Deeply Awake: What Happens When Resistance Becomes Self-Aware? By Kathy Vik 5-5-18


Image result for diamond light gif



A compelling, intense, deep and comprehensive report on further integration in the ascension process, discussing the link up of cosmic and Gaian realities.

Issues of identity as they relate to the ascension process are discussed with gentleness and a unique point of view. A coherent discussion of ancient history, DNA activation, energetic management, shamanism and “mundane” daily life.

Anomalies abound. There is very little on this tape that is synched up, most of it is on a time delay, and the delays and synch are as meaningful as the words. I am beginning to think it is a form of communication, and I think it is beautiful and clever of “them.” At 43:14, my much-beloved wisp appears!


Deeply Awake — Daily Life As a Multidimensional Being, or, Applying Ascended Reality To Daily Life 2-4-18 By Kathy Vik

Image result for spiritual magenta ray gif





Holy smokes.

This is a vital recording, with a HUGE anomaly late in the recording, adding emphasis when relaying a soul confirmation … INCREDIBLE!

This is a FULL ON esoteric recording, for the hardcore among us, who need to know what it is like to apply these principles and to see them pay off in daily life.

That’s sort of the point, of going through this process in public. There had to be an end-point, I would think. There’ll come a day when things make a lot more sense, and then, it’ll be an obligation, and a joy, to just describe the view.

This is one such love letter, from a ledge that continues to blink on and off, literally (!!!!!), as I transmit this appreciation, and joy, and hope, and tips, and descriptions right from my being, to you.

Namaste, my brother, my sister.





As referenced:

Deeply Awake — To Participate 12-27-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for silver linings playbook dance gif




Deeply Awake — To Participate 12-27-13 By Kathy Vik

I have gone many places this morning, here in my little apartment, in the hours between my waking up and my kid waking up. Silent, busy hours, in which I have understood many things, things I want to tell you about.

I woke up remembering a dream that felt very good, and had good things to teach. I had been married to Bradley Cooper, and I had just had a fight with him. He had done something that signaled to me that he was flirting, or engaging someone else. I’d felt he didn’t love me, that I had been wrong.

Then I was in a dried up swimming pool (there is no reason to add some of these details, except for them being funny) with my ex-husband, William Katt, an amalgam. I was lying on a chaise lounge reading a book, red and black cover, “What To Do When Your Marriage Is Failing.”

I had been reading it as a review of the marriage I’d come from, with a user, someone who used the me I presented, instead of loving the me I presented. But Bradley saw this scenario, and he got very, very upset.

Just as I had, he was assuming something that was completely incorrect. He was assuming I was telling my ex-husband that my current marriage was failing. I let him bluster and blow, and he was quite loud and melodramatic.

And then I realized something, and told him about it.

I realized that he was angry and scared for the same reason I had been angry and scared with him earlier. We were each assuming the other did not love us completely, or well, or truly. We were afraid we were wrong about being loved.

And I realized, and said, this is the last time that either of us are going to have to do this running around yelling and crying thing.

I love you.

You love me.

I mean, it was in my core, that I loved this guy, connected and adored, respected and loved. And the way he had acted toward me when I’d had my blow out had shown me that I had been completely incorrect in my bad assumptions.

He loved me this way, the way I love him.

And so, it was clear to both of us that this questioning we had carried with us, the never quite knowing for sure where the other stood, that this was done and over, and would never be a factor again. We were solid. We loved each other.

And then, I had a phone call from my handler at the nursing agency, and we talked a bit, and he chastised me for not being uber compliant with my corporate masters, meaning, how dare I presume to ask for a weekend off now that they have deigned to offer me a job, and I just shrugged and said, if it’s a deal breaker, it’s a deal breaker.

We were negotiating whether I’d be granted permission to have time off to go see my mentor, my guide, my guru, Kryon. We won’t be arguing about this. It’s going to be fine. When I put in my order for the tickets, my account balance came back $333.42. A wink from spirit, saying, we’ve got this. You did the right thing. Your presence has been expected.

So we had a good conversation, left it in a good way, the “Hey, I thought you were the one who needed the work,” comment left to die of asphyxiation there on the ground between us, and then, I thought, this calls for watching the very end of Silver Linings Playbook.. I saw the scene, in my head, where I should start. And so coffee was bred, slippers were fetched, and I finished up my dream.

What I realized, as I watched the finals scenes, are many fold, but I will try for a succinct delivery. First, is the thought I first had when coming out of my NDE. I understood, and wrote, that the point is to participate. All is for naught, or has less value, if I do not participate. To participate enlivens it all.

I thought, as the movie played, that my stance has long been one of unwillingness, of resentment that has now been ground down to simple weariness. Sometimes the world is too much with me, invading my thoughts with all the closed fists and closed minds I hear about in the news.

For example, I read something yesterday which still reverberates. The Republicans, it is said, are slightly ahead in polling about the 2014 election. Slightly ahead with the populace.

And this is the most disturbing thing I think I read, although there were many disturbing things on the feed yesterday. I have unfriended a bunch of news/alt news groups. Things are just too tilty out there. And yet, here is the worst of it somehow. I want to know how this is possible, and how it is that these haters get anyone to come to one of their rallies. They drip fear and contempt, and yet, they have followers. It really disturbs me.

And I am thinking about this too, watching the movie, and this is my first thought. I have always been an introvert, a deep thinker, a philosopher, with a tender heart and sharp mind. I haven’t missed much, I’ll tell you. And like so many of my family, I have felt oddly, silently apart from others. Invisible, usually, but they’re all the same, some sort of bubble or barrier.

And I worked, finally, on myself, diligently and persistently, and with great effect, the last two years, and I emerge now knowing one thing above all others, that I am love, that I love, that I am loving and lovable.

And therein lied the dissonance, really, always.

I felt, I realized this morning, unloved. I did. Unloved. I assumed I was unloved. I assumed this, and it became part of my awareness.

There was always this fight, the loving one against the unloving, the selfish, the unthinking, the crude, the rude, the angry, the withholding, the judging, oh my god the judging ones.

And so, this play of light and dark, of contrasts, went on and on, until I brought it into myself, you see.

I realized that I am loveable. And the question then became, for me (as it always had been, but never really articulated), well, then, what about them? If I am lovable, and they are mean or they ignore me, or blow me off, or tell me to be quiet, can they love? Do they love? Are they capable?

And then, this morning, everything did a backflip. I was transported, the whole room glittery, my heart and body feeling such expansion and joy, when it hit me, all at once, people love me.

They always have.

Other people can love, they are capable of it. And it felt like they couldn’t, but here is why. Love in the physical, it’s about showing up. Showing up. Participating and showing up. And I don’t mean to imply by that that this sort of loving participation is all about activities, or get-togethers. No. It’s about showing up in genuineness, in a full heart, and from there, doing as much as seems appropriate.

I thought on the ones in my life who have given me the most trouble, and realized, the frustration comes in them not wanting to show up in the areas of my life which matter the most to me, or even worse, judging me as I stand there in my fullness, my honesty, and telling me I don’t measure up.

That’s it.

And just like in the dream, this is the case of someone doing something which one can easily assign an exactly incorrect motivation for. I assumed I had not been loved. Bradley Cooper, my husband ( I couldn’t resist writing that!) had also assumed I did not love him, when I knew, rock solid knew, that wasn’t so.

I remember in the dream, I kept my mouth shut as he gestured wildly and was upset, smiling, I was, and sort of glowing with love, because I knew something he did not. There was no need to defend, to get in there and try and convince him.

It was something he needed to get out of his system, and it really had nothing to do with me, as I saw it. I loved him, and he was reading things with a bias that told him he was unloved, and maybe he even was pacing with that hairy, smelly monster who just loves to bellow at its prey, “You’re not only unloved, you are unlovable!”

I understood, watching the characters ready for their dance number in Silver Linings Playbook, that I am not only loved, but I am loveable.

And then it hit me, and this is not the nicest thought to admit to, that I have not really shown up for others all that much. How could I, convinced as I was that no one loved me, or was even capable of love.

I had made a nice thick wall I could only hear distant rumbling through. I had built a wall of inferiority and superiority, depending on the person and the situation, and I had repeatedly and with much diligence made it pretty hard to even find me, much less love me, because I really really really don’t participate.

I opted out of much socialization years ago, because my heart breaks so easily, and still, people went out of their way to break it. It was like a blood sport, no one seeing the love, people so ego driven, and I see it now, I was one of them, I was, I was just as defended and scared as everybody else.

And just as in the dream, I say these words so that they never have to be said again. I was held, this morning, in loving and forgiving arms, and I have come to understand, first and foremost, that I am loved.

Even the ones who are critical, those who tell us all, hey, fend for yourselves, figure it out, sink or swim. That whole mentality is what is thankfully dissolving, the one that says that as long as I have mine, there is no need to worry about you, that is the one that needs to be retried.

