Deeply Awake — Dear Friends 7-14-13 By Kathy Vik
You know, if you have been following along, that I sort of reached a point of disgust, of sadness and of disappointment which found me, if not inconsolable, then non-plussed, about a week ago.
I had not made it abundantly clear, for reasons which will remain unclear, that I had been given the gift of a lesson in discernment, in tearing away from a consensus reality, what appears to be once and for all.
This is a big, big step, and one that I have been flirting with, keeping interested, hoping that someday the time would be right for our love to bloom. Have you known something like this, where not having contact brings relief, and contact brings unpleasantness, not for them, just for you?
I left the writing thinking I would not go back, and in a way, I return to this work changed, really.
Through a series of gifts from co-workers, old friends, readers and spiritual teachings, through synchronicity and divine timing, I was given gifts, and none of them make me want to do anything but love people. I have things that jam it up, though.
I, like many of us, came in with some programming that it has been my job, and my honor, to rewrite. This programming, these overlays that are just ripe for destruction, for reintegration, they were simple ones, but profound, which made it absolutely impossible to feel anything like warmth with people.
This is programming which results in much drama, sleepless nights, and gnashing of the teeth. Wandering the desert, that sort of thing. But I know I am not alone in this. I know, having read the Cannon books, the Convoluted Universe series, among others, that there are many out there just like me, like you.
Dolores works with us, and has been spreading so much information, with her own observations and experiences, with her teaching and for me, still, it’s all about he books.
I’ve learned, and felt such a solid feeling of re-membering, with her books, much of them transcripts of sessions she has had with people like me, like you. Her books are filled with information on quantum meditation, memory recall, soul integration.
It is one way to get there, and it is effective.They’re field notes, oh! Just read one of the Convulted Universe books and I challenge you not to feel filled with something which you will know intellectually shouldn’t affect you as it does, but there it is.
In your hand, there on the page, stories, from our inner worlds, how outer and inner intertwine, examples, proof, we are so much more than we can access while the programming is working, while we’re awake.
There for a time, I’d say the last couple of months, I found it harder and harder to relate to the idea of an ultimate God.
I became so appreciative of the vastness contained in this wrinkly skin, I found it really hard to even want to assign a name or a meaning to the voices inside my head. I began to feel that inside, right in here, was enough. And of course, this is where communication gets tricky, and when I need to involve more open channeling, more honesty, to my explanation, so please bear with me.
I know, in the cells of my body, because the cells of my eyes witnessed it, when everything lit up gold, and I could see my ex-husband, my son, the truck, all lit up, all gold, and it was crystal clear to me, in those moments, that the only reason any of us are doing any of this, here on Earth, is because we love each other so so so so much.
We are all in love with each other, and we all love each other so much we sometimes even do outrageous things, and it may all seem totally random, but nothing is farther from the truth.
The truth is we are all here with the purpose of loving each other, and ourselves.
Loving oneself is sort of not even an issue in that place. It is so obvious it really is just part of the reality, and can be unsaid. And isn’t that nice?
So, I understood that on Christmas Eve, 2012, and it changed me. It really did. It quieted me. It calmed me to realize this.
And then the storms came, and I became more and more squeezed, gladly I then did what needed to be done: find a way to make this understanding my everyday reality.
And this led to great dissonance, and what always feels like it has to be the final resolution. Maybe now, I think. It seems reasonable.
I’ll ask you, and I really would love it if you would consider it, doing it, and then telling me your thoughts. What would happen, do you think, if everyone on God’s Green Earth got a hit of that? Because, in that state, on that night, it was abundantly clear, just unwritten, so obvious, that this vision I had (I think of it as having the scales removed from my eyes) is a truth for all, not just for me.
I am not the only one on this planet aware of this beauty.
And, what was so true for me, after seeing it, is that I understood I was being given a gift of how things really are, how things really look and the real and true reason behind stuff. I’d been asking. It was a bad Christmas,
They just arranged for a very nice gift. One I’d never return.
See, here is that overlay of isolation again.
