry or caution against worry, whether you are going mad or senile. Get feedback from reliable, kind people about your memory and countenance. Do not invite critique of your countenance or internal process by the critical or the innately cruel. It seems obvious, but sometimes we do this, so, I ask you take a moment before inviting or accepting as gospel feedback or advice from random or disapproving people about your mood state, your demeanor. Maybe some things can be left unsaid, or at least untouched, by the ones who, just because that’s how it is, cannot truly appreciate you.

I have had great spans of time, intermittently,  when I have been able to live from my soul, rather than within roles in systems I fundamentally disagreed with. Somehow, during these times of freedom, permission, and discovery, the disagreement part quieted, put on a low rumbly bass note, rather than playing out as my daily bread.

In those times, I stretched my legs, did as I saw fit, befriended and loved as my soul directed, and I knew more peace, than when I finally agreed to reenter the fray, doubling down on living solely within the contemporary society.

In the late “90’s, I did just that, and in so doing, became a death walker. It’s then I started working Hospice, it’s then that death became a palpable, inescapable and repeated reality in my personal life, and it’s then that things got real, for me.

I was lifted out of that life in because of death, in 2003, realizing in one crystalline evening, after many serious near-death medical things, I would actually die young if I stayed in the life I had created.

Thus began the bulk of this lifetime’s work, and this is said finally understanding that as a frustrated scientist, spiritualist and ascensionist, I simply wound up using my daily life as my laboratory. What other reason is there to live, but to learn?

I have exhausted some studies, but mostly, I encounter a new discipline or school of thought, or thinker, and realize tout suite that I am outclassed, I am a student, once again, and the only thing that would be appropriate would be to soak it all in, synthesize it, and enjoy the experience, knowing I am once again quite small, standing among giants, grateful for their effort, their sharing, their indulgence, their unwillingness to call out my student-ness, what is called, in the culture, “stupidity.”

There is a symbiosis between teacher and willing student, the teacher learning and growing from the opportunity to share thoughts and ideas in this way, today, with this person, here, while the listener realizes this is new experience is valuable, and in resonance.

It’s this resonance that I chose to ignore, that I deemed unnatural and suspect when I began deathwalking. I say deathwalking because that’s what it was. It is a wonderful place to dwell, but it is a twilight place. I know the land well, having walked the path from that reality to this, and to others, daily since then.

Once 2012 came, there simply was more light available, and my true self, my old self, my real self, could no longer be denied. It didn’t want to be, and neither did I.

Writing became, and remains, a key to this process for me, because I am a writer by nature and design. An observer. A scientist-poet, let’s say.

I can now see that it is not a destruction, denial, or punishment of these “other” identities, long loved, well-recognized, and obviously comfortable, that is at hand, and I am glad for this. Part of this process of integration seemed to have a death quality, and much of the ascension process is laden with it.

Illusion, it can be seen for, in this new light, as twilight burns off and a new, unexpected light burns through the day and the night, but I was stuck on the idea that these bent up, sad, cruel, terrorized, repressed people I have been in the past would be nullified, sentenced to death for just cause.

It was tricky, a game of high-stakes internal chicken, and I waited, I guess, until things were less charged before deciding what to do with my past, how I have behaved, the choices I made, the things I KNEW to be true, which were not. What do I do with these unskilled, sometimes paralyzed, sometimes frenetic pieces of me? Is it a forgiveness thing? Is it an absorption thing? Do I pump them full of light and send even THEM Home?

I realized today that I couldn’t be sitting here, all consolidated and happy like this, if I had split off and murdered my tortured soul, you know? She’s here, and she’s sitting up sipping tea now, in bed, no longer in the fetal position. Her eyes dry, though her face is hollow and old. Without her, I would lack the depth I do. Without my crazy, rebellious, “I really, honestly do not give a fuck” person, maybe my boundaries would be a little fuzzier than they already are, retarded by continued coding as my limit-setter is.

I realize that what I was told in 2016, that I was going to write a tome, a thesis, entitled Personality Reintegration: The Theory Of Validity, is true. At the time, I had told them I would have no part in writing such a text without a partner who could help me stay physical while I worked on such a thing. Another cosmic joke, looky-looky, I have been working on it, since then, every single ding-dang day.

