An engaging, magical and personal talk about many topics, including some very esoteric information on reality creation, free will, and unconditional love.
An engaging, magical and personal talk about many topics, including some very esoteric information on reality creation, free will, and unconditional love.
Deeply Awake CHANNEL — Evidence Of Things Unseen 4-26-14 By Kathy Vik
And so we begin by explaining some of the shifts which have recently occurred for many, and to explain how this shift has impacted the channel and this project.
We tell you now that tectonic movement has occurred of which you are aware but vibrationally, as individual entities and a mass consciousness.
These shifts have produced and will continue to produce fundamental alternations in most pursuits of daily life, and more to the point, how daily life is henceforth perceived by many of you.
We have allowed the channel to catch up, so to speak, and she is in agreement with this fundamental alteration we have been presenting to her incrementally for some time.
We bring up the personal to point out this is not personal at all, and far from holding onto such changes and shifts, speaking of them is far more imperative at this time.
This channel agreed long ago to play the fool, in many respects, and she is comfortable in this role. And this is a shift many of you also are aware of.
The wisest of you have had the most foolish of lives, have you not? Many of you have extricated yourselves from ruin more than once, and are more than aware of your so-called flaws in character.
And many of you are coming to see that having done foolish things, and having had foolish thoughts about your fellow travelers, your existence and purpose, nature and space, this has taught you more than any amount of preaching from a mound of sand could.
Is not the walk of a master to guide and encourage, and to see worth in that which is understood as worthless? A master must soften worthlessness, desolation, despair. And in the end, is not the master’s walk one of gentleness, wisdom, clarity and stillness?
One often think of these terms, in your culture, and we wish to encourage the idea that a master’s walk is one of peace, however, we wish to remind all who read and follow along that masters are made in cauldrons of discontent, and in times of fundamental shifts in consciousness.
We wish to show you in the most concrete terms, using simple language, the truth of it: that you are a spiritual entity who is having a physical experience, and not the reverse. We gave this to the channel, and she felt the frequencies each state holds. It is important to find these tracers, these feeling states, and identify them, for reference and direction, as you make your way quantum reality.
We wish to clarify that there has been a distinct and wholly artificial barrier between channeler and the channeled. There is a belief that channeled information for all must not contain that which is personal.
We refer, for instance, to the Seth material, footnotes regarding the kitty cat and house hunting all in italics. Many channelers do not, will not, discuss self. We wish to soften this thinking, as continuing this separation places many at a disadvantage, primarily due to frequential dissonance which can no longer be maintained within some vehicles.
We are here to tell you that blending, melding, merging, coupling, integrating, this is the way of it, and far from being suspected of charlatanism, you may encounter more and more channelers who are finally allowing personal as parable, as connector, as bridge. This comes from, of course, elevating the human to more spiritual terms, and feeling as if the spiritual is more tangible, of course.
We wish to have you understand that being human is far from an inferior state. It saddens, slows, things, to think this way, and is the result of DNA calibration, so to speak. Its release from your countenance may take practice, this we tell you to encourage you, asking you to not give up, and to keep on with the marriage afoot.
To this end we wish to announce that, with great celebration and permission, of course, the channel now understands that this book is to be a channeled one. She was not aware of it, and had misunderstood, initially.
She understood at first that the new volume now begun would be a dance between channeled information and essay. How surprised she was to finally understand this was a misinterpretation, an understandable one, for what was about to take place!
Dear reader, dear listener, dear shining one, understand that the shifts upon you are shifts which you have long anticipated and contracted for, in that, you wanted this, you are made for this time, and have skills for this transition many do not possess. And so, in role of helper and friend, you may now begin to guide others safely home knowingly and cooperatively, as they wish.
One cannot do this work effectively if one is tied to outcome, which means that one must be in complete abandonment of a desire to change another.
All systems are made of individuals, and this is sometimes forgotten. There is an overlay, a sort of glamor, that has been placed within mass thinking, and this is changing, no doubt of it.
There is the creator and the creation, and it is this that has been clarified in recent days. As such, many are beginning to see their reality as more powerful than they, more than ever before, while some are smiling, feet up, finally comfortable. And why is this?
We have explained that an interplay exists that is outside your perceptual equipment, so to speak, although this has begun to change as well. With too great an identification creator to created, the creator loses its awareness of an essential function of daily human life: integrity.
Creation becomes the all, and what better symbol to have for this construct but money. Ah, it is a beautiful set up, is it not?
And now, the shift begins. We tell you, can you not feel it, a generalized sense of gratitude, of home, of peace, within your skin, regardless of circumstance? Has it not been coming to you in waves from time to time? We told you of doorways recently. Understand these celestial events have left the doorways open. Wide open, you see. No longer a crack or a slit of light is perceived. No. Your equipment can pick up more now.
And now you are beginning to understand that perceiver is not perceived, and yet, in this very curious light, you are beginning to truly sense, for the first time, that what has been created is conscious, has life and meaning, is significant, and, very curiously, seems to be asking you to bless it.
As such, many then learn that it is mindfulness, thoughtfulness, simplicity and warmth are vibrations of personal integrity. With these as your metrics, can you not take comfort, at the end of a day perhaps filled with horrible conflicts, that yours perhaps was the role of consoler, of brotherhood, sisterhood, family, standing there in line, sitting at your desk, emptying the trash, being jostled and bumped as you sometimes might be.
That creator and creation are not the same is fundamental and obvious, and yet, there are deeper paradoxes at play here. The creation stands as a conscious entity, so to speak. As creator, are you pleased with your work?
Does the feeling tone of your creation please you, and will your creation go on to ease others’ ways? These are questions it is more than legitimate to ask, and we wish to add to this esoterica how things have come to be different, easier, we tell you, easier still.
We wish to make it easier.
Do you believe that things happen by accident, or purposefully? And how much of the time, to what percentage, would you say, are things accidents and are things purposeful?
We ask you to answer honestly, after contemplation. What is your answer? And is it possible that the answer is just one way or the other?
If that is so, then if you believe in the accidental, can we not tell you that you are missing out on magic? And for those who believe events are purposeful, we ask you, what is the end game of it all, then?
Why would daily life events be purposeful, and yet still one encounters that which is unpleasant, untenable, intolerable?
We wonder this too, since it is you who are creating your experience. What is it that you have decided is untenable, the intolerable, the unpleasant? This is how to start.
Why would such an experience be in your awareness? What could be a logical, benevolent answer?
The untenable, the intolerable, the unpleasant, they are backdrops, they are contrasts, they are grand splashes of color on the portrait of humankind.
If one’s creation is unpleasant, intolerable or untenable, does it not follow that sooner or later, the creator will come to accept they could create with a different palette? And perhaps this realization could only come at the end of a grand and bloody, conflicted and angry age of consciousness?
We urge you to turn away from thinking in “Us” and “Them” terms, when it comes to your fellow creators. This is, after all, a stance of arrogance and vanity, is it not? When was the last time you enjoyed having someone at the office tell you you were doing a task, your task, wrong. Did you enjoy it? Did it help you to feel joyful, confident or soothed?
If not, please, we ask, refrain from such behavior as the plates shift, the plates of human consciousness, we pray.
Creators you all are, and this is the cosmic paradox of the age, we submit. As a creator, would you prefer to do it plugged into that which produces peace, or would you prefer to paint from the palette of disregard, unthinking, isolation and separation? As a creator, is the choice not up to you?
And so, we will continue to discuss the matters at hand in this manner. We close by telling you of our purpose in communicating now.
This channel is well suited for the exploration of consciousness, psyche and physics, many of whose tenets she knows have not yet been discovered. As such, she is a blend of novice and ancient, as many of you are. We state these facts to explain not her countenance but ours.
She has asked us repeatedly for our name, and it is as yet unspoken. We have told her “Magartha” is important, but you see, that is not our energy.
She understands it is after sending this missive out that our name will be given to her. She had a meditation which featured her dearest friend, and a favored dreamscape, in preparation, and we allow her this desire for ceremony.
We are interested in the weaving together of esoterics and the daily walk, you see. This is our specialty, and this is why we groomed a fool, someone who has been last much, someone who knows humility.
Someone who has made grave errors in judgment, had grand failures, done destructive and misguided things, who has been treated poorly by invitation, choice and circumstance. Someone such as this understands how wrong they can be, you see, and is slow to trust.