And this is what my etheric friends have been helping me with. I have come to understand that part of my programming, and yours, perhaps, is to feel isolated, to feel alone and stranded. Of course, it is a normal reaction to having your memory wiped, and that alters friendships sometimes. But, more than this, there is an element of alienation which runs through this thing, this whole thing, like a lone bassoon note.
If the set up is that each of us is a discrete entity, and that none of us are connected in any real way, then of course, what I see in my head has no bearing on what you are aware of.
But I saw Michael Clayton a few nights ago, the movie, and I have to tell you, something in it just struck a gong in me, for the first time, though it was there the whole time.
This is taking the whole us and them thing to a place I can live with, maybe.
In that movie, which I have to say is the best movie ever written, for a lightworker, the boy is reading a book called Realm + conquest. In it, all the characters are having a dream, telling them they need to go to a certain place. No one knows that anyone else is having the same dream, but a whole lot of people are being summoned.
Does it not strike you as wonderfully coherent that someone in Tunisia can have the same weird feeling of getting supermassive, and then shrinking to the size of a pinprick, then huge again?
Do you not find it weird that regardless of country, biology, economic status, here on the web is one language, with everyone having impressions about it, but there is core information, core stuff, that we are all experiencing?
Many of us are having the same changes in our biology, in our personal lives, even.
How alone can a person feel?
But this isolation which I was walking around with was a metaphor. I could care less, really, if the nurse I am giving report to after my shift wants to give me nine rations of crap for perceived fuck ups. It doesn’t matter what sort of a jerk folks are, because maybe this alienation is not with her, maybe it’s with me.
I had my hand up with God, and maybe a part of that was just not being sure that something so grand could even exist. Maybe it was me coming to see that a need for something grander than just this, just this miracle we are currently living, is an egoic one.
But I fell down there, on the battlefield, and without my God, things got dicey.
My research had been telling me that human beings really are not worth the effort, but my heart had always made it impossible for me not to expect angelic things from folks. Then they’d do what they’d do, and I would feel so hurt, so disappointed, and so hopeless. I can do my part, but I really began to feel no one else was holding up their side of the bargain.
And, through the months, I have come to feel exquisitely comfortable, from time to time, with the truth that I am a little monk, a priest without parish, nun without cloister, shaman without tribe. This used to grieve me to no end.
To not have others who saw me, honored what I am, oh, I shouldn’t have felt it but I did, I did, I did, there has always, always always, been a tiny part of me who just, in utter consternation, thinks to herself, “IF YOU HAD ANY IDEA WHO I AM, YOU WOULDN’T BE DOING ME AS YOU ARE DOING ME, YOU KNOW.”
Where does that even come from, in me? It rides along, usually silent, often I feel I am made to bow, and yet it never overrides, but it’s there. Some feel it and defer. Most don’t And some feel it and start throwing haymakers, or spinning webs, or talking smack.
I have abandoned any real hope that my description of a sort of spiritual outrage would be understood by anyone. It is not something I have ever expressed, except right here.
But I think that it is because I refused to own this thinking as valid that I had the dissonance I had. I just don’t do sour grapes. And there hangs this deference thing. Who am I to have such a thought. That sort of thinking?
I think it’s time to fuck questioning it.
And here is how.
I know I would never think such an egocentric though, such a potentially psychotic thought, unless A – I was mentally so fragile I was really close to shattering or B – it was true.
I opt for the latter.
It ties in with seeing things all glowing and knowing that I was so loved it just took my breath away.
I opt for believing, right here in my chest, in my skin, that we love each other so much it is crazy, just unimaginable how much love there is here, and we have chosen to see this as irrelevant.
We have simply chosen to forget how much we love each other.
But, you can see, can’t you, how this would set a person up for dissonance. Because here comes the jerk at the check out line, the jerk in the hospital bed, the jerk I have to give report to, the jerk who, it turns out, is my friend, parent, sibling, at any given time.
This speaks, of course, to the theme of last entry, that theme of people just acting horribly, and what do you do with that? Someone who says they love me who just shits all over me. How can this be explained, within this framework of cosmic love?
