Deeply Awake — Thoughts Before An Intentional Shift In Physical Reality By Kathy Vik 3-7-18

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An honest, fun and multidimensional talk on what is at hand for me.

In the physical, I am getting a hip replacement tomorrow, so this stands as my final thoughts before going through an event that has meanings not only in the day-to-day, but spiritually and soulically.

I hope you enjoy this perspective. I do talk about an event that occurred in the spring of 2016, an activation which my team refers to as “the Merkabah is set.” They haven’t elaborated on that, though I have been receiving more and more information about that event.

This mystical event is discussed because it is, for some reason, front and center these days, and so I am including it in my thoughts, my meditations on health, healing, illness, wellness, spiritual evolution and intentional shifting of physical reality.






As referenced, a really fun and coherently presented hit of highly esoteric and TOTALLY DO-ABLE almost-magical-but-based-in-high-physics stuff, the glittery  wonderful Ms. Alison Coe:


Deeply Awake — Meditations on Shifting To A New Natal Chart By Kathy Vik 2-24-18

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A friendly, helpful and easy to understand video simply reviewing moving from one natal chart to another, but also what that means with daily life, and with such things as identity and a sense of the future







As referenced, here is my natal chart from birth in 1961

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And my natal chart from the event I experienced April, 2012

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Deeply Awake — Welcoming The Golden Ones 12-23-13 By Kathy Vik


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Deeply Awake — Welcoming The Golden Ones 12-23-13 By Kathy Vik

I was raised in a devoutly traditional Norwegian family, and so we celebrated on Christmas Eve. My mom and dad each have only sibling, as do I, and there was strife in their homes, let’s be honest, and so, we had a very very small family.

I married into a bigger family, not at all fussy, mixed European lineage, lots of color and benign eccentricity, in my opinion. Just blatantly, benignly eccentric. I couldn’t have had it any other way, really.

They celebrate on Christmas Day, which I was brought up to believe was just not as right, as doing it on Christmas Day, but have long since gotten over that prejudice. What silliness! In our lives, it just means that Sam gets to celebrate two Christmases.

Since Jerry and I split up, Sam gets two of a lot of things, birthdays, even Halloweens sometimes. His dad is a very right-wing Republican, I am undeclared Democratic socialist. Again with the contrasts. Sam set his life up very interestingly.

It’s all fascinating sometimes, just to take a step back and look at the weave. It was just stuff that happened, but then looking back on it you can see patterns, miraculous encounters, bizarre synchronicity, amazing timing, and you just have to know, don’t you, that there was some sort of weird, crazy, loving thing behind it, right?

And that thing, karma, that used to push and pull you and I, before we noticed it, took hold of it, had long chats with it, and then told it, finally, to leave, and then, at least for me, a number of sparkly, healing events occur, and at the end of it, I don’t know about you, but for me, I just feel, in my best moments, deliberate. I mean that to say volumes, you know. I know I am deliberate, when feeling clear and true, running as I am at the moment.

And yet, I have been at odds with myself, even now, even after all that has happened, the worst bout of it just last evening. I felt that old familiar blankness, no voices, no reassurance, and I knew I was in yet another void. Sam was so sweet to me, without my asking, treating me like a kid who’s under the weather. Best to just lie down and go away, when I feel like that, focus on love, and go to sleep.

People who elect to tell you about their pain, those people are few and far between, and those who are perfectly honest and candid about their souls’ troubles, riddles, puzzles, koans, in an uncloaked manner, fewer still.

And of them, there are but a few who can tell you that they got through it, and it’s over for them, and by extension, how you might be able to get through it, with viable, freeing, liberating answers, that requires one’s own self-examination, their own discernment to kick in?

A discernment and inner sovereignty that then requires giving the same freedom to others, encouraging individuality, with all being in such love, within self, and each other, that doing harm, telling lies, withholding good, these would begin to create pain within, not in resonance with the truth of it, that we are here because of love, for love, to share it freely and to expect only this from others. Peace on earth, I think it’s called.

And they have so much feeling of goodwill and trust, because it is earned, because you cannot find anything you cannot love, strife ends, and the painful behavior from others that used to plague you just begins to fade into an at times bleak, at times heartbreakingly pure and soulful song of love, well then, there aren’t many of those, I can tell you.

It’s still all spaceships and government nonsense, the haves against the have-nots, Monsanto and climate change and all the rest. For me, it translates into not having enough money to do things I imagine would be more pleasurable than what I am currently doing, in essence, and not being able to give Sam the finer things in life, like I had it, growing up.

Last night was the worst of it. I saw and felt it so clearly, this longing I have to just write, to have a life which does not demand the crude things, the hard and difficult things, things I have grown fond of, and weary of, the things of the flesh, of people lost in their own suffering, often lashing out like wounded animals. That’s the life I am sick of. Nursing. I really, really am.

And so all on the way home, and into last night, feeling this cleave. I have read my horoscope. I was a born philosopher and writer. It is just so clear. There is a paragraph or two about not being balanced in the physical, and one line about nursing. And yet, this is how my life turned out! What a hoot! I mean, it’s quite a setup, don’t you think?

I mean, honestly, in my heart, I retired from nursing almost two years ago. On January 25, 2012, I had an event which changed me. I had a choice to make that day, and I chose the unthinkable.

I was getting hauled in at work for something which was totally blown out of proportion, and all I could think was, well, here we go again. Once again getting booted out of someplace because I don’t fit in. Here we go again.

Don’t get me wrong, I am dearly loved by most of the people I hang out with, or at least loosely tolerated, and have had enormously successful job performance, but as things got clearer, in the late 2000’s I found it harder and harder to modulate myself, and often was unhappy.

I was sort of a pain in the ass, but there again, written by the stars, my horoscope soothed me by saying I have an aspect which is very challenging, sort of a catalyst for changing others. So it had always been there, the mal-resonance factor, but it got real bad, culminating in once again knowing people are gathering, there in an office on a cold January morning, trying to figure out how to make things hard, figuring out my penance for not fitting in, not pleasing, being challenging. It was finally realizing this that made things different for me.

And so I stood in the hallway, knowing that I was going to have to go in there and defend myself for half an hour, to people who I have no defense for, and they will probably try to punish me in the meantime, so, I got real still, and I realized I was needing help. I did as my teacher Norma said.

I breathed in green light. I could feel it go into my heart, and into my bloodstream, and into my lungs, and out into the air. It took me by surprise how instant and powerful it was. Then, the hall was green, I could feel that whole slice of highrise turn green, everyone in it, and then, I realized that everyone in the meeting room was green too.

I felt my awareness enter the room, and I could see each of their bodies green, abstracted, and they were pumping with green hearts, this green light. I realized I wanted to no part in this next part.

The part where I admit I am an asshole and did something grievous, and then they get to make things hard for me. Why do that? I thought to myself.

The woman in charge just plain and simple was beginning to hate me, and it was so bizarre. The whole thing, once it got going, it was super wobbly super fast. It was sort of the big boom, and I had been walking through fainter hits of it, before coming up to this big one. Yes, I think that’s it.

This was mainly self-perpetuated, you know. I know that now. I can see it even now at work. I don’t have the willingness to do small talk for eight hours. I can manage two. I have very good starts of shifts, and then, people just stay there bobbing on the surface, talking about their past problems, all their problems, all the time, either that, or their possessions, or the things they are doing to achieve really awesome goals, totally awesome, don’t get me wrong, but no one talks about why. And there had been so few people to take any comfort at all in alternative explanations, sparkly adventures, or anything that didn’t involve darkness.

And I tire of that, and so I turn inward, listening to stuff on the internet or reading, but off I go. It doesn’t mean I don’t like them, I just lose interest.

So, last year at this time, and on into the spring, I worked at a long-term hospital contract, and there I was able to do the really fine interpersonal work. I woke up socially, I think. And I became engaged at a heart level with people, without needing anything back from them, not depth, not weird interests, not spirituality. I had set myself apart, my whole career, without even knowing it, I see now. I see that now.

And now, I do not need anyone to love me, and I am filled with such exquisite bliss when I am loved, and I find that happens a whole lot more these days, and somehow this has all blossomed into peace.

And now I feel as if I am reentering the world. I am unafraid of rejection now, and do not shy away from talking with people, asking them questions, engaging in their happinesses. I see people as benign now, and usually as achingly beautiful. I had been so needy, I think, so hungry to connect, so heartbroken when people turned from me.

But I see now that this was just a modulation in the frequency, something I became aware of so that it could addressed. It begins and ends with realizing some things about myself, some fundamental things which I received in the dream state, over the solstice. I found it beautiful, so benevolent, in the end, that I worked the 21st and the 22nd.

I had a meditation on Friday, the 21st, my 2-11 day, my day of wonder, and in it I said that I needed to attend kirtan that night, rather than working. I commanded to be canceled for work so that I could attend kirtan.

I felt it appropriate to anchor this light there, among friends, among old souls, in full, or at least better, recognition of our true identities, soul to soul there. And then I felt, I just knew, that I would be canceled. I just felt so powerful, like a magician.

At 5pm, the agency called me. Confirmed for twelve at the geriatric psych unit. I had to got to work.

I drove to work angry, yelling a lot, upset that I could have gotten it so wrong, but worse, that I had called for it, cancellation and kirtan, and it had felt, to me, like it was mine. I had KNOWN I’d be canceled. And here I was, driving in a snowstorm, to work.

I can see now that this would have been nice, very nice, really, to have attended kirtan, but it was needed that I have the sort of sleep that I got, I needed to be up there for dawn, to be outside through the night, star gazing and contemplating.

It was an easy couple of nights, pleasant all around, and I had no social awkwardness, not a touch of it. Everyone, I can feel when I work, these last three shifts, everyone sort of eases, and people are gentle toward each other, and nice to each other. That happens anymore when we have a family dinner. A sort of peace falls into us, and they are magical, those times, but only with family, up until now.

Now I can see it spreading to work, consistent and gentle, not overwhelming, just peaceful, and I know I am a generator, so I sit there and generate. I am finally able to do what my teachers once told me was the goal, one of them. Can you, they asked, in any room, can you be the one who holds an open heart? Can you hold that for everyone?

And I can see now that this is what is happening.

