An easy, fun and helpful discussion about writing, art, the primacy of personal experience, and the unbreakable thread linking it all up.
For those interested, here is the website for National Novel Writing Month! https://nanowrimo.org
Deeply Awake — To Participate 12-27-13 By Kathy Vik
I have gone many places this morning, here in my little apartment, in the hours between my waking up and my kid waking up. Silent, busy hours, in which I have understood many things, things I want to tell you about.
I woke up remembering a dream that felt very good, and had good things to teach. I had been married to Bradley Cooper, and I had just had a fight with him. He had done something that signaled to me that he was flirting, or engaging someone else. I’d felt he didn’t love me, that I had been wrong.
Then I was in a dried up swimming pool (there is no reason to add some of these details, except for them being funny) with my ex-husband, William Katt, an amalgam. I was lying on a chaise lounge reading a book, red and black cover, “What To Do When Your Marriage Is Failing.”
I had been reading it as a review of the marriage I’d come from, with a user, someone who used the me I presented, instead of loving the me I presented. But Bradley saw this scenario, and he got very, very upset.
Just as I had, he was assuming something that was completely incorrect. He was assuming I was telling my ex-husband that my current marriage was failing. I let him bluster and blow, and he was quite loud and melodramatic.
And then I realized something, and told him about it.
I realized that he was angry and scared for the same reason I had been angry and scared with him earlier. We were each assuming the other did not love us completely, or well, or truly. We were afraid we were wrong about being loved.
And I realized, and said, this is the last time that either of us are going to have to do this running around yelling and crying thing.
I love you.
You love me.
I mean, it was in my core, that I loved this guy, connected and adored, respected and loved. And the way he had acted toward me when I’d had my blow out had shown me that I had been completely incorrect in my bad assumptions.
He loved me this way, the way I love him.
And so, it was clear to both of us that this questioning we had carried with us, the never quite knowing for sure where the other stood, that this was done and over, and would never be a factor again. We were solid. We loved each other.
And then, I had a phone call from my handler at the nursing agency, and we talked a bit, and he chastised me for not being uber compliant with my corporate masters, meaning, how dare I presume to ask for a weekend off now that they have deigned to offer me a job, and I just shrugged and said, if it’s a deal breaker, it’s a deal breaker.
We were negotiating whether I’d be granted permission to have time off to go see my mentor, my guide, my guru, Kryon. We won’t be arguing about this. It’s going to be fine. When I put in my order for the tickets, my account balance came back $333.42. A wink from spirit, saying, we’ve got this. You did the right thing. Your presence has been expected.
So we had a good conversation, left it in a good way, the “Hey, I thought you were the one who needed the work,” comment left to die of asphyxiation there on the ground between us, and then, I thought, this calls for watching the very end of Silver Linings Playbook.. I saw the scene, in my head, where I should start. And so coffee was bred, slippers were fetched, and I finished up my dream.
What I realized, as I watched the finals scenes, are many fold, but I will try for a succinct delivery. First, is the thought I first had when coming out of my NDE. I understood, and wrote, that the point is to participate. All is for naught, or has less value, if I do not participate. To participate enlivens it all.
I thought, as the movie played, that my stance has long been one of unwillingness, of resentment that has now been ground down to simple weariness. Sometimes the world is too much with me, invading my thoughts with all the closed fists and closed minds I hear about in the news.
For example, I read something yesterday which still reverberates. The Republicans, it is said, are slightly ahead in polling about the 2014 election. Slightly ahead with the populace.
And this is the most disturbing thing I think I read, although there were many disturbing things on the feed yesterday. I have unfriended a bunch of news/alt news groups. Things are just too tilty out there. And yet, here is the worst of it somehow. I want to know how this is possible, and how it is that these haters get anyone to come to one of their rallies. They drip fear and contempt, and yet, they have followers. It really disturbs me.
And I am thinking about this too, watching the movie, and this is my first thought. I have always been an introvert, a deep thinker, a philosopher, with a tender heart and sharp mind. I haven’t missed much, I’ll tell you. And like so many of my family, I have felt oddly, silently apart from others. Invisible, usually, but they’re all the same, some sort of bubble or barrier.
