Deeply Awake — Spiritual Surcease 1-19-18 By Kathy Vik

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An easygoing, understandable and joyous discussion of changes, of improvements, of energetic evolution and ascension-in-action.

It seems a swell of energy has been overcome, a sensation and knowing that I am seeing reflected in the blogosphere, and this is my heartfelt discussion of these energetic realities.

A song which celebrates change, and paints beautiful images which speak of self-empowerment, self-worth, and the benevolent outcomes I am now witnessing in my life and the lives of those around me. I sincerely hope you too are enjoying these fascinating times.

We are all simply learning new skills riding the waves. Some of us are new to it, some have been wave-riding for a while, but we must never forget that this energy is new for ALL who are incarnate now, so it’s a new experience for all, these waves.

Further, let’s remember that an adept is an adept, regardless of age, circumstance or even native desire. It may start surprising some, this new information and experience.

It matters not where you are, or think you are, on your spiritual path. If you have some time, someone who loves to talk about spiritual things in a fresh way wants to bend your ear about ascension. She hopes you enjoy these times, and this video, as much as she is.




Deeply Awake — My Son Demonstrates 9-28-13 By Kathy Vik

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Deeply Awake — My Son Demonstrates 9-28-13 By Kathy Vik

This is just so neat, I want to sing about it!

This morning, I woke up and felt clear. It was the second day of my life, and I say this is the most literal of fashions, it was the second day of my life that I woke up able to immediately disengage from the narrative.

Do you know what I mean? I had cogent, spiritual thoughts from the night before, about the first wave, things Kryon had said on a tape, Dolores Cannon’s work on the First Wave that I just bought, and there, sitting on that couch of wisdom and joy my elders fashion for me with words of a truth I know as my own, sitting there, pretty as a picture, was my awareness.

I had asked last night in meditation, is it really going to be ok to be here, above, just slightly above and to the left of things? I had been admonished about this since childhood. Told by The Others that it is shameful to not be right in the middle of the suffering, thoroughly convinced of the irreversible tragedy of it all.

Is it going to be ok to just ride the energy now, understand the energy, and not get too hooked into any of it? Is this the definition of mental health, or mental illness? The mark of a great master, or of a great mimic?

And I had my answer, I really did. I could see great superhighways of energy running, bifurcating, splitting into patterns, all in symmetry and in love, but I saw this as my life, great powerfully, forcefully blowing, free-flowing tubes of light, just running. Beautiful.

So, I knew within me that I had permission to finally be spending just as much time as I see fit above, connected, but above, my life, and as strange as it sounds, I am loving it all so much more from this perspective.

Anyhow, it wasn’t quite as abstracted this morning. This morning it was more like a sense that I could dip in and inhabit any of the feeling states I have come to identify as “normal”, that is just fine, or I could just spend a moment observing, in great love, in awe, for the creativity and symmetry of it all. More immediate, this morning, but no less part of something I see now as plastic, magically fluid, forever mystical and deep, this little, simple life of mine.

And then, I settled onto my bed and read the blogosphere, checked my comments (sad to say I do this…), and then I settled, once again, on a photo of my son I have sitting opposite my bed, on my bookcase, just a few loved knick-knacks on it, and there is Sam, from age four, maybe five, taken on an autumn day when he was four or five. Short hair, loving gaze, hugging a tree, red leaves surrounding, framing him, and a smile of utter joy. So much love and joy on that face.

And I had gazed on this photo quite a bit yesternight when in meditation, because it is nice to look at, but today, it called to me.

I felt Sam whole, and I tried real hard to feel him whole. He is a big one, a slippery one, and I do not have access to him as I do to most. This frightened me at first about him, and I thought myself a bad, a defective mother, because I found within him something so big that I couldn’t imagine it. It was beyond my abilities. Maybe that is “Mother Love.” Maybe that has everything to do with my climb within, to attain self-worth and love, but I do think it’s more than that.

There is something in him that is so big, and I looked at that picture and was feeling love, so much love.

I felt I needed to tell him, so moved was I with finally feeling, this morning, like I have just a bit more access to the part of him that has always felt a little off limits. So I thought, hmm, to celebrate the love I have discovered for him, I can’t tiptoe into his room… he asked me to let him sleep. What to do? What to do?

So, I sat quietly, and decided to just project myself to him. I was overcome with love. I looked at his face as it is now, but could see the baby, and I could feel the man, and I felt so much honor. For his path, for his choices, whatever they may be, so much love. And then I laid down briefly, and just held him, gave him a hug, and then, all at once, I was back.

I went on to other things, probably lit up a smoke, and went back to reading. But very soon, I heard Sam’s door open.

I wondered if my projection had disturbed him, awakened him, and I was very moved, when he came to my room, to tell him what I did. But I held my tongue. He had a big smile on his face, and he looked very calm. He wanted to talk.

He tends to reveal himself very sheepishly, and with an angry edge, so willing, he has forever been, to clip into derision and attack, if his revelations are in any way commented upon, encouraged, or praised.

So quietly, silently, I listened to him tell me about the dream he had just had.

Because my son is so reluctant with the details of his interior with me, I am unwilling to share them here. So I can tell you that this was a dream like a dream I had when I was about his age, a dream where I found myself within a loving family, kids and a husband, on a farmhouse, and we, I was happy. Fulfilled. Satisfied. Loved. Loving everyone. It was the opposite of what I had come to know occurred behind suburban walls. And that dream kept me warm on many long, cold nights, into my forties.

His dream was similar, but his was about true love. And I am here to tell you, I could see it coming from his face, glowing was he, in knowing, knowing, knowing, what it feels like to be absolutely loved by another, someone you love and cherish and honor and respect and feel part of.

And then it hit me. All at once, all at once, all at once.

I had gone to him, in his sleep, and I had given him the most pure love I could be aware of, just because he deserves it, just because I am moved to, and I wondered if maybe, just maybe, he interpreted this into a dream that would have meaning for him.

Could his soul use my love to spur Sam toward synchronicities which are lit up with love? Might this just be a way for us all to get home? I mean, it is a little spooky, and to quite honest, this is the second demonstration of this, so I guess I need to talk about that too.

So, anyway, in this case, I am going to take this synchronicity as a demonstration Sam engaged in to show me how it is translated when we get hit with love/light.

I realized, as he was talking about his specific dream images, which were vivid, individualized, meaningful and seen only by him, known only by him, I came to understand that this love we get given to us, that is ours for the taking, then, when we individually receive it, then we TRANSLATE it, and it is our translations of this light that are amazing.

I realized that I have translated this light to a call or purpose or future that, well, let’s be honest here, I am making it up as I go along, just as Sam, in a way, made up his dream images, used them, visually and emotionally, for him to understand he was loved.

Maybe the dreams we carry within, the aspirations we have as individuals, maybe they are simply the translations we have constructed to enjoy this light. Maybe it is ok to do anything at all with it, and enjoying it, reveling in it, I think this is the best way to greet it now.

