DEEPLY AWAKE – An Empath, A Narcissist and Jesus Walk Into A Bar By Kathy Vik 9-8-18

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DEEPLY AWAKE – An Empath, A Narcissist and Jesus Walk Into A Bar By Kathy Vik 9-8-18

http://www.kathyvik.com

I have had a prolonged silence, an interruption in expression, but this has been in place five months, now. I was given a simple explanation for the task at hand, but now that I have lived it out, I am stunned, once again, with the symbolic and benevolent nature of these otherworldly announcements, these personal, gentle and honest soul communications.

Without the warning, I wouldn’t have gotten all I needed out of the situation. Without the warning, I would have felt under siege, confused and abandoned. Although I am a lifelong skeptic, it just so happens that these messages I get are always reliable. Every time. I have never been lied to, messed with or tricked by my team. Ever.

Anyhow, this last period has been splendid, and more of a completion than I could have imagined. It’s not what I expected, but it’s everything I wanted. I recall visions I have had about this new time, when the sand clears from my vision as our gigantic sandstorm dies down, or as we move from a thick fog, or as our vision inexplicably goes from dim and distant to stunning and awe-worthy.

In a way, it is like that. I realize so clearly some core truths that I will refer to often, now that I finally see things for what they are.

A few years ago, Jesus came to me in a vision, to explain to me the main energetic problem of the times. I want to review it, and amplify it as I tell it from what I have been given this morning. It was much like the state I described above, where everything, literally everything is better, more solid and beautiful somehow, and yet it’s unexpected, un-envisioned, un-vision-boarded, and most decisively precisely opposite in many regards, that which was hoped for. And yet, it’s perfect, better suited to me than even I could have designed, because this structure is free of the blind spots my old structure took into account. This new one doesn’t have to. I am no longer blinded.

I had a meditation where I found myself a woman, in flowing coarse cloth, walking in between two other women similarly attired, each of us carrying surprisingly light, long clay pots. We were walking to the well to fetch water.

Up ahead, I saw him, and everything stopped for me. There, ahead of me, was Jesus. I knew this well before I was close. He glowed, somehow, a radiance coming from him that was intoxicating, and made my heart stop with longing and need.

I felt the curious sensations, the exquisite pain, as I imagined him living his daily life, needing this or that object, a piece of advice, a kind word, a show of support and adoration and acceptance. I realized, as this horribly, floridly vivid shearing pain seared my body and all my awareness, my face is not the face he will see each night, and my face is not what will greet him when he wakes, disturbed, rested, elated. I am not wanted. I am not this to him.

I felt such pain then… like nothing I had yet known. It was beyond hate, and it was beyond any love I had known, and all it could do, all I could do, was let it, consume me.

In a state of panic, feeling no possible release from this hatred for an unknown sister, and my shock and this overwhelming need and, yes, “love,” I cried out for help. In meditation I was stumbling around a black room suddenly, on fire with incurable, unfathomable pain.

Jesus appeared, to my left, just cool as you please, and said, “I can help you.”

He simply said, “Look at what is happening. It is the agreement of the age, and it causes a lot of problems.”

I looked onto that scene again, but instead of a desert scene, there were two human beings, two human forms. The one in complete adoration and terror was bending at her waist, and her crackling white column of considerable light was blasting Jesus.

Then he said, “Stand up.”

I saw the figure who had been bent over stand up, and as she did, her column was running straight up and down, smooth and white and happy, no longer bent, no longer so overpowering, no longer crackling.

He explained that this is the problem of the age, this running energy through others, rather than running straight up and down, as sovereign columns of light.

I saw the scene change then, and where once were these two, locked in a terrible struggle, there were many people, and they all were columns of light, all of them running straight up and down.

I turned to Jesus and said, I feel lonely. I don’t see how anyone is connected to anyone else, and although I like the idea, I don’t like the isolation. I feel so alone.

He smiled and he said, “Watch.”

His arm made a sweep of the place, and as he did, the place was filled with music, creativity, genuine affection, camaraderie, community, and the sharing was happening in colors, emitted from the white columns, streams of shining, crystal clear colors. It was no longer just verbal communication. What was happening was so complete, it felt so validating, there was no shame in the room, no false emotions whatsoever, and such inner peace.

I really thought I had unpacked this vision completely, having both written and recorded about it, and yet, just lately, I am understanding some fundamental truths which bear exposure and sharing. They are good thoughts, pure and true, and they are words of divine love, not the human distortion we have labeled love.

I’ll preface by telling you about an improbable thing that happened to me on the last eclipse of this triad, on August 11, 2018. It had been a scrambler, and so I spent it sitting in a forest, feeling quite undone, and strangely aware I was being put together somehow, just out of sight.

They were strong that day, with many signs and miracles, many creature visitors with messages, and at the end of a day of leisure, I headed for my car, parked a short distance away, at the base of a mountain.

I was told, toward the end of my walk, that at the bend, way down there, I would be stopping. I appreciated the abundant shade, and how close I would be, by then, to cold water and a comfortable seat. But there I was, at the end of that trudge, just coming into the shade, when a huge, and I do mean huge, bird flew past me, on my right, and winged into the tree immediately opposite me. A hedge of willow-like foliage 6 feet high separated us, but oddly, this humongous blue white bird creature was halfway up an old, massive spruce tree, in my center of vision.

Here’s a photo of my winged visitor…

At the time, I was only given words. Ibis. Phoenix. Traveler. Time traveler. Slipping through portals, like a ghost. Slipping through. Not of, not from. Apart and a part of every now.

It took me a while to garner all the gifts, but with a witness, and with contemplation and vision work, I understood, finally just who, or what that was. It is not native, and it is self-sufficient. It looked like a prehistoric bird, and its beak clacked a lot, as it opened and closed its ginormous snout-like beak. I did research, which confirmed the Egyptian roots to this visitor, which of course was the best way to finally, safely, happily relate to that energy within me.

But the punch line was, it visited to remind, to return to me, my beloved Cygnus, Deneb, the Ancient One, my home. My family had been visiting me, and it took a long time to finally get that. Once I did, I can assure you the love was thick and the celebration hearty, my gratitude once again a fountain, a gusher, of joy.

In nursing school I formulated the understanding that mental illness was mainly the disease of relationship, with self, with other, with “reality,” with Source, and almost incidentally, within social matrices. The life is impacted in certain ways when the bones or lungs or prostate are diseased, and the life is similarly impacted when the disease is relational.

I knew coherence, I could identify resonance with creator, with something so unimaginably pure and whole and good, since girlhood. This is one relationship which is immune to disease.

My work with Biological Decoding led me to realize it is the structure, the mainframe, which is diseased, because this physical reality construct is coded for conflict, pain, suffering, and silent despair. It are these events which trigger stop-the-world illnesses, accidents, injuries, and which have a hand in tooling chronic disease. All based in unconscious programming which is itself a song of discord, profound misunderstandings, separation and isolation.

Pretty much. I took a look a that, at the end of my Level One Biological Decoding training, and I realized, no one escapes this shit, some have their heads screwed on straighter than others, but every single one of us is effected by each other, by the conflicts we create and cure in each other, to our fundamental misinterpretations of self, of other, and of our creator. All of this is important to what was to come.

Awareness, consciousness, the willingness and ability to observe, these break the bonds of this thick, repetitive, tarry, wholly unconscious system. Conflicts disappear when seen from the level of their authors.

But being willing and able to see things from many points of view, this is a mark of an empath, a situational ethicist, and someone who can cut anyone slack. And this is a problem, when not mindful of how one’s own energy is running.

It has been said that this reality is one of service-to-self and service-to-others entities, or camps. And this seems far too often to be the case, since I think this is, in the end, the verbal shorthand for that vision I had, where I was bending and running all my awareness through someone else, for that moment utterly unaware of myself, and any greater reality. I existed, for those painful moments, only in relation to the OBJECT of my adoration, devotion and spectacular violence.

A service to others person will bend low and stay there, getting off on serving, getting off on sacrifice. And the one receiving this blast of energy? Oh, honey, that just makes a person lazy, dazed, dependent and weak.

Who, in this scenario, is the parasite, the “energetic vampire?”

This can only be answered, of course, within the context of the bending. Throughout my lifetime, I’ve had those around me who would only have me if I bent low and served. Jesus had me witnessing an inert Target for the blasting. However, many have become dependent on the power gradient requiring light dispensed. And many are specialists in making others bend very low indeed.

All that said, I’m describing my experience after a lifetime of having been tricked into the energetics of this kind of relationship, and I’ve been coerced, manipulated and threatened into bending low all my life, serving those who don’t deserve a second thought, simply because they manipulate.

As such, I can only report the experience of this unhealthiness from the point of view as the service-to-others role. The service-to-self stance was not my role this lifetime . It was my cross.

Even so, I would have to say it is the service to others person, the low-bender. And so, I stand and look at what Jesus gave me, this tableau so rich and meaningful and pregnant with meaning, and I laughed out loud, a couple days ago, awed at his depth and his respect, his trust and his certainty that I’ll get it, if I just keep at it.

I have heard it said that a narcissist’s core issue is with envy, described for clinical purposes as a primitive hatred, and that the empath’s core issue is that of pride, and their need to instill covert contracts involving “love.”

And yet, I as the lover, the adorer, the worshiper of Jesus, it was only in realizing I would never be a chosen one, that I was in no way special to him, that I turned to that envy, and the pain began. I rejoiced in how free and full my love was, until I realized I could not possess, I did not perhaps even want to be touched, I could not have access. It never dawned on me to consider whether I’d sought his consent, of course. And with that imagined abandonment, the hatred ate at me like acid.