It made me want to walk away from the whole ball of wax, frankly. How can I stay here, knowing what I know, knowing all that I know, and knowing, being able to take to the bank, the truth of it, that you love me, when you are standing there telling me that I am nothing.
So, I did a lot of praying. I listened to Kryon, just a bit, and I was with myself. I decided I needed a walkabout, and after writing my last piece, I gave myself the option to just fricking walk away from this, not speak anymore. I was tired.
And then the miracles came.
I was told, have been repeatedly told, to be ready, because “Now is the time for adventures in loving.”
I have been told with great repetition and authority that it is now time for me to stand back and allow for the love, for adventures in loving.
I understand what was once unclear. I know what was once only a rumor, a hope, a random thought.
I need to tell you what I have come to understand about dark and light, about how light is working in this life of mine, but first, I think there is a thought which must be laid down, another note to add to this melody. It is a big one.
As dad was kicking me out of his house the day after he came home from his surgery, blind with anger that was alarming to witness, that was without rational cause. Under the circumstances, it was an act of mercy to pack and go, and hope an explanation would come later. But to get that stoic and stay that way as I gathred our stuff, strewn through the house after a week of staying there, I decided I needed a smoke.
I went out the garage, lit up, relaxed, and was struck with a great moment of clarity. Through this haze of hate and fear he was emitting, I made it to the garage and lit up a smoke.
Regardless of the cause of this irrational behavior, I closed my eyes, and through my tears, I realized that although the years had softened everything, and all transgressions had been forgiven and forgotten, and ways to realize and express gratitude part of our daily lives now,
I stood out there, smoked, and realized in a flash that it was this man, this one, quaking in rage for the route I’d taken home from the hospital, that was my sin this time. So obviously irrational as to be almost silly, almost alarming. But as I cleared my head I got it, like a light flashing.
As a girl it wasn’t trivial, it wasn’t obviously silly, it was unpredictable, but it was often. Sometimes for not loading dishwasher right. It could happen in a heartbeat, and it never made any sense. It was this person who I grew up with.
That were the formative years. I had a dad I was scared of. I’d forgotten so much of it, and it all came crashing back. Yeah, this irrational, rage-filled, barely controlled scary guy, this is the dad I had when I was little. This is the terror I knew. This crushing feeling that I was just destroyed. Decimated. I am now a stain. I’d been happy and excited. Fuck. Not again,
And I suddenly felt great.
A blossom of compassion began, and grew exponentially. I saw that this was something I love about myself, I feel compassion toward myself. And the love just kept going. Of course I’d been scared, and I’d had to learn how to deal with an unpredictable threat, not only find how to cope with it, to find a way to soothe it, and, the crown jewel, find a way to love i? That was my mission, that’s what I wanted, what I needed to do. I felt so loving toward myslef, but proud, too.
I coughed. I butted my smoke. And I realized, in vivid technicolor, I’d been shown me the truth of the matter:
There is no pleasing some people.
No matter what I do, I am going to be wrong.
And then I laughed. Right out loud.
This changes everything.
And then I found myself looser somehow, happier, and I went back into that house and gathered the rest of my crap, and drove away with a smile on my face. I really did. I was seen as the devil incarnate, and I rejected the notion, and I walked away with my head held high.
I couldn’t take this change of events personally, although it was supposed to be personal, that was the point, with these presentations, even now.
But it just wasn’t relevant to me, anymore. I knew it would work out, in the end, but I felt my way was now far clearer. My guess is my dad won’t remember much about this time, and in the end, I realize it won’t need to be relived, by either of us. But to write about it, knowing all is forgiven, and indeed, sainted, I don’t think he’d mind me writing this. I wouldn’t.
This was the beginning for me. The beginning of my adventures. But it didn’t know it.
From there, I have been shown, over and over and over again, that I have options.
I am surrounded by folks who are absolutely more than willing to offer me the reality they inhabit, that of me being bad, them being good.
The mechanics of this thinking, it used to fascinate. I used to be enthralled with figuring out why people act in horrible, horrible ways. What would make anyone be so mean? What makes anyone act meanly? It’s so messed up.
