Deeply Awake: For Those On A Spiritual Quest By Kathy Vik 7-21-19

 

 

Deeply Awake: For Those On A Spiritual Quest By Kathy Vik 7-21-19

Working from the observation that we currently live within a conflict-based reality, a discussion develops about the way in which trauma intersects a spiritual walk. I discuss power, love, the end of a 7 year activation phase, and the results of coming to terms with the source of all conflict, and its resolution.

Well worth the hour, it’s a fun one. Lots of visual anomalies, and it will leave you, I hope, feeling more connected to the unified field which attracted you to this video to begin with. Have fun with it! I’m including Pane Andov’s amazing gift to us below my video. It’s a show-stopper.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Deeply Awake — What It’s Like To Spiritually Grow Up By Kathy Vik 3-10-19

 

An honest talk about the new energy now available, and the reality shifts creating my current maturation process. Enjoy.

 

 

 

As referenced, Teal Swan discusses channeling and remaining conscious within multi-dimensional reality.

Deeply Awake – Declaration Of The New By Kathy Vik 12-31-18

Deeply Awake – Declaration Of The New By Kathy Vik 12-31-18

www.kathyvik.com

I’ve always been honest about my perceived or understood spiritual mission, and I think I am lucky in that regard, because I know many wonder, am I doing what is in alignment, am I making the right choice for my highest good? And I admit, I can go there too, teasing out this intention and that shadow, winnowing out self-sabotage and old behaviors in the process, but I think that is a shaman’s work, a lightworker’s work, building up our power of discernment until it can cut through steel like it’s butter.

I knew that I was here to ascend. I knew that in 1992, when the words were finally given to me like that, but I have known of this since I was a girl, and I had a visitation, explaining my life and what I was to become. I accepted because I was offered the guidance, the announcement, from my friend, someone I call brother, and I am sure is an equally beloved, great counselor and friend to you, Jesus.

What does it mean, to ascend? Well, I didn’t come in with that information, and, like I said, I didn’t even have the vocabulary until I was 31 years old. I knew it was a spiritual path, and it involved states of being and knowing that seemed achingly familiar, and impossible to know here, now, given all this.

I have had an unusual 6 years here, and those who have stood witness, thank you. To those who have watched from their kitchens and bus stops and rooftops and libraries, hello. I have always been astonished and humbled by you.

You listen. You are willing to take in and consider what I am saying, and this, dear friend, is the greatest gift another can give. Receptivity, openness, non-judgmental smiles, positive regard, gentle behaviors and tender words, I hope this is what you offer me, when we sit quietly and I allow you to look in on this beauty I know.

This sea of love sustained me, these years, as have my fellow travelers, and my soul guidance. It has been a wholly spiritual life, and when seen through that lens, my life crystallizes into a thing of absolute beauty, raw, exquisite perfection, it breaks into the song of the angels. It is quite a sight. That these are certainly not the lenses most have, well, who can fault them? I find more and more who hear my song, the one that rides with me everywhere I go, that I forget is singing, when I am acting petty, or viscous, when in anger or fear or distortion. That is quite a sight too. It happens less frequently now. I have less fear now.

I have come to understand much, the last few weeks, and so much of it resides in my DNA, in my eye light, in my hands, my heart, my skin, but what is languaged goes into the little notebook I have at the side of my bed, the big aha moments, the dream lessons, the stray thoughts.

I thought it time to mark these final changes with an essay, an end of year, end of project note.

The week of Christmas was intense, and I am hearing from many in the tribe that they had key, pivotal events occur, not just meditations but physical life kicking in and doing the ride a long teaching, and much was gained from these tableaux of forgiveness and maturity.

For me, the progress was monumental, and daily, and fluid, synchronous beyond question. On-time, me ever more relaxed within it, feeling safer every day, my synchronicity a friend, a scout, a helper and encourager.

First you have to believe it exists, and, if so, is it a thing for fools, or a thing for the wise to care about? That fundamental question must be dealt with. Sometimes your guides will do a purely outlandish thing or two, just to PROVE it to you, just to give you something you would look silly disputing.