Am I describing love? Narcissism? Devotion? Mental Illness?

Or is it instead a lesson, from someone who demonstrates mastery, about energetic management, ease of function, and inner peace?

What I do know is I am glad I have teachers who think higher than I can, and are willing to send me birds, and pictures, and messages which soothe as they instruct, because they bring things together, they bring with it the relief only mercy can, and they are so personalized that to deny them, at this point, would be a a torture from which I could not recover.

I know myself to be that ibis, that crane, that phoenix, that portal slipper, that traveler.

I know myself to be a friend of Jesus, who helps me when my thinking gets jammed up, or when I am about to hit a rough patch, or need a guardrail in my thinking.

I think what Jesus meant, when he told me that this bent up stuff was the problem of the age, what we are getting over, I think what he meant was something I couldn’t access until recently. I felt recognition when I first saw him on the dirt path. And that first spark of recognition ignited into a torrent of unbridled identification and selfish sacrifice that ran right into him, and this may very well have been my energy, my spark, my intention. I realize now that what was completely discarded was me.

As I bent and sucked and blasted, I did not exist. All that did exist was him. In that primitive place of bonding, well, it is a holy temple, after all. There is nothing like staring into an cherished infant or lover’s eyes and feeling the whirl of two galaxies merging. And yet, in that swirl of recognition, of relief, of HOME, if there is an abdication, a forgetting, then a fracturing occurs.

Maybe what he was trying to say is that we have forgotten or selves. The command was to stand up, and in so doing, the loneliness and isolation I felt was like pin pricks, it took my breath away, and I felt ice where I had been on fire.

He had to show me just how connected I actually am with every “living” thing. In standing up straight, I was able to feel ALL of it, not just one cherished person’s reality. I realized I wasn’t having my experience THROUGH another, I was having MY OWN experience.

The trouble of the age, huh?

All that smack about finding your one true love, all that talk about the brass ring, making it, succeeding, being number one?

I know how competitive, how nearly homicidally enraged I was at not being Jesus’ eye candy, hand holder, platitude spewer. In that state, I wasn’t good for much. All I wanted to do was brush his hair and tell him everything was gonna be ok, and I wanted him to make the world go away and braid my hair.

Not healthy. But very understandable.

Just think of the way we think of relationships, crushes, marriage, commitment, and how these concepts translate so very poorly at present, the trampling and abdication of free will being the hot potato of all conflict, and I think it’s safe to say that this culture doesn’t have state of the art judgment when it comes to relating to each other.

I am realizing more and more that standing up means letting every single person have their own interpretation, their own reality. Living my belief that everyone has a team, that no one is disconnected, but that everyone feels they are, these concepts shoot competition, comparing, envy and pride dead.

This core concept of free will is no small thing.

And so I think I will end this with this free will concept. We hear that the ET’s have a rule of non-interference, because they abide by free will. And yet, I am living proof that it’s not considered cheating to have a relationship with my source of all good, and some of Source’s representatives are indeed ET, as am I, and as are you, most likely. My intention is my will. Those who thwart or do not recognize my free will are engaging in the trouble of the age, as I had, as we all have.

What is required now is not to puzzle the whys anymore. The time of cleverness and coherent explanations are part of my DNA now, a bass note in the riffing I do now. There is a bigger wisdom now, which informs my thoughts, guides my actions and moves my reality, now. It’s one in which I, me, myself, am actually part of the equation. The restoration is in connecting with the only true source of knowledge, wisdom, truth and light for me. I’m only talking about me, here.

I realize that in my wounded places, this inauthentic, plastic, battered self is always present, and I do think that with time it is she who is being healed and welcomed home to rest. This scared one, constantly measuring the impact of every word that is said. In a room of twenty talkative people, you can imagine how much is being processed, now. It is no longer possible to run my energy splayed like that anymore, a harried mother, a constant gardener, seeking out disharmony like they are weeds. Just because I can soothe it, I try, while stumbling and bleeding on the sharp corners of other people’s minds. I gave myself away to the pained, the worried, the angry, the punitive, abandoning and denying myself.

It’s time to re-adjust.

Of course, it is that scary place of loneliness which must be addressed to close, that weird, faintly clinical place I felt once I stood up straight. I felt disconnected, even though I was, at long last, finally actually reconnected with nourishment.

It felt different. It was not intense. It was gentle. It felt complete. It felt quiet. Not sterile, and not scary, really, just very quiet, still, pleasantly so. This was before the colors, before the new kind of connecting. And it is this place, this odd place of pseudo-disconnection which I am popping out of now. I want to explore this new way of communicating more fully, more comprehensively, and more safely than has ever been possible.

So, I am standing up straighter more often, now, and I am more keenly aware of the triggers which create that bond of servitude, of false connection, of panic and forgetting and need. I know that place well. But it is a full on pain event feeling even glimmers of it now, and I intend to keep it that way. There are some experiences which I want to remain awful, so that I can avoid them, just by their fetid odor, knowing it is then I must apply my awareness to something far greater than a bogus, adrenaline fueled interpersonal threat.

Obviously that has always been the point, to not be disabled around behaviors which, for me, act like huge magnets, knocking out my signal, rendering me a gray rock, or a quivering mass of anxiety, or apoplectic with righteous indignation. Whatever the affective state or behavior cluster, I have termed this state being disabled, because I check out, and a false self goes through the motions. I notice that the effect can be massive or weak, but the disablement is real. I’ve actually complained about it, noticed it, for a while now, and until this time, I didn’t understand it is nothing but a trauma response, a coping strategy, a glitch in the wiring. I am aware that some of the healing is on a neuro-biologic level, and this I have given permission for since the beginning. The point, for me, is ascension, which is, for me, DNA activation, waking up, coming to, becoming functional, shaking off the nonsense.

Well, as always, I intended to stop a while back, but the words poured out and I enjoyed every minute of it.

I guess the way I really should end this is in telling you how much peace I am feeling by simply owning who I am, what I have become, how I understand stuff, and how I approach life.

The most disowned and abandoned part of myself, Deeply Awake, has stood by, stalwart and sure of herself, as I have argued and protested and denied this part of me. And at the end of this long road, I have come to see this is the most fundamental of clues that something is off.

That is the original fracture, right there. And as my original sin, my doubt, burns off, as my shame falls away, as my suspicion crumbles, I am feeling, finally, sated and well-loved. By whom? By me, the totality of me, which includes me personality, me the traveler, me the author, and me the inner child. But more. By me the silver goddess, me that shining, gold light I know as God, me as earth, me as creatures around me, as the weather, and circumstance this hour.

The blah-blah, the general warning has always been, well, I know I am going to be dragged into it again, so I’m glad I left a bread crumb like this. But now, it’s really now that way, anymore. I know it is a choice, if I bend low and blast. I know it is a choice if I pick an argument with my God, and by extension, my reality. I know it is envy and pride which keeps me in service, in fear and in distress. I know it is that divine love from Source, innervating all, that brings be and keeps me in balance, in good humor, and in hope. And I know it is in talking, sharing, giving, that I rise, spitting in the eye the monsters I have had a hand in strengthening, because I was bored, and didn’t know any better, until, one day, I did.

Deeply Awake: On Being OK With Being OK With It All By Kathy Vik 6-22-18

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A refreshing summing up.

The sense of legitimacy, of validity, I feel these days is such a relief, like a song breathing me, giving me a release from anxieties, worrying having been a regular form of self-flagellation for me, in the old days.

Now, I am r I report on what it’s like to be at peace with knowing myself as bigger, moment to moment, than had ever been thought possible by me, and by many. Yet, here we all are now, waking up, each in their own way, in their own time, each playing their roles, and each having their own experience.

That was a hard one for me, because I saw a lot of people suffering, as a nurse, as a friend, and when I looked in the mirror, most of my life. An anguish that was eased, sometimes for years, but never left me.

Things changed for me, but it became more and more obvious that I had never been unworthy of any of this new spiritual bounty. I have amnesia, and that is all.

AMnesia.

Well, it’s a tough nut to crack, but eventually, truths are revealed. This can happen to those who pursue QHHT and other reliable and healing forms of hypnosis which yield results which are soul- deep, not habit-deep. It’s this I am eager to pursue, finally now able to step away from my woes and conflicts and worries, finally seeing things more clearly, more magically, more wholly, but in stepping aside, I can help so many more, one-to-one, and I just can’t wait!

I include mention of a video published by Alba Weinman that I found particularly helpful, and healing. I am so very grateful for those who are doing this work, and of course, to someone very beloved to me, Delores Cannon. She has helped me from the beginning. It isn’t surprising, and it’s very smile-invoking, to know she is actively with us now.

Enjoy this celebration. My story and this session both serve as bridges between linearity and multidimensionality. What we are doing publically, so very many more are doing quietly. We are each changing. Be kind to yourself. You are so vast, and have simply forgotten. It’s just amnesia, and it’s burning off, with every video, with every experience that moves you up and out of fear.

Thanks for being here with me today. Namaste.

 

 

 

 

 

As referenced:

Deeply Awake: Thoughts On “What Do You Want? You May Have It.” By Kathy Vik 6-4-18

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A beautiful, heartfelt and light talk about the end of a process.

This morning, I was given a picture in my head, upon awakening, and from this comes a helpful and enjoyable discussion on the nature of will, desire, and inner completion.

