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.

Seylah

 

 

 

As referenced:

Deeply Awake — Be Gone. You Have No Power Here.” 10-30-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for glinda the good witch oz gif

 

 

Deeply Awake — Be Gone. You Have No Power Here.” 10-30-13 By Kathy Vik

It’s a valid question, “How does darkness die?” It begs a deeper question, and that is, “What is darkness?” It intimates darkness’ basic fragility. It is a valid question.

The shifts here have been tremendous, but I feel I am not quite finished with this lesson yet. Here in the stillness, between acts, between work, I want to take some time to talk with you about what has happened here lately.

You know that I use my life as a metaphor for many things, and my days are my fodder, my grist, my lab.

What gives me this right?

Further, what gives me the right to think that how I see things is how things should go?

This comes down to fundamental questions. Is what I believe to be true good enough for all I encounter? Should I modulate my light, dim it, change it, when in conflict with another? Who am I to want to have the outcomes I do, and why do I think these outcomes are perhaps sturdier, and certainly more attractive?

These are the basics, really. Getting down to the basics now.

An old teacher of mine, someone I revere and felt I needed to meet once more, complete a circuit, say good-bye, well, this teacher finally agreed to meet me.

But time passed, just a few days, and I could feel there had been a shift. It was a disappointment but not a surprise when yesterday I received a one-sentence message from this great soul, this great healer and soul-friend. The sentence?

“What is your intention in meeting me?”

This is after two simple, clear messages, explaining why I wished to resurrect this old thing and get together.

There it was.

What is your intention?

My initial reaction? Simple. I intended to give you love, say thank you and say goodbye. I intended to be kind to you. I don’t even understand how someone in this situation could even think up this seven word question. It did not compute, stuck out and seemed so absolutely incongruous.

And so, my response was loving and sweet, but the message was, well, you know, I think it’s best to consider this our goodbye.

Have you had an experience like this, where someone adds something to the mix that is just very surprising, odd, and an energetic arm up, out, defended and distancing?

I thought a lot about that yesterday, how it is that there have been just, really, a handful of folks I have collected in my life whose only stance is to have an arm out in defense. That I feel an obligation, and an honor, in loving them, this has been the hardest part of my walk, the hardest part.

I realized that this is one of the oldest engrams I have, one of the core things I set up to dissolve, to heal, and to release.

I know I love. I know I am love. Always have. Just know.

And when I then encounter someone who is not just neutral to me, but hostile or attacking, how is that even possible? I swear, I have spent most of my 52 years just shaking my head and crying inside. People are closed off, unavailable, a lot of them, and they don’t even know it.

What gives me the right to say these things, and who am I to have any authority over my consciousness? This is the question I have wrestled with, from day one.

I will now tell you a story. When I was a little kid, maybe four, maybe younger, I remember being at a friend’s house, on their outdoor swing, the kind when the benches face each other. My friend and I had been singing the “Found a Peanut” song, and had been playing some sort of game, I forget the details.

But it was plain to me, as the thing progressed, that this was someone who really, really, needed to win this game. And so, I let her win.

Her mom was observing this whole thing. The mom approached me and gave me a look, the impression, acted as if, what I had just done was not acceptable, and that I was a very very odd little girl. It wasn’t a warm and fizzy feeling. It was suspicion itself.

Now, I have a choice here, don’t I? I could have blown off that memory, made it insignificant, but it has been with me since. Just one more example of not fitting in, being judged by a parental unit. What else is new? That’s all they ever do. I could have processed it that way, I really could have. Most people do.

In fact, most people don’t have the antennae to feel the gestalt of another, and might even misinterpret the behavior of another in all sorts of ways. And there, in my little outfit, there I was letting my friend win a game, and her mom made it plain it was unacceptable to do something like that.

It stuck with me. I had always felt it as a warning. Watch yourself. Don’t show yourself quite so much. Play the game. Play to win.

Why mention this?

Because this is how I am built.

It is not how many of my fellow travelers are built.

Having no one to talk with about such events, I filed it away, and the advice, to play the game, I took it to heart, to some extent, but still, throughout girlhood I collected friends with special needs. Blind. One who was just plain off. I liked hanging with those who couldn’t play this game of aggression, whose beings were ill-equipped to win, and we sheltered together.

This gentleness of spirit, it has morphed and it has changed, as I have walked my walk.

And the central question, how can I trust something within me for which I do not see much outside of raw contempt and fear, how will this go?

I went into nursing. Sort of makes sense, right?

Some teach, some create things, some marry and make babies. I went into nursing. Where the gold standard of practice is mindful compassion, skillful neutrality and creating safety to be exactly who and what another is. That’s how I roll. It is what my profession holds high as the epitomy of mastery.

But I guess I have not valued this core of me very much, and I am ok with having new pride in how I see things.

How does the dark die? What is darkness, and does it die at all, is it transformed, will it go away, or does it just go elsewhere?

Now I will tell you another story, because this is the way of it.

Six days ago, it came to my attention, through my son, not a school representative, not a grown up, that he had been accused of saying something sexually aggressive, and he was in trouble for it.

I knew that, when Sam talked about the details, when he told me about the experience he had, it was obvious to me he was being honest when I asked him if there was truth to the accusation, and he said no. There was little defense, and his way is to go loud and big with his lying. He was somber. He knew what he was being accused of. I saw that my kid was actually hurt, his feelings were hurt and he was a little dazed by this turn of events.

I feel, as a parent, that if my kid is honest, we can handle anything, and I will go to the mat for him every time. If he does something that is harmful to another, he admits it. If he has problems, he tells me these problems and sometimes, he knows, if I feel ill-equipped to address the problems, we bring in help. He has had guides, already, in his life, when I was out of answers. My child trusts me, and for good reason, and he understands there is just no room in this life of ours for dishonesty, for covering up, because there is no shame here, really. None at all.

So, six days later, the pseudo-educator, the identified disciplinarian at the school, he is still terrorizing my son with this “the investigation is ongoing” nonsense.

The accusation is dark. The time left in the dark was, I began to feel, designed to be ominous.

But where the educator chose to go with this, when this accusation was brought to my attention, prior to an “investigation” were threats of district involvement, threats of legal involvement, intimations that this could impact the future of this boy’s young life.

Yeah.

Talk about drama.

So, today, after dealing with and finally abandoning dealing with the disciplinarian who has placed himself in the role of judge and jury, I met with the principal.

Of course, the principal was unaware of this accusation, and the actions of the one who encouraged the accusation becoming fully formed and alive as this ugliness we all have been dealing with for six days.

Last night I set the intention, ran light, said a prayer, but in an absent-minded way, feeling sure that my dreams would help more than any prayer I could utter in extremity.

This morning, it dawned on me that I could be far more intentional.

I dropped down, into meditation, into my Self.

I saw and felt light, and I did what I know to do when someone’s darkness is impeding on others. I ran light, I gave him so much love, so much love, but it was plain: you have gone too far, fella. This cannot stand. It will not stand.

Have you ever been in a situation where you had your head around a situation or a problem, seen it just one way, could not see it any other, really, and then someone comes up and says things that blow open your internal construct, tearing what used to make sense into a pile of stupidity, and you realized, instantly, that you had not been seeing things whole, that this not seeing things whole led you to misinterpret and to act in a way you learn was disruptive, hurtful or inappropriate?Have you been caught being mean, in others words?

How did you respond to this? How did you change as a result of the interaction, or were you even able to?

When faced with seeing that how I chose to act or think about a situation was based on incomplete understanding, I learned this is really simply a lack of seeing things whole, seeing things whole. Compassionately, yes, that goes without saying, but seeing things whole, this is even more helpful.

We all know, when we get our noses smacked after acting in a way that was mean or unthinking, that a normal thing to feel is shame. Unsteadiness, even. It can lead to a fear that what is within led you too far failed, and therefore, what is giving you guidance maybe shouldn’t be trusted.

That is why correcting someone who has things wrong, or is thinking darkly, acting darkly, it is imperative, I think, to handle such corrections of course with great compassion and gentleness.

But sometimes, my patience runs out, and my act of compassion is in letting the one doing the damage sit and be with the damage they’ve caused.

That is usually corrective enough. Usually that does the trick. Folks don’t want to be harmful, especially when dealing with someone who is incapable of returning the harm.

But the shame can make folks do odd and sometimes even more harmful things. To save face, to feel intact, and sometimes to fight against the truth of it, that they had things wrong.

I know many many people who are unable to say the words, “I’m sorry.” To me, it is a nice little litmus test, a nice little clue, as to their abilities. Is it always defense, guardedness, attack, or is this person someone who is able to say, “I’m sorry,” when their actions have been perceived as hurtful? Sort of tells me all I need to know.

That we each do things that can be perceived as harmful to another, well, I don’t see getting around that, until generations have passed and this father/disciplinarian/judge sort of energy loosens.

I contemplated that, this morning, holding a crystal, blasting light, asking the ancients to continue to keep the space lit up for us, preparing the energy for a healing.

I asked that the outcome be of the highest love light and sound, in gentleness to all parts of all selves involved. Neutral, complete, loving, whole.

Although the power brokers left things unresolved, I do not fear the outcome now. The educator who had told my son and I the grave consequences my kid could expect if this thing was true, who had been beligerant and aggressive and mean-spirited, who had somehow lost his reason over this, he was excused from the meeting, as it went on. He was behaving in a way that made even his boss uncomfortable, aggressive and hostile as he was.

That morning, in meditation, I had realized it was my intent to function completely with the mind of god throughout our meeting, our time in that school. To be a blessing and a help to all. The mind of god. I had no other intention, and no thought of outcome.

They’ve left us hanging, but I hold no fear. I will tell you why the outcome will be a soft one. And if it is not, how the thing will, must, naturally, conclude.

My kid had been told to write a statement, put it down in writing what happened.

And in that fat childish scrawl of his, oh! it fills me with wonder and love just imaging it.

My kid wrote that yes, he liked the kid he’s accused of wanting to harm, but he never said such a thing. And then, this: “I know the person who is saying this is hurting, but…”

And there, shining on that page, in that dark place my ex-husband and myself found ourselves in this morning, there it was, shining so clearly, right off the page.

My heart sort of jumped when I read it. Then I showed it to Jerry. And then I showed the principal. Here is a child to, when scared and standing accused, committing to paper his mind of god, his heart of compassion, his ability to see things whole. Loving his accuser, seeing this whole thing for what it is.

I ended my talking with saying that I want, when all is said and done, for this to be handled like grownups. Jerry then added, “Well, reading that, I know one person who is doing that.”

That is how we left it.

I have been sitting in waves of amazement since this morning.

When accused of something dark, how many times have I gone to the angry place, the defensive place, the hurtful attacking place?

But I have changed. Did Sam change me? Did I change Sam? Or are we just super compatible?

What you think might be passivity, or too high a need to process, I see it differently.

I knew in mediation, was told, no one there can hold as much light as you. It’s just how this situation is. Blaze. Be on fire with it. Burn with this mind of god. See things whole and hold them all to a higher standard, one of love and good judgment, compassion and truth.

Being of the light does not mean I am going to fit in.

Quite the opposite.

Quite the opposite, I am learning.

I have spent a long time studying this light of mine, and arguing with it. Telling it that it does not exist because only a few folks are capable of doing anything but spitting on it.

But this is what is changing.

The truth is that whenever I run this sort of light, ease is produced. Intelligence is produced. Peace is produced.

There have been times, in my career, when I have had to involve the authorities, knowing they will pursue punishment, knowing the recipient will be marked by the disclosure.

I have done it only when I knew that by not acting, this person’s darkness would go unchecked. No insight, nothing but defense, what else could I do? You beat up one of my innocents, one of my patients, then you’ve crossed a line which I cannot, am not able, to cross. I know the judicial system, our form of punishing, it is just as wrong as the behavior which makes such a system breathe. But there are some things I will not abide.

Such is it with my kid, this time around. He has done plenty of stupid things, and had to deal with various shitstorms as a result. I let him deal with the shitstorms, so he can see that certain behaviors only have bad outcomes. It’s been an important part of parenting.

But I know I can trust him, and his little essay reminded me why.

I am beginning to see that although this sequestration, this vacation I have had to take to get right with myself, and with you, and with the dark, this has been the source of all good things.

I do not like conflict, cannot understand what motivates a person to pursue retribution. I cannot understand what would make an old friend question my motives. My motives are beyond question. They just are.

But I am glad for the question, and glad of my response, too.

Lightwork is more than worrying my mala with gratitudes, with love. Lightwork is more than gathering with the like minded.

Lightwork is looking someone right in the eye and saying, “Really?”

A lot of it is just that.

Really? You’re gonna play it THAT way?!

I have thought that my relative absence of mirrors, of like-minded souls here around me as friends, that this was a tacit form of punishment. If I were doing really really good with this lightworking stuff, I wouldn’t have problems, there would be no complications, it would be clear skies and calm seas.

And so, this morning, I thought about my friend Jesus. I thought about my friend Gandhi.

Did they have clear skies and calm seas? Did those around them always, always, always, agree? Did they have an easy path?

no. They did not.

Central to this is my ancient engram.

I remember, yesterday morning, in meditation, realizing that I have, since girlhood, been making a central, a fundamental mistake in how I have interpreted the behavior of others.

I am love. I am loving. I cannot harm others. I won’t fight back. Why should I even have to defend myself? I just can’t do that stuff. I’m not built that way. And I knew it from childhood.

And yet, I am not automatically treated like that. Not always.

And as a girl, I interpreted it like this:

I love you, but you do not love me.

If I loved you better, if I were better, then you would love me.

And so, 52 years later, I am, in writing, telling that little munchkin that she got a few things, understandably, and thankfully, wrong.

I am seeing now that my core is strong, and it is light and it is pure.

My light is strong and pure, and when I drop into my core, into my soul, into that part of me who can easily remember who and what I am and have been and will be, oh, all good things come from there.

It matters not, does not alter or diminish this light, if you fail to see it, if you react
badly, if you make dark pictures in your mind and project them all about.

It matters not to me, and does not diminish my light. Not anymore. Not anymore.

This is fearlessness, of course. This is recognizing that which is within as good, as pure, as loving and just. As truth, just for me, just for me, just for me.

But I have seen this light in action. You may ask those who have been changed by it. You may talk with those who know themselves as good because, in a tight and dense situation, I saw them as good. Once in my career did I have to involve the authorities. Once. All the other times, no matter what happened, no matter what went down, the change came face to face, heart to heart, in conversation, in fellowship.

I know the result of being like this.

I know when I am going into battle, always have, but I am prepared now in a way I wasn’t before.

I am not apologizing, explaining or questioning my light anymore. You can, all you want, all you want. I just don’t care anymore.