Because, I think we are fed on this light. It is breathing us. It is available, in other words. All that is preventing me from knowing this flow, this creative geyser that is pure love, is linearity, my soul desires, the needs of those I travel with, the timing of the planet, of the experiment. So I guess there might be more to it than just which images do I want to place in my awareness.

This is deeper, more intricate, and more playful, more joyful, than I anticipated.

Thank you, Sam, for demonstrating to me that my awareness, my life, my experiences, they are my translation of this light, and as such, they can be changed in the time it takes to think a different thought.

I think this is the mechanism for “dropping down” certain realities, just seeing them as optional, voluntary, a lark and a whim, but, no, let’s do something else now. I think that is how chapters are opened and closed in a life, too.

So thank you, my son, my magnificent son, for once again bringing to our awareness a great truth, through your meek smile, a knowing one, a face touched by an intimate and personal translation of the light which has meaning, and may well become a homing beacon for my kid.

He is a kid, after all.

Last night, before sleep, he told me of the rash on his belly. Forever fascinated by the seeming fragility of his body, forever somaticizing, just to get his legs under him , I think, he had me feel the bumps on his belly. Just a normal variant, so I soothed him, and he spread lotion on himself.

This morning, just now, he told me that he thinks the rash is spreading, and it is bad. He is next door, our rooms separated by a decorative cloth panel. Hi tell him the rash is nothing to worry about. He volleys back that it’s getting worse.
I tell him to take a bath and use the pregnant girl oil. Then he bellows, “I need you to come and take a look! You just don’t even care enough about your own son to come look at his belly.”

And I then replied, “Um, Sam, your rash hasn’t changed and it’s normal…..” and then it came to me, “Um, are you needing me to come in there and rub your belly and love on you? If that is it, can you just tell me those words? “

“Mom, I need to you to come in here and love me and hug me.”

And so it goes. The training continues. We are both very stubborn, and very prissy, knowing full well we know full well. I see in him my grand impatience, for my slowness, for my need to have things down deep before they are mine, and after that, to hell with what anyone else thinks.

I’m going to hug my son now, and then I will come back to tell you of one more thing, one more precious thing, that these kids are teaching us, reminding us of, ok?

Mission accomplished, coffee replenished, and this last is a small thought, a compact and pretty one, so I will soon be signing off.

Last night, while listening to Kryon talk about the new kids, it dawned on me that there is a real real good reason why some of us were gifted with these unusual ones. There is a good reason why we had trouble in our lives. And it is a simple, simple, simple reason.

I can remember beaming with clinging, parental pride, but also feeling a little weird about it, that here is my two-year-old, and If we give him a broken radio or other machine, sitting there in his high chair, he can get it working. I remember so often telling anyone who would listen, and him, when he got older, that he has this gift for seeing things whole.

Seeing things whole.

This is what is described as a conceptual thinker. Someone who has no problem thinking outside the box, because to a conceptual thinker, the box is as much of a construct as the puzzle in which it sits.

And this is also described as quantum thinking.

And now it comes clear, now it is so clear, dear friends.

Are you like me, someone who felt they never fit in, even though they appeared to be able to do so whenever they saw fit? Someone who never could have satisfying conversations because they never went deep, far enough, and your need for depth in fact began to further alienate you as you walked through your days?

That is from thinking conceptually in a linear world.

Last night, Kryon asked the crowd, what would you do, human being, if you could see things whole, and every day you were told you must think linearly? What would you do if you understood the answer to a problem your teachers just told you they would now take three years to explain to you? What would you do?

You would quit, Kryon said. You would walk away. But a child can’t quit.

And so, then, you begin to see the split. These children either go within, or they act out.

And, you know, we are each of us these children.

Each of we first wavers, we each had a hard road, and it could be that it is as simple as this, a benign, loving explanation. We were thinking, all along, many of us, just like these kids, but we were in classrooms, universities, cities, sometimes, with not another one of us to smile at and hug.

Many of us became fast intellectual friends with great thinkers. I , personally, have a very steamy, sweaty, intimate affair going, intellectually, with many great thinkers. If I ever meet any of them, I will blush, and they won’t know why. But I will. I am in love with their mind, so hungry I am for the intellectual coupling which must occur, just through simple magnetics, when quantum forces meet.

Perhaps just as quantum as this new generation, but hobbled so monumentally by the distinct absence of anything that smacked of anything quantum, many of us went within. Living solitary lives, finding no satisfaction in the linearity that our companions seem to think is compulsory.

So, I think this wave theory needs further exploration. I am having fun writing, so I will go right into this, as soon as I sign off here.

I will tell my son thank you, if you find his demonstrations helpful. He is a leader. The voices in my head refer to him as “The King,” which I feel might be a bit grandiose, and then I think on the night when Sam told me he could no longer fight the urges, and he needed to dance for me.

He picked a song, a lullabye, and got real still, then he put foot to calf, hands to heart, and then he moved energy like a master, swirling, pushing, kneading, that little boy, right in front of my eyes, turned into an old Chinese dude with long beard and fingernails, honest to God, as he danced to that song, and ran light.

That night, before bed, as he was drifting off, I was honest with him, I told him what I saw as he had been dancing.

Sam quietly said, dismissively, “Oh, yeah, that’s who I was one time. He was like jesus, but it was a really long time ago.” and then he rolled over and went to sleep.

Deep are the mysteries walking through my house this Saturday morning, and blessed am I to be among them, being caressed by these ancient knowings, so grateful am I to have this day off with my very own son. I am so happy to be in this skin, in this expression, in this moment.

And so it is.

Deeply Awake with CHANNEL — Worship 9-26-13 By Kathy Vik

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Deeply Awake with CHANNEL — Worship 9-26-13 By Kathy Vik

If I saw evidence, hard and fast, clear and true evidence, that you are divine, if I could see the patterning, appreciate the nuances, and see someone whole, and I fell on my knees and worshiped them, what would that be about?

What would possess me to think it appropriate to prostrate myself in front of another in deep adoration and honor? Could I express such a deep, lush palette of emotion without hooking into the desire to worship the person from which I saw the emanation?

I ask this because this came through this afternoon, upon arising from my night-shift-recovery-nap, I could feel it, see it, what it might be like to be approached by someone, them ablaze with divine love, recognizing in this work my love for God and for Self and for Them.

What might it be like to have someone approach you and just be convinced that you are holy?

Funny. I dwell in a land where everything is already holy. That’s my address anymore. I do not find it odd or ridiculous to see my fellow travelers as very effective creator gods, creating scenarios, realities, awarenesses from which they greet me, ask me the time, comment on the weather. It is old hat to recognize that everyone I meet, and I do mean everyone, regardless of social standing, life situation or appearance, everyone I meet is a master of synchronicity and love, but so few know it, so few know it.