I didn’t like the intimation of the title, that maybe  I had a mental disease called “Multiple Personality Disorder,” and that I had bumbled into a cure. I see now how naive and tiny that thinking was. I also fully recognize that the “You’re crazy” motif sculpted my life, others thinking I am not quite right, for the reasons I’ve described above, and because I’m not entirely like them.

I guess I didn’t want to be thought of as diseased. That’s reasonable. I am not, though I am at times perceived as such.

Now I recognize that I have, as a dear friend of mine said once in relation to his life, my jaw dropping as he said the words, “I’ve lived many lifetimes in this one.” I am soothed now in knowing this is far from an individual battle with madness, what I have been puzzling over for a lifetime, and hitting that buttton about as the days melted into this living sculpture, this person I have become, this breathing, laughing, smoking, bleeding work of art. It seems it is about deciding, negotiating, realizing, just who is in the driver’s seat, taking stock of how skilled they are at navigation, resource management, time management, project management, direction, inner and outer environmental data, where the car is pointing, and to what end, and are they happy about it?

I think many times I have let a terrorized 8-year-old drive, who only knows anxiety. It’s a clusterfuck, every single time. Sometimes it’s the one who is just coming to, her body on fire with insults, her mind reeling from outrage, her breath hot with rage. Sometimes it’s the serene meditator, who loves crystals and angels and Jesus. Sometimes it’s the galactic, who knows of what we are doing, what the Body Of God looks like in space, who remembers dealing with other galactic races on this planet. Sometimes it’s the discarded, sad one, who never ever got a freaking break, to her narrow, angry mind. Sometimes it’s the detached scientist, the observer.

And sometimes it is the little green one, convinced there is no endgame here other than the realization, acceptance and normalization of abandonment, convinced the only answer is that I have been abandoned by the ones who matter the most to me, the nearly forgotten ones, amidst drama and chaos and betrayal and storyline.

Without sense memory of my little green comrades, the ones who I sometimes allowed myself to know were watching me, I dumbly pushed that button, clutching the little box in trembling sweating hands, at times.

It is the end of the story, now, the mystery finally revealed, I reflect, as I tuck that little box with its big button into my sock drawer, protected with soft, fluffy cloth, no longer my lifeline, no longer my radio, no longer the answer to my unending question of why.

Who is in your driver’s seat?

I understand now that I can find out simply by feeling into my body and being a little less swept away by emotion. Emotion is like rocket fuel, and I understood recently that when traumatized, which, let’s face it, every single one of us have been, to lesser or greater degrees, for lesser or greater lengths of time, when traumatized, it is natural for the brain to re-wire so that we no longer experience thoughts and emotions quite as clearly. We feed the now experience THROUGH memory, and then experience emotion. We feed the now moment through trauma, and then make assumptions, in essence perpetuating trauma.

So I have been playing with this, disconnecting that circuit of running stuff through the past, through past experience, which was often terrifically painful. It has helped a lot to know about this circuit and to then circumvent it. It leads to clarity, I am finding.

I have indeed developed a theory, and it is now that my bigger, happier self can finally come forth. That’s the funny thing about finding the truth: defense is no longer necessary. It is childish. It is a time waster. This, I think, is the best kind of skin to have, rather than thick skin. Translucent skin is better, the multidimensional kind.

Somehow it took nearly six decades for me to be comfortable with being me, unapologetically, and with great familiarity with and aptitude, but no further interest in the minutiae required by those who cannot and will not understand.

I can see that there are two levels of consciousness always present, the one from the higher agreement field, who knows all, and happily sends me notes, songs, thinkers, friends, guests, others, and the one who must and may forever have to, at the least, negotiate the lower agreement field, which you can call the dominator culture, the patriarchy, the old way, the Kali Yuga. To deny either lies madness.

The lower agreement field presents in humanity through karma, coding, deep grooves of expectation and fulfilled prophecies of doom, and is manifested by polarization.