See, I used to go there when being assaulted. I used to go right to that place. Why are they doing this? If they had any idea, they wouldn’t be. Oh. My. God. The. Pain.
It makes sense, I suppose, to take this posture. Sinking low, drawing into a ball, this is a protective posture toward a rain of blows. It is natural and it’s fine. No worries.
But through the last several days, I have not been so willing to curl and lay down and whimper when people come at me blazing in their state of being convinced I am an enemy.
And, as I am not equipped to fight this lifetime, am unwilling to fight back, will not strike another, will never, then, what to do, what to do?
Quite a pickle.
Something Kryon said at the time of the dad drama punctuate the madness and made me feel clean, briefly. He said that the dark, this metaphysical, quantum, innate force we are aware of here, the dark sends out many representatives, and the dark is aware of a few things I am not.
So, now we get into the lesson, the mechanics, and then, at the back end, we will tie it up with a pretty bow, OK?
What I understand now, about light and dark, well, there is a lot, but I will capsulize it here.
The Teachers told me that it was our job, so to speak, to stitch love into the earth. Whenever, however it happens, when true love, that real love you feel for nature, for others, when that happens, and when things like recognition and forgiveness and absolution occur, it creates love, and then, our job is to be aware of the love, love the love, and know that when it is felt, it is being literally stitched into the grid. It will be felt for all time. It will change everything. Everything that happened before, on that ground, wiped clean, and in its place, love.
They told me that in 1992 or 1993. It was something simple and it stuck. It became an explanation for me, a reason to take abuse, a reason to have hope. If I can manage love, I can change the Earth.
Kryon amplified this teaching, actually blew me wide open as a result of this amplification.
First, understanding that I am running so much light that I cannot be harmed, this is a key point. I guess I have always known this is true, since I did do battle with some wickedly dark entities while working with The Teachers. But, what about just garden variety nonsense, and meanness, and bullying, and all the officious, fussiness we are invited to partake in day to day anymore?
The dark is dumb, and easily tricked, but the dark knows a thing or two.
The dark deals in doubt, in fear, in denial, in equivocation. The dark is what sits on your chest and tells you you will never ever amount to anything. The dark is who is speaking when your friend tells you that your spiritual pursuits are madness. It is the dark who tells you that you will always be poor, alone, unloved, unrecognized and stuck.
And it is when I hear these words, and look into my little life and see, oh, here and here and here, I see proof of this dark talk. I see that this has always been true for me, so, ok, you are right, I am stuck/fat/dumb and it will never change, then, the dark has won.
The dark is what wins when someone gets my goat. The dark wins when I speak out of anger. The dark wins when I give up.
The dark is doubt, fear, loneliness, separation.
And I maybe have spent too much of my time thinking bad thoughts about the person who has been the dark’s most willing representatives, because now I am seeing that this concept of someone being able to turn on a dime, change and never look back, altering themselves irrevocably, this is truth, and if that is true, it really does let everybody off the hook.
I am unwilling to see you as an enemy, and if you do not know me as friend, and you think I am an enemy, I am no longer willing to hate you back.
If you are unable to see the light streaming out of my heart, how can I hate you? How can I now? And if you never see me as anything but the enemy, who has lost here?
I can remember my car ride on Christmas Eve, it rides with me. I remember. I know you love me.
And now I know that if you act in a way which is unloving, you are not doing anything but dancing in the dark, with me.
And I really don’t enjoy dancing in the ark anymore. I like the lights on. I like to see your face as we travel across the dance floor, see how your chin looks angular now, soft now, how your face glows, and now glowers, and now glows. It is beautiful to watch. But it is your face. Yours.
Of course, some of this comes from not being wrapped very tight, being screwed with early in life, losing a sense of identity which would have come in handy as I grew up, but there it is.
Some very primitive thought patterns were just there, part of my makeup, things most, and me, never thought I could overcome. A hole in me that told me in no uncertain terms mine was to remain lost, remain empty, remain unfilled.
But I have come to see that the time of The Father is over for me.