And what would it be like if someone who is perhaps awakening enough to start feeling divinity in others, what if they decided it would be a real good idea to become my devotee, or anyone’s devotee, Aisha North, John Smallman, Pam Kribbe, Lee Carroll, Esther hicks, oh! there are so many who have been touched and who have then obeyed their instructions and conducted themselves in ways of integrity and love, to give a message to others.

What if that happened, someone saw something really big inside me?

And then, I guess I was honest with myself about a few things that I have been, perhaps, waiting to be honest about.

I thought about my path, my awakenings, my understandings, but more, how I lived these understandings. Of course, my heart went to my Teachers, those who came to me, taught and nurtured me, and then allowed me to walk my path, putting it all together, weaving it all into a cloth I can then wear as protection, as decoration, as symbol.

Would I be able to accept the adoration of another for work that I, to be frank, cannot comprehend came from my hands, my head and heart, at times? Could I accept this praise, without personalizing it?

I began to see, puttering around the house in my jammies, in a cloud of thought, that enjoying a great love for someone who, to you, embodies all that you have ever desired spiritually, this is not a bad thing, and actually, it is just another opportunity for self definition.

I’m skirting this issue and really not trying to. I am not being allowed access to its core. Let me quiet. I need to get this. It is big, important, and something that I feel needs to be shared. Allow me…..

It will be easier, for this next part, if I assume the role of a heavy hitter. I like to imagine that it was Shiva talking to me this afternoon, and it is Shiva, and the rest of the masters, who want to help now. So imagine, please go with me there, to a place where it is you and your loved one, your sacred heart, you embodiment of love, your soul mate, in a way, your favorite master, who is hanging out with you, having a talk.

I think Shiva was telling me today, listen, kid, the love you feel toward me, the bliss that pulls you away from your mundane concerns and into the cosmic dance of ecstasy, the only reason, the one and only reason you feel this love toward me is that you embody this same love. I am a spark of recognition for you, a reminder.

He said, you could not feel this devotion and love if it were not already inside you. I remind you of all that you are, all that you are, all that you are. I am a symbol, but as such, oh! Inspire such ardor, such devotion, such love.

And I really never said that was necessary. None of us did. Most of us did out best to make sure you did not make this misinterpretation. Some of our words were not made clear, thought the ages.

Ours was a message of empowerment, of reminding you of what is there, within you, intact and pure, and this pure light of God which is shining from your pores, this is the same godliness we have come to take as our lover, our counselor and our destiny.

And it is just from what energetic perch you wish to view us, we anomalies, we messengers, that determines your experience with the divine.

To see us as anything but cosmic brothers and sisters who walk with you, helping you, congratulating and rooting for you, to think we are anything but this, it is not entirely optimal.

We are mirrors for your divinity, and as such, we had every need to conduct ourselves accordingly. It did not matter that we were alone in a cave, or jail cell, or mountain top. Even all alone physically, we act in ways which have integrity, we are in alignment with Source, and so we are aware of the need to conduct all of our moments as highly tuned and trained consciousness.

It was not, primarily, about audiences or onlookers or devotees. First and foremost, it was always, how much can we embody? How can we conduct this moment, this Now moment, in the highest expression of the Benevolent All? This is the task. This is the moment. The now moment, a string of them which is eternal, influential, certainly, and pure, running right through the history of consciousness.

Of course, it mattered how we conducted our affairs among men, but often our affairs were misconstrued, misinterpreted, and this is what we wish to discuss.

You will come to see that another’s devotion is their expression of their understanding. It is beautiful, but it is coming to an end, and we wish to tell you about it.

The reason, dear one, that you could never see this work of yours find traction, it has so much to do with this concept, it deserves your attention.

You had to write this under the covers, so to speak, without interference, and certainly without praise.

Praise, dear one, would have been the exact opposite of what was necessary. You had to come to find worth in this work on your own. It is your expression of your devotion to Creator. It needed no hands upon it, molding it, guiding it. We guided it, you guided it, it was personal, it was to be done quietly.

And now, if someone comes to you and tells you that they see within you the light that is behind our eyes, what can you say now, dear one, except, sure, that makes sense, thanks, and off you would go, in your blue jeans, off to a movie with your son, off to the mountains for a picnic, off to work.

Each of you know that your work, your life, your creation, it is absolutely and utterly divine. Each of you Solar Angels, our representatives from the great Central Sun, do you not feel it now, we are ever connected, and the overlays covering this truth from you have been stripped bare.

An obsession comes from seeing the divine in another and not being able to know that this love you feel for the other, it is only because there is an equal reserve of the same stuff within you, that you can vibrate with it at all, that you can recognize it.

That which is divine, complete and realized within you is what recognizes and loves that which is divine, complete and realized in another. The degree to which this love is imbued with desperation, with a sense of despair or melancholy or homesickness, this is the degree to which you have incorporated the truth that you are simply recognizing our essence within your own structure, can you see this? One’s inability or unwillingness to accept their own divinity, their own integrity, this is the engine of worship, obsession.

Rather than simply owning that which you see within the masters as a reflection of your own wholeness, most feel only the spark of recognition of home, and this leads them to great happiness, great fulfillment, and there is no shame in this, this is a good movement forward, but the clinging, worshipful stance many take in their lives is but a sign that they have mastery yet to attain.

Many of you find it impossible to couple in this energy, for the requirement is there, in the social contract, to use this as the template for love relationships.

The Other is seen as The All, an embodiment of love, someone who can help the devotee to feel whole, to feel recognition and acceptance from that which is loved and honored.

It is the desperation which lurks that we are addressing today.

The arms outstretched, the constant craving to be with The Other, whether it is a human being you are in love with or a master, this is the heart of it for today.

This hunger, which has humanity leaning with outstretched arms toward that which appears unified, without judgment and all loving, this is the point. If it is done in a church or in a bedroom, is there really that much of a difference? It is the same love, we tell you, just different targets.

But all of it points to the need to bring it on home, bring it within, personalize and own and claim it as yours.

Without master. Without guru. Without mate.

Can you do this?

There are social taboos around this, and so we honor your bravery.

When people come to you, feeling you hold answers they themselves cannot access, because your paths have been hard and your ways solitary, some of you will be more than surprised at the devotion you yourselves might start stirring up, we tell you.

If that comes to pass, how will you handle it?

You will, of course, our brothers and sisters, have this full knowledge. You will conduct yourselves holding within you the truth, that yes, you are divine, yes you are holy, yes you are shaman, priest, nun, master. Through your arduous climb, you have come to see that this is so, and that this is the truth for each.

Because you can see your beloved in the eyes of all you meet now, love will come. Because you have settled into your own truth, wisdom is your companion. Because you have chosen to define yourselves in terms other than strictly human, and because that definition is now no longer a preference but an imperative, you can see, can you not, that the love another holds for you is right and true and good, but is entirely impersonal. It is the onlooker gazing into a mirror and loving the reflection, and being unable to understand that it is their own face there are looking at instead of yours.