Knowing about it helps, because it is the difference between the light body and the body who must negotiate a reality which has death as one of its core, required expressions. Connecting with things that are alive, eating them, thinking on them, allowing them to course through your blood and your brain and your biology, this helps. Meditation helps. Psychedelic plants help. Therapy helps. Friendship helps. Meaningful work helps. Music helps. Poetry helps. Painting helps. Driving helps. Giving gifts helps. Receiving gifts helps. Curling your toes helps. Deeply breathing in a favorite smell helps. Eating root vegetables, plants, and stuff you love to eat helps. Physical activity helps. Breaking up routine helps. Challenging outrageous, silly conclusions you or others have made helps. Humor helps. Study helps. Prayer helps. Switching it up helps. Travel helps. Humble conversation helps. Being a student of something complicated helps. Being out of your depths helps.

“Ego dissolution” is the point. It allows one’s true self to finally assert itself. Sometimes that dissolution must occur in the physical, and the bottom falls out. That’s the low-tech version of ego dissolution, but really, the most violent (and successful) episode of this was from Jesus.

It’s really all the same, to me, if this is read widely, or by me and a couple of nuts. I put it out there, and what the consciousness does with it is their business. I only know that I embody new vistas of peace now, and due to what I witness and participate in day to day, saying something about getting clear on a thing or two doesn’t seem weird at all. It seems like the least I can do, and it is, in fact, the most I want to do.

I know where I am headed and I know that my imaginings are as cooperative as my awakening was, so, for me and my house, I will leave it here: upon waking a couple days ago I felt it in my body, how true it is that I, this big, uncontained I, is present in what I will be experiencing this day, and each day in the future, just as surely as this Big I stands beside me every moment of my past.

Somehow, until that morning, I didn’t get the velvety physical aha that I needed to make such a beautiful thought real, that all day long, in new and possibly impossible situations, my Big I will be there, within and through and because of the circumstances, in the room, in my ear, as this thinking, grocking self experiences the events presented to me.

There it was a crystal clear understanding that seemed to emanate from my bones and skin. The feeling of safety and continuity were astounding.

So much of what I now experience day to day I described in my writing as Deeply Awake, when it came through often at a lower octave, needing to do so just to get my attention. As the frequency has raised, I have jumped octaves, and can now trip the whole scale.

So, I had been wondering, who is gonna drive, how does this work, and how do I ensure that the old one is at the wheel more than anybody else? I like remaining clear, I like really liking my self. I like being unconstricted in my thinking, my imaginings. How do I stay at the wheel for the duration of the ride? That has been my fundamental question, understandably so, given the state of the collective, and the individual realities being acknowledged and healed these days.

I will continue to ponder, but I like that I am not as quivery, shivery, shimmery in my belief that this bigger I is real, and is a friend, and is on my side, and really likes me, and is super happy to be here now. I like the sense of continuity and safety I am feeling.

I am aware, abundantly aware now, of the things which flip me, sometimes instantly, into old patterns of behavior, old assumptions, old memories of horror, old hates and loves and needs.

It is with permission to have past selves, and a Big I, and all the rest, that this peace is embodied. With permission.

For me, this was hard earned. I am glad I put in the effort. My work stands as a testament to my devotion to a belief that there was so much more than what my senses and my companions knew was real. I am glad I was guided, I am glad I was trusted, and I am glad I am home.

Deeply Awake: Visions, Bleedthroughs, Light Work And The Oversoul By Kathy Vik 10-5-18

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A coherent, beautiful and surprising discussion of becoming aware and conscious within the Oversoul, as well as a chronicle of visionwork, and real-life manifestations while coming to terms with a silent and deep resistance within me.

I share experiences within beautiful thoughts on our ascension process, multiplicity of souls, and on and on it goes. A treasure trove for the spiritually adventurous awaits you.

 

 

Deeply Awake — The Root Cause Of The Collective’s Psychosis By Kathy Vik 9-17-18

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Denial Is A Dissociative Device

Through my studies and personal experience, I have been led into the areas of mental health, mental illness, the meaning, cause and consequence of cruelty and neglect, as well as theories on energetic management, and thoughts, always, about what might be driving this thing.