Let your suspicions and your fear behaviors come up. Let them. It does not change me. It doesn’t touch me, not anymore.

After the meeting, Jerry walked me to my car. He told me he was beginning to feel bad for the discipline dude, the one who was projecting all sorts of weirdness onto my son. Jerry said, I know how you can go on and on and on.

I said, yeah, I tend to do that when I see I am not being heard.

Jerry laughed, remembering some of the more awful moments of being married to this. And then he said again that he just felt bad for the guy, he’d been found to be wrong, and it was so obvious.

The discipline dude, he’s off the case, and who knows what the replacement will do with this obscenity.

I have said, from the beginning, that it is clear to me that some little one in that school needs some help, projecting, as she is, such vivid imagery onto my kid. Someone needs help, and it is not Sam.

I feel a consensus within our little community that getting along is the highest value. Getting along.

But there are many things which I feel it is wrong to comply with. Many things that are just so unenlightened, so mean-spirited, dripping with fear and loathing.

I do not agree with how my elected officials are conducting themselves. I do not like how certain members of my own tribe conduct themselves.

For so long, I have thought that compliance, obedience, shutting up, going along to get along, that this was good. Less stressful, and a sign of growth.

But I think it has been more that I have just excused myself, for a while, from the BS of others, so that I could get clear on whether I had a right to see another’s behavior as incorrect, or even, dare I say it, wrong.

That is a big one.

Auditing the little guy while corporations get a pass on paying a penny in taxes, that is wrong. Funding a war machine and defunding our schools, it’s wrong. Banning children from bringing their basketballs in from home because balls could be used as a weapon, that’s wrong. It’s all very very dumb, very stupid, and it is dark. All of it. Of the darkness.

So, this movement I have been feeling, this shift, I feel as if I am emerging from a soundproof chamber, one in which I have passed exceedingly joyful days, getting to know and love and appreciate me and this curious light I know is what makes me.

I have been unwilling to venture too far into the madness, and now that I wish to emerge, I am struck with just how mad things have gotten with others, with their own minds.

I am not interested in using the law of reflectivity to somehow claim this darkness as mine.

You, if you have intentions which will cause grief without healing, if you are intent on punishing others because you can, without thought and without reflection, you are no longer something I recognize as mine.

I renounce this darkness. It is not mine. I refuse to think that the only reason I am confronted with the scenarios I have had to deal with lately is because I have darkness within me that the other is reflecting back to me.

No.

No.

That might have been true at one time, but it is no longer the truth of it, the core of it.

I realized, driving how this morning, that I just do not feel alone anymore. Usually when I have had to assert myself in such a way, I am left with a hollow, sad feeling, like I wish I could have someone to tell me how I did, that sort of thing.

But today, I touched my heart instead, laying palm to chest, and I smiled. I know I am with the others, and the others are with me, now. I am never alone, now. I can get out of my own way and allow the light to shine, now. I do not self-reference when someone is acting in an awful way, an unenlightened or cruel way.

It’s not mine. I do not recognize it as mine. I recognize it as something to point out, something to laugh at, really, like Glinda the Good Witch.

Remember? The mean old witch, Glinda’s sister, comes to Glinda’s place and starts in on her fear tactics and all of that, and remember what Glinda said?

Glinda laughed. First thing, she laughed. And then she said, “Be gone. You have no power here.”

Those who have been formative to my consciousness, I have, one by one, pulled them back to me and released them, I can see that now. This has been a nearly two-year process of shedding all that used to serve as my structure, my internal awareness. Those who I have struggled against, those I have loved and lost, those who have disowned me, those who love me.

When I am deep in a problem, I see my consciousness, all my training, all that I have come to understand, as an impediment to happiness, as the reason I have less money than I’d like, why I have very few friends.

But the thing is, yesterday, I finally had a little talk with myself. I counted, on my fingers, those who I have in my awareness who have written me off, rejected me, or who cannot hear me, no matter how articulate and compassionate I am. Some will not get it. And there they were, on four fingers, waving at me.

And then I thought about all the perfection in my life. The friends I feel are family. The hugs I get, unsolicited, at work. The honor I see in my ex-husband’s eyes. The words of love my son utters.

I counted these up too.

Ten to four.

Over half.

Over half, now, and more daily, I get little hits of recognition for the light I carry, without the sting of fear so many attach to their awareness of what I am.

And I decided, yesterday, that when all is said and done, this is good. I have grieved, as you know if you have been reading along, for this life I have led so far. The one couched in a desire to blend in, to not call attention to myself, to not opt for love, the one which obsesses over all the things I could have done better, how I could have been more loving, more sensitive, more kind.

Many do not, I believe, feel real pain when they survey their day, or their life, and find themselves deficient in being a loving person. I do. Always have. It’s been a real pain in the ass, actually.

But I do have people in my life who do the same. I do have those who see that I am harmless, benign, not a mean bone in my body.

And those who do battle with me, they too come to see that I mean them no harm at all, and that how they are holding themselves is far more harmful than anything I could do or say or think.

It is to them I say, from this day forward, you have no power here. You have no power here. You have no power here.

I have earned this right, and I take this as my responsibility. And this means, now, emerging from this time of contemplation, of will, of spiritual intent which is so intense, so pure and so bright that it could light up the grid for all, as I emerge, I understand that to find that others do not vibrate as I do (“What is your intent in meeting?), that I am no longer willing to slow my spin to meet them.

Keep up, I say. Understand, you are no longer in control, if you are listening to the seduction of dark thoughts, fear scenarios, worry and anxiety and frustration and suspicions.

You have no power here.

I am a light warrior. I am a master. And just like my friends, none of us had that easy of a time, surrounded, as we were with those who refused to see, refused to hear, refused to understand.

These constructs are looking nonsensical to me. It is nonsense, most of the stuff that has us scurrying, has us reacting, has us upset.

I like seeing it as nonsense.

And I like knowing that it is getting so very easy to hold a high light, a high vibration, my own interpretation of the mind of god, in every situation.

I am not alone because I have the mind of god within me. I have support. I have help. I know enough to set the space and then trust that what comes from me is for the benefit of all, with harm to none.

I trust myself that much, now.

One of my teachers told me that the point of dwelling within self-esteem, borne of integrity and authenticity, honesty and compassion, the goal is to be able to decide, or judge, the situations at hand using myself as my ruler, my scale. Asking oneself, “Is that what I would have done?”

I did not really ever feel I had enough internal authority to do this, until the last few days. Sure, I see strains of it, and really, it is fun to look back and to see all the times, all the ways, that I have acted on the side of benevolence, of kindness, of wisdom whose origins I never understood.

I have not given myself such authority, because I have seen that others, who are bigger, and meaner and louder, they are in charge, will do as they wish, and it really comes down to how I decide to manage the fall out of their stupidity, of their darkness.

But things have changed, and this is what I needed you to know.

Darkness, fear, separation, whatever you want to label it, it is something to challenge, and the light makes it vanish. This is the light I have found, through my life, that was always there, often misunderstood, sometimes mocked, frequently shunned.

I trust myself, my core, my soul, my understanding of god, well-honed and deeply respected, I trust it all enough to be able to say with an authority and a grin on my face,

Be gone. You have no power here.

Deeply Awake — Arms Wide Open 7-31-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for dragonflies gifs

 

 

Deeply Awake — Arms Wide Open 7-31-13 By Kathy Vik

How many people do you have daily contact with, physical contact with, who are openly committed to self-awareness, self-improvement, self-actualization and the practice of unconditional love?

How many people will you encounter today who understand that our sleep time is used to function with the mind of God with our fellow travelers to create and enable physical events which will move the ball just a little further down the playing field of compassionate action?

How many folks will you speak with today who understand in a way that is unshakable for them, that they are a physical expression of All That is, the Creative Impetus, the Divine One?

How many people do you think handled the mail you’ll be opening tonight? And all those hands, handling that sheaf of paper you now are looking at, how many of those hands did their jobs contemplating how their actions fit into the larger scheme of things, that of feeling and spreading acceptance, permission, gratitude, joy, freedom and authenticity?

How many?

I have had a long period of being quiet. The voices in my head stopped, and I always feel so bad when I can no longer hear them.

I told my kid of my sadness and weirdness, that I couldn’t hear the voices in my head, and he actually felt bad for me, and he was extra sweet to me the night it was the quietest.

I feel, when I cannot hear, as if I am just a puppet, sort of an inanimate thing, a placeholder maybe, when the voices go silent and I feel alone.

But I found this last time that I have a bit more power over the silence than I thought. When I was feeling particularly awful, just blanketed and dull and slow-witted and weirdly sad and listless, I said, out loud and very carefully, choosing just the right words for the moment, something like this:

“I know you can hear me, even though I can’t hear or see or feel you right now. I no longer feel like I am being punished, just because I cannot sense you. I know now that even though I can’t hear or feel you, that you are still here, within and around me, and I am not alone, even though physically that is my sensation. So, I ask that you ease up on the curtain a little, because I feel like I am suffocating. Please give me some relief. And if that cannot be arranged, then I tell you, I want you to make it clear in some other way just what is going on here. I want you to give me signs that are so obvious a first grader could get it. Tell me what is going on. Help me to understand what is happening. Let me see in other ways, if for whatever reason my vision or hearing or senses are not available to me. Talk to me.”

And that’s sort of what happened. Things began to ease up. So talking to myself helped. The other thing that helped a bunch was to get out into nature.

We went up to Mount Evans, and spent some time at Echo Lake. It is a magical place, and it was a healing time.

Sam found a black stone with a dragonfly carved into it up at one of the shops up there, so he got that, and with it came a card explaining the attributes of many animals, so we spent the drive up Mount Evans trying to decide which animal the other is. And then, at the lake, I have never seen so many dragonflies.

They were so beautiful, sort of electric teal colored, and so … well, what can be said. There are no words for where I went up there. I get healed, whole, just sitting on a rock, watching the water, seeing fish jump, dragonflies skim, ducks gliding in their perpetual triangles of purpose, moving the water, observant and participant.

Sure, there were tons of people up there, and still, the sun blazing, the mountains holding us as we just sat there and let ourselves heal up, oh, it is a mighty thing, being able to have nature as church.

Last night, I told Sam that I think the whole idea of God is a false one, the way it has been laid down. I told him, churches are run by boys, and boys really don’t have their heads on straight about a lot of things. Sam agrees with this, thinks most boys are just lost in aggression and dick measuring. I told him, things made by boys that tell me or imply that I am not good enough just as I am, and people are bad, well, I think those are things which are false and not worth the time of day.

I know something is more true if I can be in it and feel pretty good about myself. And there aren’t many rules, because I am trusted, because of course I can be trusted, because I’m trustworthy. And that’s the kind of place I want to be, and the sort of person I want to be.

So, I told him, I don’t really care if we ever go to church again, because I felt more loved and whole and accepted up there at that lake than I do at church most of the time, and I want to feel that sort of love all the time, no matter what sort of jerks people are acting like.

And to this, of course, the kid agreed, because after all, it just makes good sense.

I have had a chance to look back, the last many days, and I feel as if the view is still fairly obstructed, but it is clearing, and what I am beginning to appreciate is that I really, really like what I am becoming, what I have invested my life in creating, and I no longer am worrying all that often that what I have gambled on this lifetime, to above all live spiritually, in alignment with my soul, conscious, fully conscious, that this has been a good pursuit.

I have gotten a lot of flak for it, as my readers know, and this flak has been a really good way to knock the teeth out of the belief structures of zero self-worth, needing to find identity through others, through accomplishment, through recognition, and the one which says that God is on the outside and I am defective in His angry eyes.

I’ve gotten flak for living my values, those which state that I do not spend money I do not have, I love myself no matter what, and I see this place as a benevolent one. I’ve lost a friend over that last one, believe it or not. Actually, two friends. Folks who just got totally fed up with my belief that we create our own reality to confront and love ourselves.

So be it.

I kissed my karma good-bye, having had a stair-step realization that the personality I’d been for 52 years had run its course, had its own things to discover, and I wanted a new life, and as a result, I had a bit of a null zone just recently. I can see now that perhaps the silence I experienced ever so uncomfortably was simply a recalibration, a re-tooling.

I wondered what might be in store if I let go of karma, if I just declared it null and void. Without that as the engine for situations, for life situation,s what is there? What happens if I am not being pulled and pushed by my own or other people’s back stories?

It would mean, of course, that the very words spoken by loved ones will have new meaning, could it not? The receiver has changed, so the one transmitting the message is going to get maybe some weird responses at first.

There was a lot of that going on, I think, just lately.

I have come from a place of blanketed quiet, someplace I know well and really prefer not to visit. But I knew, this time, that I was not being abandoned, and it was indeed temporary.

It was the first time in my life I talked myself through it so well, and I mention it to you so that maybe you can use the technique, when you find, much to your chagrin, that you are wearing some sort of cosmic quilt which blinds and deafens and numbs you, makes you feel disconnected. It’s just a re-tooling, a re-boot.

This is about teaching, not about ego, and it’s more than reasonable to seek out such help when it’s needed. I know this stuff because I have been doing it forever, and it’s finally all beginning to make sense.

I don’t want to be a channeler, as they are thought of. I thought that maybe, returning to writing, I would do a little blurb on what’s going on, and then a channeled thing, but even that feels wrong.

I know, having read my writing, having lived this crazy life, that mine is to channel as I brush my teeth, channel as I cook for my family, channel as I consider the day ahead of me, channel as I lay me down to sleep. I want the knowledge here, in my hand, on my shopping list, in my eyes, in my heart, and in every word that I utter.

I want those around me to feel comfort, hope, ease. I want that. Always have. And it causes, or caused, more suffering than you will ever know, when instead, my thoughts would turn to lack, or to insecurities, or to fear thoughts. When I would dislike those around me, suspect them, worry about them, obsess about them.

This was a form of torture, and it came from missing a mark that was very, very high, a mark that could not be reached until very very recently.

I am no saint. I am still a little awkward, but even my awkwardness is something I am loving now. I am finding less and less to hate or feel bad about or want to criticize, in me, and this has then spread.

I have had a chance to honestly look at my social and friend and family life, and just whose words I have been hanging off of, since the start. I see that I have quite unequal relationships, for the most part. Where it is fair game to tell me to be quiet about certain things that I find important, though I wouldn’t, actually, ever do that to a friend.

So, this is not a set up I am comfortable with any longer, so I am no longer feeling much investment toward folks I used to think of as some fount of belonging. It never really was belonging. It never really was much of a real connection, a loving connection. Many of these relationships, they were based in a weird competition, which I neither invited nor engaged in, but was always present, always the elephant in the room.