We ask you formulate a word which more fully encompasses the love you feel for us, and we for you. We are not truly masters, we are brothers and sisters. We are not christs, we are family. We are not saviors, we are counselors.

We are your equals, and this is the way of it. We are your equals, you are equal to us. Do not encourage followers. Do not encourage devotees. You are human beings, as were we. We do not encourage you persist with the old energy, the misinterpretations which have led to this age.

You will come to sense great completion, great wholeness of countenance, and with it, great relief and homecoming for your personality portion, for the self who guided you to these shores.

You will come to see that another’s recognition of your divinity is a cause for celebration, for mutual homecoming. You will be able to accept this assessment, and you will be able to say, “Oh, of course I am an emanation of divinity. Of course I am. And you could not see it if you did not also have this divinity within you.” You will accept the gifts so graciously and nervously given, with great humility and thanksgiving and heartfelt appreciation. And you will leave the conversation uplifting the one who has uplifted you. For you see that no one can love you in this way without having been set aflame by their own holy core.

We leave you with a reminder. It is a good practice to come with us into bliss, and to merge into The All with us, holding our hand. It is wonderful for you to allow yourselves to be transported in bliss to the godhead, and we are so in love with you, we wish to dance with you to this place, celebrating and honoring the ones who now know the way!

We know of your overwhelming love for us. And we only wish to remind you that this love is from YOU, of YOU, for YOU, as much as it is for your idea of us.

Let us walk with you, counseling and laughing with and planning with you. Let us walk with you, dance with you, and let us help you be transported to ecstasy, just as often as you see fit. But please never assume that this love is anything but your ecstatic reunion with yourselves.

That was the end of the transmission.

I had to go and collect my son from school, and it is not my way to quit an essay half way through, but here I am, to finish this up.

This is a weird departure, but one I have done twice before, just putting along, trying to put things together, and then, while in the act of writing, I quiet, still, and let another speak. It’s what the best of the writing is, really, just channeling, all of it, just channeling.

What dawned on me as I was walking to the car is that this love I feel for God, it is expanding, and it is really very alive, anymore. I love my Baba Ganesh, I love all the icons, the masters, the deities, but I see them has friends, road maps and hopeful insertions of truth into a matrix that had been overdue for sparkly love.

One of my first teachers, way back, he used to tell me, it was one of his foundations, that for all the sparkly work, for all the internal work which we feel called to do, as if it is our first and most pressing priority, for all of it, we really are just as plain as mashed potatoes. Many of us are nothing much to look at. We may have humble jobs. We may have personality foibles and may have engaged in immense hobbling of our power, but, when all is said and done, all we are is plain as mashed potatoes.

And I like that. I love it, really.

So, I leave you to ponder it out. Was I just using a technique of fiction, “imagining” myself speaking to a force I have come to recognize as family, or was I allowing the family to speak through me? Who knows, who cares, was what was said beautiful, uplifting, does it feel true, right, pure?

Heck, I don’t know, because I have not read what I wrote, and have no memory of the details. I am always just as surprised as you, the first read through. I’m always a little shocked at what comes out.

But I trust that my fingertips can not be used for harm, this mind is devoted to looking up, anymore, and there is no desire in me to lie, to obfuscate, to cover that which has always been hidden.

Who knows?

But, what I am left with is this almost-understood thing from when I was waking up. This understanding that if someone feels the need to worship, this is nothing but a beautiful gift form someone who has not yet fully embodied their own divinity, someone who can feel gongs go off around us, someone who recognizes themselves in our faces.

I could not have done this work with adoration, fame, and the money part, that is a different issue entirely. Those money issues are coming up, they are on their way to completion.

For now, I feel good for knowing that there is nothing here within me to worship and everything to celebrate. Nothing here to devote oneself to. Nothing here requiring anyone abandon their awarenesses or their truth. Just a humble nurse from Colorado, jotting down stray thoughts onto her crappy netbook, in between events which, as are their wont, keep occurring.

Deeply Awake — Solstice Field Notes 9-22-13 By Kathy Vik

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You know, for all the high fallutin’ talk about Creator and the Divine that I talk about, for all the DNA and magnetism and cosmology talk, for all the “Ooh, dear me, whatever is the correct path for me?”, for all of that talk, what has it been if not field notes?

Chronicling the progressive changes which occur once intent has been struck, the numbers all line up, the timing is plum, and then, bam, bam, bam, start knocking this stuff out of the park.

I am not talking about the pursuit or attainment of a career, of fame, of fortune. I am talking about, one after another, the spiritual gifts that have been heaped on my table.

Really all along, but, my God, the energy is so different now, it is inviting. It’s a greeting sort of energy I sense now. Things that used to make perfect sense, like when watching a movie, reactions the characters have, reactions I have never ever thought about before now, now I watch shows looking from this different slant, seeing things more whole, I guess, and right now, anyway, seeing all things as good.

That sounds so milquetoast, and really, that could not be farther from the truth of it. Do you know the sort of steel will it takes to create from synchronicity, as a policy? So many are doing it now, and so, here, here is a mirror. Take a look at yourself. See how you are greeting your reality now, is it not just more friendly, less menacing, more grown-up, in a way?

Or is it just me?

See, the farther I go, the less concerned I am whether anyone else is having these sort of things occur to them, because the air is so sweet here, and all is benevolence here, so it becomes less and less imperative to feel real invested in stuff that used to just really consume me. Certain stuff has become very important, and other stuff, it just has passed away.

I know that is maddeningly vague, so it is here I will make my preface, or my explanation, or my tempering of something which occurred on, I think, the 19th. I’m bad with dates. It was two nights before the full moon. That makes it Friday (and that is how my mind works. Fun, but circuitous. Shiny!)

Kirtan was that night, and I have been hoping to befriend someone there, so I was briefly sad, but then, I decided to do a science experiment.

I decided to try out the idea that if I don’t have something that I very very much want in my reality, really really want it, and I don’t get it, then, I’ve always just gotten mad, or felt disappointment, or rage, or defeat, or any one of a couple dozen dumb thoughts, and then, oh my jeez-us would I then obsess. On getting gypped once again, once again not getting what I so obviously deserve, rada, rada, rada, rada.

So, I thought, today, I will conduct a science experiment. I have read and I have come to hold as true that I am calling to me everything, everything I am experiencing in this identified reality of Kathy Vik’s, so that means that I am supposed to be with the ones I am working with tonight, we have agreements, and this opens up time for something interesting on Saturday night, a rare night off from both kid and work.

So, I decided to assume that what is in front of me is what I absolutely wanted, and then experience it from there.

What a wonderful way to see things! Oh! It helped so much!

The moon was nearly full Friday night, and the milieu was very, very still. During my smoke break outside, it dawned on me that being here, quietly reading the newest 9to me) Kryon book, on this night, as some sort of preparation for the solstice, this is very good.