Through the years and experience, I knew that there had to be an answer to the problems I was required to face, and a higher purpose to the pain, but until recently, I did not know what it could possibly be.

I have realized that there is a requirement inherent in the collective reality (dissociation) which, if undetected, can cause grave harm, and lead to a zombie-fied life. An inauthentic, troubled, angry life.

Sit back and plug in and think on these things that I bring to you today, me here with no malice in my heart, no anger left to toss at anyone, no suffering left to take on. My burdens are put down now. I don’t have to take them up again.

Through this process, I have seen the stupendous, unbelievable, personalized and sainted magnitude and beauty of the troubles I was in, as well as the larger purpose for the koans. It’s a stunning, panoramic view, and it’s from here I speak.

I am pleased with my current awarenesses, knowing there is more to come, but from here on out, it’ll be less spicy, and it’ll be easier, since I see and operate more willingly from an energetic level now.

I can hold all harmless now, as my attachment to outcome is finally weakened, my need to calm others appropriately holstered, and my need to be in the dark ever dissolving.

Deeply Awake: Meditations On Metamorphosis By Kathy Vik 6-18-18

 

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Deeply Awake: Meditations On Metamorphosis By Kathy Vik 6-18-18

www.kathyvik.com

www.lightworkers.org/magartha

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I am writing to you today with a grin on my face, feeling freer and more on purpose than I am used to, to be honest.

We have construction going on in our building, so video capturing these thoughts isn’t possible, and it is perfection itself. There is a symphony playing within me, rather than a faint air of tinkling notes from a distant, unknowable place. To be able to capture this music with my fingertips this morning, rather than my speech fills me with happiness. This complex, beautiful, uplifting song is what I want to share, what was once a faint few notes, disembodied, and life itself.

That’s how I used to describe it, you know. At the beginning? And these faint stirrings in the summer of 2011 led to revelations and light shows by January of ’12. But at first? It was a hint of faint music, from a distant place. It affected my mood and gave me a knowledge of hope and magic, but it left unpredictably, came upon me spontaneously, and was just enough to make me feel better, to make me sit up straight and smile for once.

That’s how it felt. I would feel this lift, a familiar but faintly supernatural one, and it was only just that, at the beginning. When I use that verbiage, I am referring to an extraordinary time in my life, completely unexpected, but weirdly familiar, like I said.

It was the same magical feel I had when The Teachers were with me, when I was gaining counsel from a channeled group way back when, in the early ’90’s. During their time with me, I was like this, like I am now, mobile in my consciousness, aware of much, and playing with it, though still prone to letting it get me down, sometimes way too much.

I have had to learn how to deal with grievance, and so, in reviewing my last offering, I realized that, although completely valid, necessary and beautiful, the tone of it, the feel of it, was one of grievance, and I wasn’t very fond of that signature. What’s that about? I wondered. What’s going on here?

And so, it came to pass that many miracles have occurred in my life, and I understand now what I did not, then. Oh, how many times have I written that sentence, phrased that sentiment in words never varying far from the core note, “I am changed.”

This morning, as all morning, I received lovely gifts of thought, ways in which to house memory and intention, solutions to problems I have never considered, and answers to questions I had only begun to language.

So it goes, for me, these days.

Today I was shown the chromosomes, and was given puzzles about male and female. It was explained that the variant is male, the element added is the Y chromosome, the prototype is the X. They explained, in pictures and thoughts, how specialized and necessary and vital the roles are, the happily taken on tasks of spirit incarnate. It was a lovely exploration into realms I simply had not considered before and the exercise softened me toward everyone and everything, as the exercises are, I suspect, designed to do, while instructing my open and complex heart-mind.

What it all led to, though, was the butterfly, the caterpillar, the cocoon phase, and just how badass that creature is.

I think it’s daft to see a butterfly as anything but a hard-core spiritual warrior, a talisman for many, a totem, a symbol of Self. Oh! If human beings were that willing and able to obey the instruction set their bodies course with, to be so at peace with mystery, with disintegration, with surrender!