This is a lush environment in which to practice our art, which is that of the healing of the heart. It is not the psyche which is in pieces, shutdown, dormant. It is the heart.
The high heart of humanity awakens, and we humbly give our deepest respect and love to those who have failed at the human game, or felt lost, or been despondent. In this despair and confusion was your call, your choice, your push toward the collective you. The system of support and benevolence which is immensely cooperative and stunningly loving. That its existence is in question is the heartbeat of this age.
As creator, use your integrity, your discernment, and we pray, your humor, in all things. We remind you that light itself is light, and we wish for hearts to become this way. It is possible, you see, when you begin to realise that what is in front of you, behind you and within you is well known, loved by, created, by you.
Allow us to leave you with this understanding. We are you, you us, and what separates us is your biology.
Understand, we pray, this paradox.
Your very biology is rooted in and springs from the unseen forces of creation itself.
Can you follow the logic this day, and come to a peace with the truth that you have created what is around you, and it is crying out for your recognition and acceptance?
That which you feel is ugly or repugnant or even, shall we say it, unacceptable, these abandoned creations will keep knocking until you invite them to dine with you. They are tame creatures and will not walk through this doorway without invitation, you see.
Love that which you have created, understanding that any dissonance or discomfort you feel can be ameliorated not only with energetics but with simple friendliness.
We realize we are asking you to love the unlovable, to find peace within great chaos, to feel at home regardless of where you lay your head.
Honor your humanness, and understand your power. The more you allow this thinking to trickle into the cracks of your group thinking, the easier it will be for your seedlings to grow.
Deeply Awake — On Channeling And Finished Business 4-18-14 By Kathy Vik
Today is a ”2” day, fitting for this message, appropriate for the discussion at hand.
This is a new book, to discuss these new times and our new freedom. I have spent a lifetime looking back, trying to make sense of it all, and now, as the fog clears, I am seeing things as they are, it feels to me, for the first time.
I’d understood at first that this new book would have a different rhythm, with channeling taking more space, a one for one deal, one essay on application, then a channeling, that sort of thing.
As I was thinking about this new format, I turned on the tv one night and channel surfed. I stumbled onto a program about the keepers of the knowledge of Ayahuasca. These mystics have, sort of as their day job, traveling to other realms and having discussions with beings, becoming knowledgeable in, basically, esoterics, but to support the clan, they are herbalists and healers. Theirs is to gather plants, treat illnesses, and dispense wisdom when they’re not in channel.
I watched that and, do you ever need to hit the pause on your clicker because something just knocked you sideways, inside?
I felt that way with this new information. The stilled image of a beautiful brown man in feathers and skin flickered in my living room as I let time stop, and let this understanding sink into me.
How much different am I from them?
How much different are you from them?
How many of us feel it is our duty, somehow, to always be pushing this internal limit we have within, always seeking, and once in a while, now more than ever, finding that which we seek.
In meditation, in trance, in prayer, while creating art, in motion, while driving. And how many of us have jobs that are well suited to a part of us we know well, in service to others, always in service to others.
It is nearly time to disregard how things used to be, but when I bring it up it is not to lament or boast. It is to remind myself of what I, what we, have all, at last, endured, outlived, outlasted.
The best example I have for this is one day last week, near the end of an energetic healing of some sort at work (it’s been intense, everybody feels it and comments on it anymore), I was in contemplation, and I could feel myself alone, in the ocean, and I could feel the proportions, and the salt, how it was affecting me, and I felt the stillness and the vastness.
I felt wet, and the bobbing, and could hear the lapping, the bobbing, the lapping. I looked up and saw thin, stringy clouds. No bird flew. Just the lapping, the color, the impossibility of this. And I smiled and laughed and inside I knew, I rejoiced in knowing, This I Understand.
I then wanted to understand more, so I felt myself the mountain I so love. I looked out on a breathtaking view, sun and valley and earth and sky, and I was an amethyst cave, glittering and knowing in ways unarticulatable but sensed, and I realized in celebration, yet again, This I Understand.
It went on, and it was graphic in its beauty and truth. And then I settled my consciousness upon the place I work, all the little dramas and all the silliness borne of misunderstanding and silly egoic constructs, and I realized, just plain as day, This I Just Don’t Understand.
I laughed again, and I celebrated again.
I let myself off the hook. I know that what I have always brought to everyone, and God bless them, to everyone I have ever worked with, is a sort of accelerant energy. This is nothing I try to do, and in fact, there were blocks of time, years, sometimes (my most miserable) when I was self-conscious, and believed myself a horrible energetic inconvenience to everyone.
I hid it, and by so doing, became a bit warped and unhappy. I am my happiest when I am around those who don’t mind being nudged now and then, and who are fearless, in some ways, because I am direct, and I try so hard not to be, but there it is.
I find myself saying and doing things at work, having these massively clever and workable and sound ideas at work, and I look at it perplexed and a little embarrassed. I really am not like that, when in my retiring mode.
I am funny, and irreverent, and I take very little seriously. Some other thing comes out of me at work, a sort of moral, serious, playful yet respectful, and very old-fashioned, very prudish person comes out, when finally allowed to just be me. I have to keep a reign on this. I find myself acting in grumpy, stick-in-the-mud ways that just surprise me. I inevitably apologize later.
Anymore, I am not really sure when I am channeling and when I am not. I see the changes for the better that people are commenting on, at work, and know there have been people who feel happy I am there, and I think that maybe these unexpected, seemingly out of character things I say and do might be channeling.
I know I prefer to be in meditation and awake, I prefer to be half in and half out, but thinking on this possibility, I am able to keep a better focus on the physical, and really enjoy it more.
However, I am often, now, taken to puzzling over the nature of matter, that matter is consciousness, and it is all very real and engrossing when we are “awake,” and there is no refuting our bodies are chemically, electromagnetically organic creations, so how is this possible.
Air and water, earth and sky have consciousness. My cells have consciousness, and it is my DNA fueling the whole experience. What is this connection point. I want to know more. And I think this as I spoon Iced Tea into a favorite patient of mine, as I do my documents for the class I am organizing, as I smoke.
But, I think this is a subject for another day. I have long had another puzzle, one which also applies to the subject matter at hand.
I know that being physical is not the only game in town. That’s pretty obvious. I mean, if you want to go the ghost route, fine. Seances, UFO’s, NWO/Illuminati stuff, angels, crystals, drumming, chanting, praying, hiking, working, there are so many ways to get there, it really just doesn’t matter how it’s done.
Much, you discover, validates the other information you are gathering, and, at least for me, it was this synthesis, fused with an internal compass, that led me to this other world.
Like you, I’m sure, I have always had the ability to focus elsewhere. I had a teacher who helped me focus this innate trance state, and verified my sight, and gave me prophecies for my life.
I thought she was great, but way, way off with my life, the events she saw when I was in my teens. All of them came to pass, except one. I’m still waiting on that one. Trance, hypnosis, guided meditation, these are things that came naturally for me, and I took to them like they were a life raft.
In a culture which relegates intuition to a female trait, and female traits are less valuable, at best, and subject to justified ridicule, at worst, how does one fit in when there is this split, this other-worldly quality, the knowing that there is more, much more, than what is in front of you?
The world did not bend, not one iota for us, usually. Sure, we have magic, many of us can play with weather and have had mysterious, amazing synchronicities in our lives, but really, it is just recently that I sense a shift in all of this.
It gets me back to this sensation I had, that I just don’t understand this. The earth, I get that. I just don’t get all the nonsense, all the self-inflicted nonsense. And yet, in my day, I have participated in all of it. But, even a taste of some of it turns the countenance sour. Speaking about another unkindly. Saying, “I hate….” Swearing. Getting angry when there is a very inconvenient and difficult change in plans. Being disappointed, and voicing that disappointment. Thinking unkind, mean thoughts or cursing people in my mind.
These things may seem innocent, but when I engage in them, my discomfort is so acute, I can hardly breathe. I am on a bed of nails until I make it right.
I had a similar experience about twenty years ago with a group called The Teachers. They had told me that there will come a time when nothing can be hidden. They admonished me to prepare for such a time by focusing on living in impeccability to self, in all honesty, deep honesty, and to find the benevolence, the story of mercy, within any happening, especially any so called tragedy.
They said there would come a time when everyone could talk to everyone, and nothing could be hidden. Institutions would fall, anything not in integrity would fall. Same message Kryon was delivering, at roughly the same time. Funny, the parallels.