 

 

 

 

 

Deeply Awake — “Enemy Mine” In Print By Kathy Vik 5-19-18

 

Deeply Awake: Enemy Mine By Kathy Vik 5-19-18

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What I am going to present to you is the culmination of a lifetime, actually, and I’m going to entitle it Enemy Mine. This is the bookend to the first essay I wrote as Deeply Awake, on March 23, 2012, 9 years after a very significant event, Judas Energy.

I have wondered sometimes why it is that I have such a blunt edge, with my reportage? Why do I couch things in metaphor? Why do I see things as paradox, and then express them as essays? Why?

Well, there’ are so many things I’ve called myself, over the years, but there are a few epithets that are true, and they’re just titles, really. I’m a poet. I’m a philosopher. I’m a writer. I’m a reporter. I’m a spiritual journalist, I guess, but I write in ways that are more like prose poems than discussion of facts and breaking down of probabilities. I did more of that after 2016, but I have a flavor that is poetic.

Ok. Alright. Well, it makes sense. The very very first Akashic thing I did was to get real quiet, and state to everything in my fields, every… all of it, all creation. I was going to do a novel, and I didn’t know how to write a novel. I wanted to create something, and I didn’t know how. But the need and the will was so strong, I sat down and said:

I know that you walk with me. I just do. And I need for those who are willing, and of the highest, the pinnacle of their skill, of their insight, those who really, truly not only understand, but can express in ways that make the heart flutter, and the mind reel, and the soul come into focus. Please step forward and join me. Please come and be with me, in my mind. In my heart. In my awareness. Express through me. I’ll know. I’ll know. And I’ll let you teach me.

I have done my energetic management. I understand it’s quite possible to be labeled in this new age environment as being tricked, or listening to trickery, and thinking it’s true. Well, I think that’s what we are all talking about, as channelers and writers. One of my missions was to talk about discernment, spiritual discernment. How do you become someone who has Spiritual Discernment? Kryon also talks about Spiritual Discernment.

And I haven’t met, or heard, anyone in this community who hasn’t able to describe that they just know when it’s pure. It just makes sense, and there’s some stuff that just doesn’t feel good. And that’s just a perfectly fine way of expressing it. But, if you are sensitive, and you can feel your energy, you can feel it bend, and twist, and you can feel Resistance, what you come to find is there’s not a whole lot of literature that even acknowledges that. Some of it does, and fairy tales do, of course. That’s why I love literature and art, because it simply acknowledges that there’s something going on here, that has to do with the human heart. That has to do with the finest qualities, that we know heal, and create rather than destroy.

And of course, whales are poets, they are philosophers, they are singers, they are Guardians, and I really resonate with those dudes, so I think it’s ok. But there comes a time when you just have to lay the facts out, Mine was a journey of discovery, of discernment, and of a reverse autobiography. You get hit with light, with a new way of being, a new way of understanding. Something happens, and you are bigger than you were. And then you’ve got to explain your self to your self, and you’ve got to explain reality to yourself, all over again.

It doesn’t just happen once. Once it starts, it doesn’t stop. It gets bigger. And it gets better.

But it gets bigger.

I’ve talked about this phenomenon as walking a mountain. There are some things I can say at the base of the mountain, and then when I get midway up the mountain and say those words, and they mean something completely different, and I get up to the top, and I say those words, in full awareness and memory, and I realize I was just babbling down there.

But as I walk down the mountain again, and get in midway and say it, that middle meaning makes sense again, and by the end of the mountain, I can inhabit all three. Sure. All three make sense. Which one do I prefer? Which one is the most clear? Which one serves me best? It’s the one at the top of the mountain, where I can say “so be it,” and create a reality, whereas, at the base of the mountain, if I say “so be it,” I may actually be swearing. See how that works?

It’s pretty bizarre, when you get to the real big stuff, and your whole being sort of pops, like a soap bubble and then you look around and go, “Oh! Wait a minute. I’m just in a bigger soap bubble now.” It’s kind of disorienting.

My function has been that of discovering and fostering peace and love. This is primarily because I didn’t see it very much in my reality, but I knew it was there. There’s something underlying all this nonsense, I just know it. And I have known such pure, pure avatars of love in my life, who healed me, because they loved me and accepted me, as I was. There is no finer medicine. And it’s where I have been unable or unwilling to reciprocate or generate it, where I feel I have fallen down, and need to address it somehow, I need to make it right.

Karma for one, please.

How do you break karma?

You love everything any way. You find a way.

And it doesn’t matter if it’s reciprocated. It doesn’t matter if it’s understood. It doesn’t matter if it’s resented. It doesn’t matter if it’s battered, and burned, and its ashes are buried.

That’s just the structure.

The reality remains. Indelibly. A ripple, through all time and all space. Anchor enough of that, on this Earth, in humility and in gratitude, and in strength, and in sovereignty, and see how this place changes.

That’s how it’s done.

There has been, as I have mentioned, an “Armageddon.” I’ve talked about it recently, but I was driving down the road, minding my own business, listening to the radio, and I popped through and WOW. The energy was so intense, so intense, and I returned and said boy oh boy, I’m glad I’m here. This is perfectly fine, I’ll take this. Man oh man, it was really super intense, the last couple of weeks.

And here I was, in daily life, on the steepest learning curve of my life. And then a thought group comes…

Kathy, I ask myself, remember when you went to see Enrique Bouron? And on the last day, you sort of had a thing with him. Do you remember?

I do, and so I’ll tell you about it, because it’s kind of cute.

The last day of a week of instruction in Biological Decoding from Mr. Bouron, I woke up in a very peculiar state. A very peculiar state indeed.

I had just been disassembled, in this truly and utterly bizarre and beautiful and soft and unbelievably healing week of transformation. I was just… I woke up, and I contacted every single person who I loved. Every single one of them. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was done. And then I looked at the clock and realised I didn’t have, really, any time, but I stink, so I have to get into the shower.

When I got in that shower, I was immediately in an ancient and quiet place, some sort of automatic place, my hands doing positions, my body being led, and me weeping, crying through the water turning my hair to ropes, beyond relieved that I remember how to do this. I said that at first, through tears of joy. I’m so happy I remember how to do this.

And then I began bringing up everyone. I went through every single person. Every single person. I brought every single person up, and I had a talk with them, because I knew I was completing something.

I was in reverence, and thanks, and release mode. And then I got to the last one, and I burst into flame in the shower. It was the most bizarre thing.

I don’t know how to explain it.

I knew before going in the shower that I was cutting it close and was going to be late, but I was told through the morning “Don’t worry about a thing, you’ll be there before he starts talking.”

So there’s me in the shower, and I’m so late, and then I’m flame, and then I’m dressing and rushing over there and there was no time. I got up there, finally, and he hadn’t taken the stage yet. I was considerably late, and he always started on time.

I took my seat. I felt I had been disrespectful to come in late, and I felt bad about that, but I didn’t fully understand what was going on.

I had the thought, sitting there, before he began, I can’t do any more slides. It’s too hard, it’s too intense, and I need for my grandfather to read me stories from the old country. I need for all of this to come together in some quantum biologic soup that I can understand and can take with me. I was almost crying, thinking, I’m so glad I have my grandfather to sit there and tell me stories from the old country. Please read from the book, please read from the book.

And he began his lecture, and the projector didn’t work. I was told, it was sort of a general announcement, just don’t worry about it, it’ll work just fine after this presentation, just tell stories. And that’s what he did.

And he began to tell stories, pulling everything together. I was gone within about five minutes. I have no conscious memory of what he said. I would pop back in and pop back out, but I was gone, and then he was there in front of me.

He had an Italian accent, and he didn’t look like he looks now, and he was so thrilled. I don’t know exactly where we went, or what we did, but at the end of it, he as the lecturer is still talking, and a part of me is absorbing and staying with the information in the ballroom, but I’m in my meditative space, he’s this ecstatic, jolly Italian man. He crackles back on in my awareness and says, “OK, it’s all done,” and he’s dancing and all happy, acting like the cat that ate the canary, so to speak.

I said, “What’s done? I wanna know how that’s gonna happen, because I understand from Biological Decoding that the whole deal is you gotta have this in your conscious awareness. It’s getting it  that heals you. How am I supposed to be healed, if I haven’t gotten  anything.

And he said, “Well, look!” and he was all excited and dancing, and his arm went p in a flourish to reveal a straight line that went on and on, all the way down, all the way down, forever, a path below and then there were these huge, huge boxes, they’re gift boxes, just dangling there, just dangling there.

He said, “Look, they’re all there. You just have to walk down the road and you’ll have your answers. You’ll have your a-ha’s. You’ll have your healings. It’s all done.” So I said, oh, ok, alright, and then I was in my body again, listening to the lecture.

I had so many bizarre, just truly and utterly other-worldly experiences during that time, it was magic. Truly, truly magic. It was so much fun! It was just amazing.

And, Dr. Todd was there. And now I finally understand what he was in resistance to. I understand why. There was something I hadn’t dealt with yet. There was something walking with me that I didn’t know about.

I spent a lifetime arguing, and throwing etheric punches, and getting punched. This thing that was beside me liked to take on forms and mess with me, play with me, and the whole idea was take away, and hobbling. It was all purposeful. It was to create this work, Deeply Awake. It was an agreement.

And here we are.

Once you can see the agreement, you can release it, right? Isn’t that the idea? That’s kind of the idea.

Enemy mine.

I didn’t talk about it a whole lot, not at all really, very very rarely. Everything in my environment told me it was taboo. It was not to even be acknowledged. It was taboo with my friends with the light, and it was taboo to win, at the dark.