It is unloving, and tricks people into thinking they are unloved, and then, it sets in, the poison finds its mark, and we believe we are unlovable, abandoned, our survival tenuous, dependent on those who don’t even see us when they look into our eyes. Am I talking about your boss? Your senator? Your wife? Your dad? Yourself, as you gaze into the mirror?

The assumption, for me, had been that I was unloved. I felt unloved, and convinced myself that what were actually awkward attempts to be loving I misinterpreted, because I had a belief, a bias, a seeming irrefutable knowledge about how things were.

And so, I finished watching the movie, and realized that showing up, participating, this is what it’s about for me now, and I can do it now, because, I have now figured out that even when it looks as if I am unloved, I am loved.

Even if I am bumped around, I am loved. Even when I am told to do something which is debasing or even apparently contemptuous, I am loved. I am loved. I am loved.

And so, for me, it is and will be about showing up, no matter where I am, with an open heart, dwelling within this core I have come to know, and knowing that the other, however they present, comes from this core of love too.

And then, I understood the finer points to it.

I had a friend who would say, When Jesus rose from the dead, he didn’t go out searching for the Roman barracks, you know. He sought out his friends.

This has been a key thing in my life. Loving everybody, everybody, regardless, everybody. This indwelling need, function, to forgive, at all costs. I didn’t know how to manage it until now.

It’s about showing up. It’s about participation. It’s about not being judged. I have ones who are close to me. We are family to each other, and we know it. We loved each other, and, for our purposes, that means we accept everything, judge nothing, celebrate the little things, encourage each other, and give each other a ton of space. We see each other rarely, but we love each other in a way that is so thick.

And to enhance my lie, to change it from this little one I am emerging from into a bigger one that can contain more ease and joy, I see now that it is finding those who can show up, who can love and not judge, who can laugh and cry and bellow and be still, those who speak what is in their hearts, some without saying a word. Showing up.

And it is about respectfully disengagement from those who cannot, will not show up, those who stand in judgment, let them, but don’t hang out with them all that much. Love them, bless them, and walk away, loving them from afar, as an act of self-love, and self-acceptance.

I am not saying that those who are judgmental, or mean or even abusive should be ignored. Far from it. But engaging in that sort of nonsense, well, that is optional.

If the game must be played on a crooked board, where the rules are rigid and the outcome is assured for only one of the participants, that just doesn’t interest me anymore. It is boring, it is old, it is outdated, small, uncomfortable, no longer attractive.

I think this is what is meant with the crossing of this bridge, a bridge over which the old energy cannot pass, the unloving energy so entranced with darkness, it cannot come and stand on this fertile new ground. I have nothing but compassion for those who don’t want to, feel they cannot, who choose not to come over, but it does not mean that I will cross back over that bridge and live denying this light, this knowledge, of all this love. I did that. Many of us did. Many of us are just now crossing the bridge.

Before preparing to write this I thought on the ones who have made things hard thus far and was filled with love, because, the truth is, they give me trouble, but there they are, in my life, showing up, participating. They are in my life purposefully, up until now.

And the days of contrasts such as these is passing. I have felt so tremendously different since yesterday morning, so clear, and it has not been the easiest to navigate some of it, but there have been synchronous gifts throughout, multiples on my clocks and odd timing and ease and an absence of worry and pain, throughout.

So I think that participating in what I am creating is the piece that can now fall into place.

I had gone to sleep asking for help about removing for all time this sense of futility and this sense of not liking the culture I live in all that much. How mean and petty it seems people have gotten, everyone doing things they would rather not do, because they are afraid of losing their jobs.

Oh the things we do to each other in the name of fearing for our jobs, fearing “negative feedback,” fearing bad evaluations, fearing, fearing, fearing. I am tired of that. I want to lay it down. Remove this from me, I said, the coldness that I feel sometimes, out and about, in my culture. Remove this.

And today, a dream about Bradley Cooper and love. Being able to get it, by watching a simple movie, that everyone, even the weird ones, they love me. They all love me. And I have made it real, real hard to be loved. I have not accepted it when int has been offered, I have argued with it, minimized it, and sent it running, often times, so convinced was I that it wasn’t even possible.

I have said for over five years, out loud, at the oddest times, to myself, always only to myself, that this life I am living is too small for me.

I’d thought that the outsides would change to reflect my inner bigness. That makes sense, right? When you outgrow a house, you buy a new one, right? The outside would change, and then everything would match.

And although of course this too will come to pass, the miracles, the dead on synchronicities which will be unmistakably miraculous, these will come because the inside has changed, once and for all, a new octave reached, a new vibration set.

I will end by telling you about this recurring thought of mine. I think I wrote about it, a dream I had that told me why it was that we can have hope. I keep getting it though, a vision and feelings and thoughts which tell me that the field has cleared. I feel this golden field out in front of me, all around me now, and this one is filled with benevolence, miracles, laughter, high regard, symmetry, luck, goodwill, kindnesses, a million kindnesses, smiling, all smiling and welcoming, this field that is just a gold mist, but contains everything that is good.

It is out there, and I understand that as I reach its vibration, it is just simple physics that this is what my life is and will ever be. This is physics at its most elegant, like meeting like and dancing, ball gowns and glitter, ease and grace, style and opulent geld, this field is here, coming closer daily, and I am matching it.

As I inhabit this field, it can manifest. I keep getting that, and I want to write it, because that makes it more real. Also, I am aware that there are many who are having these sorts of dreams. I had correspondence with two other women who had had very similar dreams of mastery over Christmas Day night.

Mine had been with the words accomplished, and a sense of completion. One friend heard “Mastery” I think, and the other had been told that she had mastered her life. This is real, guys, it’s happening, and maybe this field is what is calling us all, and these dreams are just interpretations of the light, just as Sam taught me this could be done. There is an essay called “My son Sam Demonstrates” that discusses this phenomenon.

I understand that this next part is as much about holding a vibration as it is about receiving this vibration’s gifts. And maybe being able to receive is the whole point. Having been conditioned to suspect and sniff around love, find fault with it and judge it unworthy, this too must change, to increase a life’s happiness.

And this receiving, it has nothing to do with worth. Nothing. It has to do with fit, with acceptance, with smiling and relaxing and letting good come, and not finding fault with it.

Taking the fall-back position of not only knowing I am a loving person, but that everyone I interact with is also loving. Some do things that make no sense, and they deny their great love, and so, they act badly, but they, too, are coming to me with love. Everyone is loving.

What a miracle! What a gift! What a change!

And now, I must get this published. I have things to do today. I need to show up. I want to participate.



Deeply Awake Essay And CHANNEL — The Future 10-16-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for cosmic christ gif



Deeply Awake Essay And CHANNEL — The Future 10-16-13 By Kathy Vik

Something has happened, overnight, so to speak, and I feel so much different, and this difference is not fading as feet hit carpet, as calls and plans are made, as chores are done, so this is something sturdy enough to explore.

It’s the sort of thing, all of this is, really, that I would love to call a friend about, and just chat for twenty minute, and then, I really would have no need to sit here and write this to you. But, as it stands, this is my avenue of expression for today, and for that, I am grateful.

I woke up at 6am to get Sam up for school. I stayed up until 9. During that time I did not feel sparkly, and I sort of lamented that, but, there it was.

I read some blogs, and felt better, re-read a few channelings, and felt better, and then, wow, I felt tired. Weird. It came on like a flash. And the voices said I would be sleeping the whole day, up to integrate if needed, but the whole day would be spent re-arranging stuff. It was the sort of sleepiness you get in class, that kind that your body cannot argue with, as much as your mind is in rebellion.

So I snuggled up, and I thought on a special scene which had been given to me for the purpose of coming together with my higher self, my teachers and friends. A little attic room, a little room which, it turns out, has a portal in it that allows me to go traveling, I think.

The understanding I have come back with are not easily articulated. Had I done what I usually do, when I got up at 11:30, my little break, I had the dictation coming through so nicely. Oh, the words just were tumbling out of me, and I would have normally, at that time. Started to type, but, the funniest thing happened.

I realized that the typing, the capturing of the voices I hear, it’s not always necessary to write down everything. I realized, somehow, that I needn’t reorder my comfort or my schedule or my preferences to accommodate this voice. I used to think if I did not honor it with action, it would shrug, give up and go talk to someone else, someone better. Now I know that it is me, the bigger me, talking, and I am experiencing a moment of clarity.

And so now, I realize, it really isn’t about visitations or even ritual. It’s not about reward or punishment for what I do with this knowledge. It’s me, my choice, and the voices are not going away.

So, I went back to sleep, after my brief break.

I’d awakened to the understanding that the future does not matter.

But now, upon completing my second leg into that land of truth, I understand WHY the future is so unimportant to me.

Both awakenings, both times, I realized that I just did not care to look at my phone, did not need to do my ritual.

My ritual, after I awake, is always to check my email, check my facebook comments and page, and then to check for comments on I have considered it like looking out my metaphysical window, saying hi to passersby, being thrilled with visuals and thoughts from friends and strangers.