I like how Terence McKenna described synchronicity, its elusive nature. He told a story of being broke, living in a cave in India, smoking hash and having visions, and just being. One day, he said he had a thought, out smoking at the entrance to his cave. Wouldn’t it be nice to have food? But not just any food. Oysters Rockefeller on ice, caviar, Stilton cheese, on and on he thought of delicacies.

Soon, a figure appeared far off in the distance, and as he approached, he saw it was an acquaintance of his from the city, and he was carrying large bags. He welcomed him in, and his friend explained that he’d just walked out on the first day of job in the city, a busboy at an exclusive and expensive restaurant. He’d hated it so much, he left for good before the lunch break, and he stole all this food.

He lay open the bags, and there was oysters Rockefeller on ice, caviar, Stilton cheese, and on and on the delicacies.

He’d started the story by talking about how there can be drawn parallels between advanced spiritual practice and plant hallucinogenic realities. He finished the story by pointing out how personal synchronicity is.

It was as story about a guy who thieved his abandoned place of work, and shared his booty with a pauper. It was a story of a monk, a shaman, of considerable skill.

Life, being a quantum thing, allows you to interact, and decide for yourself. But, the events, of  experiencing delight from a source of nourishment and care, that is personally hearing and responding to you? That an only be real if you think it is possible. If you imagine it is so.

I mention this to illustrate that we each have the lens with which we view events and others. That lens, through which I, you, view daily life,  deadens and cheapens it, turning magic to dust, and hope to folly, or enlivens, mystifies, humbles, instructs, guides, loves, supports, nourishes, knows and delights.

I think this is at the heart of it, really. Two agreement fields, two realities, one that I see as non-separated, or integrated, and one that has reverse polarities. And with it come two realities, two worlds. Am I describing 5d and 3d? Am I describing heaven and hell? Am I describing the Humanity and the Demiurge? I think that is up to you to decide.

This may seem like duality, but it isn’t. Duality is charged. One makes the other go, kind of thing. The good with bad, right and wrong, night and day. All those things are “real,” and yet, they are not entirely complete without the other.

Alongside this paradoxical energy is the flow of nature, singing its songs of symbiosis, cooperation, pleasure, beauty, unlanguaged, unknowable mystery and power. There is a coherence in Gaia surpassing the linear thinking and unskilled behavior of the lower agreement field, that of tit for tat, survivalism, brutality, the old service-to self barbarism we are finally able to see for what it is.

I’ll tell you of some meditations.

I understood that we are now working on the third wave entities. Until I looked in, I thought we were behind, but we are making amazing progress. I was stunned!

I saw groups of golden lighted souls, archangels, so many many souls, gathering around those who are hurting and having difficulty. They are being surrounded by us, and it is happening world-wide. ** Note, the wounded, hurt, slow, dark, hurt pieces of you are also being surrounded like this. That is the point. This energy is being focused on the densest energies, planet-wide, and up-close & personal, all at once. The love we are receiving is so pure, and is delivered with such intensity and softness, brilliance and divine love, it’s really astounding. So, don’t lose faith in your self or in others, this light finds all of it and surrounds it happily, now**

The ones who are suffering the most, from the changes going on energetically, those who aren’t coping well, they are being surrounded by legions. I saw this around the globe, and the little nodes of suffering were not as many as I had thought there would be, and each of them were actively being helped.

In 1994, when I was shown The Earth in a vision given to me by my Teachers, I felt and heard the planet before I cold see it, and there were cries throughout, there was so much need, then, and now, this need is more concentrated, and being surrounded, deluged, assisted by advanced harmonics, helping to bridge the energies and soothe the body/mind/lifestream, but only as allowed, requested by the entity or situation.

In my recent vision, with just these nodes of hurt, being surrounded by bright golden white light, I was told, this is the third wave, being worked on. The first wave has been active for some time, and the second wave is now spreading so exponentially, it is possible now for the energy to be used in this more concentrated way. And this is just what is being done on earth by us.