And for me, now, it is not about somehow repairing broken relationships, no, not at all, but it is about branching out, and making new friends, and keeping firmly in my heart a belief, a knowledge, that I am quite an amazing person, one who deserves and responds best to kindness, authenticity, joy, lack of shame. I just don’t want to do some of the dances a lot of folks still really like doing, ones I taught, ones I loved.

I am done grieving for love which was never freely offered in the first place. Love which always came with the caveat that in exchange, I must leave a deposit, I must assume I am not important, not very wise, and not very good.

These were metaphors, really, and they were karmic set-ups, and those who played along with me did their roles with such finesse, such commitment, and I am in awe, in debt, hold high honor for all that has been given to me through these difficult relationships.

But it seems just a bit hackneyed now, sort of old, not much left to explore. Oh, ok, here it is again, where I get to defend myself as a good person. Oh, here is this one, where I am told that my kind of thinking is too out of the norm to be taken seriously, and really, it could be harmful.

Come on, don’t tell me I am the only one who has, as close associates, those who think little of them. And if I am, well then, I’d better get on that shit.

I see now that the stillness was maybe a clearing of sorts, and that I am getting ready for something else now.

I have been seeing for a couple months how this summer there are many many time lines closing, all at once, and really organically, sort of spooky, how all these stories, of family and friends and loved ones and careers and such, they are all closing.

It is uncanny, spooky, like I said, because there are so many of them, and they are all converging this summer. Saw it in May, all at once, as I was driving one day, and it was like seeing one of those time-lapse movies of something decaying or a plant sprouting and blooming and dying, all in just seconds. I saw it whole, just for a few seconds in May, and it’s escaped me ever since, until just recently.

It’s funny, the ups and downs, and ins and outs of this ride, this exploration in consciousness. I am here, feeling expanded but not overly so, just enough to function well, without fear, I think, although I fully recognize that the remaining ambivalence I feel, or resistance I have, toward certain things, even that is breaking apart, ever so slightly, and I can feel movement in areas of my life that have been paralyzed for years. I don’t have steps yet, I don’t have a strategy or physical, concrete assistance yet, but I feel a change, a loosening, and a permission to imagine that things are actually going to work out with good outcomes.

I am well aware that, in the final analysis, there are no bad outcomes, but there is doing life in a way which is skilled, is in synchronicity, is in balance, and then there is the 2×4 way.

That’s where I want to end this, for today.

I think that I had a very long time when one by one, things got shitty. One by one, everything that I thought was permanent turned soft and gooey and poisonous. And the thing is, the whole time, all of it, as best I could, I was trying to listen to my inner guidance.

I think that’s what was the scariest. I have never tried to ignore my inner guidance. Opposite! I look for, lean into synchronicity, always have. And yet, until 2012, I experienced a very long time in the desert, when I had no luck, when things turned ugly without rhyme or reason, and I made a ton of messes too, just seemed compelled to do it, really.

And now, things are clearing and I find that the most amazing thing is this: I think about today, or tomorrow, or next week, and I no longer imagine calamity. I am no longer imaging punishment. I am not thinking in terms of getting caught, at what is anyone’s guess, but this feeling that has forever haunted me, that no matter how good it looks now, don’t worry, it’s going to stop/die/mutate.

Was that pessimism, realism, clinical depression, or a combo plate? I don’t know, and don’t really care anymore. What I do know is this: things happen, that’s the way of it, and if I am doing it well, delightful things will be what catches my attention. But if I get caught up in weirdness, it won’t take me all that long to get back on track. I could find light in a jail cell, at my lowest. I found light with my dad. I can find light anywhere, any situation is one in which there can be found some love, some compassion, some miracle of observation.

And even if that is not possible, then I know how to just relax, and lean back, into the arms of something which I can neither describe nor deny. My core, my self, my knowing.

I know now that the questions which burned within me, they did so because I needed them to. I needed the desert as much as I need this oasis. The time I spent longing for home was valuable and sad, and good, and right, and in perfect timing.

And those days are over. I know who and what and where home is, enough so that I don’t feel lonely for it anymore. My questions about ascension, they have been answered. My understanding of my Merkahbah is more complete, and I am at peace with what I have come to know. I believe it is a good thing for me to have found these truths for myself, and after all of it, all I can tell you is that I hope you are enjoying your own wondrous path of self-definition and self-exploration. I hope that you are someone who also values such pursuits.

There are many who do not and I am at peace with that too. I don’t expect anyone to understand, really, what it is that makes me tick, and have never encountered anyone with enough patience or interest to even sit down and listen to it, hence, I write.

But I am now in a place where it is just not possible to shake me out of loving myself. So I find attempts at it usually just pesky, but sometimes pretty annoying, and then, at other times, horribly ugly. It takes the form of advertising, really bad sit-coms, reality tv, conflict tv. Weird. Invitations all over the place to think bad thoughts about myself, my life, me. It is subtle, and most folks don’t even know it’s there, but it is.

But, once you can see it, then it’s just another excuse to lean back and relax. Remember the truth.

And that’s why I can sit here and tell myself, and by extension, tell you, that I don’t have fear about my “future.” I know there are things I have fantasized as being the best outcome for me. Sure. They sound cool. So I have come to say this a lot, lately. “That or something better.”

I think good things are afoot, and I am glad to know that I am saying this not with my fingers crossed, but with my arms wide open.

Deeply Awake — Something Sacred This Way Come 7-19-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for healing hands gifs

 

 

 

Deeply Awake — Something Sacred This Way Come 7-19-13 By Kathy Vik

When I picked up Sam yesterday, after the initial settling-in that happens, the standard light bickering and hugging and, just weird pecking at each other like a couple of old hens, he got a little sparkly, sat up a little straighter, and then said, “Now, don’t go all SPIRITUAL on me. I want to tell you about these dreams I’m having…”

He prefaces a lot of stuff like that. I don’t know, but he seems to be allergic to the word God, and I only see this kid angry when A- I’m being voicing negative judgments about ANYBODY and B- When I talk about “spiritual stuff” or “God” or “energy.”

Lately, he’s been more open about why he reacts this way. He gets really disdainful, and then says, God isn’t real. It’s not “out there.” And he acts all disgusted and storm-cloudy, just super impatient, like when you’ve been with someone who is really slow for maybe three hours longer than Job would have been able to tolerate, and there’s that one final stupid ass request that makes your heart break and your soul sear with impatience. I’ve been there. And, evidently, so has Sam.

So, he told me about how the next three days he was going to be getting his wings. He was going through an initiation, he told me, and he’d be getting special powers. And he was all excited about this, really happy.

I wasn’t allowed to comment, just smile, just take it in and hope he tells me more, tankful he feels comfortable to tell me any of it.

He’s been doing this since he could talk, laying it on me that his real skin is blue, and he has gills, he’s a water being, he has been going through what he calls “activations” for just as long. He loved the pool, as a little one, telling me that swimming activates his powers.

Years and years of him telling me about how he was learning to decloak, and how his powers were changing.

What would you do, if you were me? A single mom, with an ex-husband who thinks I’m a hysteric (poor fellow, he has issues with women), with a son who has some behavioral issues, impulse control problems and social anxiety, some odd phobias, and relatively limited interest in connecting in socially acceptable ways.

Crikey.

So, I let it ride.

And then, I woke up. 2012, this is the year I finally let down the walls separating me from my sense of wonder. My willingness to be plastic and fluid in heart and mind refreshed, revived, and fully running the show now.

I let it ride, and found that the more I opened to the possibilities of how big I might be, how multiple or group-energy I am, well, who am I to tell my son that his impressions are wrong, or crazy? Why would I do that to him?

Thank God I’d taken that approach from the start, otherwise I’d be building basic human trust with him, right now, repairing years of feeding him shame and fear of himself and planting seeds of self doubt, denial, steadfastly clinging instead to the measures men give us for how successful this child-rearing experiment is going: how many extra-curricular activities is he doing, how many dozens of friends does he have, how many hobbies has he mastered, how good are his grades?

Are you kidding me? I find that this is a generation of highly competitive parents, I must say. My peers were driven, and they’ve driven their kids. And indigos, they are very hard to drive, which has been an interesting set up, but, here we are, in 2013, with a kid who is telling me that in three days time he thinks he will be turning into a full-on dragonfly.

So, I am thinking, as we I’m driving us home, hmm, what a lovely metaphor. I would imagine that a lot of this energetic stuff must look like that, and I think the symbology is piquant. I wonder what the meaning of dragonfly is in the symbology texts. Hey! That’s Diane’s creature right now, she told me that she has always resonated with that energy too! Wow!

I remember now, that’s supposed to be connected with the fairies, the elementals, and I understand they are coming on-line, allowing cooperation again, because our vibration is finally high enough, some of us, to use them cooperatively. They are an easily subjugated kingdom so they split. Wow, so, what Sam is always telling me about being, what does he call it, he’s always referencing elementals, and how he understands and is part of the elements.

So that’s my thinking. I didn’t jibber jabber about all that, though I probably talked more than I should have. Still, he was at ease, and happy.

I am not going to send this child to a psychologist. Or a priest. Or anybody who can’t see him with eyes that are willing to be surprised, taking in colors they’ve never seen before.

I was planning on writing something about how I have found that there has been a stair-step progression the last few days, and, just as I’d been told, this gate we are walking through is a profound one. It ends, for me, tonight, after kirtan. I feel it is a special time, these three days, had been thinking this for awhile, but because Sam has laid down such a strict edict, these celestial events which I look forward to or wonder about, I never tell him about, not any of them.

The word “energy” is banned at my house. Not so much banned, but I just don’t enjoy his anger and don’t wish to upset him. Why upset this creature with words which seem to irritate, inflame, when the intent is to soothe, to calm, to instruct if asked and to encourage if I’m asked for my silence.

The healing that took place prior to this gateway, three days ago, was significant and multi-leveled. After writing my last thing, that night, I went to bed, as instructed, without music or tapes, just me and the fan and my cats.

I prepared for bed having known something that had always been bent within me was suddenly straight and true and forever healed. So, I told “them,” quaint but familiar terminology, I asked “them” for a dispensation. I asked for something to be given to me which would forever cement this experience, to make it physical and whole, to own in, but, more, I wanted to be given a gift.

I do that a lot anymore, ask, just out and out ask, for a gift. A real gift, one I can hold in my hands that I know is from them. And sometimes it is a gift of perception, or wisdom, or emotion, of understanding. It’s fun. And it’s fun because it works. Every single time.

I layed my head on the pillow. It was dark and my body felt immediately relaxed. And I closed my eyes and there was no breath work, there was no foreplay, none at all, not this time.

I closed my eyes and was immediately face to “face” with an energy I recognized and have longed to be with for a long time. Right there, spinning for me.

It said that it had a gift for me, and then, right then, I was shown that I’d already gone there a few times before, but I had never comprehended just where it was that I had gone, had been taken, at my own request.

I believe that there is a place, a physical place, that you can only get at when you are expanded, multidimensional, more whole. And in that place is the library, the akashic record, the sanctum sanctorum.

In front of me was a huge, glowing crystal, much larger than I’d ever seen a crystal, and formed very beautifully. I knew it was just a little thing, but there it was, huge and alive and blazing. It was white, and had orange and pink tips, it was really pretty, glowing, alive somehow, and very inviting.

I was told it was me, my soul, my totality, and I was being invited to enter it.

I must have skipped a beat, because my guide said, “You have earned this.”

So, I thought up some stairs, since it seemed fitting to symbolize this a little, so I did a few stairs, but then, it’s like the wood melted away, and the concept of “getting up there” became an abstraction, and all I wanted to do was go in, or become it, and so, I did.

It’s funny how light it was. I imagined a big library, so many books, oh my, and the huge, vast, wall of books went on for infinity, in both directions, up to the heavens and below, forever, somehow, and everything else was glassed in. All airy and light, and there were things in the air, mobiles and floating things and there were a lot of people, too, which surprised and delighted me.

Immediately, there was a presence, up and to the left. Ha! There it was, and I knew it then, all that I could see, was an interdimensional playground of delight. Anything I want, anything I want to know or feel or remember, all here, all here, this is home, in a way, and I understood, and have used since, the outdoor area. This is where people visit me, and we ask others to join, not “me”, exactly, but entities who are my dear friends and beloved brothers, those who have knowledge to impart and love to give.

I then had a 3d physical experience which was just so beautiful, and I can’t really describe it, suffice to say, it is one of those things, you look back on later, and just smile knowingly, happily, quietly, because it is something good you are thinking on, something you don’t want to share, and are happy you don’t have to.

It was a swirl, a soup, of love, that night.

At work, the next day, I felt so good. Those rare shifts in which nothing bad happens, they are every shift now. It is just wild, how good my nights are now, and they used to just suck, oh my god, every night was just problem after problem. That was nursing, really, but, more honestly, that was me. Problem solver. Janitor. Clean up crew. Ugh. But, that’s changed. I crested something.

And the meditations, they are getting sweeter, more intense.

I’ll tell you, today feels altogether different to me, I feel different.

Last night, in meditation, I asked for something, something that I figured would just always be a part of me, and I had, long ago, to be really honest, I gave up on ever being able to release this burden. Pervading, or tainting every good thing, every transition toward sweetness in character and thought, there was a futility.

I don’t even like to mention this now, because I can feel that this essay is one which is happy and light. And so to discuss our wicked step mother, futility, it seems sad and small and unnecessary somehow.

But I think its removal from my feeling state is so miraculous, that to pass by this marker without discussion would be missing an opportunity for celebration, and maybe even growth, but, certainly, if I do not write it down, where does it go? I am a forgetful soul.

I really wasn’t even going to write today, even though I was feeling so moved, but then I re-read that thing I wrote about how much I love lightworkers, and then I thought, oh, what the heck, stitching some more love can’t hurt, ha ha ha.

So, briefly, even in these neat states I was feeling, there’d be this voice, progressively fainter but still no less mood-altering: What is the point?

If it’s not one thing, it’s another, that I would use as the illustration, the attachment, to that one sentence which sort of encapsulated my existence up until recently.

What, really, is the point?

Even if I wake up, dammit, there still is no money, there still are ding dongs running around being mean and thick and awful. There’s still pain and disease. Blah blah blah you know the drill, anything to pull you down and out of it, right?!

But it didn’t work, and I think after last night, my body and mind and heart and spirit tell me that this is just such a false way of thinking, it is a laughable and flimsy approach to such magnificence, such creativity, what I and you and we are all doing.

It really does not make a lot of sense, it just doesn’t appropriately describe what it is that is happening within me, or “outside” of me, at this point.

And so, my prayer last night was to be given the gift of dropping and healing from having carried such futility. I just wish to drop futility. That’s it. Please let me leave it here, I said last night to a darkened room, through eyes that were not being visited by color, by family, by thoughts.