And today, I waited. It did not feel right. I had a body awareness, an “other” awareness, of this whole set up.

I could feel me getting energetically smaller, in my mind, when I reached for my phone. When I check in, I am seeing if I am being seen, to some extent. Who has seen me? And what do they have to say about this sight?

God, the body information is tricky to get at. It’s not linearizing for me. It is important too.

I am going to do my best to clear up my thoughts here, and then I will ask for them to come through and explain what has been done to/for/with me regarding my concept of time, because it is different. I feel different, and I need to know more about it.

What I got, in essence, is that the future is a construct which is, for me in the present, a projection, into my imagination. The future, as I think on it in my present, is an amalgam of feeling states.

I have long thought that manifestation is calling to you that which you prefer. But now, even though I know that is true, there is something more I am aware of.

The future. The future.

I have used The Future as a way to hold conversations with myself. I have used it as a theoretical, almost rhetorical device, to throw desires and longings at, and then, I watch the pictures, and think about how much better I am going to feel, one day, when all these stupid problems are solved, when everything comes together.

Make no mistake, dwelling imaginatively in the place where all my dreams have come true, this has done more for me to feel good in the now than a lot of other devices that are more flimsy. Just sitting and thinking as if, being as if, I have completion. All my questions, answered. All my worries, made meaningless. All my doubts, defiantly and with great humor, inactivated.

But, there is something beyond this.

What I came to understand today is that the future, it does not really even exist, in a certain fashion. It does exist, but not in a way I can really, truly, get at in my now, usually. Of course, that is possible, and I am not negating the ability to time travel and tweak timelines and stories. That’s not what I am talking about.

Instead, I am trying to language that this theoretical framework I have devised, problems solved, goals met, deepest, most impossible dream alive and concrete, this is a device, a device only.

It is a projection of consciousness, and it is a fine one. But it is the feeling state which is most important. I think it has been easy for me to focus on the symbols of attainment, the activities of fruition, as a future that I want to inhabit. I have books out, I don’t work as a nurse, I don’t have to pay for cigarettes with pennies, I am loved by a family who I love, and all is well, I am happy.

But, you see, this moment was yesterday’s future. I think we all sort of leapfrog ahead, latch on to the symbols which, in our now look like they can only be there if things are awesome, and then I have focused on those situations those visuals, like a baby focuses on shiny things, or the clink of keys. I have, I think erroneously, thought that it is the now symbols’ attainment which leads to peace. And I think I had that wrong.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I want, in this now moment, to have so much cash in my pocket, so much free time, and being so present in my life that I just naturally do what is right at any moment, I would like it if in this now, I could just finish this essay and head on up to the mountain and do some low-stakes gaming. Just take this grey, cool October night up in the hills, playing and laughing.

I wish I had the money, the circumstance, for that now to be this now. But it isn’t.

And this chasm, this is what has helped me to feel like crap about my life, really, to be honest. The disparity is shocking, sometimes. If I told you where I want to be, what I know is to happen, you would laugh, right out loud, because it is so big, so boggling. It involves ease. Recognition, Comfort. Joy. Ease. Ease. Ease.

But, here it sits, right?

And what I have come to learn is that me, sitting here, with emptier pockets than I think is commensurate with my magnificence, a messy house, and plans to work in a hospital tonight.

How to reconcile these?

That has been my question, since I was a teenager. How do I get THERE from HERE?

Now I see that the future, these visions, these fait accompli’s that I walk with, they are phantasms, they are projections. They may come to pass. They may not.

What has come to pass, and what will continue to occur, is the feeling state.

It’s like what happened between me and Sam, when, one morning, I projected my consciousness to him as he lay sleeping, a mommy suddenly fully in love with her son, seeing him as infant, teen grown up and ancient, and just loving him, energetically.

He later came to me and told me that, while sleeping, he’d had a special dream about his true love. I took this to mean that he felt this rather generic, motherly, deep love, and his consciousness interpreted it into a dream that would work for him.

So, getting comments, getting phone calls, getting book deals and travel itineraries, web sites and talk shows, these are just pictures, just interpretations, and if they come to pass, sure, I will see them as old friends, but if they don’t, anymore, I do not care.

What matters, instead, is the feeling state.

Of course, to close the loop, the complete the energetic circle here and now, what makes sense is to consider the idea that, if I am spinning fast and true enough, I am feeling like my dreams have come true, in this moment, now.

And so many of them have.

It is not about material attainment. It is about, for me, spiritual attainment. If I am at peace with me, now, here, what comes next is unimportant.

And with that, I do want to channel. I think it is time. They have something to say.


Our Beloveds, we greet you this day and are well pleased with the progress being made within your collective.

As our emissaries, as part of us, you have, as a group, as a mind, and as individual lights, you have done much for the greater collective, and it is time, dear ones, to rest in our great love and compassion for you, not only for the difficulties you have overcome, and we tell you the difficulties were monumental within the group, as you re an ambitious bunch, but too, the gifts given at birth, slowly reaching maturity, these we also must point out have been part of the mix, so to speak. You have gifted your selves with much to overcome, and much celebration at the overcoming. We are celebrating, you see?

WE do not give predictions, nor linear road maps, and this is intentional. We give you ideas which light you up, and do so in all faith that that which lights you up will call to you, interrupt anything which is not lit, and you will proceed, moment by moment, step by step, into your selves.

We give you no caution about projecting consciousness, manifesting, as our dear friend, the scribe discusses. You are all advanced metaphysicians, manifesters, and each will come to appreciate their internal power, a power which comes from The Great Central Sun, the great I Am, and this essence is, of course, also within your own biology. A radio set, we have called it, many have called it, a receivership.

We have worked with the channel on the idea of receivership. This is a concept which is coming to be more prevalent for inhabitaiton, so to speak. Receiving good, this does not sound difficult, and it need not be, but each of you have done war with that which is between your selves and your lives. You have seen that what is within you is not that which is without, and it has led many to assume that that which is within is not good, since it is not reflected without purely. It is reflected with distortions, we would say, and we tell you, this was a function of skill and of prevailing energies, and has nothing to do with worth, nothing at all.

We tell you now of a purse.

A purse is an item which holds other items. Its exterior tells those who observe a little about the one holding it. It is, of course, a symbol.

A purse can have pockets and it can have chains and flowers and zippers. Each, though cut from a pattern, is different, even when machine stitched, we tell you, each is unique, each holds the vibration of the now moment of its birth, so to speak.

And as such, each is a manifestation not only of its own consciousness, but of its future users, and the materials from which it came.

A purse contains mysteries, clues to what the user expects it will encounter and need. A purse is something which can bring joy, envy, inconvenience, organization.

That a purse used by a woman in her twenties may not be a functional item when that woman is 90, this is true. A huge, fancy, and expensive satchel can be helpful in the city, but is it anything but an encumbrance when the woman is frail, tiny, and in a wheelchair, in her last days? Do you think that such an item is something she clutches to her, refuses to let go, because she loves it so, sees it as a representation of her very own self? At twenty, she might have. At 90, she does not.

Such is the way with dreams, with desires, with reality constructs. They are best used when in context, when lit up, when functional.

That you may see yourself as a great healer, perhaps, someone friends and family can go to for true and lasting relief from suffering, is that your goal? Are you a metal worker, a musician, a poet, a teacher, one who speaks to and translates nature? And energy worker? A singer?

We ask these questions because more and more of you are realizing that daily life must include within it the enabling, the uplifting and true acts of creativity which your own history is needling you to pursue. Have you lately thought about how fun it would be to paint, or to travel, or to dance? And then, you look at what you actually do with your day, and see the dissonance, and what do you do, dear ones, with this dissonance, with this canyon which separates you, it seems from that which is your highest expression?

WE tell you now that the best thing to do when in the midst of such dissonance is to celebrate! Get up and dance! If you do not have the paints, get up and find paper, and pencil and draw! If you feel a tune, sing it, hum it, whistle it!

It is in the expression, it is in the act of moving from potential to reality, this act is the act of power, we tell you now.

WE wish for you to dwell in the truth of your power, your might, your creativity, and your right to be so.

We tell you now that the future is made up of you meeting these improbable urges with wonder and awe and joy, without thinking at all about where it will lead.

We tell you now that to think on and to do that which lights you up from the inside, this is your future.

Could it be that what has been calling you is this, and not the activity? Yes, the activity, it is a neuronal delight, it is that which has given you pleasure in the past, and we saw now, it has also given you much, much success in the past.

Do you think, truly, is it possible you are only here now for the first time? Even if you are an old one, from home, without previous earthly experience, the imprints, your imprint, is vast, and there is a multitude, an unending multitude of expressions from which you can pull.

Do not concern yourselves with that which is in your reality which feels cumbersome or even dark. Do not think on it, and let it pass from you. Allow yourselves the freedom, the permission, to know joy, to know an honor of self which allows for self-expression regardless of what others may say or think. Is it not silly to worry about another’s opinion, when you are neck deep in ecstasy?