I have lately been aware that I am now quite different than I was, even a year ago. Something has shifted these last few weeks. I have, most assuredly, done the most profound and deep inner, meditative work of my life, during this time. I have changed my magnetics, my trajectory, and my history. This morning, with movies of caterpillars, cocoons and butterflies playing in my brain, making coffee, scratching, yawning, I considered them as welcome guest and resident counselor, and learned from them. To understand it, I personalized it.

You do get that Deeply Awake is just that, right? It’s the personalization, the unique interpretation of source energy through these fingertips, these pupils, these feet, this heart. It’s always been about translating this cosmic force into daily life, living it, being it, knowing it as self, and self as source. What other goal can there be, after all? But it’s exactly why it’s been risky, and weird, and fun, and at times kind of scary for me. Just putting out there my thoughts on all this, not as a leader or an authority, but just as an organic part of life in America in 2018, a woman equipped with a story, a mission (so to speak), and the interwebs.

I thought on my 2 million words, my volumes upon volumes of raw work, beautiful, transformative, transportive, educational, often hilarious, sometimes scary, always surprising. What a treasure! But what I was aware of during those butterfly moments is that the work is already done. I already did it.

I am done with one thing, and I am something else now, because of what I did.

I saw then that this past time, this time of constricted affect, fear-based and shame-based responses and expectations, of living up to expectations, when the game is rigged, and I am perpetually on the losing end? Yeah, those days are done.

I got it, in one day, how it is no longer acceptable or desired for me to pathologize my affect or behavior. What was once mild autism has given way to self-acceptance so fulminant that what I am discovering is that people actually understand me to be wiser than they, more deep and true a person than they have encountered, and a long-lost friend, often times.

I could understand, then, what I had been shown the day before, how I seemed to go through an opening up, a shedding of shame and fear, of sexual pain and torture, within these recent years.

Part of this most recent training involved healing from women and with men working shamanically. Through our practices, I came to understand about the Other, and my Self, and I was finally somehow able to be aware of what I had been able to contain, for so very long. In groups, in company, in love, I then lovingly and powerfully released these realities with a burst of love and joy and abandon and spiritual bliss. I came to understand God, myself, other people, sexuality, spirituality and shamanism in ways that put me back together.

Oh yes, it was deep and profoundly spiritual work, and we did it consciously knowing we were indeed offering release for all fellow enslaved and imprisoned sisters and brothers. What you do for self, you do for the collective, either for ill, or for good.

It’s been wholly alchemical work.

But I had yet to define just WHO was doing this work. I was led from task to task, from situation and person to situation and person, often stunned to find myself in so unusual, colorful, and comfortable a place, be it an orgy or an art exhibit, a burlesque show or a class on trach care in infants, but always in this state of indefinition, of exploration, of not-quite-there-yet-but-getting-ever-closer-don’t-give-up.

51 years of difficulty, by design, by agreement and request, let’s never forget that!

6 years of breaking through, breaking open, shutting down, of terminations, new beginnings, calculated risks and knowing smiles.

And now, here I am.

I came from all of that. Yep, that was me. I have the photos and the t-shirts to prove it. I have the essays and videos explaining it all, from my cocoon, from my altered state.

And now, there are three small days until the solstice. I am a Terran. A Gaian. An Earthling. I find the way my soul marks time is with celestial events, so I pay attention to the ones that I am made aware of. This solstice marks much, for me.

Summer solstice of 2014, my god, I had never been so happy, in my whole life. Those were golden days, that spring, those years.

Four years have passed. I have seen my consciousness twist and turn. I have finally encountered the blackness within me. I had my Armageddon. I had my crucifixions. I’ve had my zero-point moments. And here I am, shiny and comfortable and enthusiastic. I am still very much alive. What conclusions can be drawn?  That our terminology is out-dated, and the labels unnecessary and costly.

If you want to put a fine point on it, I think spiritual bad-ass will do nicely.

I had many intense years, and from them I come away in peace, singing a newly found, ancient song, finally a lilt in my step that I have previously found so elusive that before, when this feeling came upon me, I set out to describe it in words, in explanations, what it is like, what I am thinking, feeling, expecting, knowing, because it is WAY different, and WAY better than normal. I never completed that task. I let this jeweled reality be a potential one, one I slip into overnight and never stop wearing, one fine day.