The Father who cannot be pleased, who takes without asking and demands, tortures, for the ambivalent muttering of how much I love and need him.
This time is over for me.
And then, there at the counter this morning, putting coffee on to brew, it came to me whole: My central question has been this: How can I be intact in this life if I need you? And how can I not need you to be intact? If you do not reflect me as I am, then who am I?
And there it was, whole:
Reflections are nice, but they are only reflections.
The reflective surfaces are not clear, not really, not any of them, really.
And this hole in me, this sucking chest wound I have always walked around with, believing any random curse as fair, any criticism as fair and possibly accurate. I got knocked off my horse with regularity thinking this way.
But now, I think I see that when someone is unloving, cold, or even mean, they are perhaps more than a flawed and disposable human, a lost and screwed-up person. Not someone I need to extinguish or reflect pain back to.
It is reflection of themselves I am looking at.
What a relief to figure that out!
Yes, I screw up and don’t hit the mark sometimes, but I know within me is a lot of light, light which has dispelled much of the darkness I took within me when I came here. I understand my dark more than before, and I am getting better at recognizing it.
The dark, being dumb, just rely on dirty tricks. And just like when the lights come up after a concert, after a movie, there may be a few, or a lot, of folks hiding, doing any number of dumb things in the dark.
The lights come up, and all the nasty stuff that had been going down, and all the ugly, mean stuff that just seems natural to do in the dark, and had to be let run its course because there was no recourse, not one in sight, well, now these things are being exposed, and the balancing begins.
I don’t agree to the thoughts that I am bad, need anyone to tell me how to live, and I no longer believe that there is anything within me that is worth disliking. Sure, I have foibles, but I am intact, I am whole, and I know my heart is open and in the right place. I trust myself.
So if you don’t, and demand I relinquish my reality for yours, well, to that I can now very politely say, oh, well, thanks, but I’ll pass this time.
It means, if you are a jerk, I no longer hate you, no longer fear you.
The dark has a couple of tricks, you know.
The dark knows that our Achilles heel is self-worth.
Kryon puts it this way. Try to imagine for one moment how many times you have come into a lifetime, seek and find enlightenment, and found you had to leave it early because the people around you did not like that.
How many times, shaman? Witch? Pagan? Heathen? Weird one?
Makes you think.
So, the willingness to abandon enlightenment, to fight and shut down and render useless the knowledge that God indwells each of us and is well pleased, it is as real as anything, and just a little hit of it is enough to makes some people so frightened, so shaken up.
And here we come, blazing hearts open to God, hearing non-stop monologues, or seeing visions, or living within synchronicity, and here, beside us, comes sidling up our old friend, our old enemy, the dark.
So if I am seen as an enemy, I now know that this is just a little exercise. I may get tricked again, maybe this afternoon, and that’ll be just fine, but I think it might get harder to trick me.
I know now that even if I do get tricked, even if I do battle with the dark, with its representatives, sent to invite me to once again feel small, insignificant, a beggar at this banquet, I know I will always return to center. There may be pain, dissonance, fear, but this is instructive too.
The more time I spend feeling intact, the more time I am feeling intact. Is there anything wrong with it? Nope, not really. Feeling intact is pretty nice. And I know now this is my birthright, to return to center, with more than I had the last time out, more able to see things as they are.
I hold less fear now, and this is a central element to this next part.
I am convinced that our greater good, it is connected to connecting with you,it is in building up instead of tearing down, it is in creating, not in destruction.
But here we are, all in the world of polarity, duality, all of these choices, dancing around us, among us, asking us what we would like.
If you are inconsolable, and in that inconsolability, you see me, incorrectly but understandably, as the source of your suffering, well, friend, that’s is just fine, but it is not true, so I will not be taking this burden on. I will help you, instead, with my countenance, with my humor, with my good will, to dispel the shame and fear that is clouding your better judgment.
Some folks really cannot tolerate much light, it makes them crazy, and so from these folks I retire. I just can’t do it anymore, beating my head against a wall, upset about someone else’s interpretation of their reality, or of mine.