And I worked, finally, on myself, diligently and persistently, and with great effect, the last two years, and I emerge now knowing one thing above all others, that I am love, that I love, that I am loving and lovable.
And therein lied the dissonance, really, always.
I felt, I realized this morning, unloved. I did. Unloved. I assumed I was unloved. I assumed this, and it became part of my awareness.
There was always this fight, the loving one against the unloving, the selfish, the unthinking, the crude, the rude, the angry, the withholding, the judging, oh my god the judging ones.
And so, this play of light and dark, of contrasts, went on and on, until I brought it into myself, you see.
I realized that I am loveable. And the question then became, for me (as it always had been, but never really articulated), well, then, what about them? If I am lovable, and they are mean or they ignore me, or blow me off, or tell me to be quiet, can they love? Do they love? Are they capable?
And then, this morning, everything did a backflip. I was transported, the whole room glittery, my heart and body feeling such expansion and joy, when it hit me, all at once, people love me.
They always have.
Other people can love, they are capable of it. And it felt like they couldn’t, but here is why. Love in the physical, it’s about showing up. Showing up. Participating and showing up. And I don’t mean to imply by that that this sort of loving participation is all about activities, or get-togethers. No. It’s about showing up in genuineness, in a full heart, and from there, doing as much as seems appropriate.
I thought on the ones in my life who have given me the most trouble, and realized, the frustration comes in them not wanting to show up in the areas of my life which matter the most to me, or even worse, judging me as I stand there in my fullness, my honesty, and telling me I don’t measure up.
And just like in the dream, this is the case of someone doing something which one can easily assign an exactly incorrect motivation for. I assumed I had not been loved. Bradley Cooper, my husband ( I couldn’t resist writing that!) had also assumed I did not love him, when I knew, rock solid knew, that wasn’t so.
I remember in the dream, I kept my mouth shut as he gestured wildly and was upset, smiling, I was, and sort of glowing with love, because I knew something he did not. There was no need to defend, to get in there and try and convince him.
It was something he needed to get out of his system, and it really had nothing to do with me, as I saw it. I loved him, and he was reading things with a bias that told him he was unloved, and maybe he even was pacing with that hairy, smelly monster who just loves to bellow at its prey, “You’re not only unloved, you are unlovable!”
I understood, watching the characters ready for their dance number in Silver Linings Playbook, that I am not only loved, but I am loveable.
And then it hit me, and this is not the nicest thought to admit to, that I have not really shown up for others all that much. How could I, convinced as I was that no one loved me, or was even capable of love.
I had made a nice thick wall I could only hear distant rumbling through. I had built a wall of inferiority and superiority, depending on the person and the situation, and I had repeatedly and with much diligence made it pretty hard to even find me, much less love me, because I really really really don’t participate.
I opted out of much socialization years ago, because my heart breaks so easily, and still, people went out of their way to break it. It was like a blood sport, no one seeing the love, people so ego driven, and I see it now, I was one of them, I was, I was just as defended and scared as everybody else.
And just as in the dream, I say these words so that they never have to be said again. I was held, this morning, in loving and forgiving arms, and I have come to understand, first and foremost, that I am loved.
Even the ones who are critical, those who tell us all, hey, fend for yourselves, figure it out, sink or swim. That whole mentality is what is thankfully dissolving, the one that says that as long as I have mine, there is no need to worry about you, that is the one that needs to be retried.
It is unloving, and tricks people into thinking they are unloved, and then, it sets in, the poison finds its mark, and we believe we are unlovable, abandoned, our survival tenuous, dependent on those who don’t even see us when they look into our eyes. Am I talking about your boss? Your senator? Your wife? Your dad? Yourself, as you gaze into the mirror?
The assumption, for me, had been that I was unloved. I felt unloved, and convinced myself that what were actually awkward attempts to be loving I misinterpreted, because I had a belief, a bias, a seeming irrefutable knowledge about how things were.
And so, I finished watching the movie, and realized that showing up, participating, this is what it’s about for me now, and I can do it now, because, I have now figured out that even when it looks as if I am unloved, I am loved.
Even if I am bumped around, I am loved. Even when I am told to do something which is debasing or even apparently contemptuous, I am loved. I am loved. I am loved.