I want to tell you of my dreams, because they soothe me, thinking on them now, and puzzled and excited me, thinking on them through those nights at work. I want to share them with you. You may see my last entry, “Duality’s Illumination,” for the dream I had on 12-19/20.

First wake up – I understood the light body, the Merkahbic DNA field I always imagine is outside of me is actually my DNA. I saw my cells, understood I am made of this DNA, and it is in my physical body, all the same, in my toenails and in my hair. The Merkahbah is my DNA, and this body is constructed of DNA.
2nd wake-up – now, understood that my soul is my higher self. It’s what kept me from shattering when I was a kid. It’s what kept me going all this time. And it’s what creates my circumstance, my choices and my situation. Like last night, when I am in opposition with or hold resentment for an activity [having to work] I am in opposition with my soul. Arguing with the thing that loves me, makes me, loves me. I layed flat arms out and thanked, loved, my soul and heated up instantly. The heat is me. It’s the meld. [Happy face.] I am my soul, my soul is me. It is melding my DNA, my field, my experience, it is me, and I it. My soul is me, I am my soul. My body is my soul, and my soul is my body.
When new circumstances and opportunities enter my life, that too is my soul, offering me doors I can walk through. I can TRUST these new doors. I don’t have to be in fear or opposition to them, and I shouldn’t think that refusing them will hurt me, but when I turn from a new opportunity (like that traveling job), I am saying no to something my soul has lined up. If what stops me is fear or “fatigue,” I am slowing things down, and missing opportunities to express the new me. They are NOT my good, they are adventures. Feel through them, scan them, and I’ll know, and can trust knowing, if they are loving, pleasant, feel through them first and you can trust if they feel good. It’s like hating or resenting something in my life. That’s me hating and resenting my soul. It’s CHLIDISH. A house divided.
Third dream – I lived in a house like dad’s, with many steps, and I had been gone a really long time. It was Halloween time. It was my house, but I was moving in, and I guess there were repair people, people responsible, former owners, but I got home after a long time, felt like I was a brand new owner, and the house had been left wide open, two glass doors, both propped open, an outer and an inner door.

And I saw, I remembered when I saw it, I had left a big white candle burning, a fat white pillar candle. It was still burning. There was a Halloween decoration over the front door, black wire covered with black fuzzy shiny stuff saying “Happy Halloween, Bitches,” I guess meant to be hip or cool, something the former owner had up. I was going to take it down and throw it away.
It was a huge house. 2 entrances. One, that I arrived in, was in the below, under, and connected to many steps, and also connected to the outside world. I’d come from a very busy time in a mall, I think, and had had touching relationships.
Then, the front door, that had been left wide open, this is the part I saw so clearly, it was reached by me differently. It was lighter, more open, made of glass, and I could see out into the wilderness and neighbor houses from there.
Sam was around, but not, too,and I felt very loved, like a star, and I know I had been difficult and erratic and some people I needed to come in and fix or help my house and now the former caretakers were sort of “hands off” and relieved I was different and I knew I wouldn’t be seeing much of them now, but I was communicating with them in my mind.
I decided because it was such a fine house that I would treat it with care.
I, I am missing the part with others, the ones who love me so. They weren’t there in the house, it was me alone, and I was closing the house, or planning to, thinking it is fine and right to close the doors so that just not anybody could come in. But the front part of the house was all glass and even if the doors were closed, I’d never be unaware or disconnected from anyone, with the outside, ever again.”

So, I think it is good that I worked those two nights, compelled to self-care in its extreme, when working two twelves back to back, and they were easy shifts, with colleagues I had known before and usually enjoyed, and I felt no slights. There was just one little jot of discomfort, from a formerly awful nurse, now so gentle, and only once in twelve hours did she misbehave and project things that weren’t nice, but I ignored it, and all was well.

And yet, I had two episodes of sadness, crying, last night, about little things, that telescoped into huge things that were crushing my tender heart, wanting, in the end, for a way to ease the road for Sam, not half-assing things anymore financially, safe and sound, finally.

I know it is a self-perpetuating thing, that if I applied myself I could be able to give him the moon, and I have now gotten so far as a callback, but then, the juice stops, and no more nibbles.

I have made calls, put in applications, lots of things, and it is truly odd, one of the oddest parts on this journey, how my mojo has dried up and I can’t get people to return my calls. Bizarre. Just bizarre. That’s the part I haven’t really talked about, how I just can’t seem to get my foot in the door anywhere. For all this time, since my inner retirement, actually, my inner, psychic retirement.

Because that was the outcome to that fateful day, nearly two years ago, that cold, bleak January morning, going in for the guillotine.

I sort of came back into my body after that green experience, and I felt nothing but love for those little ones, heads together, conspiring and calling it compassion. They had me come into the room, presented me with a very official document, and told me that my hours had changed, come down from corporate, and they happened to be exactly opposite the hours I was able to give the company.

Continuing would have meant never seeing my son, and they knew it, and sat there with a grin and offered it to me like I deserved it, like it wasn’t a very loud “GET OUT OF OUR COMPANY!”, and, I’d also have to sign some sort of form admitting that I was a piece of shit, basically.

So I smiled, and I leaned back in my chair. I asked them if they were aware that this seemingly arbitrary change in hours would be something they knew I could not do. They said yes, and hid behind the magic word “corporate’ again.

I said, well, we’re done then. Thank you, but let’s be honest. You are telling me to leave. I hereby retire. Knew it out in the hall. Knew I was done. And done with this sort of nonsense. They agreed to refrain from bad-mouthing when I went job hunting, and handed me some checks.

I had one friend, Linda, who urged me to go on unemployment, to take time off, maybe to write, if I wanted to.

And so I did just that. I retired, I got into the blogs, and I had an exponential amount of growth occur. I began writing in March of 2012, and am now writing the third, or fourth, one, depending on how you look at it. Of course, as it is in America, even though I was layed off, technically,

I did not get unemployment benefits. They were denied, and I didn’t see the point in wrestling with the dragon. Not anymore. I was on to other things. I lived on prayers, generosity, and miracles, for four months, exploring, writing, waking up. By March, I’d written my first essay, the name Deeply Awake still unformed in my mind.

I have been unable to give Sam the things I believe would enhance our lives, and I am sad about that, but, looking at how he set things up, and what he has told me about his most recent past life, I think it is true, what I am sometimes told about my current situation, that some of this is not even mine. I am helping out. I am in a set up for the benefit of others, holding compassion, hopefully, helping with the healing.

And so my fortunes are tied to others. I am out of karma, but I am not in this by myself. There are others who need help, in a soul, set-up sort of way, and they help me, too.

Sometimes, even still, I long for the physical circumstances to be different. This is a total mismatch, I hollered, on the way home from one of those shifts. Just seeing the absurdity of it all, the mind-bending sacrifice, the gut-wrenching act of love my being a nurse has been. I have been marking time, and I did it in a way that could only benefit me and those around me. Practicing compassion, twelve hours a night, sometimes 60 hours a week, in the old days, for nearly 30 years.

And so, I can spin it any way I see fit. Try as hard as I could, last night, I just couldn’t spin it in my favor. I was overwhelmed with fatigue, with longing, for something better. I deserve better, I say, sometimes. But I know, in my clearer moments, that this is all about timing, and nothing more, and to just chill and relax and not get to worked up, but gee, sometimes, it gets me.

I will tell you that after this is written, published, and then re-read, by me, I feel something is going to click. Even after all the sparkly stuff, that I wrote, often times, to you about, in disbelief and wonder, even now, I am not owning this. Writing and then reading it helps make it real for me. And this is a big one, I think. Because I am talking about a meld, a new way to live.

And this is the golden one, when soul and body are finally greeted as one in the same, when all is seen as love, soul expressions, everyone doing their best, even when their best is just god awful, this is the golden one, the soul lighting up a biology that is awash in a vibrant, colorful, beautiful and compelling electro-magnetic chemical hypnotizing technicolor reality. Bathed in and emanating from divine physics, each of us, doesn’t matter what sort of babble is coming out of the mouth, the words and the one speaking them are soul expression, and must be treated with respect.

This is a golden age, and when people begin to see how much they can and should and do value their own souls. It then becomes impossible to be anything but funny, kind, light-hearted, outgoing, perhaps, thinking about the others’ comfort, showing it, and wanting just to blend, cooperatively singing our beautifully individual songs, harmonizing, laughing, loving.

This is possible, I think. And it comes not from others finally getting their shit together, the ever-present “them” finally behaving, doing, better. No. It comes from understanding that the one you are observing, whether acting unjustly or justly, that one, too, is a soul, a timeless, eternal, immortal soul, as you are, focusing on something and having overwhelming thoughts and feelings about all of it.

So often, this Christmas, I have heard Christmas songs about this future time when Christ returns to Earth, or Peace, or what have you. This Golden time when everybody is nice to everyone else. Imagine living in peace and harmony! Imagine a world without war!

And this year, this is the year that I have felt a divine, cosmic, funny-as-hell wink, when those songs come on. This is the Christmas. This is the return of the golden one, the immortal soul each of us has some awareness of, some only on their deathbeds, some every morning, every night, and every moment in between. I’m not there yet, but I am getting there.

And to know this is possible, this is real, this is the best thing of all.

The Christian faith hijacked something. It’s weird, that Jesus’ words are actually in red in some Bibles (my favorite kind, I like to get tot he good stuff…) but he said, repeatedly, what I can do, you can do, this and more. Over and over, did he not? And yet there is all this worship around him, bending our light through him, instead of running straight up and down and reaching out from our hearts as a family. That’s the part that got hijacked. If I can do it, you can.

How would you like to see a painting of Jesus, smiling, giving you the thumbs up and a winking, grinning broadly, and a caption that reads, “If I can do it, so can you.” But Christianity is not much of a road map, basically, “Surrender your critical thinking and just trust me on this one.”

But each religion has a portal, and much to teach. I’m in love with all of them, but see, if you just gloss over something like that, what he said about the availability of his abilities, then a disservice is done to everyone.

Since I was a girl I thought that it was possible, that there could be a way to embody that sort of beyondness. And thinking these thoughts was and still is considered quite devious and depraved by some, but I think it only makes sense to assume that Jesus was past lying or exaggerating to make a point. Sure, he was a great storyteller, but he was dead serious about some stuff, and none more than, “Hey, you know, you’re going to blow me out of the water,” which, I am paraphrasing, but he said that too.