The book, written in 1994, it helped unlock many many secrets within me, stuff that has been riding with me since my training with The Teachers. I think it is time to discuss some of the things they taught, but more, I think now is the time to see this whole thing bigger, I began to see, that dark, still night.

During my break, I was so high vibrationally that I just layed down in the darkened break room, knowing I would not be able to sleep, wanting to talk with the voices in my head.

The dictation was overwhelming, as it sometimes is, and it was a glorious sort of overwhelm, being carried away, being in bliss, hearing everything all at once, and to the part of me who hears things all at once, everything was understood. I guess you can call that a download, but it felt more like a huge, huge hug. I was so happy, so clear, so clear, such beautiful thoughts swirled and danced within me.

But, you know, you can go so far that language is meaningless, and it is very difficult to recover what is found there, just for that reason. Some things cannot be languaged, and this is a frustration, but a good reason to be in a linear reality, so that you can then watch it play out like a movie.

So, what I said, in bliss, was something I have been saying for a while now, and is always effective, ever time, for me.

I said, I need to take this back with me. I want to take the essence of this back with me. And further, I want a way to access this information while my eyes are open. Give me key phrases, or but more, give me a physical experience, something that anchors it for me. Make it obvious, make it completely physical. Make it physical. And from there, let me have the information.

And that is what happened.

I got a stair-step set of realizations. They were for me, just in order of anchoring,

All of it, all if it that I have come to know, in my true heart of hearts, that is accurate and true, so benevolent and wise, still and deep, mystical and practical, all the miracles, all of the miracles in my life, all of my training, all of my extensive training, it was ALL REAL.

Then, in a puddle of tears of joy and recognition, I realized that I did not let God down! I have not let God down! I did not let myself down! I have not let myself down!

From there, I felt as if a very old presence was with me. The Teachers once gave me a prayer. It was so beautiful, so intricate. The cornerstone of the prayer says, May You Know God Indwells You And Is Well Pleased.”

And there, on that vinyl couch, on my break, long gone, far away, receiving an ancient blessing, from my bones, from every part of me, with that ancient something, three times we repeated that blessing.

And until I sat down to write this, I thought that was the physical event I was supposed to anchor with, because saying it like that was a physical thing, it felt very real, that presence, holding my hand.

So I turned on my side, and I napped. I set my watch for fifteen minutes, and rested my eyes.

The dictation was not bellowing, I felt peaceful. I told my body I would like to feel fully refreshed, no matter how much time I spend asleep, and thanked “it” for that gift. And then, I imagined my kitten Sunshine, who I held and petted and just loved loved loved before going to work. I imagined her, the softness, her purr how much I love her, how much she loves me. I soothed myself with that, and rested.

When I came to, I had the oddest experience. I knew I was at work, but what I was seeing with my eyes, in front of me, was the bookcase that I see when I am at home, in bed. I told myself I was imagining it because I love Sunshine so much, I was homesick, but, I’m telling you, I was seeing my bookcase, I felt like I was home. The smell of it, the feel of it. And I understood that I was in both places, right after I got one good hit of: Oh Crap! I SHOULD BE AT WORK! Then the reasoning kicked in, then I aware of what I was doing, and I knew it to be true. I knew I was at the hospital. But I knew I was home.

And now I see that this was the physical anchor I had asked for, not the blessing.

I got done, and got to my book, and scrawled the key phrases onto the back cover. I need reminders, cues, and each stair step thought stood on its own but was in the appropriate order to reach the desired effect.

The next day, I had a good rest, and then I needed to figure out where I should go.

I found, while searching for a kirtan, that a benefit concert was happening up in Northglenn, all Indian music. I decided I should go there.

I got there an hour late, which is my way, and am glad for it. It had gotten started late, and it was a long, long concert. Such beautiful music, such beautiful people. It was to benefit Brent’s Place here in town, a group of 16 homes which are provided for children and their family while the child deals with cancer. A volunteer had helped create the event.

The places I went in that auditorium I will have to save for another time. But I will tell you a big aha that I had in that auditorium, so happy, hearing music that soothes a part of me I never even knew had been riding along with me this whole time, dancing, joy in the air, celebration and remembering and not one hint of poignancy, not one bit of darkness was in that auditorium that night.

I went looking for it, and I found it in no one. No longing for home, the horrible longing all of us have endured. It just wasn’t there. There was so much joy, gratitude, peace, so much joy, there just was a different palette to paint from with those folks that night. I sensed glad hearts, relieved hearts, maybe a little weary, some of them, but many were strong and shining brightly.

At one point, I realized, well, isn’t this nice? Things worked out so well! Here I am, on the solstice, sitting within an Indian family who let me sit among them, clapping and laughing and crying to this music, and I can just feel the light pouring form me. It was amazing. And it was not jangly, it was healing, it was kind and neutral, wishing nothing for anyone, just shining bright on their beauty, and I saw everyone as whole and at peace and beautiful, and so, looking on this, I would have to say, the science experiment shows me that thinking in such terms yields richer emotional and experiential enjoyment. So I think I’ll opt for this.

For me, it just makes sense to field test this stuff, because some of it is just so phantasmagorical, that it just cannot be true, right? But, all data leads to only certain conclusions. Like when I told everyone, after resigning from my post as DON, because our work was complete, it just felt complete, and I told everyone, Well, I don;t know what comes next, but I am conducting a science experiment. I have been saying that the universe provides for me, and now I am going to test that.

And I did, and within a short time, I went up and kited a check gambling on slots, and won over $13,000. So, conducting the experiments is key, for me.

And so, I will end on a thought which really does deserve the honor of an experiment, but I just got it, during the concert, so it may take some time to field test.

I realized last night that I do feel like an equal to my spiritual teachers now. I am an equal to Archangel Michael, St. Germaine, Kryon, The Teachers. Equals. We are brothers, all. It just depends from which vibratory perch you are, how it looks.

And if that is the case, if they are as much a spark of Creator as me, and this spark I know is within me, I believe that now, then, the truth of the matter is that I am equal to anyone on this earth.

I did not immediately go to the seats of government, coaxing power to a duel in my mind.

Instead, I thought about all the folks who I have had struggles with, those who made me feel weak, ineffective, doomed, those who have been more than willing to tell me in no uncertain terms that I am a waste of space, and I have had those folks in my life. But now, I see that I am really not needing to cower anymore, not needing to play the game of servant and master, because it is a false one, and it is boring, rigid, and prone to inciting too much horseplay.

No one is above me, I thought, as the Hindi language caressed and reassured and welcomed me back. No one is below me. I am equal to all. Everyone is equal to the other. This is now something I take as a fact. I cannot refute it, just like I cannot refute my physical experience of being two places at once.

The truth is, we are all equal.

Funny how you can hear a phrase, a sentiment, a thought, all your life, and then, suddenly, one day, its power, its raw truth is revealed.