But their message was deeply personal: do not live in shame. Live in alignment with yourself.
They told me there would come a time when dishonesty, telling a lie would become very uncomfortable, and then, impossible. And it did. And here it comes again, but now with behavior in a group, in real time, on the fly.
My work trauma comes from not being able to consistently practice at the highest level, in good humor, wisely, kindly. My unkindness bothers me, haunts me. Always has. It feels good to write these words, to acknowledge this process.
I wonder if I am able and willing to channel at work because I see the work as divine, and I feel so good, so pure, so happy and whole, around sick people. I feel so good. I am in heaven when I can go visit my friends in the wheelchairs. I love them like no other beings here. Even the cranky ones.
And so, in contrast with the almost otherworldly high I have when I am around my patients, I see the bitterness and small thinking of the staff, the decisions they make that self-preserve and how they hide what they are convinced are fatal flaws. I see management not being thoughtful and respectful toward the ones who are doing the job, and the workers thinking they deserve that sort of treatment. It is quite odd to me, sometimes, how we have chosen to relate to one another. And then I feel a little alien, so I get my hands dirty, do a gross job, a tedious one, and try to relate as a human being yet again.
That is what it is like for me, and this is a stress I gladly gave up for two years, when I did shift work instead, and stayed away from work groups. Is what I do a form of channeling? Is it a psychosis? Is it melding spirit and flesh during certain activities, and not being able to at others? Is it just trying to be a decent person regardless of circumstance? Does it matter a lot to you what the answer is?
I have noticed my senses have gotten more acute.
One day in a morning meeting, as all the sleepy department heads gathered around a big table, I had a thought. I eased back in my chair and realized I loved these people very very much. I thought that each of them came from homes, all decorated differently, and outside of this context, they are having other grand adventures, with other people, hobbies, children. I could feel everyone beginning to glow in my imagination, as they began to expand in love, and the light came. Everyone was glowing, big and pretty, and so in love with everything.
And then, I could feel the Teachers beside me, reminding me of what they told me long ago, “Be the open heart in the room. Just be that.” And so I leaned back a bit more, and just loved on everybody. I could feel the patterns, sense the feedback, the communicative noise that settles on us all like a blanket, some more than others, and the problematic patterns block out good, block this light, block the flow. And then I could see how that’s all this is. All of us have different patterns of communication, different expectations, based on our beliefs and experience, mostly. So much of work life is old mommy and daddy issues, mainly.
I could see this patterned, sort of darkening stuff, and heard “overlays”, as these glowing beings got more and more dense, believing more and more and more that this is it, this is all just life and death, it’s this or oblivion. I began to hear fear thoughts and sense anxieties. I could hear stuff going on in the room again.
I thought, this sort of overlay, this old thinking, the despair thinking, the disconnection with source, it lays on people and makes them act in unusual and unpredictable ways. They hold grudges on things that are odd, create and then lament chaos, and on it goes. They are growing, learning. My sister sees it too. We are in similar positions, many of us. Maybe not wiser or older, but, with this change in energy has come a lightening, a quickening, an ease, I feel.
When I was waking up full-on, a couple years ago, what really shocked the most, and still does, sometimes, though now it doesn’t sting anymore, but, people really are hesitant about being loved. They are not very accepting of it, sometimes. They don’t believe the honor, the love, the acceptance and joy I feel for them, when I feel it, sometimes. Even simple kindnesses are often turned away, invitations not accepted, the turning away, I have called it.
So it has been my task to figure out what I might be doing to make people resistant to being loved. It’s easy to self-reference. But the more I see, the more I think that each of us has blocks to this inner sanctuary, this inner love and respect and adoration and trust, from which all else flows. If we think someone else has control of our good, or can see good in us that we don’t know unless they are around, then we are perpetual victims, perpetually afraid, in lack, willing to shrink.
From self-acceptance, letting yourself off the hook, from this all good comes, but, you see, there are many different levels to this work.
The sort of self-acceptance I am talking about is the willingness to see your adversary as someone you called to you, a great teacher, a fierce warrior playacting a role you devised to give you some piece of the puzzle. This seeming enemy, a friend, in reality, pushes you, changes circumstances in your life, allows for the interplay of will and ability, love and mercy, self-acceptance and self-knowledge. And you come to see that it can be no other way: far from a source of problems, you are vital, this is your creation, you have a hand in how this goes.
Created and devised at night, and parallel to us, the manifestation, the argument or dissonance or challenge comes up, and, at least for me, now, it is in my split-second reaction that I am focusing. I am seeing the sloppiness, I am seeing my momentary blips into self-pity, rage, embarrassment, futility, and even though these were states I used to occupy full time, now, just those blips are uncomfortable. Is this channeling? Is this a meld? I think it’s just being entangled
As I saw these beautiful glowing beings I work with and saw their patterning, their leanings and usual set of assumptions, but this is hard to language, everything was in a state of acceptance and awe and benevolence, mind you. Without a speck of judgment. It was a relief to not feel it. The stuff I called darkness earlier is more like patterns, shadow and light, duality, maybe.
I understood that each of is this glowing stuff, this diamond brilliance, and we choose these patterns, to challenge them, to finish the business at hand and get on to loving and trusting, creating and playing, having thrown out the whole concept of risk. There is only risk when there are critics in the room.
So, I’m seeing this light show, looking like I need coffee, probably, and no one knows. I am just another cog in a rickety machine, it appears to some, long in tooth and grey in hair. This is one more way those tribesmen have it over me, personally, at this stage of my development. They have each other to hug and pat on the back and scout with while for roots.
But, we have the internet. I have this writing. And I have you. And you, is it not clear, is it not obvious, you have me. I am in your hands. I offer my self to you in all honor, for this work I feel compelled to do is meaningless somehow without you there, reading it. Thank you, now and evermore. You are an ever friend, though we never meet.
So, that morning, I am hearing, “Be the open heart in the room,” and it dawns on me, there is going to come a day when I’m not the only one doing it. Won’t that be a treat!
That afternoon, one of the nurses gave me a copy of the Buddhist chants she contemplates while on smoke breaks. We exchanged deep thoughts, and agreed it would be good to go to Kirtan together.
This is the humor of the universe, chuckling and shaking its wise, mischievous, gentle head. You are not alone, silly girl. Look around you. Stop that nonsense, and go have some fun!
I know I am just one of an army of individuals going through similar things. It has never been mine to take to the page and tell you what I think in anything but personal terms. To me, it seemed the only honest way to proceed. I have used my waking life, friends and work and family, home and financial life, all labs, of sorts, When I go off, intrepid, testing out the hypotheses I get when in contemplation, while driving, while showering.
I am seeing in the daily lab of my physical life which things, which thoughts, constructs, belief structures, hold up, and which fall away. It has been a speedy process here lately, and I like how things are integrating. Everything is a little less slippery and elusive now.
Somehow seeing those tribesmen, seeing that their task is to help the villagers heal, in exchange for an uncompromising freedom, I felt a recognition and a settling of purpose. That is exactly what I have.
To close, I will tell you that I picked up a book on Philosophy. I had an amazing experience in college, when I was tasked with learning about Aristotle. I delivered what, in retrospect, was a surprising and complex work on Aristotelian thought in literature and how this relates to universal human experience, and how the two validate each other.
I had a fugue while researching and writing, a delicious one, and I have no doubt that I was touching on old lives, dear times, expansive times.
Reading this picture book on philosophy is like reading about brothers. I don’t feel alien at all when I read about these guys, walking around arguing about the meaning of life, thinking up questions others just don’t.
Watching Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s Cosmos is another such experience. It’s as if my heart just eases, I can breathe more deeply, and all this calm floods me. Ahhh, something I understand. I can always hear, in the background, especially with Cosmos “You’re not going far enough. Go farther. Go farther,” and watching traditional science shows fills me with a weird, low grade soul panic, a frustration that they just don’t have it yet, but still, he’ll hit just the right note, say just the right thing,and I am flying, free, remembering the truth of things, my own narrator filling in on what they don’t yet know.
This life is a spiral, and I am encountering now what I encountered 20 years ago, but so vastly different, here in a different capacity now, but here as a student of self. I discovered Sheldrake then, meditation, channeling that was very pure, integration of spirit in daily life. And it is all happening again. It’s nice to be on familiar ground again.