The return of the golden one, and this return of Christmas is blessed. This is the first year I have really felt happy, solid, sure. Some measure their happiness with dollar signs, and those who do make sure they have more than others, and this Christmas,

I am once again living like a pauper, but feel it is my last year to suffer for my art. I know that the month I wrote Patrick I was the happiest and the clearest I have ever been. I know where I am headed. That I don’t quite know how I am going to get there, well, isn’t that the fun part?

Like when I tell Sam of how his dad and I met and happened to fall in love, how he was born, that silent, odd night, and many other moments, too, when things got clear, and changed, in a moment, in a wink of an eye. Our circumstances, the events in our lives, the before/after moments, all orchestrated, all representing astonishing synchronicity and love.

So I am at peace, I have enough, and it is all well with my soul. The angst and, I guess it could be called self-pity, has left me, the sadness over this odd cleave in my life, always the dual life, the compartmentalization. That is maybe the worst of it, feeling fragmented, not cohesive. And I write to you because I know you may have the same thing going on, not feeling entirely genuine, or congruent, yet.

I write this to solve my own puzzles, and to sing great songs of joy, but also to reach out and to demonstrate that you are not alone, because if one thing is true above all others, I am just like everyone else. I am no different. And if you are reading along, we are one. We are family. Whether I ever meet you or not, we are one, we are family, and it can be no other way.

We have scaled great mountains here today, and not everyone is up for the task. That’s how I look at it anymore. As my confidence and esteem has risen, I understand that these pursuits, though valid, are not as popular today as they will be in a while. How long is dependent on how clear and bright you and I are. Our light is helping. Our love is healing. Our presence was foretold. We have returned. The Golden Ones.

Deeply Awake — My Better Self 12-11-13 By Kathy Vik


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Deeply Awake — My Better Self 12-11-13 By Kathy Vik

This is a letter of goody-bye and of hello. It is the letter I have been thinking of, feeling it coming together, pre-verbal, I guess, pieces and parts coming to me, niggling me, reminding me of its imminent arrival. Like so much in my reality, its presence has always been known.

Rarely do I keep with a title if I am urged to title a piece prior to writing it. But today, I think it is a pretty fair bet that the title that came to me, “My Better Self,” is indeed the one I will stick with.

I will say that I am in stone cold love with the entity known as Kryon. We had a bumpy start, and he made cry right off the bat.

I remember reading an essay, really not all that long ago, to be honest, that Kryon channeled, about the next bit of activity. In it, he laid it out, that ascension, this ascension, is a gradual and slow thing, and that there will be another 18 years of work.

In my fatigue and despair, I became completely overwhelmed, thinking about another 18 years of work.

Later, when more was revealed to me, I had a meditation in which Kryon came to me, this big billowing cloud of love, and he winked at me, cheeky little devil, when I realized that the next 18 years, although perhaps complicated, will not be like anything I have ever experienced. Sort of a pat and a tickle, he gave me that day. He has been my loved one ever since.

But I wept deeply, in a way I had not yet experienced sadness. I felt disappointment, and that stony resolve of mine. Knowing that I was on the hook for it all, and just being overwhelmed with the enormity of what was in front of me, and what had come before, leading me to this day, laying there on my bed, fully consumed with the exquisite pain I had known the first 50 some years of my life, unconvinced, and I remained unconvinced until last night, that it would ever end.

Now, I say this as a way to say bye bye, actually, for, although I can obviously fully access the depths, I think that their presence has been instructive, helpful, sainted, actually, and their time is now complete, you see.

I wept because I was sealed, still, within doubt and fear. I questioned if I had permission, really. I do not, cannot hold doubt, honestly I can’t, for the thing that I feel in some people’s presence. It is a true north of sorts. I think this is the guru syndrome down at the bones.

When one falls in love with an entity, like I have so many many times, with mere humans in my midst, you see, I am not talking about sexual love. Here. I am boggled at the thoughts and sensations I feel when I consider ever being able to blend these two realities, this great love of spirit, and a sexual union. What a blessing that will be! But, no, for me, always, sexual attraction is a weak echo of this greater love I know.

It is the love I have always felt when I have contemplated Jesus, even as a girl. It is the love I feel for Shiva, this love moving me to tears of joy and bliss within moments of just thinking on him. It is the love I have from trees, for trees, with trees, some of my best friends.

It is this love that I had for my mentor, my former boss, Marge. I feel it for my friends Diane and Linda. I felt it for The Teachers. I dwelt in that love for two years with The Teachers. I am blessed among men for that privilege, that esteem, that trust, that honor, that love.

And it is this purity that I can now see shining through my father, my mother, my sister, my grandparents, and I can see now, that with the teachings of Seth, the help of Grandma Cannon, and the daily blessings I now enjoy from the internet, I can see how I have been slowly working on finding a way to feel this love for everyone, for every situation, for every fear and every doubt.

This love, this respect and awe and joy and obvious family quality, this is God, my God. It might not be anyone else’s interpretation, but it’s mine.

You see, this love, this I need to say about it. It feels so good, because it is a recognition my body has. A gong within me, the physical body part of me. It senses, around these people, and within events of profound purity, me. It feels that which is in me, I recognize that which is like that in me. I am resonating with myself.

It has broken all statistical expectations, and has become nothing short of miraculously routine, that when I am working on a koan, Kryon is the one who does not deliver, but who confirms my new breaking apart of the old understandings, and Kryon often serves as my midwife, birthing the new realizations.

He, like The Teachers before him, is able to language that which I had forgotten, but which had been bubbling in my fields, coming together, and then, bam, it arrives. And the blending is bizarre.

I have, at certain points, been in heavy training, very serious training from him, and I am happily in sponge mode, because it feels so good. But there have been healings, and these healings are then amplified or somehow augmented with Kryon’s presence, concepts, love and encouragement.

I cannot see this as a guru thing, although I have long admitted that I follow a guru bhakti path, always have. The mystical bond that is beyond completion, the union of souls who are blended, merged, and yet still teaching each other, this is heaven to me. Always has been.

This is why my few true friendships have always been so profound, and it is why I retreated to poetry, as a young woman. Into a land where men had complex, exquisitely beautiful feelings, women understood destruction, and where the placement of a comma, just one little comma, could make sturdy or make fall a continent of meaning, a land mass of its creator’s embrace of its greatest challenge.

This land of symmetry and expression made sense, but I wasn’t dumb. I knew I couldn’t get a job as a poet out of college, and I knew that any real depth would have to come from experience itself. From experience, from pain and darkness and despair and joy and union and celebration, as actively or passively as I could walk through my days, open to what was next on the horizon, this was what I would have to do.

I did it, and I almost died so many times, and wanted to die more often than I like to admit. Even when, actually, especially when everything on the outside looked really good, and anyone with a head on their shoulders would say I was making my adult life a fine, upstanding one, that is when I was my most despondent, you see. That was when the juice was turned down real low.

My release came when the energy finally started to feel better. By June of 2011, I had my first vision, that of being a humungous angel, all lit up white, and one by one I was flicking my temporal problems off this massive highway of living light. Up the worry would come, and this massive lit up arm came up and flicked it away. I finally saw the foolishness, after seeing that every single one, every single one of my seemingly unsolvable problems were flicked away.

I found that it made sense, really, because the problems were so big to me, but up against that white current that angel was riding, the problems each looked like a tiny shard of pottery, sharp and awkward and already broken.

From there, things got pretty psychedelic, and anyone who wishes to read about it can, in Deeply Awake, because I thought it would be just like me to have a groovy vision, a life-altering event with light, a profound meditation, and then just sort of space it, forget about it, not dwell on it. I was afraid I would forget, if I did not dwell on it all.

You see, in my old life, this was the biggest thing of all. Stop ruminating, stop thinking, and just do the thing, dammit. A person of unlimited potential, someone who could have done just about anything, hobbled I was, with depression, with horrible homesickness, and with questions that laid upon me with such weight at times, that I really had a hard time catching my breath, sometimes for months, sometimes for years at a time. I mean this quite literally.

I had so many unanswered questions, things that made no sense, and they were simple, and they were big. I wanted to understand, with the biggest mind I could find, with my mind, hyper-charged everything, absolutely everything.

I wanted to be able to meld my love and innate understanding of numbers, the human body, sacred studies, and writing. I wanted to know profound esoterica, I wanted our real history, I wanted my lineage. How does one do that?!

Well, my answer was to get to the place where the only thing I could do, to keep a sense of sanity, was to write. I mean, I blew all of it apart, in retrospect, huge ass belief structures, and they are broken and obsolete now, all of them, lying today on my floor like crushed Popsicle-stick houses.

They’d been built for destruction. They never really stood a chance.

And that is why I want this to be a letter of goodbye. I have been in absolute love with the big concepts, exploring birth, death, illness, calamity, extremity, addiction, recovery, trauma, forgiveness, and man’s inhumanity to man. I did this in my personal life, and I did it by proxy, holding active witness for those dealing with their own demons, on the floors of psych hospitals and med-surg units, nursing homes and private beds, witness to the biggest moments of people’s lives, and their most altering.

I have yet to do the math, but one day I will draw up an estimate of how many patients I have had. Really, it would be a shadow of a number, because for every patient, there are loved ones and friends, parents, children, and those yet to be born.

Nursing provided me fit cover for this exploration. A good nurse is a deep one, a technically expert one, a relaxed and funny one. Someone who really has seen most of it, and can easily guess the rest, who can read a situation or person in no time, sometimes long distance, and finds that it is the difference between being assaulted, or murdered, or not, in a psych ward. Get sensitive or get hit, basically.

I really could not have set it up any better.

I did this, and continue to do it, now, since I was 24 years old, as some of you know, but, if we are being honest, I have been caretaking, taking care of patients, since I was 13. Many of my childhood friends had disabilities, so it did start younger, but I think a good cut off is age 13, when I started at St. Anthony’s, volunteering to be a volunteer candy striper.

My mom protected me by urging me to do something I did not want to do, not at all, not at all. I never really wanted to do any of it. But being in this healing arena seemed like it was beyond my control, actually. Again and again, I was led back into nursing, but I had better ideas, bigger plans. I wanted to remain in the land of poetry, symmetry, sensitivity and truth.