Into that darkness, I said I was ready to leave futility, and to not have it in my countenance anymore.

You know, it did darken everything I did. Clean clothes, they are clothes that will become dirty. That first hit of love between two adults, always what follows is dissonance, disillusionment, disappointment. That sort of thinking, sure, it is available to me, obviously, or these words could not be written, but I just don’t believe it anymore.

It is a barbed sort of energy, that kind of thinking, because within it, coded to release something tricky and challenging, is fear.

Fear.

It really is that simple, and that is, quite simply, why the futility images which are elbowing in now, since they heard the invitation, they elbow to get a glimpse of me through my window, and anymore, I just smile from my rocking chair and say “hi,” but they are old friends, friends I am glad to have outside my house looking in, instead of the horrible house guests they used to be, friends who really don’t like me a whole lot anymore, and who are easily offended, quick to anger, and without a hint of joie de vivre.

So. Sam is going through a growth spurt, is sleeping up to twelve hours at a time, and cannot seem to make peace with his gut. I think I have let him sleep long enough, so I will rouse him and we will do things which will make us more comfortable in our house.

We’ll go do errands, and make sure we eat good foods which delight and satisfy us. We will laugh a lot today, I can already tell, because I am not spoiling for a fight, I am not mad at my life, and I am not seeing much in the way of impediments today. Even the things which used to frustrate me, because to me they symbolized all that disappoints me about me, my messy house, etc, oh, it’s a lark and a joy, and really ain’t nothin’ but a thang.

So, I have encoded and decoded my reality, all this god, energy, spirit, stuff in a very specific and individualized way. I know that, and it is just such a pleasure to understand, finally, somehow organically, today being the first day of this new understanding, that I really don’t have to think bad thoughts about my future anymore.

That’s the whole point, I think.

I am good at manifesting, am quite amazing when I get going. That the energy, and my own consciousness, was not interested, not willing, for so many many years, to bend to this inner knowing I have, so be it, what’s done is done.

I feel like I have been released from a prison I constructed for myself a long time ago, one with really gritty, cool, urban posters that evoke a rock and roll mentality, you know, live hard and leave a pretty corpse, that good old fuck the world sort of vibe. The posters are humorously defensive, knowingly stupid, devastatingly whipsmart.

These posters have been removed, and what is revealed is a wall of glass, and maybe, really, there isn’t even glass. Maybe it’s just the clear blue sky I’m seeing, and it feels that this is a view I have obstructed for a long time, too long, and anymore, right now, it is no longer time to weep for all the time that has passed without this view, without this creativity and benevolence of countenance, of knowing, this feeling of actually embodying something absolutely and utterly benevolent.

I think it feels so good that it is not something I want to do now, think sad thoughts about “the past.” Those were stories that were told to and by a child who was in the process of growing up. Stories which helped things she could not yet understand seem to have coherence, like overlays one must lay over an image of a simple but exquisitely profound crop circle.

One by one, these explanatory overlays are removed, the mythology and the explanations removed, one by one, and because you paid attention to the overlays, and the lessons from them cling to your mind, have shaped and expanded your ability to comprehend, level by level, lesson by lesson, overlay by overlay, now, one by one, they can be lifted, one by one they are removed, and what emerges is what was always there in the first place, the idea which generated the explanations, the reality which spawned a trillion lifetimes and an unspeakably deep well of understanding, and, funniest thing, deep within the being of the image, there is an eye, and it is winking at you, a smiling eye, a knowing eye, a familiar and ancient eye.

There it sits, a doodle, something which is at once so profound and so simple, that it is, within its very nature, able to winnow out fool from sage, just by being itself, pure and clear and beautifully simple, a joy to look at, and a puzzle so deep and vast, to begin considering it will lead you to journeys which will leave you unrecognizable to yourself, one day.

This is within each of us, the capacity is there within each of us to come home and see things simple, see the joy in the days we are giving ourselves, on this journey Home.

This is just the effects of the grand Trine, and it is only because I think it would be fun, that I have had these experiences. I have opened to them, allowed them, and it really, really, is not for everyone, but it is for the earth and for you and for myself that I do it, gratefully, and you are the only one now who matters to me.

You, reading this, please know that I love you and that you aren’t alone, never have been, and I know that sounds like utter bullshit most of the time, when you are knee deep in alligators and your reality is sucking, ragged, scary and tilty. If you feel stuck, or if you are having much drama, much futility, or depression, or anxiety, know this.

I know what you are knowing. I have walked those linoleum tiles, those dirt paths, those psych wards and pawn shops and shrink’s offices and healer’s homes. I have been there, and I have known blackness so consuming I cried for death, many many times, I did, and I remember it well, I do.

But that is not the end. It is the beginning. There is a crucifixion of the soul, and sacrifice of purpose, of self, of meaning which can lead to great things. But that is only one way of looking at it.

This is the climbing of your personal, self-contained mountain, and yes, it is a steep climb sometimes, but it’s you, this mountain, and you can seek refuge in any number of beautiful caves along the way. The idea is to get high enough to be able to take it all in, whole, at once, and to come to see that the only struggle was one which was self-imposed, and done for great fun, and also for some good exercise and fresh air.

You can go all energetic and do the god stuff, like I do, because that is just where it always goes for me, in the end, but, come on, there is enough just here on earth, let’s not even get into the pleadieans, the arcturians, all those guys, just here in this one akash, there is everything.

And futility, it doesn’t apply.

Self-loathing? Are you kidding me?

You don’t have to see it as sacred. I don’t relate that well to the word god myself. It is just a whiff, that word, just a faint whiff, of the grandeur which is unspeakable, unknowable, and so pure, so benevolent, so profound, that to feel adoration and recognition and homecoming, these are the only natural responses to its purity and loving benevolence for each of us.

Many do not know of this place, and when I talk about it, because it is not yet within their travels, and it has not been one of their willingnesses yet, then they can get, maybe nervous, or spooked, but that’s ok, I have found a way to tone it down.

There was still a bit of separation there, in all of the writing, this sense that I was always going to be apart somehow, and this is an overlay I can now look at, recognize as something I used to really know, but I don’t like it much now, and I am not going to be thinking such things. It doesn’t feel good, and I don’t think it’s necessary to feel bad.

This is the thing, and the sacredness that is coming.

There was a time when I thought none of this would translate very well into my daily life, and I would keep getting a bunch of crap for it, and that made me feel like waking up was futile.

And this bled onto everything, invaded how I spent my money, and my free time, and it helped shape what thoughts I expressed, what dreams I focused on, and what activities I engaged in.

I have found, though, something so vast and beautiful and fulfilling, right inside me, and now, I am just as happy with you if you like me or if you don’t.

It is not without a grin that I tell you that I know you are going to be happier around me now. I know this. But even if you wind up having a bad day and acting in ways that are just awful, that will be fine too. I will love you.

You cannot take advantage of me. What a silly thought. You cannot hurt me. How can I not, then, love you and wish to help you, and move in ways that are joyful and soothing and balanced?

I know there is sacredness within mathematics, geometry, and I knew from girlhood, toddlerhood, that if I needed to be reminded of perfection, if I needed relief from the fucking insanity I had around me, that was just so dense most of the time, that I had trouble taking in a deep breath, all I had to do was look out the window, or look at a piece of fruit, or go lay down in clover.

Even as a little, little girl, I knew, that it is that simple, that I can find sanity by looking at the way a fruit is made. No one can tell me there is not a loving creator with a devastatingly grand sense of humor, when I spend time studying a grape, or an orange, or a tree, or an ant, or a cloud.

The insanity would mute, and nothing could affect me for those moments, even as a child. I knew something everyone else had seemed to have forgotten, and it was contained, this truth, in this little thing that others think is insignificant.

Clover? Get up, it’s time to go to the store.

And then, now, to understand that the miracle of nature that always soothed me, always reminded me that things were ok, now I see that tapping these little keys is really, honestly, a piece of nature.

What am I if not a biological entity, someone who bleeds if she’s cut, cries and laughs and chortles and dances, whose skin responds like a garden to the rays of the sun, whose being can consume something from the ground and turn it into thought, action, emotion, and waste?

I am nature, and I can now find solace in the simple geometry which also forms me, my cells, my self, and my buddha nature.

If you call this something other than sacred, and if the words god or energy or spirit inflame you, can we, maybe for today, and maybe for all time, just agree that words are symbols, and what matters is the core of it, the truth of it, the feel and flow and benevolence of it, and this it, it is something we actually have in common?

Is my Sam a Galaxian, as he claims? Can he grow gills in the water? Is he going to be transforming into a dragonfly?

Is his set of thoughts any less strange than the mythology surrounding the Christ, or Buddha or Mohammed? They are stories we have told ourselves to make sense of things which are simply beyond our ability, or, frankly, willingness, to language. This is what children do, and it is what I did to make sense of my own life, of the seeming chaotic and random happenings which befell me, confounded me and perplexed me.

Let it ride. Let it be. Be still. Smile. Look up.

Something sacred this way comes.

P.S. Sam just came into my room and told me that he had an awesome dream. He was happy, and said, really excited, “My wings came in!”

We talked for a bit, and he was open as long as I was silent.

Toward the end, I added something, and he balked, and so I smiled and commented, “You don’t need to be taught. You need to teach.”

Without hesitation, conversationally, he said, “I don’t want to teach, I want to heal.”

I love my kid.

Deeply Awake — Travelogue, Itinerary, And Jesus 5-13-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for jesus gif

 

 

Deeply Awake — Travelogue, Itinerary, And Jesus 5-13-13 By Kathy Vik

Introduction – I sat down to write, and had a nice time, and then I got done and figured, ok, it was a long one, 7? 6? 8 pages? No, it’s 23. I have only done first edit spell check because when I do the second edit, I usually add to the work, and this is enough. So, I am putting it out there, as always, as it came to me whole, written in an afternoon, spell checked, that’s it. I have no idea, really, how it will feel to read… but it was AWESOME to have been given the gift of being able to write it.  Enjoy………

I did not know until this moment that I would be writing about my good friend Jesus, but there it is.

I have spent, well, anymore, I really can’t put a temporal marker to what is happening to me. It’s all metaphor.

Let me give you an example.

I had been listening to some Kryon, and then decided that I just couldn’t take it anymore, I needed a smoke. I looked all around for my extra pack. Nowhere.

As I was pulling on my shorts, I heard some shrieking in the hallway. It came to mind this was a new voice, and was probably the new neighbor Sam and I met moving in yesterday. Oh my, I hope she isn’t a crazy one, a mean one. Oh no.

And then I find my wallet and leave my apartment, and who do I encounter but our new neighbor. She is aquiver – someone, in thirty seconds, came behind her and stole her great grandmother’s skillets, in the hallway, she’d left for less than a minute… she was beside herself with the white hot rage one feels when they’ve been wantonly and deeply violated.

I told her a couple things about how good the people on this floor are, and the only trouble spot, well, surely if the kids in the noisy apartment see that it is skillets and not hardware in that HP laptop box, they’d feel bad, they’ve done wrong, they don’t want the stuff they took…

And then I went downstairs in the elevator with her. She was still stewing, so upset, so outraged and disappointed and disgusted…

I went to my car and found my extra pack… nearly full. Suddenly, going to the store is no longer interesting. It’s not lit up anymore, so I go back upstairs. And now I am drinking coffee, listening to Craig Pruess and Ananda, letting them fill up my home, my being, with the 108 sacred names of the divine mother. It is a fitting way to bridge study time with work time.

It has become clearer and clearer what my path is, what your path is, whether you have figured it out all the way or not. If my writing proves anything, anything at all, it is that we truly are witty, tricky, clever, benevolent beings.

All through my writings, all through my life, my beautiful and full life, there have been the answers, and the fabric it all the time was that of linen and silk, shiny and soft, that I weaved myself.

I set this up, and the only thought I am having at the moment is how obvious it is all seeming right now, but of course, at the time, it was necessary to have heavy cross referencing and overlays. It was imperative this awakening was foolproof, not on a universal scale, just for me.

This always bothered me, niggled at me, all through my life. It is something that can only be openly discussed here. So here goes.

Do you have a death wish? Is death something, for you, that you see as your ace in the hole? Your built-in escape hatch, your way out? I have. Death is always there if I can’t take it. And most of my life I was just a real good plan shy of doing it.

Oh, I know it sounds dramatic, and there are those who just naturally must turn away from expressions of strong emotion, strong reality, but let them turn away. It’s ok. I don’t need anyone peering in who does not have eyes of love.

For the ones who know what I mean, this friend was ever present for me. And I seemed to collect others with a similar outlook. I even had one friend who squirreled away the gear and enough IV Potassium to kill herself dead, instantly. She carried it with her, finally got a second hit to have at her home.

I know this sounds weird, but for the tow of us, and many of my other friends and acquaintances, death is not some big mystery. It’s the entrance fee to the next amusement park.

So, it bothered me, as the years passed and I was still alive. First, I was surprised I lived past 18. It was a shocker. And then, on my 21st birthday, again, there had to be readjustments. I am still here. I still have a pulse. IT still sucks, by the way.

And thirty. Oh, thirty, that night was spent in orgiastic dancing with my girlfriend and our gang. Celebrating in our favorite club, thumbing my nose at something that had ridden with me, free of charge, every day of my life, this voice, this knowing, this understanding, that today is the day I die.

And as I woke up, finally, this last time, I began to ponder this singular relationship I have with dying. I died up in Central City, converted as I was. I am certain my heart was stopped and started, in an after-thought, shadow sort of way. When your heart gets hit with light, everything must readjust. So I died, I know it, and have had some pretty sparkly NDE things in the last year, and yet, I have a pulse, I am alive.

I got sort of mad about it a month ago. How is it that if I am in charge, I am this God, how is it that I could want something so much, with such focus, such intensity, and IT DODN’T HAPPEN?

How does THAT work?

I thought I was in charge around here.

Hey!

But, here I sit.

A much different creature than I was two years ago, one year ago, a half year ago, yesterday.

How is it that I can have this running theme of longing for death, and yet I live?

Of course, it makes sense to me now, and I mean right now, and could not have made sense this way had I not had the discipline to present myself to this keyboard like the devoted lover I am.

Death was a symbol. It was a metaphor. When was the last time I had the common sense to ask myself just what it is that death means to me, why do I want it so bad?

Death is going home. It is reconnecting and not going without interruptions in service. It is full knowing, not this shoddy kind of knowing I engage in here. It is free. I would be free. I would be happy.

See, that is death to me. Not being waxy gray and lowered into the earth, although, sure, that’s a cool part of it too, but, really, that was my soul cry.

Of course I longed for death, now that I put it that way.