Each of us are being attended by our people, our ancestors, both galactic and akashic. This planet is being witnessed by many, at this time. We are truly doing something extraordinary, and all eyes are on us, all hearts with us.

What we are doing is pivotal, just as it was with every ascension process. This one has such mind -bending significance, of course, but those of us who feel these energies know, we have done this before, there is nothing to worry about, all is well, all is in divine order, there is NOTHING to worry about.

Do you get that broadcast in your mind, sometimes, like a break in the stream of consciousness? I like it. I don’t mind it one bit.

And, to be easy about all this, while buying groceries or having a hard conversation with someone in crisis, well, that’s the idea, and it takes getting used to. Patience. Support, if possible, and self-love, whether there’s support or not.

There have been a number of really paradigm altering meditations I have had, visions, I suppose they could be called, but really surprising meditations in which I did things with light I never thought to do, it was revolutionary to me but made such utter sense.

The meditations I want to focus on began with a technique Alba Weinman does on a client to clean her timelines of all influence of toxicity. I thought on that technique, and I applied it, using my adopted natal chart, going back to birth, and adopting that geometry, allowing two time lines to occur. I’m living the May 25 timeline now, and have been since my conversion, with breakthroughs from the old lifetime, as I have been calling it, not understanding until just this moment what I did. Oh my! Oh my. Isn’t that something. Huh. That explains a whole lot, actually.

Writer, stunned.

Give me a minute.

Actually, you know what? I think that had been my intention the whole time I was doing that way-way back meditation.

Let me explain.

Holy shit. I’m some kind of time lord. Dayum.

Ok. I preface this by asking you a question. When we die, what happens? I know you have your thoughts, I will tell you mine, since this is how this kind of thing works. I think we go back to source, we’re always there, but we can become that essence, and then, with councils, with teachers, with guides, we sculpt a new life.

We re-write ourselves, a new character, we, the actor, and then, we come back into flesh, giving ourselves a star map of our soul’s intentions, desires, proclivities, challenges, and we take a breath, and begin forgetting we had anything at all to do with any of this bullshit. And God is shady. And love is dead. Some stay mad and confused and estranged from their maker, their creator, their source, the pic (partner in crime) all through their lives, and convince themselves that there isn’t magic afoot.

It’s a hard thing to believe, and a harder thing to accept, when your circumstances are unpleasant, dangerous or disheartening, right? The typical scene of, what would you ask God, and the answer is, why is there suffering?

See above. We forget. We get terrified, and we must figure out what it means. Sometimes, we turn mean, and things get ugly. We turn numb, and things go bleak. We don’t face our Selves, and go seeking for it in things or people. We are, many of us, deeply afraid, deeply hurt, and deeply confused.

Some have found unconditional love within themselves, and thus, shelter, refuge, and within those walls, I see how strong and shining they become. Some know how to banish fear. Some will not acknowledge it, and some laugh at it and tell it to be gone. Fear is the warp, the lie, the Tweaker God’s paradox, as we live in the culture of the ones who thrive in reverse polarity.

This is how it’s all shaken out for me. This sensation, this feeling I get, I know it as reverse polarity now. I have heard others refer to their body sensations from unseen energy or frequencies in similarly symbolic terms.

What I know as reverse polarity is a suck feeling, not a good one, and it has a warping effect. I have known this sensation since girlhood, and had been visited by entities holding that frequency very intensely, from the ages of 12 or 13, until adulthood. I finally banished it in 2012, using meditation and ceremony, and with them finally, once again, visiting me in the flesh. They don’t come around me anymore, nor does that specific energy, which is a relief to me, since it made me sick, and scared, when it was around, and would linger, reverberate, like a magnetic pulse, for weeks, and once, for a year.

I’ve always lived within this world of frequency, vibration, sound, light. I always have. I just didn’t have the will to explain it so clearly, all at once, like this, now.