So, yes, this will need a bonafide experiment, but, really, I am beginning to wonder if social existence is not that experiment. I am beginning to think that no experiment must be devised, because I am living it. How I treat my child will be my experiment. How I treat the creepiest creep at work, that is my test, the meanest neighbor, the scariest bill collector. Those are the experiments.

And so it goes. Just field notes from a weird reporter who doesn’t talk about this stuff to anyone. A plump, graying woman who has spent a lifetime working as a nurse, and working her puzzle. Plain as mashed potatoes. While remaining deeply awake, anymore, it would appear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


So, I let it ride.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What, really, is the point?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

That’s the whole point, I think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And futility, it doesn’t apply.

Self-loathing? Are you kidding me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something sacred this way comes.

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

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

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

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

I love my kid.

Deeply Awake: Visions I Want To Share With You By Kathy Vik 1-12-18

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I was so touched by this video, I’m sitting here feeling so good, so warm and complete, and I hope that as you watch, you have the same experience.

I had a mediation that I felt needed to be shared, and I intertwine this with what I bring up first, the upcoming eclipse, on January 31, 2018. For those interested in my impressions, its meanings, this is a good video for that, in real time, and later, I think it helps explain how I use intention with celestial events, “triggers.”

Very moving and really fun to watch, I found, because the descriptions are cogent and highly visual, which helps me to make things come alive, on rehearing.

I hope your sparkles lead you home, safe and sound, and I hope this helps in that endeavor. Namaste.


Authors notes: 1 – I was wearing a onesie because the house is cold. 2 – I meant from April of 2016, not August, as I was describing one of my first activations. I actually heard the word “April,” and was sure convinced that is what I said. Very odd indeed.  3 – That hand on fire thing has happened to my body repeatedly in this process. The flames are wonderfully soft, and have changed in color and brilliance through the years. I bring it up in order to open a discussion, because I know I am not the only one seeing themselves in spiritual flames during some meditations. OK, it’s out there. Now, please enjoy 🙂




This video’s soundtrack:

Deeply Awake — Kirtan Revisited 7-6-13 By Kathy Vik

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Deeply Awake — Kirtan Revisited 7-6-13 By Kathy Vik

I was canceled last night and tonight, something that shouldn’t happen, I guess, being on a contract, as I am. I sort of didn’t do anything all that productive with my gift last night, but tonight, I knew exactly where I was gonna be: kirtan.

I have invited every single one of my friends, many more than once, and no one will come to kirtan with me. And maybe that is a good thing, because it is such an ecstatic experience for me, and I am so unshielded, so hooked in, when I attend, that maybe it is best for my friends, my family, to not see me that way. Who knows. I’d like some company, but it is what it is.

I have come to see kirtan as a bath of light, and a place where I give myself permission to do anything I see fit. I sometimes find myself at the back of the space, holding a corner, running light. Many times, I am visited by many lovely thoughts and visions.

Tonight, as each kirtan is, tonight was special, it was different, and I really would like to talk about what I saw, what I experienced, if you would indulge me.

Thank you.

Hinduism, for me, is something, for me, like finding I’ve sewn a $1,000 bill into the cuff of my jacket. It was always there, riding along with me, informing me, sort of containing me, but I was not given access to the information, the religion, until I was in my 50’s. Oh, I bought books, and I bought magazines, and I had iconography, but I felt a little like a stealer, sort of disingenuous and like I was imposing on something I had no business claiming even an interest in.

It was like that for me, with Hinduism. Not with the other religions, not really. I know Catholicism runs very deep in my past lives, my akash, protestantism, of course, and I love zen especially. I know I did time in that walk, but Hinduism, to me, it always made the most sense, because it seemed the most inclusive, the most imaginative, the most creative and artistic, and colorful. Joyous, lots of celebrating, lots of eating and socializing.

Seemed like a good thing, but, until I got introduced to kirtan, I didn’t own it.

That first time, I understood why it called to me, what its deep significance was for me, and that I was still, a part of me was still deep in practice, in India, a high master, multidimensional, ascended, there tottering around in the mountains, I am him, he is me, and it really is ok to just let your guard down and start singing, dear one, I was told. And I know the words, they come to me, and I hear those first few phrases, that first few beautiful tones, and I am off, I am far away, and I am as close as the dirt the room is anchored on.

I went very far tonight, and there is some of it I just don’t really understand, but there are a few things to relate.

At one point, I was overwhelmed with so much love that I could see, so very clearly, that all of these people who have come to me through the years, all of them who speak the same message, the same basic ideas, and many directly feed off of the last one who came through and blew me wide open, all of them, they have spoken to me of this time, and they have all spoken, given to me, such love, such straight and true love, such help.

And I went deeper, and I found myself floating, looking into a whale’s eye, and I asked if it would be possible to maybe look at each other as we really are, and not with earth clothing, and then I saw a face, and I saw that this is the face saying all the soothing words, throughout my life. The face of crop circles and a larger truth which knows of only boundless, individuated, eternal love.

This one, this one beautiful, benevolent being, is always with me, has never even ever left. Always here. Always right here.

And it speaks, and says many different things, but always right at the proper time, never early, never late, and whatever is going on in the life, the daily life, this is a gift, pure and simple.

But then, I told them, hey, the thing is, I am getting pretty tired of doing this same dance with a few items, I feel stuck about certain things, and I really want these karmic overlays, any and all karmic overlays, things I think must be plowed through, things I have convinced littlemind must somehow slay or conquer, can we just fast forward, just drop it, just try on a new set of clothing?

And it was done, just like that. Done.

They told me to expect that things are just not the same. Expect different.

I want to tell you about something that happened during kirtan that I still find a little hard to believe, to be quite honest. It is so honestly beautifully miraculous, but with anything like this, there will always be wiggle room for a doubter. Always and forever and a day. That is the way of it. So it really is cool if you think I was hallucinating, or whatever. Whatever. This is what happened.

I looked up and saw that I could see out the window and there was a very large tree out back, and the sky was dark, but then I noticed just a little patch of light. Eight o’clock, or so, lots of time before sunset.

And as I watched the light, I saw that it began to morph and change. It turned into many different, complex things. I spoke to it, and I asked it if it was a consciousness wanting to speak with me, and it morphed, and I knew.

So I asked it to go long, do something really awesome so I know I’m not making it up, and sure enough, there, right there, was a framed picture in light, of a sun in the upper right corner, and a white form that looked like a human, but with wings, it looked like, and punched right through its chest area was a heart, contrasted there. It was a beautiful sight!

Then I began to notice that there were more patches of light, and I thought it beautifully ironic that as the sun is setting, the sky is going from dark to light. And then I got busy singing, crying tears of joy, smiling like an idiot, I am sure.

And when I looked up again, the sky was clear except for one little cloudy patch.

And I understood it was mine to bust the cloud, to see it gone, and as I thought the thought, the cloud went away, melted.