I couldn’t, and I shrug my shoulder now, and smile, and am glad for this seeming detour, something I have long thought of as a cruel cosmic joke. But you see, there is that love again, shining through the cracks of a middle-aged nurse’s skin, her eyes shining from remembering fondly all of the intimacy and love and compassion known throughout her career, a career which will span 40 years in February.

The love I always thought I’d only known from just a few, this love I can now see in my gas station clerk, the oil change guy, my handler at work, my little boy. I cannot see a situation in my life, really, that is not beaming with this love.

And this, to me, has always been more satisfying than human love, because there is no opposite, there is no argument, there is only admiration, adoration, humility, exchange, pride, celebration.

Even when being mentored, ridden hard to perform, I took every single thing that came out of Marge’s mouth as holy, because I could see it dripping off of her. I knew her to be an angel, and you do not disrespect angels. Ever. It is just so gauche, so sad, and so incomprehensible, when an angel is treated poorly. It reflects so badly on those doing the misbehaving, but, you know, up until 2012, it was a pretty level playing field.

A lot of us got real dinged up, hurt, it felt, disrespected and unseen and unloved, many of us. This is not a “poor me” lament, but an admission that this sort of love was held in disdain and distrust ma lot of the time, and I know I am not the only one here who felt this. Let’s all just be honest about it, come out of the shadows and greet each other. I have been waiting a really long time for this.

This is my better self you are meeting.

The thing is, there is a mystery to it, a bit of a koan, I am finding.

This better self, the one who resonates with the highest natures around, who learned from and was in devoted recognition of these people of impeccable integrity and honesty, and who could not really ever feel good about those who were not like that, well, I have come to see that this integrity is the ancient way, the new way, because this better nature we all have, it is the plan for us to come to see that if we can see it in others, the reason that we can do that is because it is within us.

I have within me that which vibrates, in perfect resonance, when I encounter the divine.

And there can then be no other conclusion than the most unbelievable, the most “blasphemous,” the most revolutionary understanding of our time: the Divine in me knows the Divine in you.

And some carry quite a lot of it, full time. Some carry it into tightly circumscribed areas of their endeavors.

But, this is the miracle, and the cause for the letter, I can now see that there is this nature in everyone. I understand, am in relationship with those who deny it, and punish those who understand it, or simply emanate it.

We are, basically, a compliant but completely uncontrollable lot, you know? People pick up on this. They mess with it, or try to. But sovereignty is sovereignty. It can be denied, hidden, even hated, but it is unchanged by such behavior and thinking. A fact, it is, and a metaphor, rich for exploration and donning.

Yesterday I wrestled all morning with worry, and found that it was changing. I channeled, and then things began to soften, and ease. Some very core thoughts kept being broadcast to me. I saw things very clearly. By the end of the night, I understood things I had not had access to in the morning. I was able to really own the thought of being protected. And then, as I snuggled into my bed, I understood something whole.

When I had been out at my dad’s house, taking care of his wife while he had cardiac surgery, we had eight days of intense light work and healing. It was a heady time, a time when I had a sustained absence of worry, and until last night I could not language this state that I yearn to settle within me.

And then it came to me.


I had felt safe.

For eight days I had felt so utterly supported, really in every way, that I can only smile and relax when thinking on it now. Sure, my dad was in physical trouble, but all of us had gone in understanding and accepting that either he will live or he will die. Dad told his surgeon before the open heart, “Well, I guess when I wake up I’m either gonna see you or see my dad.” We had gone through such heartbreak with mom. We had toughened up during her slow death of five years.

But still, the pragmatism and humor has always been there, in my family. When mom was given her prognosis of 5 years, when she was 56, after having a massive heart attack, do you know the first thing she uttered, into the shocked air we were all trying not to breathe? She said, “Well, it looks like I’m gonna be the first one in the family to know who killed Kennedy.”

In my reality, there were few safe places, but we had a certain humor which reminded us, as we were silently ignoring ot killing each other, that, actually, none of this is real, so lighten up. It helped, and it still does.

And last night, I reviewed the things I had been told through the day. I remembered being repeatedly bombarded with the thought construct that said, “What makes you think that you can be guided professionally or with picking out your cats or your friends, but it isn’t there in your other, more troubled, less settled areas of your life? What makes you think that you can have that much planning of some things, but that others are completely random and abandoned by all of us?!”

And the one that bleated, again and again, “Look around you. Do you have enough today? Well, Do YOU?!?!?!? Just keep the focus there, sister. You have enough. You always have enough. You will not go without. This life was never one of survival. You are protected. You are protected. You are protected.”

And so, I went to sleep feeling something I had not known since May (and before that, had never had). I felt safe. I knew in my bones I am safe, last night. I said it out loud. I giggled. I said it again. I just said it three times again, just now, and could remember, while repeating it, that I had been saying it in the car on the way to Sam’s school, and while scrolling fb and checking emails and making coffee.

I am safe. I am safe. I am safe.

And then, here comes Kryon. My greatest teachers, my forever friend, my mentor and guide and angel.

The most recent channelings are from the Compassion Choir. I was not drawn to the Lemurian Choir until this fall, but I was right there for this one. The tones are not transmitted, which is fine, but the channelings around them are, as are the teachings readying us, leading up to the choir channeling, and they are all just so perfect. Just what I needed. As always. I laugh. There is no argument, and no shame in admitting this love affair. It is always just what I need, what I get from Kryon.

This reflectivity stuff that gummed up the works for me, I see it better now. I can feel it when the Great Central Sun’s love is beaming out of a person or a situation. I can feel it, and I bask in it.

But I always thought, and so it was true, that this love I felt was contained in the other, and that I needed the other so that I could feel it. Is that not why we get married? Is that not why we do the activities which feed our soul? To have access to the good stuff, to feel the love, you see.

But now, today, I see things much differently, and that is why I write.

I understand that I can feel this in others because it is in me, and I am recognizing it. Hence my conundrums around recognition.

The Teachers would, at times, remind me, and sometimes admonish me, as had my therapist before them, to not take another’s bad behavior to be an indicator that I had done something wrong, or was in error. I always felt somewhat responsible for a bad interaction, or relationship, or situation, or person.

Like, if I could just shine better, the thing would be ok, everything would be fine. There is something wrong with me, because this person is suffering. That sort of thinking. The ones who suffer, I suffered with them, and sometimes even for them. The Teachers would tell me, don’t imagine when you see someone being horrible to you, that you deserve it, basically, but I just couldn’t get there until today.

I read some of Alice A. Bailey’s work while hanging out at a metaphysical bookstore the other day. It set something right in me, reading about the seven rays, and the coming humanity who is embodying this seventh ray. Such pure prophecy, so long ago, and not mentioned, not revered, as it should be, in my opinion. Her work in Esoteric Psychology, it is wonderful. It will be like flogging a dead horse someday, but I think her work can nicely patch the bridge that is developing between those who are more attuned, and those who are not, but wish to be.

Anyhow, I read about how a First Ray individual thinks, what their traits are, and where their focus lies.

I saw then, still wearing my coat and sweating up a storm, in that bookshop, that I was reading a description of the ones who are in power currently. And it is not a bad ray, it is a necessary one, but it is quite brutal, the energy, and blunt and unthinking. Unaware of its awareness.

And then I read the sixth ray, and read of some who are thought to be in the sixth ray, and I was home, being talked about yet again, just like when I read my astrological chart or use Tarot or work the numbers. I felt pride and recognition, I felt peace and belonging, and I felt really really good, on that frigid and sunny afternoon in my most loved Denver bookstore.

Much of my work has been laced with survivor’s guilt. A stance of ,”Is it gonna be ok if I just step over here and rock and talk to myself? Is it meaningful, what is going on in my head? Do I have value, when what I value is not what is valued by you?”

And then, in 2011 and into 2012, after seeing this white angel of light during a song at church, I had all those experiences, all those conversions, meditations and visitations. I worked, looking back on it, like a coolie.

No breaks, really, all of it fun, but deadly serious, all of it sacred beyond language, and all of it talked about honestly, here, and dispersed into the ethers for others who might know of which I speak.

I am a doubter, and had a lot to overcome. I have not and will not publicly discuss all that I have experienced this lifetime, and this letter serves as my assurance to you that there are horrors which can be so forgiven, so integrated, so thanked, that they transform into something beyond beauty, an integration and forgiveness which then transmutes into a crystalline understanding of the great sacrifices that were made on my behalf, and no one is then guilty of anything but loving me, and carrying out my wishes, for my highest good.

All of it becomes sanctified, and then, strangely, sort of forgotten. The weapons dull, the blunt objects lighten, and the pain is gone, and the fear is gone, and the anticipation of more pain and fear are also gone.

Kryon said that the new traits of the awakened human being are those of Compassion, Tolerance, Temperance and Generosity.

And this awareness helped me to have a dream, which I will tell you about in closing, but I wish to dwell just a little bit within those words.

I see, as I roll them around in my mouth, that there have been times, and areas, where I have felt and had no compassion, no tolerance, no temperance and no generosity. Whole blocks of time, and whole relationships based on the frank imbalance of these attributes, me often screaming at the brick wall which is so easily erected when these qualities go out of a relationship, and so aware of the times when I felt none of these things toward those people and situations which deserved nothing less.

And I saw, felt, those storylines turn into paper, and then taken by a wind I couldn’t feel. I can now see how those qualities could have changed everything, so often, had they been demonstrated, had I demonstrated them.

I remember when I was given a magenta ray, in meditation, and told the gift was compassion, and its attribute was gratitude. I was aware, suddenly, of how good it felt to feel compassion, and how little I had allowed myself to feel in the past. How I was drawn to those who could not embody it, always fighting and arguing and voting against it.

Tolerance. I thought of the people I have hated, the situations I deemed unbearable, intolerable, like when I was first confronted with the notion of being here for at least another 18 years. I was confronted with the person I had become, an intolerant, belligerent and angry one, continually bellowing and crying for revolution inside, while shuffling along in the line, not saying a peep, quiet, lidded eyes never revealing the battle raging within me.

Temperance. Oh! I love the thought of temperance. Permission, it seems clear, to stop posturing, and to stop wondering if it is real. Temperance, for me, is the ability to shut up and let someone else talk, to stop peacocking and start listening.