If you do not enjoy my expression, then your choices around your displeasure tell me volumes. And if your expression is a nasty one, it really is not a reflection of my spiritual state. It is a reflection of your spiritual state.
So, by now the coffee is ready, my son is awake, and I want to sit and watch some entertainment with him, so I will leave you with a story about him and I and kirtan, and then I will join the land of the living.
I have lately, along with being told that my role now is to hold no fear and to encounter love, to really cross this last frontier and come to see the Earth as a loving one, this is my new role. And there are lots of goodies here for me. But with this bit of information, I continue to get an image. I can feel my body, which has already shrunk significantly, I feel it shrinking more, and I inhabit a small body, a wiry one, and I am a brown man, I am an Indian man.
And this little brown man is someone I, me, Kathy Vik, would really like to be. Internally I know somehow that I am already this brown man. But I can feel my body habitus, when I have these visions, I can feel my body getting littler, getting thinner, and it feels good. I feel stronger, somehow, more of myself, when this little brown man visits me, as the whispers tell me that it is now time to hold no fear, to be bold, and to receive, partake in love.
So last night, after some initial complaints which were, I have to admit, lacking in conviction, and weeks of mild protestation, my son agreed to join me in kirtan.
We had it over at the leader’s home. Weekly, this man of peace opens his home to strangers who are his family, and as one, we raise the roof and are filled with love. You can feel the love, it is thick and golden, before we begin to long after it is over.
Sam felt self-conscious at first, but he was also open. We settled onto pillows on the floor, and he leaned over to me, smiling, pointing at the other folks, and he whispered, “They are my friends, aren’t they?”
“Yes, Sam, everyone here loves you very much.”
He smiled, he calmed, and we began.
It is hard, especially when self-consciousness has its hooks in you, to do kirtan joyfully. And I guess some folks have more comfort with chanting what seem like nonsense words than others. So that Sam did not sing, not an issue. He spent the first three songs in a deep sleep.
When we got to the midway point, Sam and I had both come out of our shells. And then came the Hare Krishna.
I always have just such overwhelming experiences, emotionally, to this song. Filled with love as I am, I began to weep. Sam undid my hair and stroked my head as I chanted and sang and was so full of love, so full of gratitude, so full of wonder, just thinking of it now, writing of it, there are tears in my eyes. It is as real as anything, knowing this sort of love, this sort of devotion to God.
After that song, he and I spent a lot of time cuddling while I sang, and in between songs we giggled a lot.
At the end, Sam chose to put our crystal from home, full of all that love, on the altar. He chose to place it at the feet of a statue of St. Francis, which was propping up a picture of Yogananda. I believe these are the same entity, and another expression of his is St. Germaine. It was beautiful, lyrical and meaningful for him to have chosen that statue. His middle name is Francis, after all.
All the way home, Sam told me of who he feels he is. He told me that his people look like insects, but their sun is so much bigger than ours, and this sun is where they are from. He told me many things. He explained about multiplicity, and told me of the ways in which this planet is failing.
We got home and parked the car, and continued to talk. He has come to think that perhaps his last expression was that of my old friend, Jeffrey. This caused no dissonance, it was sort of like a celebration. It didn’t feel weird at all, it felt happy, like something nice to consider. I know Jeffrey rides with me now. He died after Sam was born, but to this Sam says, well, I think he’s a part of me now.
I looked at him at kirtan, and I knew him as an ancient mother, and I as his ancient son. And I knew him as a grandmother, he an adored granddaughter. We were there, together, and I saw that our faces have changed, but that’s the nice part.
And I was filled with a healing I had given up on ever feeling.
After my last entry, I was convinced that mine was to now walk from the world of men, apart always, disappointed but hopeful, but thankfully apart. I would take myself out of circulation, and just give up. It hurts too bad to be hated by those I love. I am tired of it. I am tired of feeling like a bad person just because I am not understood very well.
And then, after so many invitations to all my friends had long been forgotten, passed over, and I was convinced that kirtan was just going to be mine, a little patch of grass never to be shared, there sat my son, on a cushion, held in love’s arms, and willingly we both celebrated a deeper knowledge of joy, of home, of God.