Enemy mine.

It all started when I started to watch documentaries on megalithic structures, in between daily life stuff, and exercise, and all that stuff, recuperating. That research led me to Egypt. I am not a big fan of Egypt. It’s like a wart. I don’t like it. Never have.

But there is beauty there, there is beauty there. But the energy is warped and it’s ugly, and it’s mean, and it’s cold, and it’s not right. It’s just not right. Maybe you feel the same way. Maybe there are other places where you think about it and react with ,”Whoa, I would never, you couldn’t pay me go there,” and everybody else is flocking to it maybe. Ok. Acknowledge it. It’s real. There’s a reason.

There’s a reason. And it’s buried in your memory, which is in a state of disrepair, at one state or another.

I did the megalith thing, and I felt so hugged, and warm, and happy, and then I did the Egypt thing, and I felt all gross and violated, and then the speakers came. Then the truth was revealed. And an Armageddon happened up there. And maybe that was just for me, and that’s fine, but I know I’m a big one, so I think it’s important to talk about resolution.

I always thought about Armageddon as the battle, you know? The life and death struggle. And the apocalypse as the Big Reveal. Here’s the reason you guys were fighting. Here’s the outcome. Here’s the truth.

The revealing of the truth, the burning away of the veil. The big reveal. The Big Show.

It’s pretty stunning, for me, to have this knowledge, and to have it all come together. I am including an interview from Project Camelot of George Kavassilas, because his story is similar to mine in many respects. It was really good to hear who has survived the dropping away of everybody that mattered to them, and the reordering of your reality.

He is someone who has experienced that every time you have a big huge experience, you’ve got to somehow, somehow come back and try to fit in and function with people who are NOT having that experience, and who need, NEED, to shut you down, and shut you up about it, because THAT makes them uncomfortable. One way to handle that discomfort is ridicule, and there are other ways, to handle that, depending on how heavy-handed someone in discomfort decides to be.

And in all this research, I could come to no other conclusion: the enemy is mine, and I am the enemy.

I really had to struggle with this. When I was doing this research, I finally began listening to contactees.

I listened to Alex Collier, and then I listened to Simon Parkes, in a video entitled “33% Reptilian, 33% Insectoid and 33% Human.”

It blew my mind.

I am a blend.

My physical DNA has the genetic imprint of all of those races. That’s sort of the point. That’s what makes humans so incredibly beautiful, and brilliant, resilient, creative, strong, important. And indeed, royalty. It is an honor to hold this DNA. It is an honor.

Think about that, and then take a look out at Trumpland. Come right back. Do you notice a difference? How are you asked to think of yourself, in that closed system of government, medicine, justice, education? It’s a closed, finite system. It is an irrelevant system.

Closed systems die.

Listening to that man speak about his experiences, the choice that he made to see all of it benevolently, the story behind these races, and that’s something I couldn’t do before.

They had hurt me I had been hurt by them, here, and I didn’t know how to defend myself. They’d come visit, or something from them would happen, and I’d be sick. I called it magnetic, and it was an illness, and I’d be sick for a long time. I wasn’t visited by spaceships, I was visited by human beings holding that frequency, that intention, that signature. It smells horrible, and is the emotional equivalent and psychic equivalent of abject, raw terror.

They could induce me, and then feed off of it for weeks, sometimes longer. And they did that, until 2012.

It bothered me when I was visited again by them in 2012. I wasn’t visited by the entity in the flesh. I was visited by his mother, who had come for help. I don’t know if I was as compassionate as I could have been, but I was in misunderstanding of what was going on.

One question was whether she should advise him to go ahead and take the monoatomic gold he wants to eat. I was emphatic. NO. No. No. No. No. Especially for him, no, no, that would make him miserable No.

Soon after, I had a talk with my Self and with my God. I felt so threatened, in the middle of this, so threatened, yet again. Because there are lesser versions of this in all of my reality through all of my experiences. It has been everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.

That is what I have come to break.

That is what I have come to heal.

That is what I have come to love.

And release.

I call it the demiurge, that’s what I call it. And it has been individuated as has the Angelic forces. And so you can see it in the draconians, and you can see it in the Archons, and you can see it in the Thetans, and you can see it in Jinn. It’s the same energy.

And that energy runs through the justice system – let’s call it the legal system – and it burps into your wallet as green cash.

It invites you to believe that “You must earn everything, including a sense of self-worth, Including love. Including acceptance.

It must be earned.”

Well, that’s just a construct.

No, it doesn’t, you dork.

Well-being is my birthright. Joy is my birthright. Fun, play, excitement, creativity, expression, those are my birthrights. Look at what my body can do. I can create human life. And you dare tell me that I’m not free?

You’re dumb. And you’re small, and you’re petty. You’re not very bright, you know.”

Enemy mine.

I have that inside of me. I would see it, when I would watch a dark film, or when someone is doing something dark to another person on film, there would be this BOOM, this reverberation in my body, and sometimes I could feel it intensely. Sometimes it surprised me with its intensity.

And it’s funny, I think I have been able to notice these things because, for me, there hasn’t been a time speed-up. I’ve been really happy lately, because everything has slowed the fuck down.

I can understand things finally. Because there was always this buzzing, information zooming, but the last year or so, everything has slowed down so very much. And in the moment, I can see what’s going on, and respond in a way that’s in accord with what I really know to be true. Not in fear, but in humor. That took things slowing down, not speeding up.

I like it, because I can really think things through.

I took all this super, super personally. It was right in my face all the time. Maybe it’s being a woman, maybe it’s just being dialed the way I’m dialed, so maybe it would be helpful to just tell you my philosophy of life.

I’m gonna do what I’m gonna do, what I need to do, and there are certain things that you can argue about until you’re blue in the face, but I’m still going to do them. You can be upset about it, I don’t care. That’s fine Be upset. Enjoy that. But I still need to do this. And you having a problem with me completing my mission tells me more about you than me. So, I don’t care, have a problem with it.

That’s a pretty easy place to be. I don’t know how compassionate it is, but that’s sort of been my way, and it means that everybody else has the same freedom, and that’s really, really hard to give. But, that’s my philosophy.

You hang out with people, and you let them show you what they believe and who they think they are. Within that construct, there are certain things that they’re not going to be able to do, and certain things that they’re going to want to do, and it’s up to them. Not me. And if I want to join in that, I can. And a lot of it’s really fun. But, you know, everybody has the right to choose their own way.

In relationship, it means I watch. I just observe. I let people be. I wasn’t like that with my son, a whole lot, at first. It was the programming. I’ve stopped the clamp-down, but that’s how I am with everybody, just, whatever. And I guess it might appear uncaring, but there’s a reason for it.

I know of having soul urges, and experiences that can never be explained, because they would never be understood, so why bother? I know that everyone walks around in prisons, because they don’t talk about their experiences, and they don’t even have words for their emotions.

I was so shut down in 1985, when I started psych nursing, that I had to use an affect chart with faces to realize that there were a lot of expressions of emotionality.

I had just been pooped out of a pretty rigid structured system, and I had a certain amount of affective range, but I didn’t have words for any of it, and I hadn’t had mirrors, or I hadn’t been paying attention. So, the repetitive sort of inculcation began to break in nursing school, and once I got out of nursing school I realized I really needed to define – not define myself, that was way premature, but I just needed to figure myself out. I just needed to listen to myself.

I could finally sit down and listen, and I had some freedom, so that’s what I did. I started very multi-dimensional, parallel reality-friendly therapist, who resonated with Lazaris, and that was six years of putting myself together, and then I met The Teachers, who were an insert. I didn’t meet them on their spaceship, though they once took me there in session. I didn’t have contacts and visitations. I had to pay money.

But that’s consistent with my role.

It’s been to walk hand in hand with monsters, and what people thought were monsters, often times, as a psych nurse. I worked with people who went on to murder, and burn things down, and rape, and create mayhem.

I was always right smack dab in the mayhem, as a nurse. I liked the mayhem. I liked the seedy parts of town, and the parts that were thought to be rough, and run-down. I liked that the best. I was so uncomfortable visiting in expensive mansions, and being around that kind of folk. That’s just not me. “Everybody’s pretending here. Let’s get down to what’s real.”

It’s just one example of this weird blend I had going the whole time, and it was so hard to reconcile What is a being of love and light, who can totally hear god through a cloverleaf doing in a seedy bar? What the what?

Enemy mine.

Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

Love your enemy.

Enemy mine.

With every reveal, through these videotapes I’ve been watching, through my studies, through my research, research I wouldn’t be able to do any other way, so I am so grateful for YouTube. What a miracle. What a wonderful thing! This is the way to cement it. This information is available in our Merkahbic fields now, we can access all of this now, but it’s so satisfying to hear a stranger talk about something that sets things in motion, like a key finally turned in an engine.

A’Shayana Deane, I listened to her, and it took about five and a half hours to put Humpty Dumpty back together again, for the veil to completely burn off, and for me to see, finally see, just what I’ve been up against.

What strikes me the most is the manipulation of the solar system. And I looked at that, and I saw all the movements, and the processions, and the complexity, and the compulsivity, the compulsivity. And the arrogance.

Taking something that is obviously divine, and good for you, and saying, “I can do better. And, I don’t care who I hurt. In fact, it’s kind of fun. I like it.”

That is the mind of a tweaker, and a sociopath. That is what we are up against. Raw stupidity and arrogance.

Enemy mine.

It’s diabolical. And it’s super-mechanical. And it’s dead.