It’s funny, that right now, what I see is the accusing face of someone I know very well, have known for a long long time, looking at me with a twisted smile, telling me to stop being so weird. Implying I am lying to get attention or some sort of nonsense.

Yep, there it is, just as big as day.

And so I will rebut this rude interruption with a little miracle, a little kirtan miracle, and then I want to stop.

The leader is a very clear channel, highly intuitive, very advanced. I love his energy, because it is so pure, it is so unimpeded, and it is so very joyful, so balanced, so tempered, it is, with his sorrow.

And I am always moved when I am led by this man, but none more than tonight, because when he spoke, which was rarely, what he had to say was so beautiful, and it contained longing and beauty and forgiveness and grace. Whether he knows of all of these ascension details or not, it is immaterial, because he has seen the face of God, he knows the truth of it, that it is all love, it is all within us, and we are here to love each other into remembering that we are worth more than we can imagine.

And I really felt so moved tonight, I wanted to go up and hug him and call him brother, tell him that I see him and I am glad to be seen by him, and as the kirtan proceeded, I found that, at the end of one of the meditations, a happy thing took place, where this mantle of karma and lesson was removed, and a snappier one is now on me, a lot lighter, prettier.

And then I was consumed in what I need to describe as neon purple light. It was really vibrant, and it was a lot like St. Germaine’s flame, but it had an iridescence, or a resilience, a tubular-ness to it that was amazing. And I felt alive with it.

And then I was told, you know, folks are gonna come to you now. Be ready for it, because they will need to have more of this. It feels good, and they will come to you now.

After the kirtan, after all the energy was set, and all the vortices stilled, thanked, blessed, it was time to eat.

I ate two scoops of dahl, I think it is spelled, it was fabulous, the rice was perfect, but before I could dig into this feast, I had to find a place to sit. I did, out on the patio, in the dark, at a table. My heart sunk a little, because I go there wanting to make friends, and sitting there in the dark, it did not seem conducive to that end, but I was hungry, so I sat.

Right away, a woman came up and asked if she could sit beside me. She had never been to kirtan before, and I asked her, in all sincerity, what it was like for her, what was her impression of it? She was blissed out then, smiling from ear to ear, words failed. I asked her if she felt expanded. She smiled and said yes.

And then the kirtan guy came out, and I told him what was in my heart, thanked him and honored him for his clarity of channel, his great love, and then thanked him some more.

He did not come over and sit.

The girl asked me questions, and I obliged. She wanted to know, when it came to it, why I was so happy. And I told her what I know to be true: that we are all one, we love each other very very much, and we have forgotten how much love there is in the world, for us and from us and between us, that’s all.

She smiled. I asked her to point out stars, some I knew the names to, some I did not, because I could see as she recounted what she knew, she felt some delight. I asked her about herself, and she floored me, telling me she was a student in high school. I told her that she struck me as someone who holds herself as if she were in her thirties. She laughed, looked proud. She said she loved science. I encouraged her love.

And then I got up and smoked. No one followed me, and once again, I was outside, on the front lawn, feeling adrift, apart, longing for connection, knowing it was just a few feet away, and knowing the timing is all wrong, that mine is to love, to shine, to radiate, and to smile, smile at myself and this beautiful night and all the people who agreed to gather on this night, of all nights, and sing names that for centuries others have been sung only with love, devotion, focus on the most joy, the most truth, the most purity one can manage to feel.

My way is a joyful one, and it is still a singular one, and I am at peace with how this is all working out. There is no accident to anything in my life, and I have cooked up some very nice story lines which are putting along, coming along, and who knows where any of this leads?

All I know is that throughout the day, I had opportunities to transmute, in real time, really quick, some pretty mean stuff, and I did it, I did it quick and then I was fine, and I am very proud of how far I have come. I think it is ok to finally say that.

I know that there is a lot of stuff I do not know, but I know things that make me very very happy, very centered and tranquil and at peace, and I think this is good. And that is the nice part to all of this. No one is in charge of what I tell myself but me. Nobody.

I close by telling you of a fascinating and wonderful group I am part of at facebook, and we pop into and out of each other’s lives asking, “hey, anybody else having this or that happen?!” and it really helps a lot.

Today someone posted something that really got to me.

A guy said that he is, you know, a reasonable person, basically, not a crazy person, but he has had increasingly bizarre ringing in the ears, and he has questioned his sanity, thinking, as he has come to, that maybe this is spiritual in nature, and not entirely and exclusively biologically based.

And it got me thinking. I posted something, after a quick, “Energetics knows no dogma.”

I said that I think that there is an overlay that is just now coming down, which equated thinking or living in a multidimensional or quantum or an entangled way, that this was to be interpreted by our biology as mental illness, and that it was fair game for others to ascribe expansion thusly.

And there have been a lot of positive responses to that post.

I think it is true.

I know I really, really struggled with that, and it was a scary thing to wrestle with. Really scary. Traveled with me from my adolescence, this fear of being seen as crazy. Whew. Thick, that one.

But I think it is burning off, and I am glad for that, because it is enough to be given sight, willingness to see life as a poem, and maybe this is just one line of an epic, but it is beautiful and contains the essence, the meaning of the thing within this one line.

But as it might just be one line, this thing we are living out, seeing to, taking so, so, so seriously, I think it is high time to enjoy its rhythm, and to see it for what it is. This is not a dirge we are living anymore, it is the beginning of a new time, one of peace and stability and of coming together, of inner calm and outer resolve, benevolence and patience and humor.

Kirtan is a blessing to me because it is a place where I figure old souls, or at least Indian souls, congregate to sing these chants, and I will indulge. I run light, I use a weird gesture language that I love to use but do not understand, and I have visions. I laugh through tears, and I no longer, for those hours, feel the weight of the world.

The leader always washes us clean of our sorrow, that first couple of songs, and then we are complete, done with it, we are free, we recognize our walk, we recognize our place, and we then start rejoicing in our present, our choice to raise our voices and recognize a truth that may be unseen or misunderstood by those of a different bent.

I am glad I live in a place where it is not illegal for me to express my individual understanding of God.

I am thankful that I have been willing, this lifetime, to exercise this right, this freedom, and have explored, and dearly loved all the religions, still do, still do. They all speak of love, and I spent the day, today, reading the new testament, walking old familiar ground with my friend, seeing where they so blatantly misrepresented things, and just where he could have said more, but the energy just could not allow it.

It was a good day. It was a fun day. Not a typical day, perhaps, but a nice one, and it ended with kirtan, seeing in others what I have come to see in myself, wanting to hold everyone, the whole world, but especially those in that house in the ever-blossoming flower of that light I have seen, and come to love.

I don’t know what they’ll do with it, if anything. But I was inside of it and breathing it out, flowing with it, loving it, expanding it, and giving it away to anyone who wanted it.