And so, for me, it is and will be about showing up, no matter where I am, with an open heart, dwelling within this core I have come to know, and knowing that the other, however they present, comes from this core of love too.
And then, I understood the finer points to it.
I had a friend who would say, When Jesus rose from the dead, he didn’t go out searching for the Roman barracks, you know. He sought out his friends.
This has been a key thing in my life. Loving everybody, everybody, regardless, everybody. This indwelling need, function, to forgive, at all costs. I didn’t know how to manage it until now.
It’s about showing up. It’s about participation. It’s about not being judged. I have ones who are close to me. We are family to each other, and we know it. We loved each other, and, for our purposes, that means we accept everything, judge nothing, celebrate the little things, encourage each other, and give each other a ton of space. We see each other rarely, but we love each other in a way that is so thick.
And to enhance my lie, to change it from this little one I am emerging from into a bigger one that can contain more ease and joy, I see now that it is finding those who can show up, who can love and not judge, who can laugh and cry and bellow and be still, those who speak what is in their hearts, some without saying a word. Showing up.
And it is about respectfully disengagement from those who cannot, will not show up, those who stand in judgment, let them, but don’t hang out with them all that much. Love them, bless them, and walk away, loving them from afar, as an act of self-love, and self-acceptance.
I am not saying that those who are judgmental, or mean or even abusive should be ignored. Far from it. But engaging in that sort of nonsense, well, that is optional.
If the game must be played on a crooked board, where the rules are rigid and the outcome is assured for only one of the participants, that just doesn’t interest me anymore. It is boring, it is old, it is outdated, small, uncomfortable, no longer attractive.
I think this is what is meant with the crossing of this bridge, a bridge over which the old energy cannot pass, the unloving energy so entranced with darkness, it cannot come and stand on this fertile new ground. I have nothing but compassion for those who don’t want to, feel they cannot, who choose not to come over, but it does not mean that I will cross back over that bridge and live denying this light, this knowledge, of all this love. I did that. Many of us did. Many of us are just now crossing the bridge.
Before preparing to write this I thought on the ones who have made things hard thus far and was filled with love, because, the truth is, they give me trouble, but there they are, in my life, showing up, participating. They are in my life purposefully, up until now.
And the days of contrasts such as these is passing. I have felt so tremendously different since yesterday morning, so clear, and it has not been the easiest to navigate some of it, but there have been synchronous gifts throughout, multiples on my clocks and odd timing and ease and an absence of worry and pain, throughout.
So I think that participating in what I am creating is the piece that can now fall into place.
I had gone to sleep asking for help about removing for all time this sense of futility and this sense of not liking the culture I live in all that much. How mean and petty it seems people have gotten, everyone doing things they would rather not do, because they are afraid of losing their jobs.
Oh the things we do to each other in the name of fearing for our jobs, fearing “negative feedback,” fearing bad evaluations, fearing, fearing, fearing. I am tired of that. I want to lay it down. Remove this from me, I said, the coldness that I feel sometimes, out and about, in my culture. Remove this.
And today, a dream about Bradley Cooper and love. Being able to get it, by watching a simple movie, that everyone, even the weird ones, they love me. They all love me. And I have made it real, real hard to be loved. I have not accepted it when int has been offered, I have argued with it, minimized it, and sent it running, often times, so convinced was I that it wasn’t even possible.
I have said for over five years, out loud, at the oddest times, to myself, always only to myself, that this life I am living is too small for me.
I’d thought that the outsides would change to reflect my inner bigness. That makes sense, right? When you outgrow a house, you buy a new one, right? The outside would change, and then everything would match.
And although of course this too will come to pass, the miracles, the dead on synchronicities which will be unmistakably miraculous, these will come because the inside has changed, once and for all, a new octave reached, a new vibration set.
I will end by telling you about this recurring thought of mine. I think I wrote about it, a dream I had that told me why it was that we can have hope. I keep getting it though, a vision and feelings and thoughts which tell me that the field has cleared. I feel this golden field out in front of me, all around me now, and this one is filled with benevolence, miracles, laughter, high regard, symmetry, luck, goodwill, kindnesses, a million kindnesses, smiling, all smiling and welcoming, this field that is just a gold mist, but contains everything that is good.