These tweakers don’t know how to design open systems because they don’t have the DNA to consider it possible. They’re not smart enough, simply put. But, oh my god, they’re tweakers!

And I have seen that in my life, and in my work, and I’ve described. There’s even an essay that talks about it, “Obsessive-Compulsive.” I resonate with Antares, and one of the fundamentals of this energy is to learn balance, and abstain from obsession. It’s been on my radar for a while, and once again, another stream comes in to confirm that which is coming into clearer and clearer focus.

This is one of my theses, that there is a mindset that creates a field of experience that’s closed, that’s karmic, and the energy is tarry and sticky and infective.

I’ve been describing it.

I’ve been living it.

I’ve been writing and speaking, and thinking the words, but it’s only today that I feel power, and peace, and safety.

There’s a lot about the plan, and what’s occurring that I am in agreement and in accord with, and it’s counter what we have been led to believe or that we understand, but it is coherent and consistent with everything else I have learned in my lifetime of research. I really had to struggle with that, especially overnight, I asked for some help.

The truth is, had I had this information any sooner, I would have left. I would have exited. I wouldn’t have been able to maintain enthusiasm. I barely did, with a complete cloak around my head, I barely survived. Had I known what I know now, that would have been that.

So, what The Teachers told me, way back when, is really true. I wanted to know where I was from, in order to understand what it was all about, and they said they wouldn’t reveal, and that’s my policy, too, with my clients. That’s the most profound discussion you’ll ever have with your soul, and it’s not for me to tell you. You’ve got to ask a few questions. And you might be put on a scavenger hunt or two. It may be a weird experience, or it might be handed to you on a note, who knows, but I’m not the one to hand you that note.

They told me, if I knew, I wouldn’t stay. And now I understand why.

That was the God’s honest truth, it turns out. And to hold this awareness has led to such profound peace. It’s indelible.

All that’s I’ve been saying, that there’s nothing to worry about, and that everybody loves you, and everything’s cool, all the messages from the rapture of spiritual awakening and all that? That’s singing from my bones, and my blood, and my nervous system today.

So, where is this enemy of mine?

Still here.

Still here. Within me.

It took A’Shayana saying a joke, to break the fear, for me. The way that she talks about the dracs, and the reptilians, and all that stuff, all the greys, she’s had her tussles, ok? She’s been hurt, just like we all have. But you know how she responds? “Yeah, well, it takes a village.”

You gotta get to the place where you love. And the only thing that energy requires of you is hate. Hate and fear. It’s the only thing that makes sense, when you’re looking right at it. Hate and fear.

That’s all it knows.

Well, that and tweaking. Unbelievable.

So, I’m sitting on my bed this morning and thinking, no wonder I’ve had problems with this reflectivity, I am that which I hate. I contain that which I abhor. I am genetically, biologically part of my enemy.

But, you know what?

Somehow, somehow, I can see bigger, than my enemy. I can do things my enemy can’t. I can love them. And, they don’t seem capable of it, but, I don’t care. I love them.

Enemy mine.

That’s what shadow work is, you know. You get beat up by the shadow, or you beat up somebody else, and you feel the shadow overtake you, if you do your shadow work right, it blossoms into radiant, brilliant diamond light, and love. That’s the idea. Always. That’s the purpose.

So the question becomes, how much conflict do you need to get to that love? Do you really need conflict, to feel forgiveness and release? How important is it to you, how necessary a device?

Yeah, make-up sex is kind of fun, but I’ve never had it. I think it’s kind of dumb. It’s disordered thinking. Coming together after misunderstandings, that’s different, but I’ve witnessed couples, myself included, get into cycles where their anger and pain become their passion, because they’ve lost their love. And then they don’t understand why they’re in this cyclone of despair all the time, but it like, “well, you’re addicted to something that’s not very healthy.”  I think that’s what a lot of us do. We get hooked on the conflict because we’re still trying to figure out what love is. Because we are trying to get it, get it, from someone else. And it’s just disordered thinking, that’s all. It’s ok, it’s really ok.

When the lights come on, then you have to make a decision. You can get your juice from anger and slight, and pain and disappointment, or you can lift anchor. And, you find, the wind takes you, and the sea supports you, and you’re no longer alone.

It’s very odd.

So, I’m a poet, and a philosopher, and not necessarily one of those who had experiences in crafts and in other physicalized realities. My way seems to blended earth life and cosmic life, and got my understandings in perhaps unconventional ways, more shamanic or visionary, or lalalalala.

But I did it all in amnesia, and finally, the big reveal came. Boop. We’re up against tweakers? Oh Fuck. They’re impaired. They’re impaired, they’re dangerous but they’re not healthy individuals, and it’s not a healthy consciousness. It’s going to do unhealthy things.

OK.

Well, it isn’t a conundrum. It isn’t a puzzle, it isn’t a problem. It’s the task at hand. Figuring out exactly what, who, or if, there is an enemy.

It really took realizing that by virtue of being human, I am, I have internalized, through my genetic code, this whole set up. And because this darkness has individuated and tapped me on the shoulder and messed with me, it became a priority, for me, to figure out exactly what it was.

So, to end, I’ll tell you of my big Aha!, because it’s been really hard for me to know, am I good, or am I bad? I freaking resonate with the dark. I understand the dark. I don’t mind it. I’m kind of immune. It doesn’t seem to stain me, but instead invigorates me, and it makes me appear dark, and corrupted, to some.

Enemy mine.

I am that which I fear.

I am my own destroyer.

I am paradox.

I am a singularity.

And I am the creative essence.

I know, and am, with, that thing, that if you’ve been touched by it, if you’ve run after it and touched it, you know what I’m talking about. The Isness. The All. God. Creator. Source. The Unified Field. Call it what you will. It doesn’t mind.

I resonate with the dark, because I created the dark, because I like a good story. And because, with free will the way it is, well there was a part of me that wanted to run free, and defy. And say:

You. Can’t. Make. Me.

Interesting.

Will is a quantum force. Love is a quantum force.

My enemy likes to play with will, and ignore the solvent that is love.

And I am my enemy.

And I am at peace, with what was, what is, and what is to come.

I love my enemy.

I love my Self.

And I love you.

I declare this the day when all misunderstandings fall, all misdeeds are seen as our own, seen for the silliness they are, and dismissed, with a chortle.

I know my enemy, and I know why I can go dark. I know why it’s bothered me when I have gone dark.

But there is no enemy. It’s just a game. And the light always wins. Always. Without exception. That’s the only rule. This has been a wonderful, wonderful game. Big to little, little to big.

Love your enemy.

Enemy mine.

SEYLAH.

 

 

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I really could not have set it up any better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is my better self you are meeting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it came to me.

Safe.

I had felt safe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Such a barrel of laughs, I used to be!

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

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

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

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

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

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

So what.

It’s a first draft.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He said, this is what you have changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It hadn’t been time, now it is.

I am so grateful I finally have permission to speak.

Deeply Awake Proposal — Patrick Hears Voices 10-23-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for cosmic lighthouse gif

 

 

DEEPLY AWAKE – PROPOSAL: PATRICK HEARS VOICES BY KATHY VIK 10-23-13
http://www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com

The only way I will be able to get this written is to imagine that I am talking to a very, very good friend, someone who is supportive and kind, indulgent and wise. You, dear reader, now sit across from me, at my dining room table, and we are enjoying warm beverages and sweet danishes this morning.

Because we are friends, both of us know that saying “yes” is intrinsic to happiness, and saying “no” is also, at times, more than appropriate, and because we are friends, because we trust and value each other, neither of us fears saying these two little words, carefully placed, lovingly uttered. They are gatekeepers to realities, those two little words, and because we are friends, we both know this, about those two little words.

In seven days time, I start another year of NaNoWriMo.

This is an international event, NaNoWriMo, one that most have never heard of.

All over the world, on November 1st, the clock is set to zero, and then for thirty days, writers just like me, all over the world, set before them a nearly impossible, a truly impressive, task.

From November 1st through November 30th, we, as individual writers, we come together to support each other, laugh with one another, inspire and encourage each other, as each of us wrestle, individually, with the novel we want to create in thirty short days.

We log on to http://www.nanowrimo.org during that month and log our progress, with our word counts. Some post their work, many, but most do not. We tick off our days with knowing the numerical goal, understanding that to reach this lofty goal we must write daily, and for one month out of the year, the natural isolation a writer feels sort of dissolves. We get together in coffee shops and libraries and private homes, to do exercises, to laugh, to let our freak flags fly, to share our usually sequestered minds.

I have been doing NaNoWriMo for some time. My sister introduced it to me, because she is nearly always aware of cool, hip and awesome things first. My sister is cool.

Anyhow, this year I am excited about the event, rather than nervous, because this year, I have a novel in my head that is ready, whole, and it’s finally one that I want to read!

Why tell you about this now, rather than just putting nose to paper and cranking it out?

Well, here’s the thing.

If you are like me, novels, even movies, anymore, are beginning to not feel right. There is not so much light in a lot of it, and we have to work hard to see through the layers of old ways of thinking, and being, and feeling, to get a bang out of things.

Things we read, view, they are still a little dark, sometimes. And though darkness adds contrast, what I have discovered is that within a well lit home, there is even more beauty, even more wonder, than in a darkened home. It’s easier to breathe, and celebrate, and reflect, in a home with the lights on. The contrast of darkness, oh, it’ll always be there, but, using it as contrast, it has not been able to be done quite as easily before now.