I have laid to rest the worries I once had about The Others. This is a planet of free choice. Everyone can do as they see fit. I will do as I see fit. I am no one’s keeper, and no one is my keeper. Not anymore.
I know economic madness still reigns, we all know we put pervs and thieves and murderers in charge, and that we have really fouled our nest, but, so what, now that the lights have come up, we can clean house that much better.
I see this as a time of fine-tuning, of completed business, of review and closure and completion. Timelines closing, by choice, by synchronicity’s mystical hand, a hand we still fail to recognize as our own.
I know there are things I can access through channeling that I do not have access to when here, like this, at the keyboard. I really did not know its validity, at least for me, until I re-read “No Longer Applicable” the other day.
It was just uncanny.
Future self, higher self, whatever it is called, I like going there, I trust the messages, at least for me, and I think it is a valid pursuit, since channeling quickens the pace of physical reality, and quickens the synchronicity. It is fun to chronicle it all. It’s sort of my job.
And so, yes, I will do a one for one thing, and the next entry will be a channeling. Who knows about what. If you have questions or topics you want to know about, PM or email me.
All blessings on, in, and through you this day and every day.
Deeply Awake — Bring It On 4-12-14 By Kathy Vik
This is the last entry for Ascension Field Notes. I will be starting a new project entitled, Deeply Awake: Entangled.
Deeply Awake is a living journal of my life and adventures in consciousness as I awakened. My first official entry was March of 2012, and I ended on Halloween, 2013.
I used November of 2013 to write a novel, Patrick Hears Voices. It is a shitty first draft, but a grand idea which will morph as time passes.
Since December, I have been writing Ascension Field Notes. Although perhaps shorter, it is more dense. I guess you could say AFN has more girth.
But things have yet again shifted. I need to branch out. I need to learn more. There is much to discuss that is without the realm of the personal. Of course, as within, so without, but as my window has cleared, I see now that there are other things to explore.
I will be channeling more, in Deeply Awake: Entangled. I am especially looking forward to this. I am told it will be a one for one sort of thing.
I hope I can keep up the pace.
I have earned a sense of certainty. I am always learning, but I no longer hold doubt, as I now have the evidence I needed, the healing I required, and the hope I was looking for.
There has been, for me, and I know I am not alone, a tremendous clarification, a clearing, which has occurred lately. I want to tell you how I got here, because that’s what I do, but first I want to talk about what I think is happening.
Could it be that the energetic, magnetic, plasmic bath we sit in is more permeable to Source now? That this bath is the biochemical, magnetic, organic vehicle which is created by our life force, by means of our DNA? And could this bath be like a “real” bath, something one can ignore, or enjoy, add bubbles or scent to, or make clear, but that this bath is a fact of life, though we can change its attributes?
Kryon gave a marvelous analogy one time. He asked the awakening ones to consider their function to be similar to a highly concentrated flavoring or coloring. He said, there do not have to be many of you in any one place, because your signature is like that one drop that is added to a gallon of water. It changes the water.
Each molecule is changed as a result of the addition, the attributes of the liquid in the pitcher change, and yet, not a whole lot was done, and the drop remains itself, individual but dispersed. Just a drop. Just a drop.
I have crested things. Last night, around four, I awakened to celebration. My arms were outstretched, I was on my back, and I understood that I had completed the two lessons I’d seen were outstanding. It’s over. I understood. The hardest part is over.
I’d drilled down, two years ago, first waking up, that my biggest lessons, my unfinished business, was that of my relationship with money, and my relationship with my family. I diligently applied myself to all the ancillaries and corollaries, but these spun off the hub of matters: survival/worth/faith and dissonance/mismatches in interpersonal energetics. Do I belong here, and can I have a different reality than the others and survive?
My sister Mary watched on as I spun on my bed of nails. She has been my rod and my staff, in many ways, and the pebble in my shoe sometimes, without even knowing it. She fulfilled her role beyond all hopes.
What I have discovered lies beyond, or ties together, these themes, of survival, in an often quite hostile interpersonal world. I have come to understand that the adjective is the crux of the thing. It is not a hostile world. Not anymore.
I was shown in living technicolor that I had had a hand in every form of interpersonal dissonance I have been party to. I realized all at once, by the end of the week, how I had contributed to the dissonance everyone was feeling. I was tired of feeling the building so wobbly, and saw how I’d been feeding it, how I’d protected and coddled it, sometimes, and how I had created my own, and other people’s, problems.
It was a moment of brilliance. I had while walking down the nursing home hallway. I got it. I’d created any problems I was having, and they were just each of them opportunities to come together, to be humble and kind, to ask forgiveness, show courage and goodwill, to demonstrate how someone changes their countenance and builds.
I perhaps even made these messes so that I could clean them up. Who knows? But things shifted after that. I have been sleeping better.
Lying on my bed, spreadeagled and transfixed in the predawn hours this morning, I felt like the condensed version of what I experienced in the parking lot of Trader Joe’s yesterday, so that’s where we go next.
I’d just seen my sister. My son commented off-handedely recently that he is glad we are getting along again. I agree. We have always loved and recognized each other, but as I was going through this final stage of reflection and growth, she became, in some ways, a symbol for all I had experienced in our odd little family.
Mom is gone, Dad is unable, so Mary stepped up and allowed me to project and push against and learn from, in this special time. I am ever grateful.
As an emotional and soulic stand-in for all my old mommy issues, Mary stood, just as solidly as she always does, steady and beautiful as the trees I am in love with. Understanding we are growing even now, and what we have thought and done has fashioned our bark, made our habitus, Mary has always seemed to gain strength from the truth of it, that we are far more than the bark others judge us as being. It took me, in many ways, a long time to catch up to her.
This change between us has come about slowly, but has solidified and can now be taken as more than a flook, for the last several months. We have, I think, changed each other. She has walked through this awakening process with me, sometimes rather reluctantly, but she did come along for the ride. She did incredible work on her own issues, and has lived a full and meaningful life. She forgave my emotional incontinence, my odd statements and more spaced-out, channelly moments. And now, here, at the end of it, yesterday, me feeling peace and completion, dropping by to give her her birthday gift, she hands me a gift.
A yellow magnet, with the words, “You’re a good sister. That’s all.”
I have craved this, and she didn’t even know it. It moved me so.
You know that really good feeling you get when you’re playing a mind-blowing game of pinball, and you and the ball have merged, and you can feel all the movement and fluidity and geometry, and then, unh, the ball hits a hole just perfectly , just right, and there’s that moment, just a moment, really, of perfection, when everything has stopped, yet you know the game is still going, and you can feel the stillness and the motion, just because the ball sunk so satisfyingly in that hole. And have you ever just sort of sat and expanded the moment, and enjoyed its awesome beauty?
Have you ever done that?
Well, I have. A lot. And reading that magnet felt just like that pinball sensation. Just that UNH feeling, when you know there’s more, but, holy shit, you just won. It’s all just easy street now. And you’re in the zone, so you know easy street is going to be fun. That is how I felt, her handing me that.
This came off the heels of a miracle at work. I am talking full on miracles here, guys. I’d just come from a meeting where I presented radical new ideas, and was told I was valued and supported. They will, soon enough, actually prove their words, or I’ll float away, but for this moment in time, I felt a satisfaction, a surprising settled feeling. Pride and assurance and faith and reward. This was my countenance walking into Mary’s house.
Now I need to tell you what I learned in the parking lot. I drove from Mary’s to Trader Joe’s. Driving the eighth of a block there, I reflected on the conversation we’d just had. It was about watching our kids become themselves, make their choices in who they are going to fashion themselves into. As I parked the car, I could feel it coming on. I understood things I must convey now.
I think that in the past, when either of us saw our kids, or anyone, going down a path that appeared to be counter-productive or not in their best interest, it was easy to judge. It was easy to worry and to fear and to judge. We were taught by someone who could afford to judge. Cloistered but aware, and without sin.
I come to from a group of very clear thinkers, able to discern things. That we were each hobbled with emotional and behavioral oddities was just part of the package. Let me explain.
Mary and I are highly intelligent, verbal, we are both writers, unconventional, creative, anti-establishment (or at least thoroughly weary of authority), but we are vastly different in temperament and approach. I think she does linearity much better than I, and because it is a value to her to do it well, she has not been too thrilled with my not being able to get a grip on things very well, at times.