And I held him, on that floor, when it hit me full force, that I was indeed here sharing this with someone who has also found that it speaks to him.
And here I am, miraculously, counterintuitively, on a Saturday night, in a house in southwest Denver, chanting Sanskrit words for God, with a bunch of grown ups who also walk their walk out of step with their companions. Many come to kirtan alone, leave alone, and say nothing to anyone while there. Most sing, chant and run light with their eyes closed. It’s something I love about kirtan.
Here, your understanding of God can be shared but is not judged by the other. No one is on display, everyone is singularly experiencing their understanding of God, and as it happens, God comes and visits all of us, speaks the one language, the universal language, the language of the ancients, of home, of a love so deep,so profound , that, while in it, it is only natural to know that each of us is miraculously safe and loved and whole.
Sam gave me the thumbs up a few times during kirtan, and at its end, he did the impossible. He asked to do it again.
This was an adventure in loving, and while I am on that pillow, I will tell you a secret. From the first time I sat kirtan, from that first om, from that first time a year ago, that is when I came to know of the little brown man.
That first time chanting, it came to me, and I know it to be true. There is a little brown man, a fully self-actualized man, who lives in the Himalayas. He lives on the side of a mountain, but he can travel anywhere, and he is universal in some respects. He has secrets, and he has been alive a really really long time.
And I am him, and he is me, and he is who is helping me a lot these days. His wisdom is my wisdom, his temperance and humor and multidimensionality is mine.
This morning, I was not a little brown man. I was a plump and hopeful girl, plugging in her percolator, opening up her computer, greeting her son by the light of day. Here. In this skin.
To close, I pose a question to you. During kirtan, I feel so close to Shiva, to all the deities, and see myself in them. I am in love with life and earth and God and myself during kirtan. I am blue, I am in the lotus pose, and I am light, I am power, strength, mysticism.
I know of things that it feels good to know, remember things that feel are appropriate to have access to. I am ancient, Pleadian, revered, and old while in kirtan. I am being revered and honored in kirtan. As are each of us.
And this knowledge that I am more than this skin, this clump of retarded life stories, the feeling stuck and finding no solace and wanting that which I do not have, it settled within me, and I began to changed the way I sat. I could feel my spine loosen up, I got a hit of that dry, baking heat, and I could see myself turn into, bodily, that blue Shiva. I felt the warriors blood coursing thought mine, and I felt my body shift, straighten, correct.
I opened my eyes, and I could see much more clearly. More sparkly, everything was. I enjoyed the baking, and played with how I was sitting, because I could feel the connection, body to spirit, and I could see how the energy had been running just a little crooked.
And, although this passed, I know this is the origin and the direction of good things.
I have felt about kirtan as I have felt about all my spiritual pursuits. It is a tool, a good and wholesome one, but a tool alone. Just as Tarot, astrology, all of it, they are tools.
There is but one thing to do when the world turns against you, and that is to turn toward something that the world seems to have forgotten.
Kryon says, you know, many many people, their whole bag is to keep busy, keep doing, keep moving, keep structuring and telling others what to do, keep the focus out there.
By doing so, seeing the need and then fixing, fixing always fixing the outside, this allows folks to never get still, never go within, never find little brown men and big blue men and old grannies and all the rest.
So keep fixing. Keep doing. By all means, keep telling me what I am fixing is without hope of being anything but flawed, and that my doing is inadequate.
What else can I expect?
I can feel it, and I know it, when I am around someone who has already had a hit of this. It is just so obvious. And when that spark is not there, why, then, expect it to be there?
I know we are all connected, and that we are all here because we love each other.
Many do not.
Those who refuse to consider this as a possibility are those who find great discomfort in my having done so. And their requests for me to shut off the light, let’s all just go back into the dark, well, it can’t work that way can it?
If enough of us turn on our lights, and the lights make it possible for everyone to see just what it is that has been going on in the dark, then you tell me. If we all choose, stupidly, to extinguish our lights, everyone still will know where the weirdest areas are, right?