I want to read, and write, a book which is standing in the light, talking about our world, as it is, now. The world each of us plugs into, some of us from dawn to dusk. Channelers, videos, stories and posts, about and from home.

Not a projection, and not a reflection, but a travelogue of extraordinary folks, just like you and me, is the novel, Patrick Hears Voices.

Patrick is a boy who is in seventh grade. He has friends, and he has loving parents, but Patrick is a little odd, and very misunderstood. He is “an indigo,” a starchild, a wayshower, a baby lightworker, in the midst of those who are not.

And one day, he is taken away in light and sound, there by his locker, while readying for math class. After making a relatively quick recovery, and because his folks wouldn’t really know what’s going on, Patrick makes his way to the school’s counselor. Just for a little advice.

Turns out the counselor is a lightworker, and knows all about being taken away in rapturous thought.

She lives in an apartment block downtown, one tenant of currently five, each members of a loose, informal and wildly supportive place they’ve nicknamed “The Light House.”

Each of the folks who live at the lighthouse came to it in weird ways, but each belong there, for this moment, and what they creating is a beautiful thing.

Five folks, each unique, each a little odd, actually, and all just funny as hell.

Two of the folks who live at the lighthouse have kids, just about Patrick’s age.

Patrick takes to this slowly, comes and goes, has conversations with people he comes to understand are sages, his teachers, his friends. His family begins to show support, and fascination, for the changes they see in their boy, and his family comes to love those who live in the lighthouse.

There Patrick learns about the mechanics, the esoterics, the applied physics, of spirituality. He learns to pendulum, to change, slowly, his eating and drinking habits, learns about the Earth’s history from brand new perspectives, and grows into himself as a happy person, in this new context, gradually, and with great humor and light.

It is with his friends at the lighthouse he discovers a burgeoning sense of self-worth, and of internal power, and it is, eventually, from there, that he changes his reality.

When I got this idea, initially, I understood this is could be the first in a series of books. But honestly, it just feels like something I would enjoy watching play out on the TV, an HBO or even NBC series.

But, you have to start somewhere, and Patrick has gotten sort of bored, waiting for the stars to line up, for his story to be told.

You can see, can you not, the possibilities in this, right?

A novel to go to to learn how several highly enlightened folks each interpret running light, praying, paying bills, dealing with the man, doing their jobs, always while holding the light.

 

** Author’s note 1-24-18: I went on to write Patrick Hears Voices, Ahmed you can read it in its entirety at http://www.patrickhearsvoices.com. I completed nano in 2013, 5 days ahead of schedule. I’m hoping life will conspire with me to make 2018 another nano completion year, because it’s super fun to do. I encourage writers to check it out.

In this essay I went on to request readers reach out and assist me financially, to get the thing written. I’m not including that here. I’m not proud of when I asked readers to contribute to the cause, and so, in re-read,  I decided that even for historical purposes, a page and a half of highly persuasive begging is unnecessary.

It never worked very well, and those who’ve helped me are therefore Very Big Deals to me, giants, saviors, beloveds.

I’ll not equivocate, the poverty that’s accompanied this work grows tiresome.

But, I prevail, and I am assisted now by a benefactor who has made each day sweeter than I could have imagined possible in these circumstances, and i think you can tell I’ve got a great imagination.

So, I’ve edited out my begging, and end this piece instead with overflowing thanks to you, gentle reader.

If you read Patrick, please do so with soft eyes. It’s a first draft, but it’s worth a gander. The story is more complex than this proposal, but the heart of it is true to the intention: it’s a book for lightworkers like you.

 

Deeply Awake — No Secrets Here 10-10-13 By Kathy Vik

Image result for cosmic happiness gif

 

 

 

Deeply Awake — No Secrets Here 10-10-13 By Kathy Vik

I start and end this piece with poetry.

“You Must Always Tell…”

You must always tell the world what you’ve been through,
It does concern the curious who pass;
The stories of our hearts and of our dead
Can all improve our image in the glass.
Here, or down there, or anywhere I stop,
Tipping my hat to twenty thousand truths,
Deep in a Now about to open up.

You must always tell the world just what you’ve learned;
It was not chance that took you where you went.
And when I search my pockets what I find
Is far more hope than I have ever spent.
You must always tell your secrets to the world,
Those passers-by whose business is the same;
And those from a land where all that’s holy’s dead
May not themselves be totally to blame.

You must always tell the world that you’ve been happy,
Loaded with talent, yes, a great success,
That you’ve built beacons from brutality
And made your music from the pain of love.
We cannot be both ignorant and live;
Let’s not just say we sheltered here a while.
When one’s known death and life – which is always there,
One tries to make a poem – and to smile…

(Sadly, this writer remains anonymous. Found this in Interview Magazine, as an ad for a play, in the early ’80’s)

This work, my work, vibrationally, as a human being, has changed once again, and the change has come from hanging with, busting through, integrating, doubt More than fear, more than anger, more than any primal thing which tries its best to unsettle me, it is doubt, doubt has been my dueling partner. It lies dead, on the floor this morning, taking its time before respawning, so while it lies there barely breathing, let’s have a chat

To describe the changes, I have to be honest with you, and to risk appearing grandiose. I find it funny, that the farther on I go, the more I must wrestle, unwittingly, at times, with doubt. Doubt is something I know very well, and it is one of my finest teachers. This teacher, though, is a little spiteful, like a Zen master who messes with littlemind, knowing its weaknesses, knowing its limits.

Since January of 2012, I have been living pretty much paycheck to paycheck, in a far more extreme manner than before. I walked away from a high paying gig, and decided instead to do shift work, field work, going from hospital to hospital, unit to unit, shift to shift, working with whomever was placed in my way. Of course, that is how it always has been, but the processed got slowed down to a crawl, and I got it, I really did, that each and every time I show up in my uniform, it is by invitation, I am being honored, and I am doing light work not only the patients I serve, but the co-workers I rub elbows with.
It is a paradigm which was important to see, to really get. I got it.

During this time, I felt great fear, because there were times, when the work slowed in the city, that I did not work. I would sleep on a night off, then sleep the following day, at least 4 hours, and then work twelve hours at night. The thing is, when the work slows, I wind up sleeping a lot, resting a lot, lying in wait.

The work has now slowed again, and yet, the panic is not there.

Yesterday, I had a meditation that I need to talk about, but first, I guess I need to tell you of the miracles.

First, the phone, then the stethoscope. I will make these brief.

I took my son out for dinner last week. We’d gathered our stuff from the table and were walking to the lobby when I told Sam I would like him to go find the waitress and hand her the tip. I put my phone, my book, all my stuff, on the shelf at the exit so I could fish money out of my wallet. I walked out of that restaurant thinking Sam had my phone, because I did not.

Turns out my phone went missing. I called to it while in Kirtan that night, and realized just where I had left it. Due to the hour, I couldn’t call the restaurant or pop in.

The next morning, I checked facebook using my kid’s phone and my heart sank… I was being admonished for having sent blind requests to dozens of people. I knew then that some mischief maker had found and messed with my phone.

Sure enough, the phone was not at the restaurant.

I drove to the Cricket store, prepared to transfer service to my son’s phone, and before getting out of the car, I reflected on things, just for a moment.

I realized that I was not perturbed, I wasn’t really upset, and I held no fear. I did not feel like a victim of circumstance, and felt mild curiosity about the events at hand.

And I like how I felt. I saw, sitting there for those moments, how I have changed, and I liked that I did not automatically sink into the victim place when troubles hit.

Then, on a whim, I decided to look down, between the passenger seat and the floor.

And there was my phone.

But that isn’t the weird part. The weird part is that I knew it had not been there. I could feel, I heard and understood, I had passed a marker, I had passed a test, and, although I have had these experiences before, this time, passing this test, I understood in a far more organic way that it was ME who had set up the test, and although the company of heaven was thrilled I was doing well with my reality, I felt special elation, an intimate elation, for seeing that I had tested and rewarded my very own self.

Sort of took the fear out of testing, you know?

So, that was the phone. And always the wiggle room, always the room for doubt. Some would shrug and say that the phone had been there all along. But I know this is not the case. I searched that car. It had not been there. But there it is… always a part of any miracle.

But it gets better.

The last time I worked, I was told I’d be working psych. I wore my uniform, but felt such relief and happiness that I could leave my stethoscope on the dining room table that night. Physical assessments are rare on that unit, and wearing a stethoscope is sort of uncool, so I left it there and reported to work.

My assignment changed en route, though. I was, once I got there, told to go to the geriatrics unit.

I drove to the adjacent campus, thinking that this is just a fine state of affairs. I was not mad, though I knew full well that it was only because I was low-man that I was being sent to that particular unit. The ones doing the assignments all felt relief it wasn’t them going over to work with the old ones.

As I got out of my car, it dawned on me I had not read this right. I hadn’t anticipated this wrinkle. I had left my stethoscope at home, which was a bummer, because even in gero-psych, a stethoscope is required equipment.

I presented myself to the unit, having gotten over any resentment that had visited me, and found a place to stash my stuff. I took off my jacket then, and felt a weird “kerthunk” on my collarbones as I did.

I realized as I placed my coat on the chair that, around my neck was my stethoscope.

All I could do was grin. I knew full well that my beloved piece of equipment materialized around my neck. I knew it to be a miracle. It was sudden, immediate, and strangely physical, this knowledge.

I let it sink in, all night long, I revisited my miracle and it gave me a little lift in my step, I must say. Not in an egoic way at all, no, just in a way that felt like a big old spirit bear hug. Funny. Nice. Solid. Sweet. Enduring.