And, here I am, in one of those times again. Things are finally sweetening, lightening up, easing. The last week or so. Finally.

And this time, I know it can be and will be and is sustained. It is not lightning in a bottle as much as the general weather. It is not so much miracle as matrix of reality, now, this sweetening, this lightening up.

I had some big stuff to get through, just for me, always only for me, and I did much of it without explanation or roadmap for others. What I am doing is archetypal, revolutionary, and wholly personal. This is the inner work, the tomb of tombs work, the high alchemy we each come to do, to master, to walk away from.

And that’s the point.

To walk on.

I like how my world is so big now, and how much I am happy and comfortable with. I find that the things I hold in contempt make me look small and bent and hurt. I know that. But I also know that in a social matrix, it was important to break some barriers, to state some things, to clear for a consciousness things that have been all jammed up in their throat chakras, unable to be released. The will was there. Oh yes. But not the ability. It takes time and effort to master new tools, new equipment.

I am reminded of when I was led through the opening of the chakra systems. It was highly unpleasant and physically so. It was a physicalized soul pain, that’s the best way to describe it. It is only now that it has come into focus what I did. I’ll explain a bit, and then I want to conclude with what I understood from the butterfly thing.

The night they led me to this, I had been channeling, working, doing mirror gazing, writing, it was full-on. This night, they led me back to what they had explained when I had been trained, in the ’90’s. They expanded it and it finally all made more sense. I’ll explain it to you now, briefly.

For this discussion, PLEASE know assignation of gender is ENERGETIC, not biologic! I know women who are far more male, and males far more female, and many who are both!

They told me that each age is set with magnetic “locks” or set-ups in consciousness. It was done with the 7 chakra wheel system, which is itself a false one, a closed one, so not entirely useful for more than compulsory exploration.

Each age have males in one magnetic position, females in another. This is how “experiments in consciousness” are done. They’d explained, way back when, that the agreement this go around is that men would have their crowns and pineal turned down, with their root and sacral areas taking the excess energy, and in females, their throats were turned down, thus inflaming the solar plexus, and growing the heart. Mute.

This was the set up.

That night in April of 2016, on camera (Since destroyed… it was too raw and hard for me to watch, so I got rid of it) in channel, they explained it first, and then they led me, as a male, chakra by chakra, in the last experiment’s magnetics. It was so uncomfortable. The whole exercise was.

Then they led me through each chakra as male, at 100%. It felt so much better!

Then they did that with me, as female. Constricted, it was so uncomfortable, so much pain, oh my. And then, with each of my seven, they opened all to 100%

They then proclaimed that this is how it now is, for all, as they wish. Then they explained to me that I would use the local sauna with its crystal-encrusted walls and endless showers as a temple of sorts, to anchor this and spread the word, if the crystal kingdom chose to give consent.

I remember going to sleep that night worried that the crystal kingdom might say no. They explained to me about just how royal and impeccable those beings are, and I already have a natural deferential respect for them, so, it was a worry of mine. In the morning, I asked questions, and found out that part of this process had been to come to peace with what I was doing, to give it some thought, and be at peace with what it really means.

Honestly, some of this stuff is of an importance and magnitude that, if thought real, is pretty impressive, and really sweet to have done. What a nice gift, you know?

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Just how real is any of it, right?

Well, I was presented to the crystal kingdom, I paid my respects and honor to them, and they accepted the message and it was done. This is what They have done with me whenever there has been a big enough change in consciousness, or a big enough release, that it is appropriate to then make it available to all in a more amplified way.

I was led to think on Kryon’s opening of nulls and nodes.

There is some work that is done so intuitively, and is actually part of the Earth’s design, that we just do as we know we can and must, because we are being asked to, and we know how to do it. So it goes with gatekeepers, gridworkers, and all spiritual or energetic warriors.

I use that word to denote our skill, not our desire to war. That is not something we have as standard equipment. Devoid as we are of a desire for it, it is very much standard equipment, this innate skill in battle we each possess, whether we want it or not.