I’m sure it will have different meanings to others, but to me, it is a sublime permission slip to just sit down and shut up, and listen. Be amazed by others’ stories and trials, open to their hearts, no longer needing their approval or understanding, and, thankfully, no longer wanting to talk, but instead, to simply be in another’s presence.

And then there is generosity. I love this generosity of spirit I see my friends and mentors carry. I have always wanted to be that generous, and really, thinking as the tape played, this is one I sort of have down cold. This is something I actually excel at, and no one had to teach me it. I have always been generous.

But a spirit of poverty settled on me, one that was inherited and then horribly misunderstood, for very grand lessons, of course, and now, the idea of generosity returns to me and really hits home, and I am filled with gladness.

I can afford it, the voices have been telling me for well over a year, of anyone at work there tonight, of anyone in this lobby, of anyone in this class, I can afford to be the happy one. The untroubled one. The giver. I can afford it. Generosity.

But this has yet to manifest as cash. Just enough for one day, it continues to go, just like the ones wandering out in the sand for forty years, every day taken care of, protected, and every day worrying and bellyaching and giving ourselves ulcers, worrying about tomorrow.

So, then, after this tape, there was another, and it was good too, but I forget its content now. The last was the choirs, and I will just say this about it. He described the years to come. 2015, its meaning, and its choir. And then 2016, and the amazing things that will be done.

I have been with them as they opened the portal at Lake Titicaca. It was a visceral, physical experience I had in that listening, as they all are, but none more than that one. These quantum events need not occur in temporal time with any synch at all. It exists for all time, and is new each time. I was moved to laughter and to tears during many channels, and then, came the discussion of doing the Forgiveness Choir in Israel in 2016.

I realized then, yes, this is just going to keep getting better now. I am to travel to Israel, or to Shasta. I am slated. I can participate in it all, and there is no expiration date. There is no stopping this now, and it cannot do anything but get better.

It crushed the long-ago me when The Teachers left, and I wandered around heartbroken and weirded out after those years concluded. I had been stretched and changed, but was completely out of context, and yet in perfect timing. I felt awkward for so very long.

And now, I see this is because of some fundamental misunderstandings, of course, but also, it just was not time yet! I thought that I did not have, within me, what The Teachers gave to me, reminded me of, week after week. I considered it some sort of weird anomaly that I had had access to them at all. Maybe it had been a mistake, and maybe it had been a cruel joke, and maybe it was just a scheduled relief in the pain my life had seemingly always been, but I just did not get it until now.

That was then, and this is now. I see now that it is not at all unusual to have been affected by these great teachers, as I am also affected by nature, and poetry, and friendship, and sexual union. Not unusual at all, because I am, when in that presence, my better self, and, through these last years, I am now in touch with my Higher Self, the one which is entangled with the Great Central Sun, who sits at the feet adoring All That Is, the one who has been shining through my actions and words all this time, completely unrecognized, completely unrecognized, completely unrecognized.

In karma, and in lesson, we encounter things we say we’d rather not, and we hold fear for the things we can see coming, and those that blindly sideswipe us. In karma and in lesson, all is not as it seems, and great tragedies contain the highest form of love, of course. In karma and in lesson, light and dark are weighed and measured, and, not that long ago, they were almost equal. But the dark held sway where it should not have, back then, and compassion and generosity, tolerance and temperance had been unable to shine through sometimes. The bodhisattvas got tired, the spiritual weightlifting became so hard.

In the old days, and maybe even now from time to time, we got beat up, but this is what has changed, and will only get better.

I know how to work with this energy here. I know this energy, the energy which is bursting with golden liquid love, the one which is singing with love and honor, this energy I know very well. It has always been my creator, but until last night and today, I did not really get that I was aware of it because I am of it.

And somehow, miraculously, with great brotherhood and collaboration, I am this energy now. I feel no fear, and I do mean this. I have said it so many times in my writing, and each time I have meant it and celebrated it, and each time I learned there was more to it than what I’d previously known. Increasing trebles of love, forgiveness, benevolence. That is what I have known since all that time ago, when the lights finally came on for the last time.

Sure, the lights came on slow, as they should have. I had a lot to inventory, you know? I had a lot to parse and disseminate. I wanted, needed to know what was mine, and what was everyone else’s. And I did it.

So I am saying goodbye to someone who doubted herself and her experiences most of all, who took over when the mean ones exited stage left and stage right, and who became a master of self-loathing and self-doubt. I know of the scenes, know all of the lines, and am just relieved, really, that I don’t have to say them anymore. I wouldn’t be convincing anymore, because I don’t believe them anymore.

To end, I will tell you of my dream. I got done with the Kryon channelings, and was urged to sleep. I snuggled in and lay on my right hip, the hip that has been hurting since 2007, which, today feels brand new.

I lay down and my dream was this: I was outside a Goodwill with my sister. She and I like to go junking. The Goodwill was set in a house, and we did not make it in. Mary had wandered down the driveway and was looking through a bunch of stuff. I came up and found that she was foraging through donations that had not made it to the donation area. She indicated it was fair game, and to dive in.

I found really amazing camping equipment, and was thrilled, because now I would be completely kitted out. I said that in my dream. Completely kitted out. I could go anywhere now. Expensive flints, awesome cooking gear, even a blow-up mattress. Then I moved to the desk, and found many things that were personal to someone, and this is when the dream began to break apart.

It was the thought of unfinished work, unrealized hope that woke me up. I had been thumbing through a stamp collecting book set, and the pages were empty. I realized I was going through someone’s things, someone who had been abandoned, whose personality, whose beingness, had either died or been thrown away by someone who no longer cared. I was looking through props which once held magnificent meaning to an individual.

In the dream, my sister and I had worked in tandem, she concentrating on her interests, me on mine. I never asked her if I could have the camping equipment, or if she would prefer it. It had been mine, clear as day, left there for me, a gift, it seemed, from someone I did not know and could never thank.

I then knew that the shift she and I have been preparing for is nearly here, and I was grateful for the warning. I am ready.

I am now happily ending this long letter. I am in forever awe of my fortitude, my abilities, and how much I have been trusted and loved by All That Is. I am humbled by this process just as surely and truly as I have been uplifted.

It is a solid love, a sure and steady one, that radiates from me now, one without preening, without needing to ask you for your approval, without the need to discuss any of it, oddly.

And this is the dissonance which still makes me shake my head a little. And the one which I will need to see is little more than a smoky phantom, blown away with one good belly laugh. I wonder, at times, how this will go, how it will be, now. What my life holds and where I will be working, living, focusing on, in the days, weeks, and even in the years to come.

I know now that all doors open with some simple attributes, ones which I want only to embody and get to know, in every single situation I encounter, from here on out. Compassion, Tolerance, Temperance and Generosity. These are octaves, expressions of wise benevolence. These are things I can do, that I do, indeed, do and that I am. And I have permission now to be and know more of them.

Those who say no to this, oh, they are the ones who will not be fitting in now, you see. They’re out there still, but they can be seen for what they are now, using such grand metrics in the measuring of a man or of a woman.

And I know this now, that I am these things, always was. I am a solar angel, and I am divine. I love the divine because I am made of this divinity, as you are, and all you love, and all you hate, and all you barely tolerate.

Above all, I am a messy human, and do not follow rules real well. I get to try on new behaviors now, and have given myself permission to act in brand new ways, with no defense, for none is needed, not anymore.

I say goodbye now to you, my loving reader, who has walked with me through dark forests of towering doubt, who has climbed high mountains with me and explored caves I did not know I contained, and who summits with me today celebrating that we are indeed our better selves, that we always have been, and it is just the burning off of the old ways, the layers, the misconceptions that is bringing these tears to our eyes now.

I remember there was a time in the last couple of weeks when Kryon said something about an onion. That the onion wishes to know itself, and to do so, it must peel back layer upon layer of itself, to get to its core. And he said this just after I had had an odd experience at my mirror, seeing my squat body and spindly legs covered in rags, and then the rags burned off, and then I realized that which had burned off the clothing was me, that I was on fire,

I was light. I stood there feeling and looking completely different, but the same.

I am on fire, I am light, it is all burning off me now, that is what this is, that is ascension, the burning off of the old attire, in light. Ascension is becoming this light, I thought. The onion, that helped too. Just different ways of saying the same thing.

Our better selves, our core, that is the thing, and the thing which makes guru practice a thing of the past, a nice metaphor for a bygone era. I was always that which I loved, and I loved it because there is nothing in here, within me, here, that is not love.

I am my better self today, and I will now navigate this new life gladly, with great trust and overwhelming gratitude for having been so trusted, so guided and nurtured, so wonderfully coached, and so completely and utterly loved.


Deeply Awake — Please Assume I Love You 12-6-13 By Kathy Vik

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Deeply Awake — Please Assume I Love You 12-6-13 By Kathy Vik

On old friend and I went shopping yesterday, and we had a lovely time. I am glad that we are enjoying each others’ company. While I was in transition, during the deepest time, I felt strangely disconnected and sort of perpetually hurt by my loved ones. I think, now, what was happening was a review, not of their behavior, god no, but of the relationships we’d fashioned thus far, the roles and lessons and all that.

It was the cauldron from which I could not lift my eyes that put everything I contemplated into a weird prism, multitudinous fractals, and it all got pretty intense. A smile was not a smile, it was a lifetime. A snub was not a snub, it was a statement of faith. Heady times through which my loved ones also walked, during my time of transition.

But things are clearer now, and I want to talk about it.

I shared with you my love of Jesus, and then, of course, the dam broke yet again, the structure which had previously pent-up my understandings burst, and now, grateful for my previous understandings, I am seeing things differently.

I bought a book at the bins called The journeys of St. Paul. It is an excellent history book, something I had always wanted but had never found. Wanting to know more about this time in history has been tricky.

In order to get at it, get the context and such, get the information, I went to a lot of different sources, and I can see that these were helpful and beautiful pilgrimages, but I had always been looking for something that would tie it all up together for me.

I studied this time as best I could. I read the bible, and I went to church, and tried to pay attention. I loved and integrated Jesus Christ Superstar. I took a year of Latin in college, after mainlining I, Claudius and all things Roman. But I did not have interest in the apostles, thought they were second fiddle to the main event, and so, there were huge gaps in my training, in my remembering.

This book, it has helped me, it’s helped me heal. I see now just how much of a revolutionary Jesus was. Understanding the dynamics of the political landscape was crucial, and I never pursued this sort of study before, because I found the whole thing cloaked in a good guys/bad guys sort of vibe.