So, this stuff is real, at least for me. SO much of this training, these last six years, have been to get used to simply having more access to information, while having pursuits that are good for me, though brand freaking new, and ultimately enjoyable, and trying to figure out how to further assist, in a way that is fun and meaningful to me.

OK, to what I did in meditation, using that scrubbing technique. I think I’m limbered up enough. This is a BIG ONE.

I liked what Alba did, taking this person to, and from, back , and forth, from the now moment to birth, and cleaning up all the hurt feelings, all the pain, the suffering she experienced, coating it all in this golden light which nothing can penetrate, and so, her days will be protected, she will be happy regardless of another’s behavior, she is safe and protected and guided in love forevermore.

Holy crap. That’s big.

So, I considered what I have done, the conversion I had on May 25, 2012, and how I have adopted this date and time (12:12pm) as my new expression, my new signature, something, someone, I really like and want to experience and embody. I have played with this for a few years, at eclipses, giving permission for DNA dispersal and rewriting, and so on.

So, I did it, in meditation. I have recently realized that Uriel and Raphael are always with me, their stars are part of my natal charts, figuring prominently in the narrative, and, they have helped me, (I see now, Raphael opening up my vision with green light, in January). Michael has always been with me, because I call on him a lot, so I called on all of them, and then Jesus, my Sananda, and together we did it.

The final wash, having gone from present through the past, and back again, three times, we were silent, reverent, standing around my crib.

We’ve done many times before, so there was this nice feeling of familiarity, and with Jesus on one side of the energy, and me on the other, I thought the crib would explode into light I brought to and through me. Instead, I went down and found myself face to face with this beautiful baby, stroking her/my hair, loving her, being there at that moment, and forevermore, never more than a breath away, all this light, all this love, all this mastery, all this skill, all this divine knowing, only a breath away, always. WE are all one.

And with that, I sent the geometries of the natal chart created by the May 25 event through a white stream, my life stream, and realized I would then actually be creating new probabilities, new realities, all that, so it might take a little getting used to, but to allow new responses to be ok by me, but further, this can be applied to the events after May of 2012.

Since then, it’s been different. I have been living that proof, and Sam has witnessed it. It’s been weird and confusing up close, I am sure, but my oh my, this lens makes a lot of things clear, don;t you think? Being ok with being new, allowing this to be real, allowing it to set as real, that was the message.

It is only now that I see how the synch up was on May 25, and why that light event happened that day. I don’t know why that particular day, but to have a date and time and place to be, when both timelines converge. Wow. Holy crow.

I wonder if this is how a new earth is created, not the one being talked about as The Event, just a better Earth while we transcend. It is entirely possible to go off planet with your light body, and that has been, I think, one of the points of the exercise. But, in the meantime, there is much to do to ease the suffering of many, and to stop the ones perpetuating this suffering.

For me, knowing masters surround all, now, but are most concentrating and loving those who are needing it, this fills me with relaxation and relief. It helps me trust, even when things are looking wonky.

What moved me to mark this day, is, this is the first day of my recent life that I haven’t woken up to the sudden and constant stream of problem solving going on, just a constant working on problems. It was ever present, and, today, this morning, it’s gone. Like a clean amputation.

I have had this experience before, with similar afflictions, but this was the Big Kahuna.

In my experience, the best way to handle such a thing, such an obvious absence of something you suddenly realize didn’t even really know was that big a presence, when it is gone, it’s good to agree with it. Like it.

When the weather inside your bio-suit clears up one hallowed day, the only rational thing to do is to enjoying the relief so much you let it be real for you.

Many times, it’s just, one day I knew it this way, now it’s not that way, and it’s for the better, something I have been puzzling on forever, usually. I’m a koan cracker, a code-breaker. Because I see myself that way, once I have an answer, I know not to go on puzzling. I know when it’s over, because problem solving is an imposition.

Well, I guess, as always, it’s best to take all this with a grain of salt. After all, I have no advanced degree, I am a single mom and a little goofy, when looked at from a certain lens. It’s only when you look at me with this one, held just this way, and then, oh momma, do the gifts come pouring out.