It is out there, and I understand that as I reach its vibration, it is just simple physics that this is what my life is and will ever be. This is physics at its most elegant, like meeting like and dancing, ball gowns and glitter, ease and grace, style and opulent geld, this field is here, coming closer daily, and I am matching it.
As I inhabit this field, it can manifest. I keep getting that, and I want to write it, because that makes it more real. Also, I am aware that there are many who are having these sorts of dreams. I had correspondence with two other women who had had very similar dreams of mastery over Christmas Day night.
Mine had been with the words accomplished, and a sense of completion. One friend heard “Mastery” I think, and the other had been told that she had mastered her life. This is real, guys, it’s happening, and maybe this field is what is calling us all, and these dreams are just interpretations of the light, just as Sam taught me this could be done. There is an essay called “My son Sam Demonstrates” that discusses this phenomenon.
I understand that this next part is as much about holding a vibration as it is about receiving this vibration’s gifts. And maybe being able to receive is the whole point. Having been conditioned to suspect and sniff around love, find fault with it and judge it unworthy, this too must change, to increase a life’s happiness.
And this receiving, it has nothing to do with worth. Nothing. It has to do with fit, with acceptance, with smiling and relaxing and letting good come, and not finding fault with it.
Taking the fall-back position of not only knowing I am a loving person, but that everyone I interact with is also loving. Some do things that make no sense, and they deny their great love, and so, they act badly, but they, too, are coming to me with love. Everyone is loving.
What a miracle! What a gift! What a change!
And now, I must get this published. I have things to do today. I need to show up. I want to participate.
Deeply Awake — The Male/Female Agreement 4-27-13 By Kathy Vik
Are you familiar with the chakra system? For all my “sophistication,” there are some chakras I just don’t get, just don’t feel that I understand real well or feel real good about, but I will tell you, in just a few sentences what I am aware of about the basic chakra system, because it is salient to this discussion.
Chakras are energy vortexes in the human body, which work cooperatively to keep the ship righted. They are thought to be seven, and these are the big ones, but, really, our whole body, every molecule, is like a big, creative, black hole of energy. We are swirling vortexes of light and sound, but, for now, I am in my jammies and am drinking coffee. I am not a huge energy swirl. I’m a girl just trying to wake up.
So the chakras are in the color of the rainbow., ROY-G-BIV, remember? I know it may seem arbitrary, but over thousands of years, this system has been intuited and built upon. It is mostly correct. Red, orange and yellow are in the pelvis, hips and lower abdomen. They are sealed within the lower body, that which is below the diaphragm.
The lower colors and centers have to do with finding one’s place in the world, seeing oneself as one’s ability to effect outside of oneself. These centers have to do with survival, with sexuality, with the need, the impetus, to create.
Then there is green.
The green chakra is the heart chakra, located in the chest. I do think this is a stand alone chakra, always have. I have heard that you must turn your energy consciously to wind up sitting just right, and looking the right way, out of your heart. I think there is something to be said for that. A change of heart, a turn of heart, there it is, right there. The heart changes everything.
And then there are the higher centers, that which is above the main physical vehicle. Blue, Indigo and Violet, the head and crown chakras, the door to someplace else, right?
The chakras we need to know and understand for this discussion are the base/root/red chakra and the throat/expressive/blue chakra.
Red and blue.
The agreement was struck a long time ago, and it is an experiment in creativity, I think.
What would happen if a gender leans more naturally to force, and becomes overwhelmingly fascinated in what their force can do? The men will stay below the heart, with the heart as an option for those who wish to work. And women will have access to the first three, plus the heart, but they agree to keep their throats blocked?
How about that?
Men will have a real hard time doing anything but mocking love, and women will be unable to direct this mocking, unfeeling brute force of nature.
As a man, you notice that even if you are wrong, you can often get a pass. There is an unspoken and unwritten understanding. Men are legitimate. Women are not.
This can only happen in a system where the true wisdom keepers have chosen to keep their traps shut.