It is a puzzle from the ages, that you are able to sit here, in this now, and feel disappointment, and can only allow yourselves freedom of countenance when imagining that your reality is non-existent, replaced with another. It is a valid pursuit, energetically, but we tell you, the chasm is closing, and that which seemed impossible, or far off, or unattainable without incredible strength and the willingness to survive cataclysms, we tell you this is a function of the lower brain, the mental one, the one which is not entirely hooked up to the system.

All creations are valid, and all forays into imagination, into probabilities and desires, these are noble and good acts, things which bring peace and joy and steadiness.

We ask though that you consider bringing into this moment, right now, while reading this page, these words, we ask for you to consider what is possibly going to appear as false.

Your dreams have worked out.

Your desires, they have blossomed, and you are in the midst of them.

WE create that which you expect to create, and it is as simple as that. That you are creating with emotion, with energy, rather than with physical items, this has been a missing piece of this puzzle.

If you were able to maintain a high enough vibration, loving, appreciating, celebrating, every thing you know, see and understand, as being your most intimate creation, that which is the culmination of what you have, until now, understood, could you be pleased with your reality then?

Can you see that appreciation, a loving openness, a mother’s indulgence, toward that which is in front of you, can you not see that by doing so, from here to the end of this linear life, this can be done, in so doing, all is made well.

There is much to learn, and many more concepts must fall into place to make this a fully functioning reality generator, a consciously aware generator, but we are overjoyed with the progress being made.

There are many who are now lovingly looking at their purses, the ones they have been so disciplined with bringing along, all the things in there lending to comfort, ease and organization. They are looking at their old purses, and finding that what is inside is no longer all that relevant, and that it might be fine to empty it of the unnecessary items, and, look! There are those who have dropped their purses, along the road, and are carrying what they need within them instead.

Some will face their maker, themselves, still clutching their purses, form long ago, and for them, their purses will give them strength and steadiness, will help them to feel ready and able to encounter that which they do not expect and may not consciously want.

And some, they will see that they meet their maker every time they look into a mirror, every time they handle a problem without any outside props. And for them, their passing will be optional, and quite a long time from now.

Fear not that which you are aware of, and fear not that which you encounter. It is your gift to self, and it is a cooperative gift, one which the universe has come together to present to you. How sad it is to see those turn from these gifts, because they are gifts which initially might not appear as such.

Think on these things, and be glad to be thinking on them.

See to it that you begin to see this life you are living, this moment now, look at what you are attired in, think on the five biggest things in your awareness, think on the hard problems of this day, those which make you perspire a bit, as individuals and as a collective, and understand that you cannot be aware of these things without having been a creator of them. We admonish you to not resist that which you have given to yourself thus far. This is our prayer for you this very day.

We leave you feeling deep respect and utter excitement, as many are breaking through paradigms which have kept you sad and scared for lifetimes.

Definitions of self are dropping away, props are being discarded, and the things which you always thought you would need, until the very end of time, you are coming to see that these were simply devices you needed to keep strong in a less friendly energetic soup.

We love you, and want only for you to also love yourselves, and all you are participating in. With this, we leave, to walk with you as silently or loudly as you wish.


Deeply Awake — Dear Friends 7-14-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for forgiven friends gif



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?

Deeply Awake — Grandmother 5-23-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for black and white spiral mandela  gif




Deeply Awake — Grandmother 5-23-13 By Kathy Vik

I have a lot to say, but I have made an attempt at this and discarded it. Too ornate. Too focused down. Too specific.

So I will preface by saying what follows is abstracted, and simply the highlights. I think, because of the complexity of the creation, it makes sense to create a skeleton tonight, as time is tight and I am tired.

And so here it is.

Last Friday I learned that my dad needed and had consented to open heart surgery on Tuesday. He’d wanted to go from home after getting a stent, which he figured he could do in maybe three days, and then us girls would never have known. He’d thought of it as a challenge, and was more disappointed that he didn’t pull that off than about the news. He’s an unrehearsed person, and this was just his style.

Instead, he had a “CABG x 5”, he had open heart surgery yesterday afternoon. I cannot really go into more detail about my current, quite amazing situation, without telling you of what happened the hour before his surgery. I will be telling him of this, perhaps, but this is really a frill, a detail which it may be more kind to withhold. We shall see.

My son was home in my bed with a high fever, chills, rigor, and I was beyond my limit, having just come off a punisher of a twelve hour shift.

I needed to sleep and Sam was sick, so he lay there with me, and I was so abstracted already, in such a high state. Through the night, and increasingly during the morning, I was having the sensation which accompanied my NDE’s, this delicious abandon, and a sense of just such a thing as no other choice. And it is a good choice to not have any other choice than to surrender, and it feels like an energetic cliff, a yawning hole that is somehow greeting you and pulling on you, tugging on you, pushing against you when you are making coffee, turning on the car, looking at the speed limit feedback sign.

So that was my state before the fevered boy came home, complicating things, at first I thought.

I understand now that he has been acting as a receiver, an amplifier of sorts. And I have praised him in every way I know without saying the words, for him being with us, anchoring this great love, this great great love.

Deep in meditation, still able to smoke, at the request of the voices, at times, at first, it was possible, but then it was not. And I opened my eyes when it began: 12:04.

What happened was this. I held the surgical team in a very intent light, and explained the way it was. That this is a man who requires their utter focus, their utter devotion to art and skill, complete confidence, complete reverence for their own skills and the great skills of their team.

This intention was set for the entire hospitalization, that every single person taking care of him will sense this is an expanded soul, and will treat him with uncharacteristic dignity and kindness.

They will indeed surprise themselves in all their dealings with him, how tender they are, how good they are, how skilled and competent they are.

Then dad and I were at some nice room, some meeting place. He was littler than me, and he didn’t have wings. I was trying to put him at ease, but he just sort of couldn’t get over the wings, and he asked me to just look at myself, and there they were, and they are quite large, and I decided it would be fun to experience them as feathers, and so they were, and I could feel the cartilage, and the independent muscle groups, and the tendons, where I touched the wing. It was real to me.

And so then we hung out and discussed this and that, and it sort of frustrated me that here this big event is going on, and we are sort of just talking about the weather, but he said, you must wait, there is an order to things.

And then something happened and he was looking very different, and there was some sort of shift, because it seemed that in an instant we were on a different understanding level. Suddenly we were both male, and we recognized each other as brothers (I AM BAKING AS I WRITE THIS, FYI).

His head was smooth, as was mine, and we were both wearing blue robes. We were brothers in the truest sense of the word. And with understanding this and accepting it as a real and true possibility, easing into it, feeling my way into it, what I found is the former pain and suffering that was caused, which had been agreed upon, which had indeed warped and tainted every aspect of my psyche, just as it was supposed to, all of it sort of spun off, first in his field, then in mine, and then, our fields expanded and joined. I could no longer see him. He was behind me, all around me, a green mist.

And then, he materialized in front of me, and he said that it was time. We had come to understand our connection, and our love for one another, and our great respect and responsibility, our great and true honor for the other.

And within this I could no longer feel my body in the same way. My legs were cold and they felt like they’d be see through. I felt like I was being lifted. And there was half a white heart, half a black heart, made with our fields somehow, our the bodies somehow, more symbolic than anything, but physical, in a way. And as this progressed, the love just kept intensifying. I felt wave after wave of such great love from a source I could neither understand or turn from.

The love just kept coming, and I was in great bliss. I made sure that my hand was holding Sam’s and one of my feet was on his calf, during this, because it was such intense energy.

What happened next is boggling and I am going to say it and damn the consequences. I thought for the first couple of days that I would just be mum, but those days are long gone.

It is time to discuss what is occurring, so that this right of exclusivity, ooh, I am cool because I get it and you don’t, no those days are over. It is time for each of us to understand, I think, that we are capable of far more happiness if we simply get a little creative, loosen up a little bit, stop being so afraid all the time, and smile. But, oh, there is more.

The thing that we were creating, half white, and half black, in the form of a heart, it changed. It gained size and significance and color and momentum.

I will say now that there is a mountain I find holy, called Lookout Mountain. I have been anchoring codes there, right at the top, where all the radio antennae are.

And from Lookout Mountain, you can see the whole western plain.

It is a boggling view, such magnificence, and the city of Golden sits beneath you, perched as you are on top of the Earth, and the cars are shiny colorful ants, and the highways are ribbons. And my son, when I took him up there, told me that he could see the plain once was covered with water. He went on and on about this, and it was quite fascinating.

I mention the mountain because the view from there came to mind as this thing we created crescendoed.

There was a massive influx, a huge, massive, super massive influx of white lilac energy. I could see just literally uncountable angelic bodies soaring out of this vortex and plunging into the Earth.

At that point, I could no longer see Dad, and I felt as part of the light as I was an observer. I could feel the mind bending, heart melting, life transforming love that was just inundating the planet.