I will tell you now of a story which occurred yesterday, entangled deeply, as we were, in the mystery. On our travels, we went to Herbs & Arts, a metaphysical store here in Denver. Just like a homing beacon, we woke up in vague probabilities, and what emerged yesterday, what we allowed emerge, was brilliant.

In the store, I found a tapestry of a woman in the Shiva pose, her with multiple arms, sitting in deep repose, all jewel tones and exquisite. And I found this CD. I visited my business cards, sitting in the business card exchange nook.

We left the store and put in the CD.

It is angelic, nothing else describes this sound. It holds close similarities to the music of the spheres, let’s put it that way.

And here we are, in my beat up ugly white 2000 Mazda car, my 12 year old and I listening to this ancient, blessed music, all the way home. Of course, we were transported.

Sam went to sleep. He is doing very hard work at school and among his peers at present, and he was exhausted.

We drove down Broadway, and I reached out my hand, entered his field, and could feel his higher self hold my hand and discuss his progress. We are well pleased, and I know he is fine.

The drive continued, and then I realized, OH MY GOD, I am going to have to get out of my car!

Oh my god, this bliss is going to end.

And then I laughed at the allegory and had my storyteller tell me a story. I will give it to you now.

When people who had never been in modern society were shown a fine New York hotel, part of Lawrence of Arabia’s entourage, their trip became all about the water taps.

They had not had running water. Their lives had been built around the necessary issues and steps which must occur when one does NOT have running water.

And here was water.

Upon leaving the hotel, it is rumored that they left with, or were discouraged to leave with, the faucets. The physical taps. They wanted this running water always, and mistook the source with its delivery.

I Remember now, the patient you had last week. She had three nurses taking care of her because of her panic and fear. She had no less than one hundred years of nursing experience pouring onto her. Away from her, at the desk, no one spoke unkind words about her. Physicians worked throughout the night for her, many late night phone calls.

In the morning, sun shining into her room, she complained so bitterly, with your narrator present, to this brand new doctor, someone fresh and uninitiated and with authority. She cried then, as she told him how no one had been her advocate, she should have just gone home because no one cared for her, she got bad care. I cried on the way home because of that. it was so mean, though to her it was not only her right, to see herself as a victim. That’s why that saying is so true: Victims are violent people.

And the voices say: You did not grieve for not having been noticed as the healer you are, as the nice person. You did not weep because her bitterness is the kind that can decisively break careers. No. You wept because she’d been surrounded by, blanketed with, fed and watered with divine love, and she had lain there completely convinced of her state of separation.

That is why you cried. And you wept as you realized in just how many ways you hold this posture now, toward your own life, toward your heart.

This was a giant soul, who did you a great favor.

She taught you, with this CD as a soundtrack, simply this:

The source is ever flowing and present in all ways, at all times, in every now moment, now and now and now and yes, even, even, this, yes, now too.

God is all.

You have been mistaking the taps for the source, love. And that is all.

But through it all, even as a child, a little child, I knew.

I knew it was pitch black around here, and against good advice and all that seems intuitive, I woke up, I loved, I gave, and I got here.

And so, now, listening to Kryon and studying Tony Stubbs as I am, completing this education as I am, using them as the guides that of course they are, I see now that the struggles I have chronicled, these struggles I have always been so embarrassed about, they are valid and they are there for every initiate to work  in their own way.

I understand that there is stuff I know that needs to be hidden, just a bit longer, because people still equate spiritual advancement for personality integrity and they are really two very different things.

And so I will tell you what I feel there is permission for, and tell you this at the same time. I understand now that these chronicles are meant, in part, to stretch things. I put something out there, and there are codes that are within the work, within me, and these essays are not only travelogues but future itineraries.

So I can go a little further now than before, and then I will wait, and when I feel more permission, more will come.

But I think that it is best to imagine that the only people reading this stuff are those who actually need it. I mean, if you are reading this, there is a reason. It is highly specific, in some respects, but deeply universal, and pregnant, just pregnant, with the third language.

I go back to my story. The voices told me, as the music played, that this is the music of God, of everything pure and not tired and fresh and true, symmetric, playful, deep, funny, pleasing, comfortable, real. And this is always around. The music gets pumped through my stereo, but it is just as easily coming through anything I can see or hear or touch. Everything is impregnated with source, with this music.

The music is playing all the time.

And this is how true this is for you now, they said.

They said, just think of it!

Now, when you physically get into your physical car, you can hear this music, physically. In between each of your errands, this music can play. It is just a choice now. It always was a choice. This CD was released in 2002.

And no disrespect for not hearing it before. It was there. It was just really hard to hear. If you’d had the CD, it would have been scratchy, or you would have lost it. You know how these things work.

Now the music is available. Enjoy it, and stop worrying. Test it. You do not believe us. Go get what you need at the 7-11. Then get back in the car and turn on the engine.

I did, in my mind, and it was real, and I spent the day doing errands and really getting it, there in my mind, how it physically felt to go a whole day of errand running and there, in the background, every time I turned it on, there was the music of the spheres.

It’s always been there, and it always will be. And it always has been playing.

You see, that is the trick of it for me.

I sit different in the knowledge now. I understand that I, as this personality, have agreed to a veil, and to be rendered ineffective by fear, these are devices.

Why did I do it? Why did I consent to profound amnesia?
Why did I turn myself away from the help offered, damning it instead, calling it a little and mean thing?

I did not recognize that which is love as that which is love, and that is all.

Kryon asked me, at the end of this last lesson, if I can honestly say three things. But he presented the three things first, and one by one, I ticked them off. Can you say: It is well with my soul. Can you say: I am that I am. Can you say: I am grateful for all.

Yes, yes and yes.

He was describing the match bearer, the advanced old soul, the ones in the room who have always been different, always off just a fraction, the one in your life that makes everything just a little tilty.

I have always served that function.

My guess is that you have too.

Here is the deal. It helps so much and I want you to hear it, feel it, right along with me, as I make it my own, OK? It think this will be great fun, if we can get it together, as a team, you and I, here on the page.

OK. We came into darkness. In this darkness, when someone bumps you, you attack. And there are attacks that come in the ink dark of this blackness, and this is not any good at all.

The darkness is a fearful place. It makes a person come to know fear, insecurity, anxiety, dread.

The darkness makes it impossible to know just who it is you or anyone else is, and there in the dark, it is easy to not see things as clearly as you’d like. Mistakes are made.

And there are folks tossed into this darkness who have a special gift.

There are souls here who can spark light in the darkness. They come in with a faint glow. They remember what everyone else seems to have forgotten, and as they age, this knowledge becomes more and more unavoidable.

You and I, we woke up in Salem, in medieval times, and we have been burned alive for remembering.

Light, in this darkness that we created, you and I, light here was not always welcome.

But light is contagious, you see.

And here we are, within the Galactic Alignment. I am 52, a good age to be alive in 2012. A perfect age, actually.

And I have been over here, in my apartment, getting really really good at sparking my flame.

I think this is why I had such bad agoraphobia at certain times in my life. My heart would break on leaving the house, and an anxiety would settle on my skin, into my lungs, as I rode the elevator to the basement, to get into my car, and go anywhere. Really, just any place made me have anxiety. Even the good stuff.

And now I know why.

I was leaving a freaking bonfire to back into velvet inky darkness.

And it hurt to have contact with people so unaware of the light, and so very condescending toward the bonfire consuming me, keeping me alive, connected to it as I am wherever I go, whatever I do.

See, that is the part that I didn’t appreciate.

I carry it with me.

You see? It is never gone. I am never apart from source. I am source. The thought is an invalid one, a weak and silly one. A device, and nothing more.

And I tell you now of my great love for Jesus.

This is a mystical union which I have never discussed, and there is much about it I never will discuss. Much must remain private, and that is not to separate or divide. This is just good mental, spiritual hygiene.

Jesus came to me when I was a little girl.

We were at the dump. This was the 60’s, when people understood that what they throw away goes and stays and sits somewhere. The dump. My dad would take us there on Sundays, and we went through thrash. It was one of my favorite things growing up. I found old, just ancient, postcards, musty, moldy books. The smell of those trips, oh, still here, I am enjoying it now.

And I can remember being in the backseat of the car, and there was Jesus.

He told me that I was to be like him, and my role would be to come to know peace and love. I would be compassionate, and very very wise, just sparkly smart, and I would be someone like him, in every way.

I can remember asking about the dying thing, just that whole mess, and he told me no, that isn’t the point. I am him, he is me, but he is separate, and I am to be like him, in my body.

So, there’s that.

We went home and probably had hot dogs and boiled carrots, watched TV and went to bed. Probably.

But it gave me an appreciation and an interest in Jesus’ life. I payed attention to the scripture, and I made sure I got bibles with Jesus’ words in red. I found certain passages in the bible that made me feel really good, really good, they still do, and I learned them.

I had permission to learn about Jesus, and to find out what he did, living in a Lutheran household. I studied, and I liked that Jesus was always there, this big weird mystery to solve.

In my teens, we saw Jesus Christ Superstar, first run, our pastor and the church youth group. My mom made sure that we went as a family to see Ted Neely do the JCS revival on stage in 1992. Fifteen years after that, I met a random person who had to give me a signed piece of art commemorating the revival’s tour.

In reference to Jesus, and this musical, I will say that I always resonated with the beginning, and with the teachings more than the death stuff, the politics and high drama.

I felt the message got weirdly hijacked, but it was still serviceable, and enough got through to help. That’s why I really appreciate the versions of JCS that end before the whole death thing. It’s just too slippery for me. And no, I know of no other word to describe that weirdness that happened in the desert all this time ago.

There is a lot that I could “speculate” on, which at this point I will not allow myself to do publicly. This stuff is real close to the surface, and deserves being sat with before it is discussed. But there are a couple other things as they pertain to Jesus.

Now I just want to free style a bit. I want to tell you of the things I am aware of , just about Jesus, but by extension, The Other Big Ones. Let me tell you from my heart, the heart of me in love with Jesus, with this entity. Let me just sing my love for him.

My understanding is a benevolent and encompassing one. I believe that Jesus is Buddha is Zoroaster is, is, is. There is one mind, after all, in the end.

I think that this one mind has had many incarnations on this planet, and some of them grabbed more headlines than others.

The Great Mother, The Universal Heart, the benevolence running the whole thing, well, here is how it works.

The faster you spin, the more love and information is available. And Buddha, Jesus, (I just use these two because I am lazy… think every saint, MLK, Gandhi, all of them!), their channels were wide open, because they agreed to come in without the veils, with the crystalline DNA able to perceive as we are now just beginning to.

They channeled the One Mind. This is why all great religions have what has been called a “golden thread of truth” running through them. Of course these greats reincarnate. Of course. It’s like grooves on a record.

But this entity, this mind, is available to all of us now.

Let me tell you what happened to me in 1993, could have been 1994, I’ll never know.

I was at church, in the choir loft of an old cathedral in downtown Denver, there for the early serve, singing in the choir, under the leadership of my old friend Jeffrey.

Jeff and I accepted our mystical love for God. We let each other be, and recognized that we were both deeply in love with God. I liked Jeff, had met him at the gay choir we were both in, about two hundred men and women who met every Thursday, just to learn songs about how great and poignant and beautiful it is to love, and then annually we would put on a huge show at the huge old theatre right downtown.

Jeff was the star of that choir. He had the voice of an angel and the personality of a devil. He was dirty and lewd and loud and funny as hell, and I watched him that night, of my first performance, beforehand as we creatives were running through the still empty auditorium, I watched him and thought, God, I want nothing more than to be in his energy, and I am just way too uncool for him. He will never be my friend.

And here I sit, in the choir loft, led by Jeff to sing like an angel for the congregants on a spring day in the early nineties.

I was reading the hymnal, looking for the mystical. I read my favorite passages, having completely tuned out the prattling below me. I was in the mystery, thinking about Jesus.

And right there in that loft, he showed up.

I cannot tell you that I saw him, because my eyes, they didn’t. But everything else within me knew that I was seeing an old friend.

He hung out with me and read with me. I do not remember it if he gave me instructions.

I think, as I recall, I knew this was a visit from an old friend. Not to check up. Not to inform. Just to love. Just to confirm. Just to put me at peace. Because that’s what family does for each other.

I remember now that I did tell The Teachers about this. How wonderful to have these memories being recovered!

They told me yes, he was there. He is alive. He is physical. He exists. He is your friend.

They also told me a lot about my time with him, in the old days.

This will remain hidden, just suffice it to say that I am not of the ilk who believes that I walked the earth as Jesus.

There are just some things, even with coming to terms with who I am, there are just some things that are not entertained, out of deep honor and respect. His work as Jesus stands alone, and it is to be honored, studied, loved, but never owned.
Never owned. Everyone owns it, it is our heart, it is our best attempt at the time.

And now comes the backflip with a lazy susan half turn.

We are becoming Christs.

You see, there are two parts to his name.

Jesus, that is his moniker, his personality name, his handle, his tag, his signature.

Christ, this refers to his home, and this home is where we all live.

I heard someone say that at the end, Jesus had no beliefs. It is not possible to get that high in consciousness and be able to hold a belief.

I think one of my favorite images will always be a painting of Jesus, kneeling before a boulder, in the garden of Gethsemane, and he is making hand farts, and the thought balloons above his hands read “Pfft!” “Pfffft!”

THAT is MY Jesus.

Fucking with his hands, making farting noises, right before he does his thing, whether that’s just translocating and letting the loco get nabbed by the po-po, or whether he really did submit to such foolishness as a crucifixion. My guess he was passing his time, quite pleasurably, in that Garden nibbling olives, looking at the stars, and occasionally making farting sounds with his hands.

It is well with my soul.
I am that I am.
I live within a grateful heart.

And truly, friend, this is all I have ever wanted.

What else matters? I have seen it, and I know, that you can have millions in the bank. You can leak cash, have it falling out of your wallet, and be so impoverished you wish you could die, or kill someone else.

I have seen people with every single advantage… beauty, familial respect and support, meaningful work, interesting hobbies, and their health, that one lynchpin, fails.

And it all comes crumbling down.

The person looks at the rubble, the lost house, the broken body, the fatigued friends and family, and there, in the destruction, like a single dandelion on a battlefield still oozing blood, and there is hope.

There is light.

There is something making all this go, making all of this work, and there has to be a reason behind it, yes? There has to be a reason.

I know the reason now.

I understand a few things I did not before.

And I know my role. I think I have a pretty good idea of yours too, and our friend Jesus would like very much to clear up a few things.

Jesus is as alive now as when it all went down. He was potential before that, and now, once again within Universal Mind, he is settling back into earth, but this time, he is doing it heart by heart, moment to moment, within our context, within our skin.