She’s been patient as I have done the weird things I have done, and has never fully abandoned me, but she and I had decades of not being emotionally close. A sense of competition always seemed to invade, and sometimes just a world-weariness. It was not easy, what we were a party to, and we are just average Americans, you see. The majority of us came from the archetypal, dysfunctional homes. With folks doing just the best they could. And this is how we proceed.
In the parking lot, I saw that in our family, each of us had chosen behaviors, lessons, wounds, and these seemed to shape things for us. Odd misunderstandings, they appear to me now, but at the time, each of us came in bent and twisted a bit, unable to do or think or say certain things, with allowances as large as the sky in other realms. Each of us allowed our weirdness. That was rule number one, always.
I thought about my sister, and how she has shown nothing but support and kindness and encouragement and courage and strength to her children. How she has done, with her own turbulence, what our mom had done for us. It was so beautiful to witness and feel and honor. I felt reverence and awe and gratitude and pride.
It would be dishonoring to disbelieve these assessments, I think, especially of my mom. Read on. In the 39 years she was with me, I never saw her do anything unkind to anyone, even when they really really deserved it. She never “got back” at people. She had opinions, but they were based in fact, sound, deep logic, and empathic. She had amazing discernment.
In our tiny family, often, she was discounted, seen as nothing, she was devalued and made fun of, and she never fought back. I was mad at her for ages over that. She never defended herself. Ever. Who lives like that? Who do you know like that, I ask you.
Crying now, transfixed now, understanding now that hers was a placeholder function, I turned off the engine and began to cry. That she was distant and did not feed me emotionally I always resented her for, but can see now, had she not, oh had she not, I wouldn’t have this compulsion to connect.
Can you see the beauty of this? Can you? I so hope you can. She was not able to have intimacy like I could, or at least she did not show it to me, except a couple of times near the end of her life. And it made me into what I needed to be. It was a beautiful sacrifice and agreement. It’s ok now.
I could feel Grandpa on the Farm then. Mary and I had different relationships with key players, and did not feel, perhaps, what I did with my Grandpa.
I have never loved anyone like I love him, and it matters not to me if I ever meet anyone who has within them this love, it just doesn’t matter, because I have had it. I know what it feels like, and there is no need to re-live or re-create or replicate it. It rides with me, always, now, and always has, really. I know what it is to be seen and to see another and to be seen and known as perfect and ancient and by being seen by this one, and seen as such, you now you are looking into the eyes of God. And you know the other as self.
He is my placceholder, he has the energy of a whale, ancient, beautiful, simple, love itself Love itself. That’s my Grandpa on the farm.
I thought then on my mentor Marge, who schooled me, with The Teacher’s help, in the ways of interacting with humans, engaging fairly and purely in business. Being clear, holding integrity, being wise. She is my template for a functional human being at work. She showed me how to toughen up. How to say no, when and why, and that it is not only justified at times, but necessary.
She showed me how to defend myself cleverly and at no cost to anyone, how to practice with skill and honesty and a sense of humor. She’s a yogi, a guru, a saint. I knew it the first time I shook her hand, and she never, not once, let me down. Not once. Who can you say that about in your life?
And so I see, sitting in my car, crying, how it is that I might also serve this function for others, and then more and more, my awareness populated with people I struggle with or adore. I see the lessons, the dances we are doing and see, they are just that. Just lessons.
I understood that it might be time to stop screaming. Let me explain.
When I tell you of Grandpa on the Farm, I am giving you a wee child’s memories. Those brief slices of heaven that pulled me through dark times, they were not taking into account what he had to function with. He lived with a full on crazy person, twisted, dark, mean as a snake, irrational, hilariously nuts, but just so mean. Grandma of the Farm’s whole clan was sideways, with every darkness and self-inflicted crazy known to man. It was desperate and dark and scary. And he stayed.
Like each of us, when we choose to stay and to deal with your own brand of crazy with family, But, in my life story, my Grandpa stayed. My dad says he used to scream a lot. As a young man, this perpetual screaming and strife and soul suffering drove my dad away from his home, and to my mom, to silence. To silence.
I never saw Grandpa scream. And I know, in his old age, he stopped screaming. He stopped. And how does that happen? The crazy didn’t stop. The crazy only got worse, more depraved, more compulsive and sad. But he stopped screaming.
And I realized, blowing my nose, that I think I have finally stopped screaming.
I realized with the help of the loved ones I work with, that people need to do as they see fit. My conversation with Mary about our kids brought this concept home. The best I can do is express my opinion without any attachment to the outcome.
There are things I will and will not do, to be in alignment with my standards, and I am very clear about what my boundaries are, but I know a different tone now, a coupling with acceptance, rather than forgiveness, of tolerance and allowance and permission. It is grand.
This comes from a time when I realized, through a series of harrowing experiences over the last several weeks, that I have a form of social retardation that I need to be aware of. I stumbled onto a website called Workplace Bullying. On it is a page, which I will cut and paste, which describes a “Target.”
My guess is that most of you will identify with this. I felt the last fifteen years worth of frustration and self-doubt wash from me as I read this article.
You can find this article and more at http://www.workplacebullying.org/problem/early-signs.
Who Gets Targeted
Unlike schoolyard bullying, you were not targeted because you were a “loner” without friends to stand up to the bullying gang. Nor are you a weakling. Most likely, you were targeted (for reasons the instigator may or may not have known) because you posed a “threat” to him or her. The perception of threat is entirely in his/her mind, but it is what he/she feels and believes.
WBI research findings from our year 2000 study and conversations with thousands of targets have confirmed that targets appear to be the veteran and the most skilled person in the workgroup.
Targets are independent. They refuse to be subservient. Bullies seek to enslave targets. When targets take steps to preserve their dignity, their right to be treated with respect, bullies escalate their campaigns of hatred and intimidation to wrest control of the target’s work from the target.
Targets are more technically skilled than their bullies. They are the “go-to” veteran workers to whom new employees turn for guidance. Insecure bosses and co-workers can’t stand to share credit for the recognition of talent. Bully bosses steal credit from skilled targets.
Targets are better liked, they have more social skills, and quite likely possess greater emotional intelligence. They have empathy (even for their bullies). Colleagues, customers, and management (with exception to the bullies and their sponsors) appreciate the warmth that the targets bring to the workplace.
Targets are ethical and honest. Some targets are whistleblowers who expose fraudulent practices. Every whistleblower is bullied. Targets are not schemers or slimy con artists. They tend to be guileless. The most easily exploited targets are people with personalities founded on a pro-social orientation — a desire to help, heal, teach, develop, nurture others.
Targets are non-confrontive. They do not respond to aggression with aggression. (They are thus morally superior.) But the price paid for apparent submissiveness is that the bully can act with impunity (as long as the employer also does nothing).
According to the 2007 WBI-Zogby Survey, 45% of targeted individuals suffer stress-related health problems. Additional findings regarding targets’ health can be found in WBI research and the PTSD-related research by others posted at this site.
Read our checklist of common signs of bullying.
Kinda breathtaking, right?
So, I began to realize that I had been quite pushy, and at times very judgmental, with my colleagues. I had held pockets of fear that their perceived lack of dedication or knowledge was some sort of moral failing. I held that, and it got more and more and more uncomfortable. It brought up past lives/collective energy to be transmuted, felt and known and released.
And then I saw it all double back on me, in a very benign, actually benevolent way. I was given an opportunity to just set a tone. They sort of invited it, and I did my best, and they like what I’ve done. That feels good. But the folks running the show don’t do things as I would like, and though they are kind enough to allow me to tell them so, off they go, doing as they see fit.
This has been very hard for me. It brought up much other stuff to heal, and I’ve done that. Now I see, maybe for the first time, that it really is ok if folks don’t do things that make good sense to me.
This throne of judgment Mary and Mom and I used to occupy has dissolved somehow, and I am coming to see that every decision is a blessed one, even those that appear to me to be misguided or non-sensical. There is no arguing with some people, and I see now that there shouldn’t be.
There should be instruction, or an allowance to share viewpoints, and in a perfect world, the best idea would win out, but people are still territorial and fear based and status driven. So let bosses do as they see fit. Let sons do as they see fit. Let me do as I see fit. Such relief.
Is this what my mom, and my grandpa, came to know? It’s what Marge drummed into me at every opportunity. That people will do what people will do. I think my pain comes from feeling I have no power in a situation when most of the people around me do stuff I don’t really get. And that’s most of the time, because my frame of reference is different. Not better or worse, but different. Bigger, maybe.