With a lot of this more revolutionary stuff, what I have deduced is that, as a human being, it is my right and responsibility to answer the stirrings of my soul, wherever it takes me. In 2012, that meant writing about it. In 2016, it meant coming to the camera.

Can you imagine the flood of relief, the gratitude for company as this informational tsunami hit me in 2012,  this flood of familiar-new energy I saw populating the internet, generating a discussion I’d longed to be part of?

For a lifetime, it had been my walk to live as I had finally deduced would be wise and safe: in girlhood I knew, and in my thirties I doubled-down on living my spiritual life privately. It was pondered silently, written about rarely, and almost never talked about.

It was a black-out kind of thing, and for two decades, I held The Teachers’ information close to the vest. It was a  part of me, the knowledge, but cordoned off, irrelevant to goings-on. When I did risk sharing, through those years, it always led to a feeling of profound aloneness and disconnection. It/I made people feel uncomfortable, when I did risk it all and brought it out.

And then, in 2012, everything sort of came on-line. More was possible. I felt better more often, though it was still mighty bleak at times.

Getting back, to the chakra systems… (I am sooo enjoying writing to you today! I’m finding it hard to stop!)

I have reviewed what the expectations They had for how behavior in the genders would begin to change, and how puzzling it would all seem, at first, until people are more hooked up with their individual hearts and souls.

They said the result of being at 100%, all chakras, would be that Man would begin thinking “Woman, I hate you, and yet, I cannot help but feel stirrings of true tenderness for you. What is this? What is this?” And, poor confused Man would be confronted with the dragon it created, while under.

Because Woman would begin to air grievances, their throats now cleared of impediment.

They said it could get quite hard and heated and heart-breaking, because it would be an on-onslaught of pent-up grievances, heard by counterparts who can now actually feel the impact of it all in a far more vibrant, and responsible way. But they won’t be cut a lot of slack, even when it would be in everyone’s best interest to ease up a little. It would take time to balance it.

That was April of 2016. Pre-Weinstein. Pre #metoo. Crazy-weird, huh?

Anyhow. Butterflies.

There is a lightening going on, an easing up and off, and maybe that means it really is the time of moving past grievance. I have a lot of friends who do not trifle with things such as the dark. They are too busy doing the stuff I want to do, know how to do, now, and am able to do, finally.

I realized that this was, in essence, the lesson, and maybe it really can be seen in so simple of terms that there was a time when I had a consciousness that was like a TV, broadcasting for decades in black and white.

The set itself had to change into one that could not only see in color, but which could handle not 5 stations, but an infinite amount of data, or programming, for want of a better subtexted word.

I think that for me, maybe my black and white days ended during those ramping-up days in the spring and summer of 2011, culminating in the first of a seemingly never-ending series of light events. That first one was so eye-popping, so life-altering, so freeing. It was supernatural, and life-changing, that weird, cold, clear day back in January of 2012.

Maybe then I had to go through a change in my receiver, an opening it up, a deepening and broadening of my receiving band, so that I could receive whatever my heart desired.

And now, I can manage great rivers of consciousness, I can be in many places at once, I can throw my consciousness, I can feel into things with more heart, but, far more, I am at peace. I am finally at peace and happy.

I used to be really fat, and I consumed a lot, and I had my eyes down, and I really couldn’t, I just couldn’t really give two craps about anything lofty or exalted, not really, not after The Teachers left, in 1994.

And then, just like a bad ass caterpillar, something happens, a gong goes off inside, and I suddenly have something I gotta do.

For me, that was 2012, and that was writing. That was Deeply Awake. I HAD TO capture what I was suddenly aware of, and having adeptness, stunned familiarity and skill, with.

And now?

I produced roughly 2 million words. I gave it everything I had, each and every time I came to you. I declared this a safe place to say anything that had to be said, because it was pretty, because it was interesting, because it made sense to me, even though the rest of creation turned away from this sudden blaze of love, light, laughter, I suddenly became in 2012.