I wanted to go someplace, a school, where I could learn Greek, Latin, and really GET the times. I considered seminary, but there again, to get to the good stuff, I would have to profess a faith, and I wasn’t up to that this lifetime. I didn’t like the faiths at hand. And mostly, that’s because they are male-dominated, aggressively proselytizing, and I have a real thing against proselyting.

Last night, after full immersion in this book, I went to bed and slept like the dead. Finally, after a couple weeks of ragged, red, restless sleep, I had a night of deep blue, velvety sleep. I awoke once, and I saw a lit up map in my mind. I saw it was a journey, but not to anywhere, not really, the destinations were unimportant. The map was lighting up things that needed to get done, people who needed to be spoken to, helped, and it was a map of my travels. I saw the destinations as a grouping of light, and I kept hearing the word proselytize.

This morning, when I returned to the book, I realize that I had been wrong about the apostles. They were doing what needed to be done in their historic times. The pushing out of the information, the stretching of consciousness, it had to be done in terms that would be understood, so all the talk of punishment and somebody croaking so that you could feel good about yourself, that was done so that people could stretch themselves further than they’d stretched before. Increments. Baby steps.

And now, things are stretching again. There are so many who are awakening, opening to new ideas, new thoughts that maybe just two weeks ago looked psychotic. Now, they come again into awareness, and they don’t seem so odd.

Why label this “Please Assume I Love You,” when I am going on and on and on about the old days, dusty days of creaky knowledge, and the gross misinterpretations we are now aware of as failing doctrine?

It has to do with the shopping trip I had with an old friend of mine. At one point we were talking about the inevitable circle jerk that is work in this day and age, the bosses knee deep in mommy and daddy issues, promotions of people who then request, and sometimes demand, to be taught how to manage, by the ones they are supposed to be managing. Just all the stupidity we see sometimes in the workplace.

She has a spectacularly dumb boss, one who is manipulative to boot. And she said about it, “I am just so tired of people assuming they know how I feel. No one has that right, and everybody does it.” Her boss had projected all kinds of weird motivation to my sister’s steady, strong performance in her job. It gets old. People assume a lot, and what they assume is nothing but their own crap.

And now, upon waking from another deep sleep, readying for work, I was aware, while coming to, burning up, and thinking, about a new facebook friend.

She had been tip-toeing and apologizing for something, I forget what, oh, for messaging me, and then I didn’t respond, so she was apologizing. I told her, messaged her, and said, listen up friend, here’s the deal with me. My friends get lots of room. There is no counting, no keeping score, and no obligation, ever ever ever to respond to anything, ever. Everyone I am in company with does as they see fit.

I wrote to her, feeling forceful and sure, hey, listen, there are times when, even if I wanted to, I am unable to respond. I have to “go away” sometimes, and if I don’t respond, it is not personal. Ever. It’s how I am.

And so, I also give that to others. No need to respond right away, or at all, really, to anything. Be free, grasshopper, be free.

And this, more than anything, is what has stuck with me.

Upon this last waking up, I had the dictation coming in very loud, and I could taste what I was going to write. An odd thing I have come to enjoy, feeling I can taste, or sensually comprehend, what is to be written next. This is a meal. A good one.

I realized, listening to the dictation, that I needed to write it out so that I could see it whole, because what I was saying to my friends, in my mind, I realize that this was, or I hoped was, being said by my creator toward me.

So here it is, my list of assumptions that I really really wish people would make about me.

Please assume that I love you. Please just assume that I love you. Please assume that I love you.

Please assume that I see you as strong, and capable, and a miracle. I see you as an active participant in your life events, and not a victim of them, so I can help you quite a lot with any problems you have, since everything you are aware of is coming from you. Let me help you carry your burden. Please let me show you that you can just put your burden down, at least when you are around me.

Please assume that I know of your pain, and have intimate knowledge of the things you wish you could hide from even yourself. And I love all of it. All the things you do in secret, the things you are ashamed of, I also have those things, and have learned to love them, and I love your worries and your shames, too.

Please assume that I am on your side. I want you to be exactly how you want to be. If you want to be sad, it’s ok, and if you want to celebrate, I’ll dance and sing and laugh with you. Please assume I don’t care how you feel, except how it relates to your awareness of yourself. If you want to be miserable, I still love you. I have to. I was loved through my misery. I know it is more valuable than gold, and more, it is the way of warriors, those who change worlds, to love that which is unlovable.

Please assume that I think good thoughts about you, and that I don’t want anything bad or mean or scary to happen to you. I don’t want you to suffer, not at all, and I want for you to call out for me when you are suffering. But know, with me, I will not assume you are feeling anything, you must tell me, so that I know what your awareness is. If I do not have that information, I will assume nothing. I will love you.

Please assume that I will never discard you, no matter what you do, or say, or think. Know, please, please know, that I love you. If you do something that is disturbing, unkind, thoughtless, and intentionally so, I will probably wind up talking to you about it, bringing it up, and I will probably find I had been lacking information and depth, compassion, but if I am having trouble with you, I will tell you this. If we aren’t having such a conversation, please please please know, just assume, I love you.

Please assume that I will help you, as best I can, when you ask for help. Understand that I know how important help is, it’s really what makes the whole thing go, these encounters and meetings of the heart. So, please, ask for help, would you>? Assume I will never ever make fun of you for needing assistance. Please don’t muzzle yourself when you need to speak, or bark, or bite. I can take care of myself.

Please assume that there is not one thing you have done, said or thought that I cannot forgive, forget and move from. Nothing. So, please assume a position of honesty with me. I will not hold you in shame, and I will not hate you for your littleness. I have littleness too. I ride around with ugly too, and I love it, as I love my shiny.

Please assume that you are my friend, and I want to know you. I want to be with you in your caves, the ones you have never found anyone to explore with. The ones you have yet to explore. Please assume I know how to mountain climb, and I like a good walk. I will walk with you up your mountain, and will feel nothing but awe and gratitude if you let me encounter the parts of you that have been unexplored.

Please assume that I see you as triumphant, and beautiful and brave, because I do. I really really do. Even if you are really hard to love, it just means that there’s stuff you have yet to love about yourself. I love it, I love you, you cannot surprise me.

Please assume that if I feel disappointment at your choices, I will keep this to myself, keep my own counsel, unless I just cannot, and then, we will talk about it. But know, going in, that I have come to understand that that which I cannot love is that which I am unable to understand. Once I can gain the right perspective, the beauty shines through.

Please assume that I am happy, and full, and satisfied, and that you are not in my life to fill me, or some void within me. You are not my savior, and I will never put you in that position. If I do, I’ll wind up realizing and then talking about it, so there you go. I know enough to see that when I cannot love something, it is me that is deficient, needing perspective. So assume that you are just fine.

And assume that when I say enough, it means enough. Please assume that what I tell you is true, and don’t read into what I have to say. Don’t read into what I do, too much. I am not that mysterious, and not good at messing about with perception. Please assume I need your honesty for this to work well.

And so, please assume that if you and I are incompatible as people, I will not keep myself or you within something that is painful or small or inappropriate. Assume that I will always think fondly of you, even if one or both of us screw up and lose the connection. It’s not a screw-up, it’s change. I see you, your role, it can be an adversarial one, and our relationship can be sad, or hard, or poignant. But I will come to see you with eyes of love, only with love. Assume I love you.

So, there you have it. I wonder, is my creator like that?

I think my creator is my best friend, completely allied with my happiness and actualization, and would never place me in an inappropriate situation. That is a laughable thought. I like to think of my soul, sometimes.

My love affair with Kryon began when I read a quite scientific treatise on quantum energy of his, but it was prefaced with a thought so profound that it made time stand still. I was at The Golden Lotus bookstore, looking at an old Sedona magazine, in the used section of the store. It was a channeling issue, and it was the first time that Kryon effected me physically.

I read, standing there at the magazine kiosk, and later, at home, again and again, the idea that there is a part of me here, right now, with me now, that has been with me in every single incarnation I have ever had.

A guardian, a holder of knowledge, a keeper of all things, someone or something that is here, physically present with me, who has been through every single thing I have ever encountered in a life.

This watcher, this friend, has great intelligence and such depth, there can be no hatred within it. It is too vast to do such a thing as hate, or fear. It is ancient and true, and knows me better than I do as this human. And it wants to talk.

Of course this is true, I knew it, I just knew it, and I felt better for the knowing.

I think on that day now, and I smile, thinking, “Oh, look at what I am opening myself to now!” as the reel plays in my head, in my heart.

It is this friend, I think, who holds the assumptions I do about my friends. Assume I love you. Assume I will never ever think a bad thought about you. Assume I am incapable of writing you off or being critical. Assume I love you. Assume I love you Assume I love you.

When I was first awakening this last time, I read something David Wilcock said in one of his long essays about The Man, and it set off gongs in me. He said, imagine a world where no one carries shame.

Imagine it! No one feels shame about themselves, and no one, by extension, is able to project shame onto anyone else. Imagine the freedom! Imagine the fun! Imagine the creativity!

I had a dream where I was surrounded by such people, and it healed me of something ancient and dark. I realized that I am constantly around those who are in shame, and project it like an IMAX camera. Being without it, even in the dream state, it became a reality, and I liked it.

I cannot heal up and make right what is within you that makes you feel ashamed. It’s not my path. But I can love you through your doing it for yourself. I can hold the light of neutrality and high regard. You have not done anything wrong. You are guiltless, and I know that, and I am just waiting for everybody to sort of catch up, at this point.

So, I am deliberately publishing this today to tell the world, this works for me, and it might feel good, if you wanted to try it on for size. I don’t own these thoughts, they were given to me, and I worked with them, because my forever friend wanted me to.

I think of my forever friend, my soul, as the one who helps things glide into place, who puts books and conversations and longings in me, and then I get to live them out, put them into context and even field test them. I have final say, as to how I hold myself, what I tell myself, and how I relate to my world and situations.

I end with a thought which is big and pretty.

While reading that book, this morning, I felt a quietness settle onto me. It felt good, complete, like a blanket which came over me. I had to rest. I was laying on my bed. I felt pushed into it. My eyes closed. I went away.