I think it was a good kirtan. It was a good night. I am tired. I would like to see a movie, but sleep sounds more reasonable. Tomorrow is another day.

Deeply Awake — And Maybe That’s Enough For Today 6-28-13 By Kathy Vik





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Deeply Awake — And Maybe That’s Enough For Today 6-28-13 By Kathy Vik

I tried to channel, and what came to me was very nice, but I found I just couldn’t do it today.

I do not fancy myself a full-on channel only. I like to think that what I am doing is becoming a full meld, as much as I can, and if channeling fits, so be it, if talking about 3d land fits, then I do that. I can’t box myself in, and consider all of what I write, when honest, and I don’t write when I feel the need to lie, is channeled, but some of it is so pure, so sweet, so clear… I really wanted it today, knew I could have it, so I settled down and tried, but it just was not to be…

Instead, the first thing that happened is I do this thing with my hands, I guess it is called a mudra, but when I do it, depending on where I place this configuration on my body, or on the gridlines, different feeling states and different energies are available.

So I did it over my belly, higher up than usual, and this is what I was given, what I saw:

A silver mist came up from my belly, and it seemed to be very benevolent. I asked it to speak, and it indicated it did not. I asked it to write through me, and it indicated that this was not its purpose. Then it seemed more like a person, but it really only ever was silver light, and it came from my belly, came from me, but I kept wanting to run the light, run it through my middle, or down and up, to complete the circuit, and it let me do all this, as it hung there, waiting.

Once I was done doing to it, it did to me. It let me know I should go with it down this way. I did. It was the boss, that much was clear. It knew stuff I did not. It had remained unchanged as I had tried to change it, improve it, personalize it.

And I found myself on a street. I felt really really good, and I could see, feel, all the set ups, all the meetings, all the potentials, coursing through that street, why I was on that street, what I was accomplishing, loving, thinking. I was happy, and I had a good thing going on, and I knew this was just a moment of time, a sliver, to let me see some other reality, one I wanted, one that was coming to me very shortly. It felt HERE already, while watching it. I liked it.

And this is what the silver mist explained:

Physical situations are energetic set ups. What you long for in your manifestations, all that is being longed for is the mental, emotional, spiritual state which would make such realities emerge.

Longing for an object, or holding onto any object in my mind is missing the point. To glorify an object, a career, an accomplishment, is to miss what it is which created the event. It is short hand, and it is acceptable, but it is a misinterpretation of the data.

What is desired, always, is not the physical reality, but the emotions behind the reality, as the emotional state is the clue to all the rest of it, the thought constructs, the quality of the belief structures, the soundness of the spiritual thinking.

So this is what I was told. To see situations as paintings, mood paintings, and to not get too hung up on the particulars.

The key to manifestation, so to speak, is knowing that the feeling state desired is to be felt as clearly and freely as possible in the here and now. To call over to me the things which I prefer, it is best, most efficacious, to continue to spend as much “time,” spend as much love thinking and inhabiting this parallel reality that is cooking up, feel the feelings, notice how people in your imagined world treat you…

Soak it all up and then project it.

Have lots of fun in uncomfortable situations, situations you do not prefer, right in the here and now, by conjuring up this preferred reality, its matrix, while in the middle of a current problem.

Call to this other reality, the preferred emotional state, you see, and integrate them, standing there, solving this current 3d problem, the one that is chapping your ass,.

Solve the problem with the other reality’s feeling state.

So that is what the silver mist told me.

The whole point to this was to ask them about my identity. I know I am a whale, I know that I run the lines with them, I know I am with them, and they are part of me. I know they are part of all of us, but I feel I know them. I can tell you things about them that would look like I was just pulling stuff out of the air, but I know that state. I am one of them.

So I wanted to know about that. I know they are Pleiadian, they are our oversoul, let’s just say I have odd thoughts about them I wanted confirmation for, because I feel like they are God incarnate, they are sainted and they are to be revered, and without them this whole thing could not go. I know all that, but I wanted confirmation, I wanted to know why this is so, and what it all means.

And instead, in meditation, once again, I am led to the Sequoia. I am railing, saying I want to know who I am, where I am from, just how old I am, what my role on this Earth is, all that stuff. And what I got next, in that frenzy of I WANT?

I saw one teeny frail white flower. Deep green background. One white bloom on a thin, tubular stalk, gently swaying. And then I knew. The flower was at the base of the Sequoia.

And so, as always, I became sap, liquid gold sun, alive and coursing through the portal that is this tree, and there I was, feeling like I was sipping tea with the Seven Sisters, so close to my top are they.

And then I was done.

So I do not know any more about my ultimate role and identity and purpose, not in any really obvious terms. I wanted to know about one thing, and I got another.

But this, of course, is the object lesson, this is the instruction set for the day, duh, I am being told, with not a whole lot of humor, I might add, sort of a sense of “Oh jeez, she is going slow at this today…”

So here it is:

I asked for my purpose, role, basically wanted to know the entire scope of my awesomeness, history, purpose. You know, the little things. And I got a flower. I got a tree. I didn’t even get to see a whale. I listened to the whale song I enjoy to play when I am writing, and I felt oddly connected to all of it, before snapping out of meditation.

It is as if on a certain level, it is all made out of the same stuff, so it begins to lose its focus, its sharpness or meaning, and it takes zooming in, somehow, focusing intentionally, to get some of the information available.

This whole thing is like looking at a huge gem for the answer, the meaning, and realizing that by looking at it whole, the answer is unavailable, and by looking at it up close, you can only take in one facet, one plane, at a time, but what is within one facet, one plane, speaks to, infers, contains, the essence of the whole, and each of the other planes to boot!

An amazing process.

So, I asked for all this stuff, and I got what was in the emotional soup for me to digest at this moment of my discovery path.

I am in love with this process, and I am in love with my Self, feeling peace, finally, with feeling peace, and allowing myself to imagine that what comes next is indeed just (!) a physical construct which is formed through and for and by the emotional and soulic desires I carry with me, here, in my imagination, in my heart, in my soul, in my eyes.

I can’t say in all honesty all the places I have been, the entities I am or have been or will be. I am responsible for this: I am here, in my sparkly shirt, smoking, and writing and wishing I did not have to go to work tonight. It is just another day, is it not?

But I go through each day now knowing that it is perfectly natural to know all I know, to want as much as I want of the good stuff, the esoterics, and to have my own little life finally make sense, because, honestly, that is really all I ever asked for.

That’s it.

For life to not hurt anymore.

And it really doesn’t.

And maybe that is enough for today.

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

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

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

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

And so here it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It went on for a very very long time.

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

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

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

But, I digress.

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

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

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

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

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

But this was not the end to it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, he was gone.

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

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

The problem was, that wasn’t my dad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I told her of this odd event.

I told her of her meditation.

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

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

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

I have been told two things since this began.

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

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

And so it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or I used to be.

The opposite is now true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That makes sense.

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

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