I want to wind down by talking about something which has been a big question in my life.
I would go through a recalibration, basically, in my life, having used a life lesson to gain insight into a problem, and then, I wanted to act differently, better. But what I found is often, doing things differently from the day before, better, but different, well, this was often not only resisted in the workplace, but sort of shamed, sometimes.
There is resistance to being honest and doing things that makes sense, sometimes. This is not an uncommon situation anymore. They want us numb and dumb, degraded, looking down, always looking down, you see. It’s the setup.
But remember what Kryon said about that one concentrated drop of flavor or color added to a pitcher of pristine, beautiful water. What happens? Everything changes. Everything.
I have just come into the habit of not riding these problems quite so hard. I have had a cresting of energy. I feel on a plateau, overlooking yet another, new, better than anything I have seen yet, view from this mountain I climb without end.
I have looked back and feel how the tones of life have changed again. I had a shift after my dad’s heart surgery, and have spent this year finishing this interpersonal stuff. I had to get free of the personal, had to finally see and then come to love my Asperger’s approach to life and people, and to finally find a place to fit, and seen as something beyond this weird, sort of socially awkward geek I project at work. I have found a place who’ll have me, for as long or as short as the bigger story calls for. And that’s pretty awesome.
I understood from the beginning that they were my teachers, and that I would be giving them gifts. I understand this is the transition job I requested, something to ease me from where I was into something else. And they are obliging, just as all the other masters in my life have.
So, I tell you, getting out of that car, welcomed by this nice, sweet vibe in the store, I understood that it is ok now for me to take my place. To stop making apologies for what I have always been, what I have been shown is possible, what I have received instruction on this sentient lifetime, to be, what I know I am. I am love itself.
And the others?
I know now, in my cells I now, they are love itself, just like me. Regardless of lesson plan, regardless of the karma I assist them in, and the dharma they assist me in, they are me, and I am them, and we are god itself.
I walked into that store knowing that I have changed my past, my future and my present because I do not see any of it as I once did. Somehow I can see things even more benevolently now. And everything softens once again. Everything starts feeling better again.
The misunderstandings, based in confusion and fear and limited knowledge have been transmuted, brought into the light, seen for what they always were, reminders of the importance of grace, mercy, patience, tolerance. The absence of those attributes hurts, wounds, diminishes. But it only has ever taken one, in my life. One at a time. Just one.
I know this was and is an assignment, this job of mine, within this nutty family of mine. I laughed as I thought about my own weirdness, and how obliging they have always been. How, when in my murder book phase, my sister gave me The Encyclopedia of Serial Murderers. I smiled thinking about how each of us had, and still have, odd bents, and how we always gave each other a wide, respectful bow toward our individual interests, as odd as they got.
I got amazing goodies at the store, and as I am struggling with whether I should feel guilty about my purchases, as I am watching the goatee’d dude load my awesome new Trader Joe’s tote, I understood, I heard that my income is assured. I am safe. I am finally safe.
This is the safety I have long craved, the tone I was able to strike a year ago, it has returned. I wanted to be able to feel that safe each and every day. And now I do. And now I do.
So, I guess, before us looms two eclipses and a Cardinal Grand Supreme Super Duper Cross. I hear, actually, this cross is one of such precision to be breathtaking. I like such times.
I look back now, and forward, teetering, balancing in this one pristine moment, my pinball game to resume shortly, with a quiet click and a flutter of a flick, it’ll be back to batting things around and motion, always motion, but for now, in this moment of peace and expansion, I wanted to tell you that I am a little itchy about this celestial stuff, because I am feeling so super fine and super high but physically sober nearly all the time now, I’m wondering just what the heck might happen to my physical vehicle.
My intake is changing again, my appetite, and I have grown intolerant of caffeine again. I’m barfing a lot again, physically aware and ultra sensitive to stuff. I have gone through this part before. It’s fun. My body is getting ready for something, I feel.
I sense this trinity of upcoming celestial energies is going to be a time of holiness, of donning the mantle. At least for me.
So this is how I close, always the malingerer at the water cooler, I want to say that this is the image I got repeatedly upon awakening last night. I saw, as I used to, when I first worked with Marge, and when I first started channeling Margartha for my own personal career help in ’88, I saw me in white flowing robes, that turban on my head. Man sometimes, a woman sometimes, but most comfortable as an old, tiny, brown yogi, wrinkled, neither handsome nor disfigured, tiny but strong, muscular, a hidden, hits-you-in-the-face love, love, acceptance, love, fun, laughing, play, love, acceptance, just this constant little lover.
Too expanded to be focused unless called to do so, and the eyes of a hawk, seeing everything whole, moving form blessing ground to blessing ground, doing work. Like the nuns who ran things in the old days, the yogis who roam, the ones who’ve given up fighting it and are dedication itself. I see me in the dining room, even now, in my mind’s eye, little and brown and simple, unassuming, simple dress, feeding others, smiling, quiet, radiating. That is what I want to do now. That is all I want to do.
My lesson had been, you see, that I could easily be this yogi among patients. It was when I could do it freely, usually. It drew me to nursing like a magnet. I could be this among the suffering. The sicker, the better. The more extreme, the better. That is my way, anyone can tell you that, who has worked with me. But, how do I do that with the resistant? With the haters? With those uninitiated to suffering, who have not softened, and who are mean? How do I survive in a world where what I am is seen by others as a weakness, a liability? That’s how I sometimes felt. That’s why I isolated. It was not yet time to shine, is all.
And I have solved this.
I will use these celestial events to contemplate unity, and strength, the strength borne of acceptance, tolerance, recognition. The resistant fall silent in front of it, you know. Water on stone, but this is how it is done.
Bring it on.
Deeply Awake — Self-Evident 4-6-14 By Kathy Vik
A grand integration has been underway for me this last week, and although there have been times when it would have been perfect for me to speak, I knew to hold my tongue. This, I think, comes from becoming more familiar with riding these waves, these waves of re-introduction, of remembering, of coming together.
Last night, I watched an Ancient Aliens which discussed shamans. Just writing that word seems to transport me to a room with many doors, behind which there are complete and beautiful libraries of information. So many ways to take this.
It started last week, this most recent oddity of “time.” Not being too tied to time anymore, I see it not as a week, week and a half, but in packets of understandings, chapters of summaries, outlining the integration, any word read touching off a landslide of emotion, of memories, of resolution.
This week started with a change in the patterning, the configuration, at work. An event had taken place, and I could feel everyone moving to new positions after this event. I like it when the feel of a place is moving. It feels like tectonic plates slowly shifting, and this movement colors what is said, done, thought, in the workgroup.
With these shifts came understandings.
My latest problem has been with just one individual, although there are three who are reacting poorly to me, at work. The one who I’ve recently done battle with and who has given me great gifts, well, this interpersonal issue has been central, key, to how I have conducted everything. And this is precisely why I do not enjoy working in groups. I don’t like to do so much work.
This conundrum had to do with, what else? Not being liked, being rejected, being found to be without worth, or worse, a detriment, to the group.
The thing is, I have had an unusual vantage point for this last, great battle. I have taken to a hill, and I have been observing it, rather than engaging in it. I feel what I feel, and release what needs to be released, without saying a word. This person has been in my consciousness, but not in my daily life. Odd. But certainly not unusual for me.
From here I have come to understand many things. First, I have gained the gift of perspective.
I woke up yesterday with the solution, actually, after days of the old self-negation I feel when I am being rejected, made small, seen as nothing, or a threat. I tried and tried to justify myself to myself, trying to justify my existence if someone else hates me or opposes me.
I heard, so loud, and felt it in me like a drum being banged in time, these words, this essential message: It is ok to stick out. It is ok to not fit in. It is ok to go unseen by some. Know them by this, love them and forgive them, and treat them only with generosity, but you are fine, you have a place, you are welcomed, you are valuable.
All these thoughts, which had been tiny, many, but tiny, too tiny to overcome my doubt, came flooding to me as I raised my body from sleep. You are fine, you are fine, it’s ok to be exactly who you are.
Now, I understand that this sentiment is on many, if not most, of the facebook posts I see, so I know that the words themselves are helpful and appropriate, but I did not see how these words applied to me when in conflict.