For those I didn’t lose from incredulity or skepticism, superstition or righteous indignation, I salute you. For those who read it with a “this is cool if you think of it as a sci fi thing” approach, thank you. For those of you who will now need to gather their socks because they shot across the room during the reading, hey, where y’all been?

Deeply Awake — Solstice Update On Our Ascension And The Event By Kathy Vik 12-22-18

An update which discusses the energetics and reality of our planetary and my personal ascension process. Enjoy.

Deeply Awake — Life Beyond Polarity By Kathy Vik 11-24-18

An open, compelling and interesting discussion of reality construction beyond dualism.

Deeply Awake: Art And The Primacy Of Personal Experience By Kathy Vik 11-2-18

 

 

An easy, fun and helpful discussion about writing, art, the primacy of personal experience, and the unbreakable thread linking it all up.

For those interested, here is the website for National Novel Writing Month!    https://nanowrimo.org

 

Deeply Awake – Confessions Of An Old, Sovereign, Soul By Kathy Vik 10-20-18

 

Deeply Awake – Confessions Of An Old, Sovereign, Soul By Kathy Vik 10-20-18

www.kathyvik.com

My work lately has led to many conclusions, some completions of open circuits, and hearing a sustained, returned ping, now, for nearly a month.

A ping, to me, is something I do, that my soul has done, in response to a seemingly unsolvable question, an unthinkable paradox, an unsustainable and yet weirdly entrenched, immovable reality, that has become a problematic area in my inner landscape.

It has forever felt, thinking on it from time to time, as if I am a little green alien who was plopped onto some random planet, with only a box in my hand, a little box with a big button. I press it.  Instinctively I know it’s my only connection to where I came from. Pushing the button elicits neither sound nor light, the box unwilling to confirm it even works, while I stand there pushing, in hope, in confusion, in despair, alienated, pushing that button, sending out a ping, while asking only one question, a fundamental one.

Why?

And then came living on this globe, inculcated into systems and agreements that seemed reasonable at the time. Once in a while, the button would be pressed, sometimes frantically and for days on end, sometimes just year to year, sometimes far longer, as the situation dragged on.

Finally, after I found a place of my own again, in 2003, I discovered that box, dusty and still silent, immutable, opaque. The button was pushed hard and long, then, and since. And in 2012 it seems the box came to life and turned into a communication device. Since then, I have gotten my pings back, those sent out in grave isolation and in utter frustration and in deep, soul-crushing fatigue, now finally returning in celebration and relief and homecoming.

I didn’t like being a kid for a whole host of reasons, but one of them was how weird grown-ups and sometimes my own friends reacted when I revealed my intelligence. This did not resolve. It got worse. But it started innocently enough: I stunned them with my easy vocabulary in elementary school, and remember reading books on stars and geology very very early. I was questioning the bases of Lutheranism with my pastor during our catechism times. My essays won awards in school contests when I dared write them, which was rarely. My writing has stunned my teachers, consistently, since girlhood.

I say this not to brag. I say this to let you know that far from feeling like an achiever, an attractive person, an ally,  I saw how “normal”  people behaved when I was myself, and quickly understood that most of what I liked about myself was intimidating, scary or ugly to those around me. I adopted other ways to get along with people, I buckled down and learned the script, and played it out as well as I could, never really fitting in, always feeling weird, way down deep.

The circumstances of my nursing education and career are, to me, epic and interesting, and I have mined the meanings and levels behind this odd bifurcation in my life, moving out of academia, out of my comfort zone and my source of happiness, learning, and into the physical realm of allopathy.

I understand today, after doing this work on self, on the fragmentation required with role adoption and social agreements, that the circumstances allowed me to become re-acquainted with my true, bigger, happier, more expanded self. I was free, for a couple years, and I allowed reality to guide me, then as now. During nursing school and because of it, I was led into grand, safe, pure self-expression, I can no longer hold this decision in as much angst. The circumstances were the core issue, and it was not time to deal with the core. It was time to get free.