I came back needing to talk, out loud, alone in my apartment. I talked loudly, forcefully, and for all time. With great authority.

I realized that I have been unable to kick-start the 3d portion of my life (what job is next, nurse vs writer, blah blah blah), and realized, here it is.

I went far away, and things on the 3d side sort of slid off me as unimportant. I let things go, and this is loved into wholeness now because, rather than being pulled up into a spaceship or turning into a ball of light on a hill in a field, I did the work in physicality, in lesson. But I have been away, now, for a while.

I said, announced, that I understand now, and love and respect myself now, for this imbalance, and now, finally , I can right it.

That part of me that found it just couldn’t cope with mundane activities, and who was blown apart by simple interactions, who went deep when pondering an orange slice, or had conversations with trees, this was the part of me I had been loving, and I had done it to the exclusion of physicality. I could not abide with increments, with baby steps, with not having things whole.

And now, I said, loudly, from my bed, I understand that I have to change how I approach things.

I have ridden a weird roller coaster with money. And what I have done is to not have a baseline of solidity, or structure, of stability. Being stable, that has been something I have purposefully shied away from, me seeing it as a false construct, a delusion.

And now I see that playing it that what is optional. I see now that creating stability, creating a pattern, creating an environment and a life situation which is stable is the next thing. I have had my time away, and I am better for it. And now, I want to create stability.

So I will do a menu plan tonight. And write a grocery list. I will consider how to move things along a bit, because my life, in 3d terms, has been sort of static, allowing for internal journeys, not attending very much to the physical

I also realized the value in the trip I made to Vegas a year and a half ago. I had so little money, I lived on grapes and anxiety the whole time, but I got it, I really did, that this life is about DELIGHT. Do that which delights in this moment, and this one, and this one. DELIGHT. And I did it on a shoestring.

So, I will now do that in this life. Sure, I have tried, and failed, repeatedly, to do this these last couple years, but now, it seems to be possible. I realized this, on my bed, talking loudly to myself, and said, “How I am currently interpreting life is not commensurate with my magnificence. I will now do the physical things that are commensurate with my magnificence. I will delight myself once again.”

So I close with that, because I think that this part of me who has all the answers, has been with me every time, every time I have been incarnate, this part of me is now not standing next to me whispering at me. I feel, through the last bit of time, that what has been happening is that this part of me now is seeing through my physical eyeballs sometimes, and I feel this part of me not to my right or to my left, but within me, part of me, as me.

I can remember a lovely afternoon when I took my son to Utah Pool in Aurora. I was in the kiddy pool, floating on my back, looking up at the huge beams high above. As I drifted, I saw that I was going to slowly move tot he very center, the very very center, of the structure. I felt anticipation, and excitement, floating there, drifting, watching. I felt uncharacteristically excited.

And I heard them say that it is good to see through my eyes, to be seeing through this face, to be alive in this way.

It was a fleeting thing, but I think it is the way of it.

So I like the idea of the watcher being me, me being the watcher. As I burn off the flimsy explanations for people’s behavior, and my own, and as I burn off the expectations that flimsy thinking creates, I am left only with this grand assumption, that I am loved, and that everyone around me is also worthy and capable of this love.

Is that proselytizing, or is that just one of the destinations on my lit up map? Is it just a place I visit, and then, when I look back at my travels, I can remember what it was like being there, and can call to me the wonder and awe I felt when seeing these vistas for the very first time.

I love you, and I want you to assume this. I want you to just allow me to love you, and to love, accept, permit, enjoy, allow allow allow this for yourselves. I will remind you of it, when needed, never to shame, only to comfort.

Assume I love you. Please.

Deeply Awake — Permission To Speak 11-25-13 By Kathy Vik

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Deeply Awake — Permission To Speak 11-25-13 By Kathy Vik

As some of you know, but many might not, unless you’re a hardcore fan, I have a thing for the number 25, and 223. Big events have seemed to happen, for me, on the 25th. I can’t remember much, my memory never too obedient to linear organization, so when dates stick out, they really stick out.

I have always been enchanted by numbers. I learned the alphabet system as a girl, and played with how things added up, and what it might mean, for a very long time. My long time friend helped me along, and I had many teachers along the way, but never a hardcore numerologist. That seemed too fussy, and something I could easily go insane with if I took it too far. Numbers have that sort of effect on me. Intoxicating.

My graduation from nursing school, our wedding, Sam’s birth, the date of my presumed death, all of it on the 25th. The month and year numbers, they’re fascinating, as are the relation between the dates. Fascinating. But, the 25th, it’s a theme.

The night of the 24th, yesternight, I was writing, going at it hard, determined to make my NaNo novel my bitch, 50K in 21 days.

The thing is, as I pushed to just over 45K, I sat at my computer and just got sick as a dog. That lightheadedness, the feeling that I’m going away, fading out, but, on top of that was this jangly feeling, a physical sort of jolty, sharp feeling.

I could sort of feel it coming from my open netbook. I considered that this was entirely possible, energetically, but seemed like a bit of a dramatic overreaction to a stupid computer. So I sat in front of it, head on the table, actually, feeling like I was going to die, yet again, and finally decided that maybe I should just move from the computer, see how that feels.

I moved to the granny chair, and noticed, while walking there, an immediate cessation of the symptoms. Still thinking I was overreacting, I went back over, sat down in front of Patrick, and got sick again.

I didn’t feel like doing or seeing anything, just decided to bag it.

As I drifted off, I realized that tomorrow is the 25th. It’s fitting, I said to myself, to publish on the 25th. That’s why I got sick.

I slept in small chunks of time, through the night, and thankfully drifted off into silence until 8:30.

It was my day to do as I saw fit. I had told my ex I would be using the day to get a job. I didn’t want to come home without a new job. But this morning, I knew that the job at hand was to complete this task I’d set in front of me. Today was the day.

I interject that there is a great truth hidden, not yet languaged here, and it needs to be placed here, at the outset.

Through the night, when I would get woken up, and all through the morning, I had a brand new sensation, a brand new awareness. This awareness was crystal clear, sustained, and brilliant.

I realized that I have, for years now, lived in a state of expecting doom, financially. I chant, in my head, “I won’t have enough for that bill,” over and over and over, until, guess what? I can’t afford to pay that bill. Circumstances come up, or, have you have this happen? When you just get caught up, just have a little bit of ease, and then bam, it’s another big expense. The car or a license renewal or dental work.

But, I realized today, this has been putting things in the wrong light. The panic I was always gripped with, it had to do with trying to believe a lie. The truth of the matter is, I always have enough. I never go without. I am financially embarrassed, certainly, and my financial situation could be seen as precarious to some, but I’ve lived like this all my life.

I have held it as a known fact that I would be wealthy. I had nothing to worry about. I would be taken care of. Under my own steam, I might add, not due to inheritance, although that has always been in the mix, too.

I knew this to my core, a knowing that no one else could ever get on board with, until recently. No one else in my reality saw this as anything short of irresponsible madness. And who could blame them? Not everyone can do this.

I am a magical sort, and I know that my life is blessed somehow. I’ve always known that too. Special, in a Jesus way, in a sacred way, but very mysterious and obscure and hidden. Elusive. And for far too many years, wholly a memory, theoretical, a distant longing for something that no longer seemed to fit with what I’d created to experience.

So, I’ve never believed in coincidence, always that “it” meant something more. This led to doomed relationships, trusting gut instinct without training, without maturity, without knowing what was mine and what wasn’t when mixing with another’s energy fields.

This need to remember the web that connects all of us, this led to my love of numbers, that and a constant need for symmetry, brain symmetry, when everything rings true and level, for just that one shining moment. I used to find that in poetry a lot. That’s where I’d go if I needed to feel whole, balanced, symmetry.

But then I discovered crop circles, and the more I studied them and really, really fell in love with some of them, it’s as if that burning need for symmetry just sort of left me. I don’t hunger for it as I once did. When Sam complains about his OCD kicking up, I ask him to google crop circles, and gave him a big stack of ones I’d printed out one night at work.

I realized as the morning went on, and the words kept coming, that it’s not going to be that I finished this novel that is making me feel so good about myself. I realized that it needed to be stated somewhere, so I’d remember that point. It is so important. It is this sense of completion within me that I woke up with that sort of allowed me to finish the book.

I woke up and realized I had fashioned it wrong, the conclusion. I had been going too far down the wrong direction. It came to me how things needed to go instead, and I deleted several pages this morning, before getting to the picking-out-words-imaging-the-scene work. First time I’d deleted anything of any length.

I had been grateful, upon awakening, that I’d slept on it. I knew I had a better idea. It came in waves, and when fully formed, I got up and got on the computer, ripping things away, and then beginning again.

When it was complete, and the word count was over 50K, I did the necessary word check, and then cut and paste a few things. I posted on the blogs, and then, I got to the nano site.

I put in my word count. Then I did the word validator thing, and then, in front of my eyes, quite slowly, came a banner, black and red, with the word “Winner” spelled out in what looked like blood. Maybe that’s not what it looks like at all. It’s how I remember it though.

I downloaded a PDF certificate, NaNoWriMo Winner, and I did all of it giggling.

You know, the incremental way life works has always just driven me mental. To the point of just giving up, totally not interested in doing the steps, and royally pissed off that I have to. It seems somehow degrading, to have to do things incrementally. Even housework I usually avoid, simply because it’s a first-you-do-this-and-then-you-do-this sort of activity that it just makes me so angry. I hate housework, resent having to be a student, and hate things that happening time. I hated the idea of having to start small. It infuriates me. I can see the end product, why all the steps?

I don’t know if this is an atypical form of madness, or just a lovable personality foible. I don’t act out around it all that much, but I am very well aware that the sense of futility I infused everything with sort of tainted things, making incremental things seem not only demeaning, but utterly pointless.

Such a barrel of laughs, I used to be!

But this morning, as I was getting dressed, ready to begin, I realized that I had things wrong, purposefully wrong, and that part of it is over.

I told myself on the can, out loud, “I know now that I am that I am. I know this. I own this. I know it. And I might have another day of dissonance, where I can’t believe any of it, like the day before yesterday, but I just can’t see it being able to be prolonged anymore. I think I’ll see it for what it is and let it pass. I know this is real. It’s real.”

This is before starting to write, you see. Completely sober. Just really clear.

So, I began the work, and was done by the noon hour.