I have had time to mellow that. To understand that just because I love like that doesn’t mean anybody else does, and I have come to some sort of peace with being human, and being among those who are as afraid as I once was, and still sometimes feel. Sometimes still, I am once again suddenly thinking and feeling things that feel constricted and tight and bendy and hard to justify. I snap out of it easily now, what used to take months or weeks to be delivered from.

You have seen a very loving person trying to figure out how to love everyone, wisely and openly and with great mirth and a sense of inner safety that is unshakable. I don’t think that’s anything more than just growing up as a spiritual being, really. I think we dress this stuff up and call it fancy things like ascension and all that other stuff just because we feel it is so unattainable, peace and some sort of flow.

I didn’t catch a ton of breaks, made worse by my beloved habit of erring on the side of my lack of self-worth.  I had a whole a boatload of problems or life-situations to work through and explain to myself, mostly revolving around power and love, will and love.

It was interesting, lots of tensions and contrasts, and then, a six year period of dissolving, of reforming, of discovery, and full stops. Waves of people, waves of events, me riding whatever wave wanted to come by.

It’s now that I realize I am the sea, and I have the ability to be calm, and to keep it so. I like that.

And so, as stories end, as the conclusions are braided into the ever-continuing saga of spiritual, divine, cosmic life, I leave you with a picture, with a moment, that you may reflect upon at leisure. Knowing myself as ocean, as sea, as cosmic mother, as one source of The Source, I leave you with a story. I leave you gently, sweetly, and in deep devotion to the beautiful light you are.

It is sunrise. 

Just above an infinite expanse of a glossy living mirror, an ocean, along flutters a colorful floating creature, bobbing up and down in the silent, still, reverent air.

A butterfly.

How?

Why?

We let it be, knowing of a miracle. We two now know of this tableau bursting with violet and crimson and white and canary yellow and iridescent pink.

Below is an endless expanse of teeming life within the water, the water itself a being, a host, a cosmic dancer.

And above it all, popping, floating, beating its wings, obedient to its innate knowledge of lands beyond its imagination, here, for our delight, flies a vividly blue butterfly.

This being is regal, purposeful, perfect, delightful.

This quiet moment is now yours, and yet, here the beauty will remain. It is here it will unfurl into awareness for its brave and tender visitors, forever floating there, and glittering here, on the web.

My gift to you, The Beloved.

Blessings be.

 

 

And, just for fun…

 

 

“Immigrant Song”

Ah, ah.

We come from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow.

Hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new land.
To fight the hordes and sing, and cry.
Valhalla, I am coming.

Always sweep with, with threshing oar.
Our only goal will be the western shore.

Ah, ah.

We come from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow.

How soft your fields so green. Can whisper tales of gore.
Of how we calmed the tides of war. We are your overlords.

Always sweep with threshing oar,
Our only goal will be the western shore.

So now you’d better stop and rebuild all your ruins.
For peace and trust can win the day despite of all your losing.

Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh
Ooh. Ah.

Deeply Awake: Current Events, Integrative Interpretations,, And Light Activations By Kathy Vik 6-16-18

Image result for shiva the destroyer gif

 

 

 

Ballsy. Funny. Deep. Thought-provoking. Healing.

All good descriptors for what lies within, a meditation on current events, which recently were marveled at by some pundit I caught on a news show, stupified while saying, “This really is about good and evil,” when discussing the current political landscape.

I speak as a metaphysician, a futurist, an ascensionist, an historian, a believer in humankind’s ability to rouse themselves from the spell they’re/we’re/you’re under (to what degree, is for you to decide.)

The premise revolves around there being a shift in consciousness, from one that is warring to one that is not. It is a lively discussion, which leads to a discussion of many unusual and abundantly magical things.

The last half of the video discusses hard-core weirdness, activations and thoughts on many topics the futurist, or fellow star-person, in the crowd will get a kick out of.

I hope you enjoy my latest round-up of all things 3-d and much, much higher. I do mention the 8-based chakra system, and various visitations in this one, toward the end, and the way it is summarized I found very helpful, and I’m the one living it, so I hope you, too, get some answers as you let the tape roll, and let me take you new places, places I know well.