On the way home from work, I thought about how I can apply this to money. How I can just plunk down a big wad of cash. If I can do it with a stethoscope, then I can do it with anything, right?

The thing is, I haven’t worked since that shift. I was told on the way into the building that this walk is coming to an end, but I did not think it would happen quite this fast. I told them I wanted things easy, no learning through extremity or suffering, not anymore.

And I am not suffering, not in the least, but the bills due press upon my awareness, cloud my joy, now, at times, just a little, when I let it.

And this brings me to my meditation, and then I will be able to finish.

I have looked back on the rhythm of all of this. The timbre and pace of the shift work changes as these things change in my spiritual life. And here I am, finding myself called back to work on a campus which fostered some of the most intense personal growth of my life.

Yesterday, I had to nap, I’d put it off, and so, there I am at 1pm, to rest up. At 2:45 I’d be up, running full bore until 9am the following day. But duty called. So, like a good little soldier, I layed down to rest.

The dictation was blowing through me. I felt good, so good, and yet, I felt that I needed to be unconscious, asleep, blank. That was not happening, so I saw my body as a current that was below, running, running, on and orange, vibrant, and yet, I could somehow get above it, and create a delineation, so that I could hang out and learn while my body got tuned. I talked to my body and we agreed that I would feel fully rested, and fully capable to do whatever I was called upon to do through the night and into the morning. This is not about survival, and I would be fine.

And then, things got good.

I could feel the ever-present high pitched squeal in my left ear get bigger, and I began to imagine that there was geometry in my head, connecting my ears, somehow, to my third eye. I found that when I connected myself this way, I was reminded of one half of a tetrahedron. I did not like that the geometry was only at head level. I wanted it to be a body awareness.

So two things happened, and they both warrant discussion. I went visiting, through this portal I made with my ears and eye, and also, simultaneously, I worked to embody the energy.

I began to move the light, the energy that I was feeling in my head, move it, through my body. But I did not like how it felt, to imagine this energy swirling through or around me. I did not like the thought of it visiting me. I wanted to feel it in another way. It felt so dissatisfying to think of it spinning, without it coming FROM, from within me.

And so, I traveled with the light down into the core of my body. There, at the center, what I found was the place that is where the light and the dark both come from. The point of creation which is transparently thin, from which all things have their origin. I found it satisfying, finally, when I could finally see and feel light peeling out of this thin, this nearly transparent reality of unity. I let the colors unfurl from that place, where all problems and all solutions sit together on the plain for harvest, and I see all of it, all of it, all of it, burst into light, where there is only one mind, one reality, one knowing.

But, I was also having this head thing go on.

I could feel almost a metal set up, this pyramid, this physical thing that my imagination was constructing, using the noise in my left ear, triangulating that somehow to my right ear, even though it was silent, and then, from there, it only made sense to go outward, through my forehead, through it, beyond.

I saw the greats, all of them, and love them all, I did, and then, I came to a council of light beings. I know them to be my old friends, wiser now, and I talked with them.

It was as if all the pictures I have of masters, the ones I love, who I know from dreams and thoughts and inspirations, I passed through each of them like they were paper, somehow, very colorful paper, and I felt just a tiny rush of relief to know that they are symbols. Colorful and helpful and perfect and symbols.

And then, I sort of felt my self rush to a place where there was a group of beings that glowed. They were light, and they were benevolence itself, and they were gathered in union, communion, in a circle. I felt such love, and I wept, I felt such recognition.

I knew them to be The Teachers, and I knew then that The Teachers were wonderful friends. I sensed the fortitude, the unwillingness I had to do anything but awaken, and I saw my whole life, then, a series of teachers I asked for, I agreed to work with, who I loved and who loved me. I understood, just a bit, perhaps, how cooperative the whole thing is, and I felt connected to them in a brand new way.

I told them that they have changed, and I asked them if it were true, could they have changed so much? They laughed and asked me the same thing, and then said, this is the time of taking on more of what one is, and as they did, so shall I, so have I. I have changed, they have changed, all is in motion.

They told me I can have access to them whenever I wish, and we settled on a very nice metaphor. The old channel’s attic, where we did many session,s came to us, and yet, it is an amalgam. A safe and inviting place, a hallowed place, and one I can go to whenever I feel the desire. It is the vibration which grants access, and the vibration is being fine tuned so that it can be held in consciousness more easily, but it really is just a thought away.

And then, I was given a gift.

I am obsessive, this is true, when it comes to this work. I get discouraged. I worry. I fret. I am impatient. Not anxious. Grandly impatient.

I have been told for a very long time that this is work which will live on, and I have often felt the gratitude that only a writer of code can feel, when the code is finally broken, and everyone has access. I have always understood that this is work which will live on.

And I have been able to see, especially after their talk on harmonics, how all of my good will have to, just have to, come to me. There is no other way of balancing this equation. No other way.

I set this lifetime up to have no human mirrors. None. I don’t feel I have ever met my match. That is certainly not a slam to friends or family or loved ones. No. But not one of them can discuss this stuff with me. Do you get that? The stuff that makes me glow, that sets me on fire, that gives me purpose, that has set my bones and allowed me to run again, my family, my friends, my co-workers, they have wanted no part in it. None. I am accepted if I keep quiet. And that is weird, I know, but it is the set up.

This does not mean I have not had teachers, because I have. Great masters who are my friends, two of them in my life right now, patterning for me self-determination, divine love, acceptance, honor, respect. I have that. I have the guru thing down. But to be sitting on a couch with someone, lighting up a smoke, and to feel permission to discuss the finer points of angels, or how we all are our own mountains, that sort of thing, this is NOT TOLERATED. In fact, I have some in my life whose upper lips curl when I even start THINKING this way. It’s really fucked up, actually.

This had been on my mind the days prior to this meditation. I had come to see that the point of this set up was not to further illustrate man’s inhumanity to man, but instead, the set up was necessary so that I could have a pristine knowledge of self, self as generator and interpreter of reality, self as determiner or experience, self as source of divine love.

Although I have seen love for me in the eyes of another, it has always been with reservation. Always. And I think this has more to do with the space inside folks’ hearts than anything to do with me.

Tony Stubbs writes that all agreement fields have geometrics, and if one has the pattern, the geometric, say, for victimization, then when that energy comes blowing through your reality, one’s own patterning as a victim jumps up and latches onto the agreement field of “Victim,” and off you go, off you go into the world of scary monsters and defeat.

And just as there is an agreement field for victim, there is an agreement field for sovereign, master, although I am not sure I like that term, and when this is presented, sure enough, your geometry clicks into this field, and there you go, off and running, into happier, clearer fields of endeavor.

And with that, things got quieter for me.

Sometimes, it helps to see something in print. I had begun to really believe that I, little I, me, Kathy Vik, all by her lonesome, was projecting this weird pattern no one else could see, no one else had the equipment for.

Hence, the writing, so I would not feel so alone anymore, and to also understand, really slow it down and understand, just what was happening to me.

There is a field which rides above the physical, which is exalted and beautiful, a field which is clear and is pure light, unsullied acceptance, absolute honor and joy. This is the unified field, this is the transparent wafer which exploded, with intent, into light, within my body, in meditation.

And from there, in meditation, I saw something unusual.

I saw generations of people, unending people, with my books in their arms. I saw generations of people. I saw their respect, and I felt their gratitude.

I cried again then, so freely and happily, full of love, and a job well done. I saw that it is such a blessing, will be, when people finally read this and get it, because it will tell me that people’s hearts are more open, and they are ready. It filled me with such gratitude, such gratitude and honor to have been willing to set apart effort for this endeavor.

This writing will help many, and when it begins to, as it already has, every time I get a comment or a word of encouragement, it lightens me and excites me, because it proves to me that there is willingness, there is openness.

This writing will become important to people as their journey becomes important to them. Right now, many are still mesmerized by events, and that’s just fine, that is a loosening up of things that needed to be loosened.

There will come a day.

This I now know as fact. It is just physics. Just physics.

But that brings me back to this present moment, and also to what comes next for me.

I have held myself on the cusp for a long time. I have been unwilling to re-order my life, I have resisted taking on a full time job.

I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop since I sent out my first essay into the ethers. I re-read my work, and for all its cumbersome self-revelation, I can only see it as miraculous. How do I string sentences together, construct huge frameworks of knowledge, while in my jammies, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes? How is this possible, even?!

So I have been fascinated with the process and unwilling to break the flow, convinced that working full time would commit far too much time to interpersonal karma-busting, which I really just don’t feel like doing for others at this point. They can carry their own water for a while, that is what I have thought since I started this process in March of 2012. let the co-workers and weird bosses and messed up systems I find myself dwelling in, let them slide, let everyone just do their own thing without me for a while. I don’t want to bump up against authority, all that crap, I just want to be left alone to FEEL and to WRITE.

And so, I have lived in distressing levels of poverty since I made my decision to get right with myself, cursing my wealthy father, silently, for not doing more for me, angry at a system which requires one to abdicate so much physical time to daily bread that thinking quietly, contemplating deeply, this is seen as luxury, not necessity. I did not want that world. I turned away from it. I wrote instead.

Deeply Awake is a gift for you, a gift I made for me too, one which I know now will be on my bookcase, in my next family’s house, and maybe there will be more of what I have written, on the TV or in the movies, on the radio, on chat shows. I will be surrounded by it, won’t be able to escape it.