It went on for a very very long time.

I was told the recognition and love and forgiveness and homecoming, the depth of it created a vortex.

And then they started explaining it, because I was having a hard time making any sense of it. I was drunk with this amazing love, not knowing how to translate it or what came next.

The dictation has been non stop ever since, but it is now far more organic, not like a speaker on a pole. It’s more like a deep trusting, that pays off every single time. It’s like that.

But, I digress.

What I was told is as astounding, or, to me, more so, than the event itself.

They told me that I have done a good thing by writing as I have. I saw then that within each of the essays I have written, there are more than enough opportunities to recognize self, absolve self, celebrate self.

And I saw that with each turn of a phrase which is angelic (as many of them are), there is a little pulse of love, and then I saw all these neat pools of mercury, and they all had ripples in them, and pretty soon the puddles merged, and there were peaks within the silver, tight, conical peaks, and it was from the tips of the conical structures that the silver would pool and eddy and ripple out to others.

Something like that. Anyway, they told me that with each little awakening that people have with reading this stuff, this amplifies the energy, purifies it, and sends it out even more, and this is a very good thing.

They gave a lot of honor and praise for having done what I did, all under amnesia. It was quite a feat. It was impressive.

But this was not the end to it.

I was given a title, I guess, and told that what I have done is really no ordinary thing. I am now channeling a very pure voice, and yet I got here through a process that I layed bare for anyone with interest, free of charge.

I lived up to my word, and my belief that it is an abomination to hold ransom this information. It is a petty and ugly thing, and just shows a person’s level of understanding. I have a hard time imagining selling this, not because I have screwed up notions about money/worthiness/blah blah blah, but simply because I think it is ugly to charge money for information which is vital for the awakening of a planet. Cash seems like a little thing in comparison to giving a suffering soul some solace and guidance, during his or her dark nights of the soul.

There will be so few of them anymore, I think this will turn out to be more of an archive how one poor should tried to gain some sanity in a completely insane environment, there at the end.

But, they explained that this thing I have done, and will continue to do, this is what I want to do, and what I had planned on all along. I am at so much peace with my previous life, I can’t imagine such a thing as regret or remorse. Those are symptoms of misunderstanding the data, and that is all.

Then they explained that the white lilac light that I saw, that I thought was a part of me, that was actually me. A part of me came together, and that’s what I was seeing. And my dad had participated this whole time, just to witness this, and could be seen as Elisha. And there lumbers in my old friend Ezekiel, always just sort of nudging me along. I always felt a brotherhood with Ezekiel, and now I know why.

And then a stillness came over me. I had five minutes to sleep, and then it was to being, once again, a daughter, a nurse, a mom. Going to my dad’s house to see his girlfriend, I’ll drive her to the hospital, see him either right before or right after extubation. I asked for the equivalent to eight hours sleep, or whatever seemed fit, for the work ahead. I asked the same for my son.

We both awoke commenting on feeling rested, and Sam’s fever had broke.

Now, the truth is that this is a story left undone, and that is a purposeful thing.

I need you to know that I am here, at dad’s house, and when I opened the door into the house, there was a strong smell of Pine-Sol. I knew I could look in every cabinet in this house and not find Pine-Sol. It was one of my mom’s signature smells, and she was banned from this house, by him. But there she was. I knew it was her,  I’d just had a conversation with my ex-husband, in which everything became crystal clear and funny as hell, which is the way with us.

Everything drops into place now, and there is not a care in the world.

To get from here from there, many things had to occur.
We all went around before dad’s surgery, there right before, just asking each other if it would just be ok if we weren’t all that cracked up about this, and would it be ok if I didn’t do any hand-wringing, we all have been saying to ourselves.

This is also very nice, because there is great freedom in honestly saying, well, on Tuesday, he/I will either live or die. It is a choice of many many doors, but two main ones. Live or die. And Tuesday is the day.

I have many stories about these times. There is much to say, and yet I must retire. Tomorrow promises to be a tender and gentle one, but that doesn’t mean there may not be great upheaval and reversals in fortune.

I will tell you just a couple random things to end, with this intent: may what I write here at the end trigger me to the deeper connections which I feel at this moment are so poignant and must be told, like finding that picture of my dad in a dresser drawer, and how wonderful it is to see everything is really ok and I am really really safe and sound in this way, for the first time in my life.

So I will tell you of a few miracles, seeing as how they now are scattered before us as we move through this next part.

I will tell you of seeing my dad for the first time, but I will now tell you how we left things, after we opened that vortex, before I was told what this means.

I could tell that the meditation, on surgery day, was winding down, and I wanted to see dad, shake his hand, tell my brother I would stand by him through this next part. But he had by that time turned into this omnipresent state which seemed to answer me with the molecular structure of the green mist I was now appreciating. I asked him where he was going, why I couldn’t see him, and to please come here so I could say a proper good bye.

And I understood this: The bigger part of him told me no, quite gleefully, that he will be using his null zone in a different way. He told me then, in his usual thumb your nose at things that just do not make a lick of sense, that he wasn’t due back for three days, so he was taking his walk about. He would be back after he’d done some traveling, and he just made it clear that he was gone.

And then, he was gone.

The meditation stopped, and I got that five minutes of sleep.

When we got to the hospital, we were led to the room that we’d been told he was being taken care in.

The problem was, that wasn’t my dad.

It looked like someone else, one of my old man patients, maybe, any number of them, grey and lifeless and dependent and finally stripped of anything smelling of pride.

I felt really bad for the nurse, and then for this stranger we’d wandered to, there in his extremity and need.

As I was leaving the room to straighten it out, I was approached by two nurses, one who I’ve practiced with for many years.

They said, “No, you are mistaken. This is your father.” And they led me back to his bedside, but not before something like recognition dawned on me, and I realized that this man is no longer what I once thought he was.

And so I went to his bedside and stroked his head and put my hand on his heart and spoke to him like a brother, loving his brother through calamity.

I told him of the great love I see in the eyes of his nurses, and how his numbers tell of his great fortitude and resolve.

I cried and told him I love him very much and will be with him, am with him, am standing with him now and will remain so.

His face flickered and he opened his eyes now and then, trying to talk when the words were particularly sweet and soothing and forgiving and encouraging, which was a lot really.

His loved one held his other hand, and I excused myself and let them be together.

My son stood outside, a mask on his face, burning with fever, holding the space from without.

I spoke to my friend deep into the night last night.

I told her of this odd event.

I told her of her meditation.

I told her of his medical status, and how things have progressed with his heart.

She stopped me and had me meditate on a statement I’d made to that effect.

And then she said she believes there is a walk in situation going on.

I have been told two things since this began.

I have been told that regardless of the outcome, he will not be the same person as he once was, and to expect brand new behavior, and to allow it and praise it and tease it out.

And I was told that he made a commitment, now, to hold an open heart. And because of this, the outcome is assured and glorious. It matters less what happens as an outcome. The intent has been set.

And so it is.

I cannot explain more than this tonight, and it may have been too much.

I say that this piece is called Grandmother for a good reason.

After or during that mediation, I understood that I had been given a title of Grandmother. It suits me well. I am older. I like being a Grandmother. It suits me.

And it was a big family I was grandmother of. And that made me very happy, because I always wanted to have come from a big family.

I was told that the name they gave me over twenty years ago, Magartha, it means Grandmother, and so it would be fine, if I chose to meld, to go by Grandmother Magartha, because being called Grandmother Grandmother is awfully nice.

I told them they were jumping the gun, and that I am very glad now for amnesia, because I am a lazy sort when I know the outcome is assured.

Or I used to be.

The opposite is now true.

Although I do like the appellation Grandmother, I do also think it presumptuous, very much so, because I so revere this energy. I did not know, consciously, a blood grandmother’s love. I had an adopted grandma, and, believe it or not, her name was Grandma Goodhart. She was, too.

But a grandmother, this to me is the best thing anyone could be. This seems like a very good way to go about expressing.

And I am getting older now, and maybe it is ok to finally express as I have always and forever and a day seen myself, but never gave myself or had permission to be, a grandmother.

And my mom, here with her Pine Sol, my son’s Grandma, here living under the same roof now, and me, tonight, before sitting down to write, putting in the over four pies.

As I cut the pastry tops and made the pies pretty, thinking on the Pine Sol in the house, letting me know Mom is very very happy with the love in this house finally, I thought, yes, I can be a grandma. I already am, in so many ways.

And I will be a brother to this man who is now going to recover from a terrible surgical insult, and I do not know what the next day will hold. He is not a young man, but whether he hasn’t returned from his walkabout or what, it’s not for me to know. I will be family, now, to everyone, because I can, and it feels so good, and it is no longer something I do awkwardly, expressing my impressions in a way now that feels more like a warm hug and less like the pincher claw poke of an alien.

So we do not hand wring, and we hope for the best, and we understand that this next part is tricky.

My dad told me, in our last conversation, that he’d seen the grim reaper on the morning before his surgery.