I puzzled on this, why a catty little fight could blacken my worldview, why panic and darkness seem to overwhelm me sometimes when I feel rejected. And then, it all came together for me.
This is the same koan, the same old conundrum. How can I still be working on THIS?! I wondered, over and over, as the pressure got turned up at work, the interactions becoming more frequent, and more adversarial, each day, last week.
And then I decided it would be wise to watch Band of Brothers.
I will tell you, this time, this time I was ready to heal it.
I have been watching long, painful documentaries about the camps since I was a young woman. I couldn’t not watch, that is how I felt. I needed to learn about the camps.
And with Band of Brothers, came my epiphany. I’d seen the series once before, but this time, when I got to the episode called “Why We Fight,” everything came together for me.
Understand, it was in the same time frame that I discovered a key, a true key to me. I discovered a website called Foundation for the Law Of Time.
There have been many such moments for me, on this walk of enlightenment, but none quite as profound as what I learned the day I stumbled upon this site. I instantly understood all the numerology, understood the complexity of what they were explaining, and suddenly, everything came into view for me.
I saw that it takes 52 years to go through a life cycle. I had been told, in my head, in December or January to just hold on, that everything changes on my birthday. I knew it to be true, but why? And there, on that website was my answer.
I felt, for those two days, as I learned and learned, as I remembered more and more fully all that had once been my understanding, that this was a special time, and that the timing of my life had been impeccable, I had laid everything out very well, and I was well satisfied.
I felt such completion, and that sensation you get when the earth beneath you suddenly, surprisingly, gives way.
And then comes Band of Brothers. I walked into it with this burgeoning sense of completion, and then, I see the liberation of the camps, on the small screen, done well, and lost was I, not in film critique or thinking the screenplay though. No, I was seeing the camps for the first time. I was remembering. I was reliving it.
This residue stayed with me for a day. I wept, I felt that old heaviness, and I finally understood why I have been so hard to get along with sometimes, at work.
I understand how it is that small, bad decisions are just a window to what else a person might feel is ok. There were always plenty of guards in the camps, you know. Always plenty of people willing to be the enforcers, the ones who carry out the nonsense, hiding under the puerile excuse of not being allowed to think things through.
This sort of lock-step thinking infuriates me, and, I can see now, it used to panic me, when in the context of giving care to the vulnerable. With a great sense of moral rectitude, of integrity, honesty, humor, light, clarity, I have seen care given, and I know what is possible.
And when I see it being done by those who devalue those they serve, when I see no understanding of the great sacredness of what we choose to undertake when we clock in for work, this makes, or made me, very very scared. Panicked, and angry. Very angry. And sometimes even morally indignant.
Now, it’s not bad to have a strong super-ego when doing what I do for a living, but I have always had an overactive one, always. Even as a candy striper, as a volunteer, that urgent need to practice with integrity, honesty, humor, balance, presence, that never has diminished, has always burned bright. But it led to mental health problems, and made fitting in hard.
I put all of this together last week, and in the height of it, as disbelieving and as discounting as I got, I have to tell you, getting body chills and nausea every single time I said, “Birkenau” out loud, well, there are some things it is hard to dispute.
I crested the madness, though, and I want you to know if it. That is the point of this, of course.
I came to see, as I traveled to the camps, as I felt and smelled and witnessed and relived, I came to see that this was an exercise in consciousness. It was a scar, a dip, the last time we would fall so low. Now, thinking on the horror of this time, all over the globe, the darkness was pervasive, and yet now, thinking on the time, the darkness doesn’t strum me like it did last week. My body is not singing the songs of that time, like it was, even last week.
This had to do, in large part, with what was written on that website, and I am going to cut and paste so that you too can gain resolve and recognition from those words. It brought the experience into my heart, into my DNA, into my field, and helped me to remember the context of all of this.
And this is what my consciousness has been revolving around, this last week, I guess. Context.
The World War II healing continued, but first, that article on the shifting of our consciousness from http://www.lawofltime.com…
2013 – New Aeon of Consciousness
We are the Elders of the Supreme Star Council of the Federation of Galactic Federations. We speak as a unified voice of matters that concern all of you. As a unified voice, we can only be understood by a unified consciousness.
A unified consciousness is not just the consciousness of a single being unified in itself, but that of a brother/sisterhood of beings unified as a single organism.
Many of you are feeling the accelerated changes taking place within your organism and on your planet. These shifts are coming because your collective inner dream is beginning to assert itself in the third dimension.
Everything that is occurring in your world is a symptom of rapidly approaching the major event point of the changing aeon of consciousness. The earth is shifting frequency from 12:60 machine “time is money” domination to 13:20 spiritual/mental “time is art” evolution.
Many who are talking or writing about 2012 are passing their intuitive perceptions about the event through a 12:60 filter, and presume, through their work, to be the spokesperson for a particular point of view which they invariably think is the correct one. They are not to blame.
The mass mind has not yet fully realized their consciousness is still immersed in the aeon of consciousness that is soon to be terminated (12:60). They are not communicating yet from the perspective of the new aeon of consciousness (13:20).
The new aeon of consciousness is the aeon of universal unified consciousness. The old aeon is the aeon of the evolution of the egoic individualized consciousness.
During this cycle, consciousness has emerged from a tribal unconscious of spiritual equality into a dialectical struggle between those who dominate through the reinvention of reality and those who uphold the sufficiency of spiritual Reality. The upholders of the reinvention of reality have incarnated to play roles such as politicians, bankers, CEO’s of pharmaceutical companies, etc.
This dialectical struggle has created the tension in consciousness that has dominated your line of force for the last six thousand years. This is the climax of the struggle between spirit and matter.
All the sacred books and teachers of holy truth have arisen solely for the purpose of upholding the remembrance of spiritual reality against the rising tide of materialism.
Even so, the followers of these sacred books and holy teachers themselves always end up reinventing reality and calling it by the name of yet another religion.
In this way, the progressive force of the upholders of the reinvention of reality have come to prevail. In this patriarchal script, the weight of matter always proves superior to the etheric mantle of spirit, which it easily tears to shreds. But this is soon to change.
The dialectic between spirit and matter is known as history, the progress of the reinventers of reality in time – the dominating patriarch – and their unceasing pursuit of power and total world conquest.
Finally, about 500 years ago, the objective of conquering the entire line of force for the benefit of those upholding the reinvention of reality as the principle purpose of human existence had been attained. The last remnants of tribal consciousness could then be squeezed into this artificial matrix fueled by greed where money reigns as the supreme arbiter.
Now also the final stage of the present aeon of consciousness was able to flower. This was the age of the flowering of ego, male dominance and the triumph of the individualization of consciousness. In the New Aeon comes the emergence and balance of the earth-centered feminine energy that does not fit into existing frameworks.
In this final age, all vestiges of the tribal unconscious and the older hierarchies of spiritual reality were pushed aside in favor of the complete reinvention of Reality, the new world order. Consciousness was now privatized through media of mass communication. Anyone could think and do what they wanted – within the limits set by the protectors of the social order. What you call nature was devalued to the condition of a raw commodity resource bank where Earth’s precious resources were unfeelingly stripped and sold to the highest bidder.
We are the Elders of the Supreme Star Council of the Federation of Galactic Federations. We have studied your line of force through different aeons of consciousness.
The aeon now ending is the Aeon of the Testing of Consciousness. It is the testing of the individual soul. Who you think you are and who you actually are, are two entirely different things.
You have theories about how you came to be which make no sense. You are closer to the truth when you place GOD (Galactic Ordering Dynamic) in the position of having created you.
As the emanation of the Higher Reality, the template of your being was “fashioned” by divinely directed “biological engineers” in another line of force of reality. Your galaxy was selected as a test zone. The test zone was designed by cosmic engineers to accommodate sequences of aeons of consciousness in which your species was the test case for the emergence of “spiritual consciousness.”
Following the final testing of the present aeon of consciousness, the new aeon will dawn, the aeon of the flowering of spiritual consciousness. For this, we are being prepared as a new cosmic species.”
I began to understand, as the week progressed, as I applied it to my work situation, my family stuff, all of it, that the panic I used to feel came from anticipating more horror, always knowing more was around the next curve.
And that is how it used to be for a lot of us, and I think it intensified for many of us during the last couple of years, when we sort of came out of our caves and began to stretch our legs. We’d had to shelter, and had to seek refuge, often and much, because it was brutal out there.