Now, this next part is intimate, and if you are offended, then I can completely understand that. However, being offended by something which is never discussed due to shame or fear or low self worth, I think those days are behind me. It think it’s time to start talking and just never stop, actually.
If you are a woman, read along. If you are a man, read along. But do so understanding this. I came in completely flummoxed about sexuality, and this was not abetted with what I became aware of as a girl and young woman. But, I had a heart full of love, and I knew that being physical with others meant that I was fitting in, so I did it.
I had boyfriends, and I had girlfriends. I have had wonderfully supportive and erotic relationships with both sexes. Ever since I was twelve, I realized, I will only be falling in love with what inhabits the body, and the body is good, each kind is good, so all love is good.
Yeah. That one hasn’t gone over that well. But it’s neither here nor there. I say it because you are speaking to a formerly married woman, and quite a naughty lesbian Lothario in my day. I know men. I know women. And I think it’s about time to discuss what I have observed.
I have been confronted with an image in meditation, and it is a wonderful one. It is that moment right before a man enters a woman. Right before.
When, in this moment, I am one way. While it is happening, I will be a brand new way, something I cannot be on my own. And then, afterward, I won’t be what I was before it all happened.
The moment before. That is a powerful moment. Let’s just stay there for a little bit.
An erect male member is just another piece of really cool biology. It is a little miracle. But think about it. I think men have, as a group, and there are exceptions (I know this because I have encountered them), but overall, I think that this maleness, this imperative to merge, to be inside something or someone, it is the essence of the reason for the biology.
I do not believe in form without function. Yes, the body has a few filigrees, but even they are mystical and highly coded. Nope. The function informs the form. The function of male, it is to enter. It is to go forth. It is to assert. Explore. Claim territory, is how it’s been interpreted.
And a female, she is wet. Men are dry. You’ve noticed that, right? Men seek permission. Women grant it. I mean, that’s just biology talking. Sure, permission need not be granted, and we have ample proof of that, but where is the respect in that behavior? Self-respect, respect for the other. It is lacking.
You don’t have to experience rape to know that the power gradient is all fucked up. Women lie there and men poke. Women do not 100% of the time achieve climax. Men don’t either, but at such alarmingly disparate rates, it begs inquiry.
We all know unconscious men, men who walk through their personal life as a modern-day Napoleon. Just taking what they want and charming the locals, but no one ever gets that this is just a dude who feels more of an imperative to conquer, to explore, than others, and no one has ever thought of telling him no. Those who do fare poorly. And that is the way of the world. Might makes right, he who has the gold gets to make the rules.
But the impetus to dominate, to take, to know, to explore and experience and have sensations, when is that coupled with the exalted anymore?
I will give you an example which has nothing to do with the swimsuit area.
Men have been in charge of science. And these guys have decided that the foundation, nay, the very bedrock to scientific exploration is REPRODUCIBILITY.
Do you understand the implications of this worldview, this mindset? If the designated deep thinker in the crowd will only acknowledge as real that which he can reproduce, we’re all in a whole lot of trouble, because that is just not how reality is created.
Reproducibility has to do with intent, and often, in these endeavors, group intent, social and mass consciousness. I know that may seem grandiose, but let’s say there is a guy working in a lab on a cure for cancer. What he does not know is that all experiments are dependent on something he is unwilling to consider: individual and mass spiritual intent.
You cannot reproduce your intent if you are not conscious of your intent.
You cannot be conscious of your intent if you haven’t even done the turn. If you cannot see through soft eyes, loving eyes, forgiving eyes, accepting and allowing and permissive eyes, if you are not willing to imagine beyond that which you can reproduce, what end is being promoted?
There is a drive, an impetus, that comes with male power. And this maleness, it is power, there is no doubt about it.
But, getting back to our pair enflagrante, the woman is poised to accept this next experience into her body. Into her physical body. And then it arrives, and she is more than she was, in a way that a man, even a man who explores all pleasure centers, will just never really get this lifetime (until the veil gets taken down.)
So, guys, just trust me on this one.
For a really really long time, this combination of raw sexual power, the need to build and project and create and be external, it has not been informed.
It has, this great thrusting need to explore and know, it has entered every holy place, every sanctuary, every place of rest. It implores us to compare, to contrast, to compete and to comply.