He was driving to the dump, and in the middle of the road up ahead, he saw a lone figure, wearing black pants, a long black coat, and a black hat. Dad said that he thought to himself, “Well, there you are, you son of a bitch.” He knew him to be the grim reaper.

I told him, no, I am not so sure. I think it means that you have help now, and it is no longer something you must take on faith. There, in the middle of the road, is physical, hardcore, in the flesh help. Your angels are now among us all.

Which interpretation is correct? Which one is valid? Or is there one?  I like this one, that Dad’s had a CABG and is on the mend. Yeah, that one is accurate too. Yeah, I like that one a lot too. But isn’t it a little sad, and a little flat, and a little unawakened, if that is the news flash?

He told my sister, in one of their last conversations before the surgery, well, either I’m gonna wake up and see doctors, or I’m gonna wake up and see my dad (long deceased).

And it’s funny, because Grandpa on the Farm, my model as a young girl for unflagging unconditional love, the man who first showed me it is indeed possible to live like that, he was there, holding the space for our great healing. He took dad aside right after the first encounter we had, the wingy one.

And when he’d returned, it was then that we were brothers.

So I am unconvinced that Grandpa is not actively engaged. I think it could have been Grandpa saying hello to him on that road.

That makes sense.

It is fascinating to do this work on the front end, in real time. Mary and I commented that this is such a different experience than when Mom got sick and died.

Mary, of course, said, Well, we were different people then. So true.


Deeply Awake — It Is Ready 5-19-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for spiritual mania gif




Deeply Awake — It Is Ready 5-19-13 By Kathy Vik

Oh, are the time lines merging for you like they are for me and all my people? Distant relatives, old homecomings, lots of things being tied up in very very synchronous and balanced bows, all over the place.

Are you finding this to be true for you?

I took a nap anticipating I would need to work, and I was very grateful for the rest. When I am awake now, it is such a full-on, full-bore psychedelic experience, it is good to lay my old head down and just be a creature again for a time.

I woke up and needed clarity. The dictation, it just doesn’t stop anymore, and I am glad of it, but I needed synthesis, I needed some sort of workable framework for what comes next.

So I read the light worker blogs, and, as always, me and Aisha North and John Smallman are pretty much all on the same page, but others are also echoing this new reality:

Holy Crap But This Is Super COOOOOOOL.


So I was feeling good, thinking, yeah, it’s all super weird and abstracting, but I am not the only looney on the planet, thank God.

And then I decided to meditate.

I am writing to you tonight in light, right on the website. The need to express, and also the fun I have writing in light in this way, oh, I just couldn’t stop from putting fingertip to web, and letting it rip.

So as always, when doing it bareback like this, be aware the typos will make this thing awkward, until second edit, sometime after I’ve gotten recovered from healing the sick for twelve hours.

So here it is. I sat at the edge of my bed and got real still.

I felt anticipation and excitement, somewhere deep, and I wanted some answers.

Next, I saw that same pinpoint of light, and lots of blackness all around.

I checked my physical body, and I am coursing with tremendous light, but there, in my awareness, a paltry, bright but tiny, but insistent, overpoweringly white light, a pinpoint-sized thing.

And I got a little p.o.’d then, and said, listen, this is not very cool, not being able to see. You told me this is my consciousness, this blackness.

And so I say, I do not have a blacked out consciousness. I want to see what is going on!

And with that, a pair of very large hands went up and pulled back a black velvet curtain, just like on a window, or in the Wizard of Oz.

And this is what I saw:

I had vision about as clear as when I don’t have my glasses on. It was very sunny, and I could tell it was a plain. I knew it was someplace mystical, and relatively uninhabited, and yet, I kept seeing movement. And I could appreciate that there were little tiny people, way down below, working, and I saw Egyptian clothing.

There was a great clay pyramid, and it made me sad to see, because it was a statement of purpose, and it was a sad purpose, to me. It meant that the magic in the world was officially gone, and there was a new feeling to this Earth. It’s like the Mother’s navel, where all her gifts come from, it got plugged up with that pyramid.

I could see it all formed, and gently settling onto the plain

And then, I understood there was a war going on somewhere, and even though it was still a sunny day and very beautiful Egyptian men were moving carts around and keeping busy, and were very happy people, I might add, well, I sensed conflict.

And the person who had opened the curtains told me then to turn around and stop looking out of the window it had exposed bare.

I did, I turned, and found it very very odd to be facing myself so in meditation. I’d never done it.

And then a very interesting thing happened.

As I turned, and I faced my body, I could feel a turn of sorts within. And it felt like a weird resorption, and then, I was looking casually out the window.

I understood then that “I” am one of many “I’s”.

And then, there I was I felt, like Shiva or any of the other Hindu greats, and I was looking out the window with me, with a little Kathy Vik, sitting on my big person’s right shoulder. Just perched like you see angels or demons perching on a person’s shoulder in the movies.

And then, all these other people started showing up. All around this entities shoulders, all around its neck, ringing it like a lei almost, were other people, all interested in looking out the window, all understanding we were seeing a great war, the last of its kind.

I was told that this war is the one the psychic on Friday had told me was causing such difficulty for me at the moment. And it was the same war that the Gita is describing. And it is not a war fought on earth. it is the war of personality self versus higher self.

And it can get a little crazy when the time comes for your little personality to turn inward and come home, but it has always been the way, and can be no other way, because just as Shiva had his babies, and just as God has many ways of expression, so you are more than you have thought.

And then a couple interesting things happened.

First, I saw that there was actually no battle going on. My vision had gotten sharp and I saw that the workers who were on the plain were beautiful and steady and holy. And they had just been clearing the path for the pyramid. It was still a lovely day. Somehow, it was just a matter of perception, whether those men fought and killed each other, or whether they shared a smoke after digging an appropriate hole, while they told each other jokes from time to time.

And then, the entity did something very very nice.

This big entity looked at me, sitting as I was on its right shoulder, and asked if I’d like to come on up.

I did. I found a ribbon of light and zipped right into that being’s eyes.

But as I did, I felt a part of myself just not as important, not as relevant, as I adjusted to this vantage point.

The entity said:

This pyramid is the symbol of the lower portion of your individual and mass merkahbah. It is readied. You see here that the capstone is on, and it is a beautiful summer day on the plain.


And they gave me the idea of an upside down pyramid lowering into the clay one.

i know it does not take a rocket scientist to know the significance of this symbol.


I did not get to witness the merge, because it is not yet time to effect a merge. But all is in readiness, they kept saying. Just kick back and enjoy this next part, they said.

So I will tell you what they told me in parting, I will try very hard to remember how we left it. And then, I go once again to work, to the hospital, to “normalcy.”

They told me these are the days of the harvest. These are the day of homecoming and celebration. This is the time that the wise use to love on themselves and congratulate themselves.

The difficult part has passed away, and there is no more pain, only that which can be conjured, and that which can be conjured can be un-conjured. Simple as that.

So these are days that I must be still. There is movement, and they keep telling me, as I pour my coffee, as I smoke, as I pet my cat, they say, they are always saying now, it’s complete. You are complete. It is done. Enjoy. Be still. Enjoy.

I will. i understand this next part whole, and pretty much know what to expect. I know, as my channeling proves, that these are days of great surprises and gifts, and that I have become so unaccustomed to blocking my good, that it is just tumbling out of the sky. And yet, there are still, from time to time, little hooks, little eddies of discomfort, and I know I will see them, encounter them, and be asked to hop over them at work tonight.

I will never again take on the role of tiny, unwanted, unrealized, afraid, quiet, scared Kathy Vik, the one afraid, the one absolutely convinced no one loves her. Unconvinced. So sad, so sad.

But I am not her, no, I am not.

And I may not be that entity who pulled open the curtains, but this is how I will leave it, an almost unbelievable conclusion to this meditation.

At the end of the meditation, I appreciated my body again. My short little legs jutting out off of the bed, touching the bookshelf I use as a side table. Just this little wrinkled, graying body. Ha!

And I understood, I just simply knew, that I am not only the supplicant but the one who opened the curtains, and the very picture I showed myself.

The meditation ended with them turning into the ones who counseled me nearly twenty years ago, who took me away from earth and showed it to me from a window, and asked me to look.

After they’d given me rest, with a loving hand of a brother on my shoulder, I looked at the earth. i saw it spin. I was unaffected. i really could have cared less.

Pretty, though.

And then I heard it, and then I felt it.

Cries, such misunderstandings, such torment, such pain. The suffering, all of it voluntary, all of it holy, all of in sanctified.

And they had asked me then, in my homesickness and my weariness, what do you want to do?

they said that I could stay with them, but I would probably soon feel I had made a mistake. Look again, they said. Feel it. Hear it.