As a little girl, I could clearly see the advantage to being like Christ. I could give people peace. I would still them. I would have peace too, because people would be still and sane around me. They would remember, around me, who they are, and they would only be able to act in good and right ways.

Do you see, as I do now, why my life was a little tricky? I think I set my sights a little high.

It seemed entirely possible at the time, and just like, ok, here’s the assignment. It’ll suck and be interesting and you get this really cool thing with it. Yes, you will do miracles.

So, I think it is about time to let this lover of humanity out. I think it is time to see that he has been here the whole time, whispering in my ear, in the old language, reminding me of things I didn’t think were salient.

I think we are the new Christs, and I think we have his permission to do this thing.

Now, I think that to end this, I will use my imagination and imagine just what it is that Jesus would have us know at this moment. I know that he is with me here, and if I can get in the right space, some stratum of his energy can entangle me in a way I can hear and feel, and then he can instruct me more clearly.

I will try this now, and then I will end. I’ll do a first edit and put it out fresh.

This is good stuff. At least I got to visit Jeffrey. I love him and enjoy thinking on him, everything he gave to me, how rich and happy he made me.

Now let’s see what Jesus might think of all this stuff…..

You struggle with issues of identity within the great mind and we are here to help.

Think of your apple, and its seeds, please.

The apple hangs on the tree, celebrating its becoming, you see? The apple is in joy, and in a spirit of sacrificial goodwill. It is as it is, and it is perfect in its being. It has congruence, meaning, and purpose.

The apple will fall when it must, and not one moment before. Its purpose, to flower, its purpose, to develop into fruit, its purpose to nourish a friend, its purpose to seed the earth with its self.

These are mysteries, these timings, unknown to our friend the apple. The apple does not weigh itself down with these questions. Indeed, if it did, it would have remained a thought.

There is movement and there is sanctification in taking action, all those who slumber and those now awake, seeking validation.

You see, the time of seeding has begun. Your position has changed. Perhaps it was during the eclipse, maybe it was some other event, but you now notice you are on the ground.

You must understand it is no longer your time to soak up nutrients, to sit in sun and grow.

You are mature now, and your job is to offer your fruit up for consumption.

This takes an act of faith which each will decide upon, whether they have the readiness to test these waters, for they are strong, and the current is swift.

You will come to know what it is to be consumed and to be present and whole and ripe and unchanged.

You are not an ordinary apple.

The same sun and water fed you as your brothers and sisters.

They are on the tree. See them dangle there still. They are very beautiful up there in the sunlight, in the twilight, in the deep chill of night. They are doing as they must, just as you did.

You must now leave this analogy, because I can tell you are still thinking that you cannot do much, as you are, an apple without legs and without a mouth, plopped onto the earth to wither, to atrophy, to rot and go back to the mother.

This is an incorrect summation and must be abandoned. You are now, as you sail through the air toward the earth, you know now, you can feel it, your heart is opening now as you understand, all the dreams you have had recently about splitting off and reuniting. You see it in your dreams, and you bring it back in the morning and we appreciate how you sit, stunned, clearly reeling from what you are reminding yourself of.

We honor your assimilation.

The apple, as it is flying, just as you fly now nightly in your dreams, this act of flight, it changes the character and the ability of the apple. You’ve matured before the rest, and this is how you were made. You cannot hate others for not maturing as you did, since you don’t fully understand just how it was done quite yet. So hold no hate, no judgment, no fear.

Be instead grateful for this knowing you hold within now.

You have traveled far, and we are ever at your service. You are honored, you and those you write to. They must know as well, that Universal Mind is here, it is singing and speaking to you, every night, every moment.

We are a collective of entities and you had such trouble with the “me” and “them” koan. Do you see now? It is appropriate and desired for this mind to take on impossibly infinite variations. You see, now, as you go to work, more and more it is an amalgam of entities ministering to those you encounter, not only patients, but staff. You are sensing them more whole. You see them as separate from you, but coming from the same source.

You see them as differently faced you’s, and we caution you to steady your thinking now for this next part.

Although it is true that we are all made of the same substance, and we are all expressions of the same thought, you must understand that things are not as they seem.

There are variations, gradations, preferences and soul needs at work that you cannot currently appreciate.

We tell you that The Kryon is accurate and true. You are a Creator God, and you know this, and you shirk from it, but you know it to be true. You are an old one, and you know there are many old ones here now.

You know, deep within you, that everyone you meet, everyone you medicate, everyone you argue with, these too are all from the same source.

We now wish to settle you, little apple, and tell you truly of how things are for you in this life.

You have been playing with it for three weeks, and you know it.

You can feel it, and this power is all soothing, is it not? It is the truth of the matter. You are loved. They are loved. All is well. Nothing is out of balance. There is no need for anger. Fear not. Be still. You know this. You know this. You know this.

And we tell you now, this is your mission, this is why you came in. You are here to be a walking master. There are others. You are not alone anymore, not in any sphere. It is true you all walked solitary paths. You were alone. You abandoned yourselves utterly. It was quite a sight.

Each night, we mended you, each day, we buoyed you.

It was all for this day, and those to come.
Never again must you hide your light.
There are too many of you now to stop it.
You, all of You, have succeeded where you have failed in the past. You knew it was a gamble, and you knew it was a sure thing.
You each have had your walks in the desert, the temptations of christ still, at times, cloud your sensorium and become very real, quite ominous, they can appear, can they not.

This is a favorite treat of ours, this ability to cloud things with a simple thought, and the ability to right the Self with just one thought. Thoughts are portals, my friends. They are portals, all. Words, yes, and deeds, all portals.

You, now, the awake ones, you are walking portals.

You must come to peace with this. And we are instructing you, you are instructing yourself, nightly. Why do you think your sleep habits have changed? You are integrating physical with arcane, this is a lightning fast project, it is happening with more speed than anticipated, but just as much as the most hopeful around here held would come to pass.

You know that your civilization goes on the seed another galaxy. You have heard that representative, letters from the future. You know who we name now as Bashar. You know this, and yet do you feel it?

The only variable to this awakening is your degree of participation.

That’s it.

And you have decided you wish to participate by spreading peace in the physical, and dispensing information on the web. And for now this is very functional.

Get used to your power, we ask you now, all of your readers, we ask all of you to take this in.

This is real. You are awakening, and the enlightenment is physical, emotional, mental, sexual, political. It is within your very cells, within the atomic matter manifesting as cells. Do you see? It is manifesting in the heavens, with solar flares, eclipses, comets. It this there for all to see.

Do you see?

Do you see that it is good to go to work and love? Are you willing now, this day, to do it all consciously, from 7pm to 7:30am, wherever the reader may be, in the vet’s office,  or in a cafe, or at home, or school, or maybe in a friend’s car.

Can you embody compassion? Can you see nothing but love in everything you encounter? Can you be at peace in the midst of physical and spiritual suffering?

We know these are things you have mastered.

Why not have a little bit of pride in how far you have come?

Your difficulties with never fitting in, old one, ancient one, that is alright, and truth is, please do not be coy, you never really wanted any part of it anyway.

You hear a different music, one that you love, and you are pleased to know of many musical styles, but, dear one, loved one, old one, ancient, please, understand, we are conspiring in your favor now, because you are no longer conspiring against yourselves.

Allow this love to fill your fields.

Allow this love to drip off of your fingers as you prepare your meals, your patient’s medications, your bread, your paperwork.

Let this love, this knowledge of happiness and peace which you have no words for, let it become expressed in HOW you do your work, HOW you say thank you.

You ride the flow of traffic and bless every driver, each on their way, each driving to their self-appointed destinies. Do not ride against the flow, and do not curse your fellow travelers. Stay with the flow, allow it all, see it all as a poem that God HerHimSelf is writing in a language only the two of you can possibly understand.

Hold the grateful heart in the sad places. Hold the soft heart in the hard places. Hold the warm heart among the cold.

This task, this self-appointed task, this is the all. That’s it.

You agreed to be here. So removed are you from the thought of an accident, imagining that this is happening without your consent, without your very direction, is becoming quite laughable.

Are you A Buddha? Yes.
Are you A Christ? Yes.

Is your name Buddha, Gautama? No.
Is your name Jesus of Nazareth? No.

Were you a prince, and did you renounce wealth to find self? To find God?
Were you a lifelong student, a shaman, simple laborer, touched weirdly by a future you neither fought against nor resented?

You, your readers, you are the Christs returned to earth, and you know this is a role when you have reached a certain frequency. This is a role, a service, a joy, a mantle few can wear. You can. Put it on. Smile as you wear it. Never curse it.

You may put it in a drawer whenever you want to. You don’t have to wear it when you have sexual relations, but we encourage you to, with the right partner, in the right circumstances, to wear it while creating physical passion.

We ask you to be big, to stand as tall as you can, and to know that you don’t have a ceiling. There is nothing stopping you from attaining greater knowledge, greater love, than has ever been seen on the planet, now.

Of course, we did not say greater power. This frequency is the frequency of free will.

The Buddha, The Christ, Mohammed, Rumi, Gandhi, these men, they had an inkling, many of them were turned on full blast.

Dear one, we leave you with a thought.

You have been female this life. You have been sexually marginalized, and you have been raped. You have had your sexual and soulic power identified and others have tried to rip it from you. This stands as a tale many women know of, have lived, have survived, silently.

So, of course, you are not alone. This struggle happens in countless bedrooms, in many light worker’s life.

The next wave, the First Wave, the wave of Christs, they are FEMALE. See a return of Mother Energy, this frequency allowing male to adapt, gently, and female to adapt, gently.

Look for it, we tell you.

You must stop marginalizing, you must stop this thinking. It is one of the final frontiers.

There is a crystalline agreement that is being readjusted, and it will become, as you adjust, possible for you to see true worth, true, identity, true power, in the female. You all have inklings. You have not seen it yet.

The females reading this are switching on. Their males are not yet. They dangle on the tree. The women will meet. They will have groups, and they will have seminars, and they will be very inviting, they will allow men in.

These women have no fear, and so the phallus has no power, not really. Not anymore. It can be seen as co-creator, once reigned by an awakened heart and mind.

It is a tool, a grand and sacred one. But it is a tool only. It is not the foundation. Mother is the foundation. Woman is the foundation, Feminine is the foundation.

There will be great power, and it will come in waves, from the woman.

They talk about these miracles, how things will come about, how the new earth is to be manifested.

It is manifested through your kind acts, your expanded fields, your inclusion, and it happens through your children.

How many of you are SINGLE MOTHERS?

No interference with the male, primary caregivers, the source of training, with a peripheral male?

How many?

There is a reason for this divorce thing, you see.

Position yourself so that you may have children, or grandchildren, or access to children. We all have to. And we are working our greatest miracles there.

Unimpeded. Uninterefered with.

No one legislates parenting.

No one can.

And, really, we old ones, we would just ignore the rules anyway.

That’s how we are built.

OK… That is over, the blast is through.

I am left with knowing it’s cool to just be compassionate. If that’s all I do, if I can just be compassionate tonight. I must remember, compassion and gentleness are paired. It is twinned energy, but it is from gentleness that compassion blooms.

OK, I tell you this before I sign out.

Kryon said something today, and as he did, I was transported to the unit I last worked on. The nurses all started out cranky, upset, cursing the place, calling the patients names.

And I just kept radiating love and tolerance. It felt good. I just really could find nothing to get my underpants in a twist about, so I stayed quiet, did my reading, worked and answered lights and hardly sat down, actually.

He said, as I imagined that last shift, that when you do this, when you sit and radiate pure pure pure unconditional live, just see them as whole and loving and capable and free, and so loved, and you just give it away, well, it does a lot of things, obviously, but this blast may very well be the only pure love they feel all that day, or all that week, or all that month.

I thought then of my desert years. Those years when I was just barely hanging on, so dark, so squeezed was I.

And this is what I got from The Teachers. From my guides and teachers, here on earth, to whom I paid cash for their wisdom.

I got blasts of pure light, and it helped me.

There was so little about.

Now that the grids are loosening up and it’s so readily available, the memories that I have about the old times, the dark times, my life still on the tree, these are fading, and I am glad for it. I no longer need the devices of punishment and fear. I no longer need some of the more crude or dramatic realities to understand. My lessons can be soft because I am soft.

I think that Jesus would be pleased with my progress. I understand that he has come to me to remind me of things I should be remembering, when I need to remember them. He comes through in my essays, sometimes, and he is with me, steadying me, before I enter particularly difficult interpersonal situations which, well, they may not be of my making, but if I am in the middle of them, I may as well calm them down, because, when it’s all said and done, I am quite sleepy still, just waking up, and I like things smooth. I like things pleasant and pretty and, darn it, I’ll say it again, I like ’em sparkly.

I doubt that Jesus wore a lot of sparklies. He has never been described as someone who enjoyed accessorizing.

But I think it is awesome that these days we have be-dazzlers. And we can be just as sparkly, just as plain, just as flamboyant or silent as we see fit.

We are making this up as we go along, and the giving of love is not wrong, is never wrong, is always correct and timely and appropriate.

I have been wanting to know how to be a loving person, in the midst of hate.

He came to me when I was a little girl, to tell me it is indeed possible.

He came to me in my thirties to remind me of my mission.

He smokes clove cigarettes and cracks koans with me now.

If this is all made up, so what.

So fucking what.

My god is real, jesus is my friend, I am a living, breathing christ, this is attainable by every human, and it doesn’t mean anything more than I am, in the end, always an explorer, and my creations are these notes, and my world, such as it is, and the world will go on spinning with me thinking these odd thoughts.

The only thing that happens when I think them, is that I feel peaceful and people are nicer to me.

So I will go on thinking these thoughts, and more, much more.

And occasionally, when there is a break in the action, I will sit down and tell you a little bit about what is going on.

It really is a very lovely construct, for the moment, maybe for all my moments. We’ll see. It’s good for now.

So now I need to take a shower, andthen I go to work.

Chop wood, carry water.

 

 

Deeply Awake — All Good Things 4-15-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for mother holding infant  gif

 

 

 

Deeply Awake — All Good Things 4-15-13 By Kathy Vik

So, here goes, letting me, and you, know that I see a pattern emerging with all the inner work I find myself compelled to do.

But before I tell you how I see the waves breaking, I wanted to tell you of a few miracles and observations.

Last Thursday, things shifted for me rather dramatically. On Wednesday night I had gone to bed not discouraged, but ready for a change. I felt that my work around fear and money had come to an end.

I was beginning to imagine that it might be possible for me to have some relief in. I felt complete with the whole thing, and I felt done with stuff. But, I know far too well from my slog through 2012 that when littlemind thinks I am complete, I am sometimes just being set up for a big lesson of clearing.