I called the book up on the deeply awake site, got some coffee, and settled in to read the thing, beginning to end.

I cried, I laughed, I was surprised, I re-read certain passages, I aid, “Oh that’s just so beautiful.” I fell in love with it, at my kitchen table, loving each of the characters, noting where my brain got caught, in grammar or semantics or spelling, but I tried my best to silence that inner editor, and just read through it sort of gliding, allowing it to shake and wobble at certain spots.

So what.

It’s a first draft.

I fell in love with it, and this is all wrapped up with having fallen in deeper and deeper, well, love I guess is the word we’re using for this, with myself, through the morning. This is what pushed the project home.

Tonight I have more money than I had at the start of the day. A generous benefactor wired me a gift, and my ex slipped me a little cash. I have enough, I am rich now, compared to twelve hours ago, and I know what I have done is good.

I spent my Deeply Awake time arguing with myself, with my disbelief. I hit summits of consciousness, and wrote from there, chronicled dreams and meditations, fears and disappointments, losses and change Its part of the tapestry of life. I can tell you, the weave has changed in mine, but this does not negate the transformative power of the suffering each of us has known, if we have been paying attention, if we have been willing to see.

It had been hard here, and each of us should be in deep honor for having survived as lightworkers even when the place had gone pitch black.

Kryon said something in one of his lectures that spooked me. I knew it was true. I had been having odd revelations about merkahbahs and angels and meteors. And then, in a tape from I think February of 2012, he talked about “a visitor”, a piece of space debris, a comet, or something, that had “visited” our planet, found a “sweet spot” which didn’t interfere with any satellite equipment. Kryon said that he wanted to have us think about something for a minute.

He said, there had been prophecies, the energy we had all been born under, long-held writings by sages who had predicted the end of the world. And there was an ancient one which said that by the time the visitor entered our skies in 2012, there would be no human life of the planet.

He said, this is what you have changed.

You can call it messianic, or nihilistic, but, how do you argue with something you know is true, because you can feel, from within to without, that it is true? I have long obeyed this language, known there was something else being said all the time, a web connecting it all together, a web of magic and connection and synchronicity, and symmetry.

And I knew it, could see it, when he talked about that close pass, could feel the stillness of the planet saw how its colors had changed, felt the end of a grand opportunity.

I think there are some of us coded to this, who went through other bottlenecks, other times when we knew we had to throw in the towel, had gone too far afield, had misunderstood, or needed to mix it up.

And here we are. We said yes, we are ready, and it began. And now, nearly at the end of this first year of new energy, here we are.

And now ISON, our prophesied blue star, and the weirdly shaped presumed asteroid hanging out in the heavens, and something about the 28th. I keep getting that the 28th will be a day for the books. I never know how that sort of message is going to play out, but I can already feel myself just internally aware of it, anticipating it, holding a sense of excitement and giddy happiness. I do remember the sensations I got, when I saw the photos of how ISON had turned blue.

These visitors, now, they are special. They are expected. When I saw that image for the first time, I remembered what The Teachers had taught me. That there would be a sign. A star. Around Christmas time. And it would be understood, just known, that something extraordinary was occurring. We would all know it. I felt those words, that personal prophecy, gazing at that photo. Our friend. My friend. Finally here. We did it.

Rather than any of the bleak things that could have happened, this is what we have done. It is real. We are awakened, and more so every day. It is an internally validating thing. It builds on itself, and the end product is rock solid, unshakable knowing of one’s worth. An amazing process, really. And we did it! We all did it!

I look back at the tremendous shifts and the healing I have known this year. It is phenomenal. Completion of karma. Laying down of old energy. Hard resets. Unplugging from old patterns, seeing old habits fall away, habits of thought, and feeling, and expectation.

But to come here, to this date, and find that now, I have no more questions, no more fight left, and feel no need to argue against this light anymore.

Today, late, as the sun was setting, it dawned on me I was having a very roomy moment. Gone were the worries I carried so fervently just yesterday, chanting again and again, “I won’t have enough,” tussling with the panic.

I knew, heard, yesterday, that I was exiting a portal, and this was a final test, of sorts. It would be the last time ti would be so severe, I understood. And the panic did recede, once I imagined the things I have had success imagining, but mainly, it was just knowing that this was at its end, that helped.

Writing about this passage has helped, because I can see there were disparate elements at work. This includes a call, today, from the Hay House Self Publishing rep I have been talking to. It told her I hoped she was ok with my seeing such significance to her calls, the timing of them, the connection we seemed to share.

She told me I had sort of inspired her, after our last talk, and she’d gotten her guitar back out, and had written ten songs. She said me telling her about my devotion to this act of creativity had her reach, and she was putting together a band now.

I told her that I think everything would be happening by the 12th, once she oriented me to the fact it was November. I sat there, at the kitchen table, and I felt stunned. December is just days away? You mean, the solstice is almost here???

Amazing. Snapping back to linear time. I thought about how far we have all come, how different things are now than just a year ago, and asked my friend to call in a couple weeks. I told her that I felt things were about to bust open, but, you know, things change, so, two weeks.

I can feel it. I can feel things lining up. It is incremental. It is. I saw my word count go up, day after day, because I did it in increments.

That old anger has gone from me, and I feel no futility. I feel capable, and this is because I examined everything, remained dissuaded, unwilling to own it, live it, claim it and be it. Why? I have theories, but these are things which only the most tenderhearted will ever know. There are some things I share with only a few.

What’s done is done, and all of it seems just a bit flat, at this point. I think now about the thing that used to just psyche me out, a job interview, and now I hold no fear. The things that happen in the workplace, all the indignities and invasions and presumptions that employers make about employees, the scare tactics and power plays and exercises in terrible judgment, I’ll let it ride, and take it all with a grain of salt. I’ll find a job, a good one, solid and stable, now, and do so without fear in my heart, no worries about getting found out, and believing whatever anyone thinks is the truth about me.

It’s a coalescence of many things, many aspects of a life that was lived earnestly, seeking god, always seeking answers, never really convinced it was anything but a chemical imbalance, something that would keep me alone and poor and friendless. But somehow, I hung on, and today, I’ll end with this. Today, my friend Diane, who has been weirdly resistant to all of this, she sent me an email, a link to a youtube video, from the Pleiadian High Council, about what is happening energetically, soulically.

And then, I watched an 11-minute video of my hero, Russell Brand. It was beautifully edited. Russell talked about a shining moment in meditation he had, and it sounded like what I experienced on Christmas Eve. An experience that is beyond dispute, that it is all divine, benevolent and loving, what holds it all together, the glue between the molecules, It’s love. And we are made of it, you and me. Loved by it. Approved by it.

It makes squawking about writing a book seem like a frill, a detail, and a nice, if overdramatic pursuit. It takes the drama out of everything, set everything right, and allows a lighter heart, as I go through the steps which will make, in the end, more beauty.

Just as each meditation and essay last year helped to build Deeply Awake, fifty thousand words had to be written, character by character, to make Patrick come alive.

Although I remember the frustration with this process, and I honor the wisdom informing it, it is a warped interpretation of the data, running the truth through slippery belief structures that no longer hold up.

I did mirror work today, something I enjoy now, but used to feel uncomfortable doing. I’ve always seen blazing intelligence, impatience, wickedly sharp humor, and a kind countenance in the mirror, today I aw someone who is unconcerned if these qualities are ever seen in me by another.

And as I owned this, that I am enough for me, and I am whole, divine and beautiful, right now, right here, looking like this, as imperfect as I may appear, I felt a shimmery solidification. I saw my body as glowing, involuntarily so, and I understood that it is true, it is true, we are made of light.

I’ve gone very far today, without leaving my apartment. I did pick up my son tonight, and he agreed to my reading him Patrick as he lay in bed. We got to Chapter Ten, and he said he was ready to sleep. I asked him what the thought, and he said,
“Mom, you’re going to be a millionaire.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said.
“I think you already are a millionaire, but the money hasn’t come to you yet.”

Then he said, “James Patterson is a 99, and you’re about a 96. You should use more metaphors and similes.”

He fell asleep soon after these words, and I use them to close. A little boy of 13, son to a woman who is not like other moms, and he has such high praise. I felt like a little kid getting hugged and congratulated by a parent, and I felt like a mom being unconditionally loved by her son, and I felt like a writer who’d just discovered a fan.

I didn’t think I could write a novel, because being so close to characters would drive me into madness, I’d never return, like a non-drug induced trip from which you never return.

Writing instead became a process of integration, of seeing actual slivers of myself come alive, make decisions, act congruently, for them. I saw how big I’d been thinking, how small my life had been, and held such deep compassion for the boredom and humility I’d known as a nurse, wondering as I thought about the subplots and character voice, how it was that I’d managed to sane not writing fiction.

It hadn’t been time, now it is.

I am so grateful I finally have permission to speak.

Deeply Awake — Seeing Through My Soul’s Eyes, Now And Forever By Kathy Vik 1-30-18

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Deeply Awake — Seeing Through My Soul’s Eyes, Now And Forever By Kathy Vik 1-30-18

In celebration of an anniversary of an unbelievable, bizarre and final event that occurred a year ago. This is a soft, intense and highly esoteric tape, well sculpted and highly visual in its language.

I hope you enjoy this offering, about galactic awareness, contained within a physical consciousness, expressed and understood in daily life.






Magenta Pixie’s Offering about The Bird Tribe:

Background Music provided by:



Today, I am also including a nearly 2 year old video’d channeling and my website’s description of this transmission. I am including this because it feels appropriate to the recent work I have been doing, and because I found it very soothing and informative.


The Horoscope of Jesus of Nazareth by Gavin Carruthers

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From: by Gavin Carruthers

“The aspects to Pluto provide him with a tremendous depth of insight into human pain and suffering, and the desire to help and to heal, something obviously echoed by the Piscean cluster’s compassion and deep empathy. How much more compassion is possible, than that of a man who was willing to sacrifice his life to help the whole human race take important steps in its evolution? The presence of the Pisces planets in the 3rd house, including the chart’s ruling planet, Jupiter, suggest an orator, a teacher, a man of words, with a message that rings with both compassion and forgiveness. With Uranus also present in the cluster, and Aquarius ruling the 3rd house, we get a glimpse of how revolutionary and innovatory Jesus’ message really was, especially in context of the world that he lived in”