Now, I really do not expect everyone to be able to understand this experience of mine, or any of them, frankly, but I do know there are others out there who see that their lives are more metaphoric, and works of living, biochemical high art than the grind most have concluded life is. We are here. We are awake, and we are using our experiences to transmute for the group, if you don’t mind me putting too fine a point on it.
I realized that I had to discard the futility, the resignation that I had come to know so well. I think the panic had to do with the futility I felt, that really, I can shine just as bright as I wish, but I will get ejected from the group for it, at the least, and possibly some other form of struggle, to pay for the stretching I’d done.
And now, this is different. Is it because I feel I transmuted some of the energy I was aware of around the camps, is it the whispers of sanity Jose is offering me on that web site, or is it simply time for me to outgrow the koan of my first 52 years?
I don’t know the answer to that question. It’s too big. I only know that I feel a soul relief now that I was not aware was possible last Sunday.
I finished up my WWII spree by watching a documentary called Heir To An Execution, and it featured the oldest son of the Rosenbergs, murdered nearly 60 years ago by our government. I watched the old energy once again morph into a murderous mob, hateful commentators, misguided protesters.
I saw the darkness, the primordial fear we stewed in for so long dance these people like puppets, and saw, two generations later, that there were finally two family members, second generation, who chose to come together, one offering the other, the one who had suffered from the isolation and fear-based behavior a tearful apology.
I watched the son of these complicated human beings. I heard in every silence, in every utterance, balance, strength, self-knowledge, peace. He had suffered as few have, and he conducted himself with gentleness of spirit, intelligence, passion, but through all the fire of mind was a wise, and old, a calm spirit.
I thought then of my current job, my current group. I am told, always, to look at this as a lark, as fun, find joy every day, teach, laugh, love, but take none of it too seriously. I have it shouted and whispered, all day long. And still, sometimes, the sensations I get from the others is overwhelmingly dark, just dumb, fear-based, shame-based, ineffective, blaming and dumb. And I get tired.
So, while feeling a little lost, a couple days ago, having had a clearing, and having felt some healing, I was driving and listening to the radio, when an ad came on for massage therapy school.
I listened. I let it sink in. Hmm. Having clients who understand they are quite possibly spiritual beings? People who are motivated to explore being an active partner in their health? Hmm… Hmm… And then, a big smile rolled over my face, and, very loudly, waiting at a light, laughing by the third repetition, I said, “I wanna do THAT!”
Since then, I have spoken to my sister who reminded me of a healer she knows whose work is in alignment with how I do my work, with energy, with self. So, I am going to be calling him, go in a get my hip tweaked, and perhaps take up with him.
All of this is happening while I am witnessing many timelines closing, of their own accord. Superimposed on this is my knowledge of my own life path, my 52 years of progression as a soul, wrapped in this odd personality, has come to an end, is morphing, is looking for another, maybe even lighter, brighter, expression.
I want to end this by telling you of an experience which occurred for me two days ago. I was at work, reluctantly attending a celebration for the crew. Not being comfortable in social situations at work, I’d taken to the back,taken to silence.
I patient came to me in a lull in the festivities. He was allowed entrance because it is known that he likes to give me gifts. He goes around and gathers magazines, then seeks me out and gives me stacks and stacks of these things.
As he handed me a stack of Guns & Ammo and Elle magazines, I was overcome, just overcome suddenly with the truth of it. Here was a yogi, a sage, someone who owns nothing, whose greatest defining characteristic is his generosity. Sure, some make fun of him, and few understand him, but there he was, yet again, looking me in the eye, handing me a gift, smiling, wanting to make me happy.
I teared up and told him he was the most generous person I had ever met. We hugged, and off he waddled, off to his bedroom on a locked ward, which he shares with a floridly psychotic elderly gentleman.
And so, the dictation came, and I let it, and it is this dictation I close with. It explains why I have done as I have done these last forty years, and it further explains why this leg of the journey may very well be complete.
“As part of All That Is, in this Divine Mind, in accordance with the dance of the universe, I will say now how I wish for my lifetime to go. Let me speak to you now as a mother, one who knows me best, and wishes no harm to me.
Please make me slow of wit, quick of temper, unsteady of gait, and make me deaf. Give me weak eyes, and difficulty understanding others. Let me have a wild and reckless youth. Let me break everything I touch. Let me have had the sort of life which makes for legend as I finish my days with my companions, my fellow teachers.
Let me finish my lifetime behind a locked door those with sharp tongues and intellects guard. Let me be poor, let me be found begging for trinkets, reduced to asking permission to take a shower.
Let me have odd habits, and let me, in the end, become a bit of a caricature, a character.
I give permission to be a fool.
I understand that as such, I am a teacher, and I will hold an energy few will recognize, and most will discount. Let me then, have my friends, and let them be among my table mates, and those who tend to my self-inflicted wounds. Once in a while, send me someone who understands my role, who, perhaps, might be able to gain access to this conversation.
I choose this life so that, at the end of it, I will have embodied gratitude. Let me know this vibration as I never have. This is what will burn in my heart, and it will be my true north. Let me know gratitude. My service will teach others, and I will come to embody that which will give me the strength to pull this off. It is a graduate life. It is a saint’s life. Let me do it well.”
As my coworkers swirled into their ever-changing groups, as their air buzzed and crackled with rumors and all the other nonsense which drives so much human behavior, I heard this, I knew this, and I understood some fundamental things. Primary among them was that not everyone in this big dining hall sees this man as I do. I am so grateful for this knowledge, I thought, and then, all the bad feelings I’d had about not fitting in well in my workgroup just sort of melted away. What mattered was me and this man, having seen and loved each other so well. It’s the only thing that matters.
I have been among the suffering for many years. Nursing called me, I did not want the role. I have done it gladly, because through the years I have met these yogis of love, these saints, dressed in rags, burned or broken or disfigured as they might have been, each of them a teacher, each of them an elder.
I understand the suffering, and wish to alleviate it. Sometimes I misread the suffering though, and the panic sets in.
These WWII experiences helped to bring it to a head, and helped to me apply that which I know to be true, but could not integrate until now.
Each one who tortured others in those camps, and each of the tortured, they played their roles. Of course, it was all voluntary, and it is just so sad our consciousness got so low, but what is done is done, and each who suffered and died in those camps added fuel to a fire that is now out of control, that fire which makes cruelty unthinkable, abuse unspeakable, punishment unintelligible. Each atrocity added to our later resolve, to our shame, to the moment when we decide, as a group, to forsake such behavior.
Each time anyone slights another, this is just us bumping into each other, negotiating agreement fields.
I see that I am in an agreement field that is rather low level, from the top down, not too enlightened, often fighting itself and ignoring its mission. And I observe it now, I see it, and I understand that this is a new age.
It took some convincing, you know, to get to the place of hope, true, organic,take-it-to-the-bank hope.
When I was knee deep in trying to sort out how to handle the petty issues in my workplace, they’d taken on such significance, it felt like I was solving a soul puzzle. Now, a week later, I know I have.
The timelines are closing, and to what new treble of existence I know not, but I trust it will be good, it will be instructive, and I am beginning to admit that joy and acceptance, laughter and ease might also be part of the bargain.
Along with the same old characters, resistant and suspicious, are the new characters, who are inviting, raucous, good-hearted and kind. The darkness used to be the focal point. After this week, this has shifted.
I feel some of the bounce in my step I used to, while I was waking up, right at first. The same lump-in-my-throat excitement. It feels good.
So, this idea of context. I see now that a lifetime is just a spiral, and the themes we choose to take on are achieved, and things we could not have accessed before become visible. Perhaps some themes never dissolve, but I think the significance of the themes, the driving factors, morph as we do.
To end, I tell you of how Kryon has explained things. He says there are Akashic Drivers, those things which compel us to certain actions, due to our world-view, our proclivities and our interests. The drivers, in the old energy, were fear, drama, and unfinished business.
I am seeing that as my business gets finished, as I acknowledge what I have done consciously and in a greater sense,I see that my drivers are changing. To finished business. To peace. To connection.
Context. Frame of reference. Natural bent. These things matter. They drive the discussions of our souls. I am glad that things are quiet now.
That was a long, lovely, cathartic discussion I just came from.
I rest, I smile, I breathe. My context, more and more, is soulic, multiple, big.
From here, all good things come.
This is a good context for me.