On Thursday morning, I felt fantastic, and knew that this was the day that things were to resolve. I was ready. We cleaned the house last week, and I removed every ill-fitting thing I own. All my fat clothes are gone. My clothing is clean and hanging on hangers. The kitchen is clean. So is the front room. So I woke up Thursday feeling like a world champion.

And then, as I was exiting my bed to begin my day, something shiny glinted from my sheet. There, where my shins had been, was a gold dollar coin.

What?!

Of course, I took it in my hand, and I laughed and I laughed and I laughed. I understood that I had, now, tangible proof, a miracle, that money would now be coming to me in unexpected ways, and I would finally start feeling, really feeling supported. I could expect support. I could expect ease. I could expect fun.

It is such a treat to have a moment to piece this together, because it is a rather exquisite construct. Let me continue.

Thursday I made a decision. It was a simple one, and an obvious one, and a sainted one. I was inspired to consider the possibility that I could now help people with Tarot. I got my coffee and went to my newly fixed desk, and I came up with a very nice business card.

Nearly thirty years ago I learned divination through simple playing cards, from Diane. I then studied Tarot daily for two years under a master numerologist and astrologer, who was a whiz at the cards.

Until the early nineties, my friend and I would do readings for strangers at restaurants, because we’d come with our cars, to read for ourselves, but we’d always wind up with a crowd.

Finally, on Thursday, it dawned on me that I could make actual money reading Tarot, and I’d be expected to be paid by actually speaking my very own language!

I pick up my business cards this Wednesday. I have decided to sprinkle cards all over town, for Deeply Awake Tarot.

This is the beginning of all good things.

Here is why.

This sainted energy followed me into Friday, and I had a great night. I went to my favorite metaphysical bookstore and bought a great book on numerology, two on tarot, and some more Kryon.

Then Saturday happened.

I worked with someone who was so full of sadness, resentment, and hatred. She walked around with murder in her eyes, and she sabotaged me again and again and again, and I just had a miserable shift. Every old thought I ever had about how stupid and unacceptable and awful I am, yes me, not the creep, came back to cut me and bruise me.

I think I cried more Saturday and Sunday than I have in months. I was so miserable, so uncomfortable that shift, and so ashamed that I got mad, that I was affected, oh, I had such pain. Such pain. Ugh. I was ashamed that I couldn’t transmute that junk in the moment, angry that I was feeling anything at all.

And now, things have cleared. I say that like no work got done. Ha!

But there are many gifts from that turbulent shift. So many I cannot count them all. But here is the thing. I appreciate their elusive reality. Identifying these things, these constructs or feeling states, that is so necessary. Identifying the place where the blossom was planted, that is important too.

I know that I will test myself again with this energy. It is the energy of resentment and hatred, the vibration of fear and being small. It poisons everything.

So I have decided that I need to set the intention, and speak the truth at the start of each shift, even if it is just internally. The gift I have been given is the courage and the wisdom to have a different awareness toward the aides.

This is what I will say from now on that the beginning of the shift to the aides who work as my subordinates:

I think it is a telling thing that the people here at this hospital tonight, of all the people here, the ones who will actually touch the patient, who will give the most eye contact and who will have the most face time, are the aides. And it is sick, but the reality is that the ones who do the most intimate work with the patient we, as a society, have decided to pay the least respect and money to.

I want you to know how false I know this to be.

And all the things I am responsible for and can get in trouble for, none of it really even matters if the star of our show, the reason we’ve shown up, the patient, is riding his bed discouraged, neglected, sad, wanting something simple and not having it.

See? That is how I see it. And I cannot and will not answer as many call lights as you tonight, because we have different masters, different expectations, but I want to start this shift by telling you that I see you. I honor you and I respect you and I see you. I will act in a way that shows this honor and respect and trust.

And although I do not know if you can return these things, all I ask is that you assume I am on your side. That is all. Assume I am a friend and not your enemy.

So, that is the miracle from working with that horribly sad person.

Let me just pause to tell you something. I just took a break to go get some coffee from the kitchen, and I walked away from this piece you are reading wanting to bag it and start over, because it is not clear and I am not getting to the meat of it.

It feels chaotic, this telling, although it really is not. The thing is, all of these miracles are intertwined, and I know that now, and so I will show that I love the integrity of this beauty by telling it as whole but as enjoyably as I can.

So much of this pain, this original pain I have, was there on display on Saturday night.

I had a subordinate who was completely out of control. She was checking up on my work, (that would be like me approaching a doctor and openly criticizing him for an omission. Not as a partner, but as someone with a sharp stick I then proceed to stick in the doctor’s eye. It is not done nurse on doctor, but it is done ALL THE TIME aide to nurse. All the time.)

See, here is the thing. I have lived my whole, whole, whole life programmed with this weirdness: If you are uncomfortable, it is my fault. The fault is organic, so it cannot be fixed. The situation is: one with the fault fucks things up and can be punished in ANY way seen fit, and the one who finds the fault gets to act superior and hatefully condescending.

That’s it. That was what my childhood WAS, and that is how nursing has been for me.

If someone does not like me or my behavior, it is simply because I am flawed. I am the reason. And I cannot undo what is broken. I just have to live with it.

This is why I have always tried to be so damned good! Because I understood that if there is a disturbance in the field, it’s because of me, and I can’t help it, but I am hated for it.

Um, can I just say, that sentence pretty much explains my social and interpersonal posture for the last 52 years of my life?!

And now we are drilling deep, team, and now we are mining the big nuggets, the ones that surprise your arm with their weight and heft. Now comes the good stuff.

How about being placed in an automatic posture of a soul apology for 52 years? How would that be? What might I learn about myself if I set it up that there is no warmth, or very very little warmth between me and others for a very very long time, almost like an isolation tank that I wear.

I have talked about it before, my lack of compassion.

And I want to really discuss this because I think at some level this is my soul lesson.

I have always been in love with nature, with living things. I would have been very happy on a farm. I know who I am and how and where I belong when I think about nature.

It is an instant, instant head clearer. I can think about moss on a rock, or a slab of granite buried into the side of a mountain, or a pine tree, and I am fine. Set. Clear once again. It is weird how easy that is. I just did it.

But I have never, ever, not even once, felt that around a human. No human. Never. Sorry. Not ever. Not even once.

It’s like I have this sheath around me, and the palette of feelings is not available to me. And I have really been mean to myself about this. I know I am weird, because I can love someone so very completely, and be so utterly moved, just moved to beyond words, by someone, but not always and usually at great price.

It is not that I don’t like people, it’s just that I really do not understand their motivations, a lot of them. I don’t like how they think, what they say, what they focus on. I find most people really absent of spark and life. Most people are very very afraid, and in their terror, they smash anyone who isn’t.

Please know that this writing is as close to stream of consciousness as I have ever done online, so forgive the lack of structure. What I find with these things is that in the middle of such seeming chaos, a pattern emerges, a theme, a message. I am not feeling it yet, so I will continue.

So here we are, with a bitchy woman-child at work set off gongs in me. I wept and I wept and I wept. In the bathroom. In the hallway. In the car. In my bed. Weeping. Can’t really tell the specifics because I don’t remember them. But it had to do with being hated. Being hated. Being hated.

How do I reconcile this? How do I find peace with this? How do I do that? And why oh why must this be an issue?

It’s because I had asked for, begged and demanded GENTLENESS.

That’s the cosmic joke, my love.

I had decided that my weekend would be one practicing, living, knowing gentleness. I had been shown that gentleness in action and thought leads to compassion and that this mechanism is under the auspices of knowing peace.

Seemed real simple.

I can be gentle. I can do that.

Except that is not my way. Never has been. Never has been.

I gravitate toward chaos. My head clears when I am in crisis. I think it speaks to the end-times portion of me, the extreme portion of me who came in to just DO THIS THING. I am not particularly gentle. I love change. Chaos. Upset. I thrive on it. I don’t like creating it, although I am good at that, but I just find I enjoy extremes.

There truly is nothing else like having someone try to die on you, someone who has told you that they would prefer that particular thing not happen.

It is a peaceful, tranquil, loving, beautiful energy, that extreme. I love it. It’s like being in a cathedral in the woods, being at the bedside as someone is dying, or trying to. And it is within the extreme, within the chaos, that everything becomes so easy, so clear, so simple.

So, no, gentleness, assuming a posture of gentleness this lifetime would have made it impossible for me to live to this age. I had to develop ways to cope. And losing that sweetness, that vulnerability, that was job one. I was not raised in a gentle home. I did not have gentle formative experiences. Gentleness has not been the walk of The Others I contracted with.

It still comes out, and does so more now than ever before. But gentleness, that is a state of grace, something to work toward, as far as I am concerned.

See, I realized after that meditation that gentleness is not such a strong attribute with me. I got through the first part of my life really knowing, utterly believing the following:

I am born in alone. I will die alone. Each of us is a universe unknowable between birth and death. Lying creates pain. Honesty creates isolation.

No one comes close to me, but when they try, inevitably, something really shitty happens, and they reject me because I am not good enough.

No one has ever really loved me, and I really doubt anyone can, in the end, honestly love anyone else, because everyone is so dishonest with themselves and each other.

No one wants to be real, no one wants to be exposed, and no one wants to talk. And if I break this rule of silence, I am punished even worse than if I am just seen as a dolt.

Yeah. That’s pretty much it. In a nutshell.

But although that has been my interpersonal reality for 52 years, I think it can change now. Because I see now that it is based on a false premise! A number of them actually.

Now, understand, that statement above, that was my manifesto. But it is built on the false notion that we come in alone. That we die alone. That is such nonsense.

And then there is the other stuff, a lot of which is true.

I think the sheath thing is real. I think it is my protection. It stops me from feeling any interest whatsoever in most of the nonsense that could knock me off my path. Maybe it was a help at one time, and I do feel that it was a gift given to me to help me cope. But it has caused a rift, a chasm, that I want to cross now.

I saw The Other as more powerful than me. Literally able, with a glance, a word, an edict, to dismiss me as offal.

If you do not approve of something about me, maybe it’s my clothes or my weight or my posture or my words or my face, my soul purpose, my dinner selection, anything, if you disliked it even mildly, then I would feel pain.

Really. I hate to admit this shit, but it’s true. Between two people, there is a space that is afforded when someone creates something new, a coffee or a break or a radio dial change. And in that moment when something new is introduced, that is indeed a good moment. Because The Other has an opportunity to then comment on the new addition to the construct.

And when that happens, if the person shows displeasure or discomfort, then that is when I take the ball and run with it.

Oh my, what fun I have had then!

This is my jumping off point, into the abyss of self-loathing. It is a choice. It is always there. If in the space of having introduced something new, an idea or a suggestion or a treat, the other person must then decide if it is good or bad for them, right? “Would you like some treats?” In that moment, The Other makes a decision.

Now, if I am The Other, I really need my companion to be strong, and to deal with the fact that I may or may not want a treat.

If I say no, I am hoping The Other will understand I am rejecting the treat and not him or her.

But most are not strong, and most, when rejected, start feeling like they themselves are rejected. Come on, when you get right down to it, when I say “no “ to an offer, I am rejecting the energy of that other person, a probability they are offering. I have the right and responsibility to say yes or no.

And here is the kicker.

Here is the love, the gratitude, the grace and the gentleness.

I understand now that the mechanics will always be fascinating to a girl like me. I love that I am so analytical on this interpersonal stuff. I don’t really have a choice, since this is how I was built, but still, I like that I examine everything so much.

But I had been missing a key ingredient. That is why I allowed that girl at work to treat me so awfully and why we did that horrible lurching dance for twelve truly macabre hours on Saturday. She was a master teacher. She was also a stone cold bitch.

I had been thinking “Ooh I want gentleness. I want to be the sage who dances through her shift. I want peace and lightness and gentleness and love.”

Yeah, great to aim high, but how is it possible to radiate something that I refuse to bathe in myself?

So let me return to the timeline.

An aside, if you will allow it, about my boy. I told him, very briefly, about the first dispensation, that of peace through compassion via gentleness. And that sage sat on his couch, smiled and said, “Yeah, mom, you aren’t very gentle. You need more of that.”

Yeah.

I will now say, just for the record, that if you do not live with my son, you are not in a good position to judge him. He’s bulletproof and wiser than most, good-humored, self-assured and completely honest. Yikes.

So, on Sunday afternoon, I woke up after having cried bucketfuls, and I felt pretty good. The air was clearer, that is for sure.

Sam and I, we gave each other ease that day. We did things that were sure to give us peace and joy. One of them was to go to a movie. He decided to go to a werewolf or zombie thing, and I decided to go see Silver Linings Playbook.

That movie is a gem. It is about ascension, guys. I needed to know what I was missing, I needed to crack this koan. And then came that movie. It demonstrated a thickness of love that nearly made my throat close up. It was so THICK with THICK love. It was a sparkly movie. I cried through it too.

And then, Sunday night, I realize something, as I was clearing the dishes from the sink.

There is a moment in the movie when Bradley Cooper’s character has just had it, and declares “You know, maybe Tiffany and I are on to something! Maybe we aren’t like you but that isn’t a bad thing! Maybe you should pay attention to how we are doing this, because we aren’t doing it ‘wrong’!” (I’m paraphrasing. Forgive me, please.)

You see, I have walked around feeling like The Other, being put down and misunderstood my whole life. I am seen as awkward, too open, too deep, and I have a hard time modulating my frequency, or at least I did. I was lost most of the time, and I made stupid choices. I painted with all the colors available to me, and I did it in a way that seemed to guarantee raised eyebrows and judgment. And I am SICK OF IT.

I am sick of all the judgment.

And here came that movie, right there, of two ascending masters, loving on each other creatively, with abandon and with great precision, with love thick and straight and true, and it was delicate and moving and right.

At the sink, I laughed out loud, because the voices finally are back, and what they said was that I had got it, finally. The missing ingredient is not love for The Other. Often The Other is not appreciative. And yes, I know that everyone travels with big angels and a higher self they are beginning to tap into, but come on, we are all NOT there yet, and some people are pretty fucked up still.

So, here’s the thing I learned at the sink. Gentleness is not to be given to others without first being run through my own body. See? It is not possible to give it unless I have it. Of course, it is available, because I have dreamed up the possibility.

Gentleness is compassion. And it is to be given first to myself, then to others. See? See how it works? The people in the movie, they understood, in the end, and they had gentleness. But first they had to realize it internally.

In the movie, this realization occurred when the characters allowed themselves to be loved and supported by others. There it is. The willingness to see something as a loving act. Something that could be seen as an act of betrayal, or selfishness or manipulation. All through that movie, folks made good choices. They made choices biased in LOVE.