And it was there, in meditation, me in my next life, seeing these books on my mom’s bookshelf, it was then that I understood my legacy, and more, I understood, profoundly and simply, that my gurus, my teachers, my spiritual rescuers, I put them there, just as I am willing my books into my next lifetime, I willed these teachers, this enlightenment, this new way, into this lifetime. What makes me think I am exempt this lifetime from this sort of forward planning of compassion?

It was then that I saw that, even if the books are never published, even if there are no throngs clutching these tomes to their chests, I have seen, with certainty, with a knowingness which cannot be shaken, I have seen my bigger self step right in and intervene. I have had great teachers, profound revelations, and this has been purposeful.

There is one more thing from this meditation that I want to pass on, and then I can tie this up.

I saw, there in my family tree, I saw that there were guardians, emitting a pure, pure love that went unrecognized and often was ridiculed, while growing up. And these folks, they might have looked like martyrs, but they were holding a very high vibration, the vibration of unconditional love, and I could see, one by one, through the generations, I could see these avatars light up.

I understood there is a lineage of light that I am part of. My son is part of it, by choice. And I saw that we are connected, all of us, each of us in the family, but that some of us have a purpose which was more obvious, shall we say, and whose light was very very strong.

I saw that the truth of this is humanity is a matriarchy, when all is said and done. I saw that these blood lines, they matter, and that, although the love bond between two grown up human beings unrelated by blood, this is very very important on so many levels, but, blood, this is the way of it. This is the lineage. This is how the lineage is maintained. Choice by blood.

That is not to say that we are unrelated, because the truth of it is we are one, one entity, when you get right down to it, but then there are gradations.

From there I understood better about physical life. I could go on for more pages, but what the essence was is this: I was railing against my amnesia. I was telling them, at the end of this meditation, to remove it. I want it gone.

I saw then that in one respect, the reason we have amnesia is that the events, the minutiae that create events, these are unknown until potentiated. The future is unknown, and the amnesia is in effect because the future is unknown.

What is available are potentials, probabilities.

And then I saw that riding above the little decisions which make us move here and there, above the set ups, above the things that look like accidents, there are agreements, soul to soul, and these agreements are not as obvious as you’d think. There are agreements which insert themselves within our reality, within our matrix, and these are what can be hooked into, but the thing is, the more I looked at it, the more layers I saw.

It is a complicated system, and one that I am not so sure I need to know, or even want to know, the inner workings of.

What I know now is that I am covered.

So this morning, I feel different. I am done, I think, doing the woe is me dirge, ever again, when it comes to spiritual loneliness. It is my walk, for now.

Further, I have decided that it is time to break apart this fear over What Comes Next.

I knew there would come a day when the next bit would be clearer, and it does get clearer daily, but it feels like a whole bunch of residual has been cleared, and I can just see better, with fewer emotional barbs sticking out. It hurts less to think about the future now.

I used to think that if I took a full time day job that this would be the end of my spiritual growth. And it is true that having huge blocks of “idle” time has allowed me access to things I probably wold have avoided had I opted for wealth, or at least a higher living standard.

But I think now I can do this without giving into the vow of poverty.

I saw my spiritual work in the hands of generations. How poor can I be? I saw my love shining in the faces of those who read this work, who take this journey. How destitute can I expect to be?

I see now that I am covered, and that this next part does not have to be hard. I think that I can work in a system, get involved with people and their daily lives, to whatever degree, and still be happy. I can. I can have financial ease.

I have seen this choice, though, as one between spirit and money, for nearly two years. I moved past the resentment of a society, a culture, which values trinkets over spiritual depth, symbols of safety and comfort over spiritual safety and comfort, and I am done feeling anger, resentment, condescension, despair about any of it.

If the generations of readers never materialized, somehow even that does not matter all that much to me now. I may have to toil on in my area of training for a while more, it may not even take in my lifetime.

And I am not going to get down about that anymore. Not anymore.

I needed YOU to get ME for a really long time. You getting me meant that I did not have to fully commit to nursing, I could just continue to just keep patching the boat. I kept waiting for reinforcements, for people who resonate with what I write. I have found a few. A precious group, I tell you. I love them more than I can express in words. I owe them so very much, every reader, every reader.

But I am pretty much done with unpaid bills, with a messy house, with coasting.

I have had my fill, now, of these great downloads. I know, from my own experience, that I can experience life-altering downloads while on my feet, at work. I have had them happen.

What makes me think that if I stay put, stay still, stay disengaged, anymore, that anything will change?

I know I must make changes now, and although I have been saying that, to some extent, since I started this, I feel as if much of the work is complete. It will never be done. My last meditation is proof of that. I have written 11 pages thus far, and I have not covered a few gigantic understandings that came my way int hat hour and a half of sleep/meditation.

Although I have an aversion to cleaning up that is nearly physical, although I am unenthused about having to slog through one more shift as a nurse, I see what is before me, and I know I must make my plans.

I know that that stethoscope plopped on my neck from Elsewhere. I know I got my phone back as a reward for passing a self-imposed test. I know these things. To apply this knowledge of miracles onto my finances, this is tricky. I see that money is just another form of energy, like my stethoscope, like my phone, it is solid, does things for me, and is highly enjoyable to have around. My ego was not wrapped around my belongings though. My sense of self-worth was never in jeopardy, as I went looking for my phone, as I showed up for work.

And so, the last miracle was one which occurred while in meditation.

I kept hearing a THUNG sound, a deep bass sound, while I was laying down. My neighbor playing music, I thought. And although this would normally send me into spirals of hate, I heard, when the THUNG would come, I heard, “You need this tone. This is a tone which is helpful for you. You have called it to you. Be grateful for it.”

When I considered that this sound, this sort of intrusive, mildly irritating sound would happen, thinking on it as a gift, that it was helping me to tune up somehow, then the THUNGing stopped.

Then I would go off and think some other thought, something not quite as true, somehow, and the THUNGing would start again.

It happened three times, the silence. I realized there was a rhythm. Every time I surrendered to the idea that this THUNGing was not an intrusion, not a visitor sent to jangle my nerves or distract me, not something I had to fight against or hate, it went away.

And so, I see that this might be what is called for now, in regards to my work life.

I want to travel, take vacations, give readings and lecturers, encourage open discussion of that which has been unspoken for thousands of years. I want to be writing for TV, for the movies, I want to write books and plays and radio shows. I want to create. It is all I have ever wanted to do.

But to get there, how to get there?

I think it is by putting one foot in front of the other, doing that which feels perfect in this moment, and this one, and this one. For nearly two years what has felt perfect is to let housework completely slide, let work fall by the wayside, allow this process full expression, and see what happens.

And now, I look at what I have created, and I am stunned. It is beautiful, what I have done. And I think it is enough for now.

I have no one in my reality yet who sees this work as salable. But I have had people step forward and give encouragement. I have had many people, especially lately, extend surprising offers. I am happy for the movement, open to it.

I tell my guides, my Self, my angels and my God that I want ease. I want my financial scores settled easily. I want it to be like falling off a log, making this last part right. I deserve this. I have worked hard for no money, I have taken a pay cut to put all this to paper.

I told them, during meditation, like a prayer, like a ruling from a king, but more, like a surprised little girl, I said, out loud, in meditation, “I am being rewarded. I have earned a reward.” It was a solemn understanding, it was. I have earned a reward.

And so, I think it makes sense to go looking for a job that will pay me enough money for me to start digging out financially. The tradeoff seems to be that I will have to get more involved in people’s bullshit to do it. It is easiest to earn good money when they think they own you.

That’s how I have come to see it. So I will look for a job among grownups who maybe are less likely to think of me as a human resource, and more as a human, but I am unconvinced that my fellow nurses are anywhere near ready for this. So I will cloak, I must, to some extent, and I will present myself for stupid nursing jobs, because the one I have has sputtered out.

And I keep thinking that just by getting dressed up and knocking on doors, other things will begin to present themselves. But it is time, one way or the other, to start moving again, start living again, start hooking in again, but differently this time.

I will reluctantly go looking for work, and maybe that is the exactly wrong attitude to hold, but I am not excited about being a nurse. I really sort of dislike it. Yes, there are a lot of things I do enjoy about it, but I don’t like being away. Away from my house, from my peace, from my routine. I have grown a little lazy, here in expression land.

But, I will, honestly I will, end with this.

As a nursing student, I carried a poem with me. One moment, I was among people who valued intellectual pursuits and who did not make fun or poems. The next, I was in a world where anything that could not be appreciated with the sense took a lower berth, became something to discredit, disbelieve, discount.

I carried that poem with me, and I carried within me the knowledge that even though I was surrounded, and continue to be surrounded, by people who act as if they allergic to anything more than the job ahead of them, the bills that must be paid, the obligations they have made, there is something which I value that they do not recognize, that I do, that feeds me, that keeps me alive.

I would read this poem after exams, after horrible shifts in psych, all through my life, since I found it at eighteen, I have read this and it has steadied me. I leave this piece as I began it, with beloved poetry. This piece makes the self-doubt I experience, it makes it go away.

Because it matters
to read books
jagged as boulders,
serene as a Mozart concerto;

to correct our lives
by the plumb-line
of Jeremiah or Plato,

and to comfort our hearts
with Isaiah and Bach;

to know the world anew
in the witness
of Galileo, Darwin,
Teilhard do Chardin;
and to savor a new creation
with Woolman and Blake
and Thomas More’

Because it matters
that we can be companions
in a learning fellowship
which begins here and now
and my reach to our
final darkness;

Because it matters so much,
I am where I am
and do what I do.

Paul A. Lacey