And I knew then that there never really was a choice, not really, and this had been some sort of dumb exercise in emotional incontinence. They told me how it is for them. they cannot touch skin to skin. they cannot speak words that can readily be heard. They must do things in an energetic and symbolic way, but me, on earth, I can do more. I can touch people. i can listen to secrets. i can play with children and I can dry eyes that have been weeping. i can do that. i am well positioned for this, actually.

i saw then why nursing was not a bad choice.

And so I chose to return. The work with The Teachers, after that, went much more smoothly, of course.

And today, they are back, and they are with me looking out that window onto an Egyptian scene. They are with me and they tell me now how to proceed.

I do not have to be so clever now, and I know I can trust what comes out of my mouth, as free of filters as that has become. God help us all.

They told me to kick back and stop sweating it quite so much. They told me I certainly CAN go around believing I am a solar angel, if that makes me happy, because in a way, I am one. And I am other things too, and none of it means a whole lot if I am not laughing and having a good time. it’s all just dumb words if i am not laughing and easing people’s ways.

So I will do that. I have a good vantage point. i know that sometimes I will look up and all I will see is black. I know that.

but now I know to ask to have someone just open the curtain. And that will be done, always, every time, if it is for my highest good. And this is a cooperative anymore, so, if I ask, of course it is for the heights good.

Blessings to you this right night.

We are deep into the mystery now, at least my we is, and I hope your we is having fun looking out of their own windows. I am so looking forward to hearing what it is you see from your seat!!!

Deeply Awake — Spiritual Mania 5-17-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for spiritual mania gif




Deeply Awake — Spiritual Mania 5-17-13 By Kathy Vik

I saw yesterday just how manic this new energy has made me, and then I got a really big dose of help. I want to pass this help on to you.

Let me describe what it’s like for me, when I am in the height of a wave, or energy, or maybe I’m just nuts and having a break. You tell me.

FLIGHT OF IDEAS: one thing just naturally flows to another thing, and the thinking isn’t exactly linear. Examples are impossible not to find, because when you are thinking in a unified manner, you just take for granted everything is meaningful, and everything is beautiful, and everything is connected to everything else. So, yeah, I have that.

GRANDIOSITY: This is one shrinks have seen in many many shapes and sizes, actually. And, yes, rather a lot of people, when really manic, think they’re Jesus, and indeed I have had patients whose delusional system is very tight, very rigid, and they cannot be told they are not whoever it is they think they are, from Jesus to master of the realm of snakes to on and on it went, in my psych nursing years. My life, and I’m sure in yours, dear reader, these things are just simply too long-term and organic to be anything but an ever unfolding, a lowering of the veil, after all.

But, yeah, grandiosity. This is a diagnosis, of course, but only once your life has unraveled so much that it just is a shocking and funny thing. It’s just real hard to take seriously the woman who is smeared in her own poop screaming because you are mad that you don’t think that she is Napoleon.

So, I suppose if you’ve got grandiose thoughts, as long as, for the time being, you don’t holler them out, cut on yourself or smear yourself with anything gross, you’ll probably go unnoticed.

Why do I say these things? Because we who are waking up a bit are getting some odd notions, things we think are so obvious, but they seem, I repeat seem, grandiose to others.

I think that is the point which must be made again and again with psychiatry, it is, unfortunately, a science which, having been largely custodial, they have not positioned themselves well to be expert on human mental wellness.

They have become experts at categorizing and subcategorizing interesting aberrations of consciousness, in order to fix something that isn’t normal, is diseased, without studying intact consciousness to see how to help those who are stuck.

Oh well, let’s continue our discussion of mania.

IDEAS OF REFERENCE: This is a state folks get in where they are convinced everyone is talking about them, and all the magazines and TV’s they are talking about this person who has been identified as manic. The manic believes the Time article has coded messages about plots, and his being and safety, or, usually, distinct and urgent lack of safety.

You may not believe me, but I am telling you that some folks spend months in highly disorganized psychotic states, thinking that the fillings in their teeth are broadcasting the government their thoughts.

DELUSIONS: This is a big one and one I spent months working on last year while doing shifts on a psych ward. A delusion is defined as a false belief structure, and it usually is one that has intrusive or untenable rules. One example would be if I believed that the spider-people  lived on the other side of the grandfather clock, it chimes noon, a portal to their world opens. Not an uncommon, though emergent psychosis.

I guess what I am getting at is, does the thought cause the thinker distress, alarm, aberrant behavior. Then, there’s a problem that may be organic.

HALLUCINATIONS: Seeing things, hearing, tasting and smelling things that are not there.

I wanted to give you an example of how a person presents who is in a full-blown psychotic or manic episode, but it’s too much work. Suffice it to say, folks suffering classically presenting mania are unpleasant to be around.

They have sharp, sharp tongues, many of them cut right to the quick with their insights, and they feel perfect justification for their behavior.

I know I can be mean, and nursing required I hold my tongue. Sometimes friends and family weren’t so lucky.

I just want to reflect for a minute, because, having described it that way, I can really see, I mean, just very starkly, just why it was I was a little frightened of taking of these new energetic attributes. I can see now why my years in psych were so important, and were valuable.

Maybe it is for you too, but I have had a devil of a time this lifetime feeling good about my sanity. I mean, I always figured, if I can just keep the boat upright and moving in a direction, then that’s good, considering what I am dealing with.

I have always had a very lush inner life, and this is a wide variance to most of my fellow travelers.

I am well aware that this is a very arrogant statement, and one which belies my days of loneliness, from that self-induced separation. I won’t use the past as a template for things to come. It is my foundation, but it’s no longer my house. I have moved up from the basement.

As such, I do say that I have always felt crazy and feared for my sanity, to a lesser or greater degree, daily, this lifetime. Goes with the territory. I think I came in not willing to buy in, not completely, to the agreement fields around me, so it always felt strangely inapplicable in a way.

But this abstraction does not help one feel warm and fuzzy.

I go through these symptoms to tell you that if you are feeling weird, I think it might be smart to start considering a technique to see if you will get relief, rather than going to a shrink, at least right at first.

Let’s review the symptoms I put out there as ones you see in any floridly psychotic state, in any garden variety manic. This is manic season after all.

And, please know, I say this in all love. I spent my adult life caring for the infirm, and many of those years were spent in the company of the clinically insane. And among these people I was free, and walking among shamans, all, and we both knew it.

Them, there at the height of their absurdity, at the height of their vulnerability and creativity, and me, just watching, open-mouthed, gawping at their courage and strength and beauty.

So, yeah, I might flippantly say something like “it’s manic season,” but it is informed joke. Folks who wish imagine a slight will find many in my writing. Those who seek out absolution find there is more than enough to go around for everyone.


The trinity of ideas of reference, hallucinations, delusions. Hmm.

Shall we review, just real honestly, what the deep-into-it, full on ascension crowd pretty much takes for granted?

IDEAS OF REFERENCE: Of yours, everything I see, touch, feel, know, these are things that I am being given from my higher self, my God center, for my pleasure and leaning. Everything sensorial is here for my enjoyment, and is as significant and relevant and meaningful as I see fit.

FLIGHT OF IDEAS: In a multidimensional state, what appears chaotic is in fact highly organized, but with a precision which loses its meaning when placed in a linear construct. So there.

GRANDIOSITY: We believe that everything is made of consciousness, and everything is consciousness. We believe that God is fractal, in that in a multidimensional state, there is a unity of consciousness which makes separation a null state, and within unity consciousness, grandiosity itself is null. The word speaks to a need to divide, to denigrate, to separate. The word is the issue, the concept behind it, no longer applicable.

DELUSIONS: We have found peace in constructing individual belief constructs which we find are inclusive, generous and fear less. What we have come to find peace believing is something which others might find highly uncomfortable, offensive or frightening. It is never necessary and usually inadvisable to give everything away to everyone. It is too much. It looks crazy. Delusions, this is a bed rock, a cornerstone of how we move into a whole-hearted paradigm. Just by dropping this one word form our vocabulary. Replace it with “agreement fields,” how about?!

HALLUCINATIONS: You and I both know that if we sat down and told the check out clerk about the meditation we had three hours ago, their head would probably pop. Or maybe their heart would open up, but something would happen. We could tell them about what it is they are worrying about, and how to solve their worry, probably, given a couple minutes with them. We might be able to send a message along that they need! But if we told them it’s because St. Germaine tapped us on the shoulder and is whispering to us, nah, that can be left unsaid, don’t you think?!

The reason any of this came up is that yesterday, for anyone who is following along, was a big day. A mountain was summitted yesterday, and I’m still sucking on an oxygen mask. I feel weak, like I’m two days past a real bad cold, you know, not sick, but worn out.

And then, and then, as always, there is the trip to school, to drop off my son.

Smile and radio and groove on, things got clearer real fast.

I remembered when I picked up my son yesterday, and he almost immediately turned into a puddle of tears! Again and again, we couldn’t get it right. I made him cry, no matter what I said, and no matter what I did not say. I knew I was the problem. I knew it. And I was having such a hard time knowing what was even wrong. I felt so GOOOOOOOD. I knew so much, wanted to share so much, wanted to help so much.