See, that sort of force really does not need its partner to comply. Not really.
And there is a world of difference between compliance and exuberant co-creation.
If you are a woman and you have had an orgasm each and every time you have had sex, then I applaud and magnify your name. You would be the first, I think. What do you think it says about the whole set-up, just the whole thing, that, on average, one group is fully sexually satisfied with every encounter, and the other group is fully sexually satisfied far less often?
Women, how many times, when we have felt not great, or have felt unappreciated or sad or tired or unseen, how many of us have complied? Knowing we may actually feel worse later, but the other person will be satisfied, and that’ll make things easier for everyone. “It is the least that I can do.”
Have we really gotten that unbalanced as a people, as couples?
Now, I am not saying all men are rapists and all women are Madonnas. HARDLY! Men, well, I have been male more often than female, and I identify much more readily to male energy than female. I just understand it.
But I don’t understand how it has been turned into a force that thinks it can direct, that thinks that directing is within the scope of its current capabilities.
What if the agreement starts to unravel?
What if, one by one, the woman, the goddess, within each and every one of us, men and women alike, stirs, takes a look around, and decides this is just not tenable?
Do you think any of this nonsense, the police state, legislating sexuality, demanding servitude to horrible, heartbreaking and humiliating work just to earn a buck, do you think, if the true female, our very own protective and heart-on-fire-with-love-for-us MOM within us got even a hint of what we were doing, do you think she’d keep putting up with it?
Did you ever have a mom or aunt or grandma who understood you? You probably thought she was some sort of saint, because you did something totally unforgivable, and you sat in a heap, disappointed in yourself and what you’ve done, and along comes this woman.
And her arms envelope you, and her lips tickle your cheek, and she tells a little joke and makes you smile. Then she looks into your eyes and you know, you know, you are already forgiven, the thing you thought was unforgivable is not even around anymore, and it you are then relieved and happy that there never really was anything to despair over.
That’s mom. That’s woman. That’s female.
It is the force that makes you do laundry and cook and clean and work and give until it doesn’t seem possible to do more, but you know that someone else’s reality, their happiness, can turn on what you do. And you do it carefully and lovingly, knowing that this great act of love will most likely go unacknowledged, but never unappreciated, and none of that stuff matters anyway. It’s what a loving person would do, so you do it.
That is woman.
And that woman has been missing. In the bedroom, she does not direct her partner. That great power that swells and overtakes her, and she does not tell it what would make her experience of it a good one, a great one. She does not speak, because she is afraid. If she did, it might go away.
This power is so connected to her own survival, her own base chakra system, that she has no choice, she tells herself, so yet again, the direction that is so needed, so necessary for the male’s integrity, is whispered or not said at all. The male does what he feels is right, which is what is good for him, which is only natural, rally, because the person he has been trying to communicate with just will not.
The male believes that what he is doing is good, because no one tells him differently. And, in many cases, let’s be honest, they have made it actually impossible to have an opinion. Try to sue a big bank. Try to sue Monsanto. See how far you get.
If I have the ability to effect tangible change through my efforts, my thinking and words and deeds, and no one tells me that what I am doing is uncomfortable for them, or wrong for them, or even disrespectful to them, and what I am doing is apparently constructive and no one seems to be getting hurt, everyone seems to be prospering, why would I change?
Why would I not do everything in my considerable power to quiet that uppity director?
I would only consider changing if there was a reason, a benefit to doing so. If I am well-wrapped, I will use this power, this force, for good.
But how can I know good if the people I am acting for and toward will not tell me how they feel?
Over many, many lifetimes, I suppose what I would begin to feel is untouchable. Inviolate. Entitled. Privileged. And then, along comes 2013.
If there are no checks, how do we get back to sanity? If women speak up and are mocked and ridiculed or beaten and violated, what then?
I think speaking up is part of the answer. Just de-sexing the whole thing. De-mystifying this power ratio, this weird slidy relationship we have with one another. Seeing each man as a reincarnated woman, each woman as a reincarnated man.
I please hope you know, or have allowed yourself to ponder the truth that, anymore, there are many women who have caught this bug, who are really hooked into the first three chakras. But they are tricky folk, because they often have the perspective that living in your heart produces.