There was always love there, but there was pain and unhappiness too. These peoples’ issues were not mine, their stories not mine, but their struggle was as real as it gets, and I have to tell you, it was a very powerful thing, seeing two people like me on that movie screen.

Two people who were not understood, not appreciated, two individuals who were wrestling particularly mean monsters, but in the end, the monsters only had one name, at that name was fear.

And everyone was, in the beginning, bouncing off everyone else’s fear. Quite a symphony of pain at the start, but by movie’s end, there was peace in the valley.

The peace was released, for me, with that line of Bradley Coopers. MAYBE I AM ON TO SOMETHING.

See, this spiritual quest of mine has led me down blind alleys and box canyons, but I have enjoyed the ride. I have done this life weirdly, and I have chosen to be a pebble in people’s shoes. I know it and they know it.

I know now that I have to admit and work with the obvious: I affect people. I am here, and I am part of it, and I matter, and the very things for which others have put me down my whole life, I now feel are my most precious attributes: my willingness to consider the fact that I might not be seeing things as clearly as I could being my best one.

What if I did something revolutionary, and stopped hating my own self when others are uncomfortable with me? What about that?

Maybe my job is not to create peace, but to create love.

I am beginning to think that peace is a by-product, or a sister of love. I think Love is the engine, and it is the context, and then the variations start to emerge from it, the patterns of peace,self worth, self acceptance, forbearance, gratitude, humor, all those good things. But it comes from love.

Love is word we have bastardized, and I like instead to describe it sometimes, because then I realize I am a bit more loving than I think. Love to me, love is this: Love is
Strong. Patient. Smiling. Permission. Allowance. Tolerance. Forbearance. Inclusion. Expansion. Answers. Truth. Symmetry. Recognition. Forgiveness.

What if all these years, I have been put down for the very things that are what we, as humans, ultimately strive for? Why is it that my meditating and loving God cost me so many relationships? Why is it that I have not yet found someone who is like me?

I think maybe it has a lot to do with me. Where I stand with me.

I think I am all of that with a bag of chips, but then along comes a spider, who checks up on my work, finds ways to get me into trouble and shame me…… and once again I FELL APART.

But then the reconstruction begins again. Sainted work, this.

And I was ready.

At the sink, and all night long, and into this morning, here is what I have been told:

I allowed people to walk all over me and be shitty to me because I did not feel I was worthy of better treatment. I thought that what people give me I need to take, and if they are mean to me, I deserve it. There must be something wrong with me I have yet to discover, the old thinking went.

But I know now that I am complete and intact.

It is no longer something I am ashamed of, that these understandings are not whole at the outset. It was a daunting and embarrassing thing to me that I did not understand so much, and that I was always in pain. I see now that I am built in a way that requires others exert a bit of effort, and sometimes they don’t feel like it.

I know I affect people, and I know that sometimes people react to me in ugly ways. I challenge people. I always have. And it is not like I want to, but I just seem to. This effect used to lead to a lot of weirdness, and it still does. I am working on making the weirdness more sparkly, that’s all.

This is where the gentleness comes in, and this is how the circuitry is supposed to go, I think.

In a situation where someone is not acting very nicely, I have a choice. In that moment, that sweet golden moment where I say yes or no to an offer. The offer is sometimes to play the game of “Better than/less than.” Sometimes the offer is to play the game “They are all so dumb.”

And in the golden moment, of one person reaching out across the divide to me verbally, that is the moment of choice. Do I play along? Or do I find a way to elevate the whole stupid mess? Sometimes distraction works. Sometimes just leaving the area is best. And sometimes introducing a different game is best. A game of “Where is your favorite place to go on vacation?” or “Do you have any kids?”

But sometimes that magic just doesn’t catch on.

And then the games begin.

So if I meet another warrior tonight who is there, ready to challenge me and help me sink into small thoughts and delusions of self-loathing, I will use something which just came to me, one of the many new gifts I have been given.

It is simply A WAY OUT. I have not given myself many of those. I stay too long at the fair sometimes, as The Teachers used to say. I am stubborn and want to move energy and sometimes the energy doesn’t want to be moved. My way out will be waiting for me on Wednesday. They are simple business cards. But it is a way out.

I saw writing as my ticket out, and of course it is, but it is also laden with desperation and fear, this task I set before myself. I was so convinced that I could never escape nursing that I charged writing so much, it is not a surprise I have not had more tangible success. I mean, look at this stuff. I deserve national exposure, and I know my words will help many. I know that. If you’re paying attention how could you not know that?

But I cannot go directly from my jammies and a laptop to rocking Rockefeller Center. I need intermediary steps. I need contacts. I need friends.

So this is my way out.

Funny, but the idea of doing readings has spurred a lot of other ideas. I love aroma and used to have a perfumers kit as a kid. I am going to learn how to make bath salts, and I am going to present each of the people I read for a lovely gift. I have a feeling that the gifts of aromatherapy and numerology will play a large part in all of this, but for now, these remain interests, idle thoughts, hopes and dreams.

Things are happening, they are popping, and I now want to tell you the punch line.

Ever since Sunday afternoon I have felt peace. It is CONSTANT. It is STURDY. I can rely on it. It is there, baby. I can’t shake it.

It is an eery thing, this peace. It is constant. It is new. But it feels like it is in the weave and not a color about to be introduced to the loom, if you know what I mean. I feel, I know, peace.

That is what I was laughing about at the kitchen sink on Sunday night. I was laughing because now, without working for it or “calling it in,” there it stands, helping me do the dishes, quieting my heart, calming every nerve. There it is, a part of the weave, whispering against my skin with softness and strength and protection. There it is.

So today, I work again. Pouring coffee this morning, I was told that I would indeed be giving myself another test, another check, to see if I am going to fall apart if someone doesn’t like me and starts acting like an asshole because of it. But I am giving this to myself. There is no enemy, just mysterious tests of which I know very little, except I know what they are now when they are in my reality.

Sn aside: I have come to believe that my natural state is one of expansive balance. As such, when lies come into this spin, the spin is knocked off kilter a little. That’s the pain. That’s the misery. And that’s the challenge, the test.

I know I call these people and these experiences to me, and I thank that person who acted like a creep. I am certain that my displeasure will be lodged in her awareness until she has her aha moment, and then maybe she’ll understand why I just, by the end of the shift, rebuffed her insincere and angry assistance in disgust. I hated to do it, but she was so awful towards me. I know now that yes, of course, I will test myself to see if I am still willing to abdicate all my good things, just lay them down at the feet of anyone who expresses discomfort with me.

Guess what? If I make you uncomfortable, deal with it. I come in peace. I come in love. And I mean no ill will. I am not a mean or angry person. I expect and deserve respect. I will always give it, and it is my expectation that, around me, it be given back.

What happens when I don’t get it?

Isn’t that at the crux of this thing?

I said I can’t feel compassion, and I hope you know that this is a lie. But there is a deep dichotomy within me, one which made me feel as close to madness as I ever will.

When Sam was born and we’d moved to our new house, I remember I’d go to his room and hold him, rock him, just to get away and be with him. And yet, as I held him, I felt a weird sensation which I interpreted as me being broken, way down deep.

I would hold him and rock him and feel him, and I was clearly devoted to him and fully aware on most levels of what he meant to me, but I would hold him and rock him and look down on his little body and this is what I thought, a thought which I have never ever admitted until now. I would get very panicky as I thought to myself: I don’t understand this.

I would look down at him and just say, “I don’t understand.”

And I took that for “I don’t love you.” It felt like that, and I pushed it away. I felt the terrible power of the love I couldn’t deny, rocking in that chair, and I tried to find a way to understand that this person is beond important to me. This person is entirely dependent on me. The responsibility, the magnitude of my love, the change in every trajectory I’d ever had for my life all would congeal in my throat, as I would sit and rock, and ponder, and, in the end, cuddle, sing to, and cherish.

I remember so well. in some of those moments,  feeling about 30 feet tall, and I would have the sensation of holding the tiniest most precious most, most precious substance in the universe in my hand, looking at it, dumbfounded, thinking, “I don’t understand.”

I have had many metaphysicians tell me that thinking is not the answer. That beliefs are unimportant and thoughts are not the way to God.

That words are weak and meaningless.

Tell me, please, if that is the case, how a kid’s life will go if the mother has a strong feeling and encodes it to mean that she, the mother, is unable to love her child, versus the mother who encodes this strong feeling as one of a mysteriously deep and rich love to which she has not yet had access?

Tell me.

Tell me how a life will go if a child is regularly told and shown it is defective, and the child comes to believe there is no better interpretation than that for her woes. That she is broken and can never be fixed, that her brokenness breaks those she touches, and her way will therefore be one of suffering. Tell me.

What if that little girl had been taken aside and told this: You are surrounded by people you have chosen to challenge your innate sense of self-worth. No one around you is going to mirror you back whole, because no one here can see things whole.

So when they start telling you that you are the cause of trouble and strife, and when they tell you that the only explanation for their intolerable pain is that it is and will always be all your fault, you will understand that they have missed the point. Just don’t take their horseshit as gospel.

Jesus Henry Christ, things would have been different for me.

It is how things are for Sam, and he is flourishing.

So, there It is. It is a multi-layered cake I have baked for you, full of flavor and surprising delight.

Some people have a bad day at work, come home, kick the dog, and go to bed.

This is why, loved ones, after a fight or a disturbance in the field, when next I meet some of the people I have encountered, they feel shame and don’t want to interact. And I have to remember that, because I have literally lived years since then.

I have transmuted their gift to gifts of wonder and depth. I have used their pain and it is no longer that which it was, so I feel no shame, particularly, when I reunite with the dorks I have to deal with.

They tend to walk around like scolded puppies on any subsequent encounters. So I have learned to let them know (non verbally, sometimes verbally, but very very rarely) that all is forgotten and I am in gratitude for their help.

So I will begin my shifts with that little spiel I wrote at the beginning of this piece. I will take my son to that movie. And the coolest thing of all, the biggest most awesomest gift of all is that from now on, I get to be gentle with myself.

See, that’s the punch line, and that’s what had me laughing at the sink. Here I was thinking I was going to go to work and just somehow distribute this amazing peace. Ha! Yeah. Good intentions, and that’s nice, but hey, it’s a two way street.

So from here on out, here’s the deal if you work with me.

I already think you are awesome. I used to be afraid of people, because I was convinced they could hurt me. But really, most of that is just nonsense. I can’t be hurt. And in my back pocket now is my way out.

I couldn’t escape my family. I couldn’t escape nursing. Now I have a way out. And it’s not an escape at all. It’s a natural extension, but it is indeed the next step. And having the next step is nice, because it takes the sting out of the creep factor.

I know that there will come a time when none of this will be salient. We will look back on these machinations we used to do avoid interpersonal pain. It might be seen as a quaint read of how things once were, when most everyone was just waking up to their awesomeness, and what it was like for the ancient ones as this occurred on the planet.

All I know is that I can’t live as previously expected, and breaking behaviors is fun but scary.

I am on an upward spiral which has no end, and it is ok to have these understandings come in steps. I no longer feel shame that I didn’t have it whole, and I now feel such gratitude for having been willing to expose myself as I have.

I am grateful for the movie Silver Linings Playbook. I needed it. I needed to see two lightworkers spin so beautifully. I needed to see the reality that a movie that is in your face about ascension and profound love won Academy Awards, was backed by big names, and starred luminaries.

This shit is as real as it gets, and our time is now. The freaks, the ones who have never fit in. Guess what? I think that living 52 years as an apology is enough. And I am not going off half cocked because I saw a movie. No. I understand now, through an artistry and grace which speaks of the godhead, that which I did not before. And I honor them, aspire to do what they have done, and live life more whole as a result.

I know I should have been writing more frequently, because then this would not have been so long, but I think that it makes a lot of sense why I have not been writing recently. It’s been balls to the wall learning mode.

I know that is is ascension. I know that I am nearly there. And I know to be true what was told me several weeks ago, and that is how I will end this thing.

I remember just a few weeks ago, waking up after a deep sleep with only one thought. The thought had color, depth, sound and smell. It was an understanding, not an idle waking musing. And this is what it was:

Things will never be that bad again. Things will never be how they were, and you are not ever going to go back into that pain. The worst is over. The worst is over The worst is over.

And it’s true. I knew it to be true as it rang form me that morning, and I knew that I could actually trust that understanding. And now I have proof. I spent maybe, at most, 16 hours in true pain, but the truth is, that before 2012, I was in that level of pain pretty much ALL THE TIME. There was no surcease and all relief was temporary.

Not anymore.

I am never going back there to live. It is not possible.

And yet, the siren song of fear is so seductive, so powerful, even now. But, as I have continually been coaching myself through these hours, my message has been, and is to you as I leave, simply this: The pain I feel is so painful now because it is no longer native to me. It is revisiting me. I am releasing it. It’s ok. It wants to go home.

I am miserable because these things are not truthful, not whole, not satisfying. I am in pain because I am believing lies.

And it’s temporary.

It only gets better from here.

There is a pattern and a purpose to everything.

I look forward to spinning with love so thick that we all, each of us,l feel like our chests are supernovas. That is all I want, all I have ever wanted. And I can get there through love.

Making choices in that golden sigh of a moment between yes and no. I can err on the side of love, imaging that someone could find something good in me. That because their eyesight is improving and my behavior more congruent, we can have peace. I like not being afraid of people, especially the jerks. I am unplugging from fear.

If it no longer applies to me, if I have lots of ways out, and I have lots of ways to find inner peace, then do I need to see The Other as anything but friend? If I trust my own inner strength, how can I be in relationship afraid of The Other?! Maybe my clue to entering the chapel of pain I visited on Saturday has to do with not puffing up The Other. Reminding myself of my own intactness.

If I see myself as intact and inviolate, a gentle gift that sometimes knocks people off their axis, then can I really have a bad shift?

You see, that is the test. That is the challenge. And that is why now, 36 hours I had that crappy shift, I am going to do it again, and I have a happy heart, and excited countenance, and certainty that this thing I carry with me, this effect I give without knowing I am doing it, is a gift that can heal, and it is how I apply it that determines its impact. If I take a posture of fear, things go into the crapper. If I believe the fear thoughts, the lies, I am sunk.

So I will think thoughts that are true and straight and clean. Pure and joyful and funny and happy. And I will get through it somehow, not fully comprehending the miracles that made the shift even occur… this alchemy I participate in for twelve hours a day three days a week is WORK. Make no mistake.

But it is not really the work of changing bandages and passing pills. It is the work of self-realization. I will remind myself of these good things I have come to know, of the great gifts I have given myself and been handed by my family, this legion of guides and angels all here to support and love me.

This, this great love, this quiet happy peace earned through introspection and trust and faith and hope, this love, this peace, is the origin of all good things.