If I am stumbling in the dark and then have a flash of light, I can get a good enough lay of the land to then remember where the walls and doors are, and maybe, even with the lights out, I can still remember, still find my way.
Could it be that The Teachers did that for me all those years ago? They illumined my house, every room in it, and I got real familiar with my house. Then the lights went out, and even when it was pitch, I had a better idea of how to proceed safely, just for me.
And now, I really have to admit it, it’s noon. The sun is blazing, and I may not know all of it, I can’t, I guess, but I know more than I did, and light has a way of making the unknown routine.
I know this light disturbs some.
So be it.
I am having adventures in loving, because I am no longer as afraid as I once was. I do not fear The Other as I once did, and I no longer can see someone’s displeasure with me as anything but their displeasure with me. I can do nothing which deserves hatred. I am not made that way. I know. You know, if you are around me. I am not made that way. But the dark, it is my companion as much as it is yours.
I will continue to do this dance. I think I have a handle on it now! To be full, inside, this is a good place to be.
I have told you that there are dragons up ahead that I know I must learn to ride, but I don’t feel the foreboding about it that I once did.
I have rewritten my programming, I have allowed for a really interesting operating system to kick in. I can expect a little flak, maybe, but I no longer have to own it, or even think it salient.
If I can approach you without fear, then we have a chance, don’t we? If I can love you, even if you don’t know about the God that is inside you, well, I do. Even the mention of it is enough to make some people turn into assholes, but that’s just what the dark does, that’s just what it does here.
I want more adventures in loving, in fearlessness, in freedom.
It could be kirtan that gets me there, or Kryon, or meditation, or writing, or a walk. And that’s just for this little section of my road. In fifty years, it’ll all look different. This is good, for now, which is all I’ve got, anyway.
This is what has changed, and this is the only reason I write to you, dear friends. I was beginning to see this whole thing as the ultimate act of blind egoism. I had become worried about what I was trying to accomplish here.
And then, this morning, it came to me that really, I have only ever written when I have felt so full, that if I did not drain some of the stuff out of me, I couldn’t take another step. Some of this is just too complex not to examine, and then rationally decide how to proceed. All of this has to make sense in 3d land, right?
I am on the road to meeting more dear friends, and these letters I have been writing have been for my dear friends. I love myself enough now to not be embarrassed for not being more succinct, more disciplined with my words.
I know what I am writing contains truth, for me, in this now, and this pursuit is a good one. It helps me to see that I am indeed among dear friends, and that there is a way to help friends who have lost their way. It is with humor and love and a very light touch, with an open heart, open ears, and willing mouth that I communicate with you now.
I look back on this journal and I get blown away sometimes that even in the depths, there is great truth being expressed. Do you know, when I re-read these things, I am constantly learning? How can that be, unless maybe I, this little I, is doing the bigger I a favor, being obedient, being willing, being devoted, I write these words, not knowing if they will tie together, not knowing if I am just being self-indulgent.
And these doubts, they may still come and settle onto my chest, try to pin me down, but I just don’t think there is as much weight behind all that darkness anymore.
Before going into kirtan last night, Sam was telling be about how he was going to handle bullying this next year. He feels hopeful about his grades, and about his chances for finding friends and helping others. An amazing little kid. He told me, as we were walking from the car on that fine Saturday night, about a new found sense of generosity, tempered with not taking any of it seriously anymore. He told me of his hopes and plans for the future.
I am glad he has hope, and knows that he is ok. I am glad to know that he is not walking around with a fallback position of being in a ball, waiting for the rain of blows he has been accustomed to. I am glad he is not accustomed to being beaten up. But he has had his fair share of troubles, and got a beat down on the last day of school, by a girl, who did not take kindly to Sam interrupting her beating up a little girl who was unknown to him. He knows that there are a lot of assholes in this world. And yet he smiles, he has a strategy, and a heart full of love.
I continue to learn from this little buddha, and am glad I can share in his world, and that, by extension, you can share in his.
We are all, don’t you think, might it be? that we are all, in the end, simply, elegantly, proudly, dear friends?