No wonder he started crying almost the minute he got into the car, poor little guy.

Yesterday, as we were driving here and there, and I was being way dis regulated and too much for any other human being, I think, an image came to me. The same image which helped me to channel the group.

I become an old sequoia, and it feels so good to be there, feeling my veins, the sunlight in my veins, and then I become the leaves, and then it’s night and I am in the starts, and then I am gone…

And I saw the forest, and the tree, as I was driving to the restaurant last evening, and I was told, you know, you don’t necessarily need to BE the tree, you know.

You could maybe just be touching it with one little pinky. Just touching it, but still around. Talk from the base of the tree. When you are feeling threatened, climb into the tree and answer from the branches, that’s fine. But get down from the tippy tops now, and just hang out on the ground.

I was told then that I had been running great light, and while writing, I was running it through my heart, in the act of this channeling stuff, but now, in the care with my son, or when I am at work, or doing tasks, just do it from the base of the tree.

Run this great light through your heart. Feel it being directed to be tempered, turned green and liquid and bright and healing, when it is run through your heart.

It is the same light. It is the same knowing. It is still universal mind, but when run through your very body, consciously, and you choose to use color, or even sound, and thoughts which are pleasing, or even just neutral, then, you have it.

Otherwise, I was told, otherwise, yeah, you just come off a little crazy. Full on manic, really, without the hypersexuality. It really is sort of a mess to be around.

Be in the forest. It is cool, and pleasant, and everyone knows you there. And when you are touching your pinky to the tree, see, everyone here you already know.

I think this stuff is potent, and it is quite possible to go a little insane on this trip.

I think it is safe to say that if you are having these sort of experiences (I guess I am speaking mostly to myself right now) that you couldn’t be having these tussles with what is real, what is not, what is helpful in this new paradigm and what is not, without having both the capacity to understand it, and the ability to handle it. That is how it works.

If you are given the question, it means you know the answer, and you are giving yourself another treasure hunt, and that is all.

So, I will now do the channeling thing and then I have a bunch of stuff I have to do.

I will close by saying that I started today out, of course, sort of fuzzy and feeling really hungover, actually. On the drive home I began to perk up, and then I heard the weather forecast. It is to be 88 degrees today.

And I was very very happy. That’s the first time I can honestly say that I am happy it is going to be hot. And, I mean, the first time in oh, I don’t know, 45 years.

I felt the sun on my skin, the smile on my face, my relaxation. I looked up at the sky, once the light turned and traffic began to move again, and I looked at the sun, winked and said, “Hi, friend.”

And then it all came home to me, and this is why I began this piece an hour ago:

A delusion, that is a belief structure that is not recognized by the group. That’s what a delusion is. And at this point, I have no interest in worrying what the group has to say about what I have found peace in believing.

I felt the sun on my skin and I knew this to be true:

The sun is the shadow, an emissary of the Great Central Sun, the Great Central Sun’s representative. It radiates holy light right from the heart of God.

The sun’s love, its light, it cannot be excluded from any living thing. The light enters all, eventually, and in the end, the light feeds all, touches all, knows all, exposes and illuminates and celebrates all it is aware of, and the light is aware of all.

So, I believe that the sun’s light, that sun, right up there, that this light is holy light of god. And this light, it interacts with me, with my very cells, with my DNA, and the movement of the universe itself make the patterns in my fingernail cells, my greying hair, my eyelids.

And the light is the love of God. I am alive, glowing, and informed by the light of God, and this is a cellular event, a chemical event, as well as an emotional, intellectual and spiritual event, right now, in this body I have known all this time, with my limited knowledge, with my infirmities, with my questions and my thoughts and my desires.

And this light shines on us all, every day.

And for my days, I will walk this earth smiling, because I know that when the sun shines, God is loving me, and everyone else, and everything else. And everything is singeing, and celebrating, just all the time.

Is this something for which I should be medicated? Hospitalized? Adjudicated? These are beliefs which are not held by the mainstream, the status quo, the psychiatrists who have the power to lock people away for years.

I am alive love. It is a real thing, but it is real for me, and me alone. If you choose to think it’s possible, you and I can have great fun.

And what if you choose not to believe this is possible? Although I think I have laid out a pretty good roadmap of how one person finally achieves something like peace of mind in this crazy situation, I am just one person. I have known great pain, great joy, great understandings, great disappointments. I’m just one person.

I think mental health, and the whole system, it is set up for those who cannot modulate their information, who have grave misinterpretations, some of them from trauma, and these are great karmic lessons the “ill” ones teach the “well,” in essence.

Once you have been identified as a psych patient, or a mother/father/spouse/sibling of someone with a problem requiring “intervention,” there is a stigma that settles onto you. A feel of illegitimacy.

Crazy people are not believed, you know that.

They have lost their inherent authority.

Well, to be honest, they have that ripped from them, over and over and over, by a system which just refuses to love those in their care, honor, respect.

There is little honor or respect given the insane, not really, not in the end, not when things get bad, not among the line staff. I can tell you that because I work psych, to this day.

People get out of hand.

But, remember, that was then.

Imagine how things are going to be like NOW for those who are having energetic modulation issues!

And think about us, we lightworkers, always a little off, always pretty ok with going our own way quietly, never letting “them” know what it is that brings us peace and makes us sparkly. I see what “they” do to the sparkly ones. I know.

So we have kept pretty quiet, have we not? We don’t believe what the mainstream believes, and the mainstream is pretty cranky when it senses new thinking…

I think this is what Jesus was saying when he said “Give to Caesar that which is Caesar’s” That’s I always took it anyway. It’s not taxes, it can be taken more metaphorically than that.

I always interpreted it to mean that it’s wise to just always pay the ferry man. Gather rent, pay the utilities, feed myself, keep a fairly neat house, keep the car running, things like that. Stay under the radar. Believe anything you wish, but just keep quiet about it, and keep paying Caesar, so they don’t come and cart you off.

But I have had many many years of just maintaining, and I am beginning to consider that my interpretation of Jesus’ words was adequate at the time, and very helpful, but perhaps not as full and ripe as it should have been.

So let me once again consider this thought, and see if anything else comes up…within this context…

And what I was given was this –

The admonition to give to Caesar that which is Caesars’ is no longer an apt admonition.

He told me instead to revisit my essay called “Sandstorms”, and to remember it. I’d had repetitions dreams of me working real hard on something, concentrating so fully, to the exclusion of everything else, and then a sandstorm came up, and I couldn’t see anything. Then the dust cleared, and where the houses and cities once were, there was furniture, just huge huge chairs, and just really out of context stuff, but I can remember, the feeling when the sand settled was that all my dreams had come true, and all of it was a gift. Just so unexpected, all this change. Just overnight, it felt, and everything was different.

OK, I remember now,.

But how does this relate to just barely keeping the boat afloat while doing all this work, and how does it relate to madness?

He then reminded me of his parable of the seeds being planted on sand and those planted on rock. I forget it and need to re read it. Wasn’t that the one where the farmer plants seeds, and some of them don’t make it because they don’t get the right footing?

And he says – Yes dear one these are new days and you are fresh from a birth which you all have done elegantly and beautifully. Consider the forest rather than the sandy plain. In the forest all is know, because the forest only knows love. And it will only ever know love. You must know this.

Love is your bedrock, it is your anchor is a sandstorm, and it is the forest from which we wish for you to forever speak.

I will say now, that once I began thinking about the forest, there in the car with my son, I concentrated so hard on feeling good, and then I did, and after a time, I decided to check in with him. I looked over, and there he was, fast asleep again.

I was told that this is the effect this energy has on human being when it is not well modulated. He will come to, they told me, and feel quite rested, and your reparations have been made. Be softer now, be softer in all your ways.

Cast off your fear of insanity.

Look who it is who is calling you that.

Look your shrink, your parent, your society right in the eye and ask them just one question, “Are you unafraid?”

If someone can answer that honestly, I think they have much more authority, don’t you? I haven’t met many people who are fearless. A few, but not many. Ask.

If they are unafraid, then consider listening to the judgment they are eager to pass, knowing that the need to judge is not all that high level in thinking.

And if they are afraid, comfort them, do not cower before them like a beggar.

So be manic, be bipolar, be crazy as a shithouse rat. Just make sure you consider this lady’s experience, running my crazy light through my heart, through a green light. It made things better. But I was also listening to the voices in my head as I was doing it, so go figure.

P.S. All through last evening and this morning, the message has been, Silver Linings Playbook was released, in part, to assist lightworkers with this work. It is the softening of the heart, and the awareness of the great power of your love of self and all else, which is the balm.

They did this by confronting fear with erring on the side of things working out, things being loving. Each made loving decisions, choices, again and again. And they were met.

That was how they were able to allow themselves to dwell in their forests, and to hold hands as trees, rather than as twinkling, pretty lights.

This is a movie for all, but especially for those when they confront this dysregulation/immodulation issue.