But to fit into this world of reproducibility and proof and reason and cause/effect, that takes its toll on the most starry-eyed girl. There are plenty of men who are much more aligned to female energy than male. These pioneers deserve a whole lot of thanks. As do our militantly gay brothers and sisters.
But here’s the thing. Don’t you think it is about time that we just drop the agreement?
I know I am in a girl suit for a reason. I know I would have been too much to handle as a man, too pushy, too arrogant, too sure of myself. I know that. And I know now that to function in balance, our power needs to have the willingness and the ability to be directed, and power can only be directed when the director actually speaks.
What if, at the end of this experiment, we come to the conclusion that imbalance is not in good alignment?
It seems a little obvious.
I think it goes deeper.
I think this whole thing is something we set up for completion, for integration.
I would like to think that what we are creating is a planet of men and women, boys and girls, all functioning from their totality. Their own power has been realized, and their own direction has been heard, trusted and rewarded. Everyone walks around loving men and loving women, because we have conscious awareness that we have been all.
And it is deeper, it’s not just, “Ooh, I wore a boy suit last life, so I totally get being male.” No. Not at all.
It is, each man and woman, knowing where their center is, knowing it is inside and not outside of them. They know that they, their own consciousness, is co-creating this reality in this now. They create interactions which are humorous and graceful and exalted, comforting and expansive and forgiving. Each acts out of impeccable integrity which answers to only one authority, the self.
We have learned how to trust ourselves, because we have learned to be kind and gentle, how to resolve our conflicts so that everyone grows. Our fellow traveling companions have learned that they can make discernment based on their own awarenesses, but they cannot really make choices for another.
The raw power we see poised at the gates of paradise, a weary traveler just wanting surcease can finally say so. Each gives harbor and encouragement and love to the other. Everyone knows they are already intact, already whole, already secure.
This agreement, I think it is true, and it can be realized by knowing what we agreed to.
I envision a time when I will be a happy grandma sort, I am coming into her, and I will be joined by my mate. I don’t know and don’t really care the gender, although I think this last relationship, the one built for endurance and the last leg of this journey, will be with a man.
I am uncertain how to recapture those down and dirty, really raw, do it so intensely there’s blood on the walls sort of feeling states in this new awareness. Sexuality in this new energy is much different. I know it can be really really beautiful and mind blowing and transcendental. I know that.
But how is it translated in daily life for me? Is there a shaman out there for me? Is there someone who has the answers to the riddles I’ve cooked up, someone who will be able to tell me in one word that they are from the same neighborhood as me.
I am happy to socialize with anybody, any religion, and any awareness level. Really. I do it twelve hours at a time at work. I can hold my own, believe me.
But, in my private moments, when I am dressed without a bra and my hair is greasy, is it possible to know the sort of love which breaks every barrier, and can help me remember I am beautiful? I will settle for nothing less in my home. And I hope he’s out there. I had begun to have my doubts.
I think I would like to know life as a powerful, directed and benevolent force of nature. I want to move mountains, in accordance with how I have heard the mountain would like to be moved, not because I can.
And, by my side, I want someone who loves that I have this desire, though his is different. There is plenty of time, plenty of space, plenty of opportunity, and, for once, plenty of peace and love to simply be, and to do only when it is in harmony with the All.
I conclude by telling you this: I know that my sexuality has been disordered this lifetime. I have not been able to find much peace around people. I haven’t made that a secret. But, see, I have tried. I have been on sabbatical since 2003, this is true, and just like any good shaman or priest, becoming purified has been a good thing. But sexuality, you can’t get away from it. It is just one of the ground rules. One of the dualities.
And I think that is what is going on, one by one, our polar opposites, our dual poles, they are being catalyzed, they are coming together and creating something brand new, something never known before. This male and female experiment, at the end of it, I think what awaits us is a big huge release, a big surprise, and then lots of family feelings. I know that sex is good. It is a lot more than that, and its time has come, in a brand new way.
I think if each of us just decided to stand in our own power, without fear, with gratitude and confidence and excitement, and then we directed it, ourselves, nothing would be impossible, not even declaring this silly war of the sexes over.