So I did.

I got comfortable with myself, and I liked myself, because that seemed the only reasonable response. Never attempting to get anyone else to join in, just learning to appreciate my Self. Always, until this very day, there were loud squeaks in my machinery, dissonance brought on by vast fields of unconsciousness, even then, but I explored me, how I mattered, what made me feel good, and it was great training.

So was the technical college. I had been brilliant in school, and it was easy for me, once I got the hang of things, but, as in childhood, and as it is today, during this again-flowering time, I still couldn’t read a regular watch, I still mistook “b” for “d” consistently, I never had “left” and “right” internalized, and I needed an aid to remember what day and year it was. Always. That’s how I am built.

The diagnostics I have taken confirm that I am very deeply, happily and truly on the spectrum, and that makes sense, I think, on many levels at once, not just one. These “autistic” characteristics are evident both because of the family dynamics I knew {the energetic/karmic reality)  but also because of my neurobiology. It was the energetic set-up, the parameters, the game afoot,  but more, the presentation of spectrum behaviors is evidence of being able to grock rather than simply think.

We’re grockers, not thinkers, we multidimensional ones.

Those who begin the ascension process have to come to terms with losing a degree of specificity, and need to develop tough skin and good humor, because this is a weak area for some of us. We can appear inattentive, spaced out, aloof, disinterested, neutral, disengaged.

I have heard many on the internet worry or caution against worry, whether you are going mad or senile. Get feedback from reliable, kind people about your memory and countenance. Do not invite critique of your countenance or internal process by the critical or the innately cruel. It seems obvious, but sometimes we do this, so, I ask you take a moment before inviting or accepting as gospel feedback or advice from random or disapproving people about your mood state, your demeanor. Maybe some things can be left unsaid, or at least untouched, by the ones who, just because that’s how it is, cannot truly appreciate you.

I have had great spans of time, intermittently,  when I have been able to live from my soul, rather than within roles in systems I fundamentally disagreed with. Somehow, during these times of freedom, permission, and discovery, the disagreement part quieted, put on a low rumbly bass note, rather than playing out as my daily bread.

In those times, I stretched my legs, did as I saw fit, befriended and loved as my soul directed, and I knew more peace, than when I finally agreed to reenter the fray, doubling down on living solely within the contemporary society.

In the late “90’s, I did just that, and in so doing, became a death walker. It’s then I started working Hospice, it’s then that death became a palpable, inescapable and repeated reality in my personal life, and it’s then that things got real, for me.

I was lifted out of that life in because of death, in 2003, realizing in one crystalline evening, after many serious near-death medical things, I would actually die young if I stayed in the life I had created.

Thus began the bulk of this lifetime’s work, and this is said finally understanding that as a frustrated scientist, spiritualist and ascensionist, I simply wound up using my daily life as my laboratory. What other reason is there to live, but to learn?

I have exhausted some studies, but mostly, I encounter a new discipline or school of thought, or thinker, and realize tout suite that I am outclassed, I am a student, once again, and the only thing that would be appropriate would be to soak it all in, synthesize it, and enjoy the experience, knowing I am once again quite small, standing among giants, grateful for their effort, their sharing, their indulgence, their unwillingness to call out my student-ness, what is called, in the culture, “stupidity.”

There is a symbiosis between teacher and willing student, the teacher learning and growing from the opportunity to share thoughts and ideas in this way, today, with this person, here, while the listener realizes this is new experience is valuable, and in resonance.

It’s this resonance that I chose to ignore, that I deemed unnatural and suspect when I began deathwalking. I say deathwalking because that’s what it was. It is a wonderful place to dwell, but it is a twilight place. I know the land well, having walked the path from that reality to this, and to others, daily since then.

Once 2012 came, there simply was more light available, and my true self, my old self, my real self, could no longer be denied. It didn’t want to be, and neither did I.

Writing became, and remains, a key to this process for me, because I am a writer by nature and design. An observer. A scientist-poet, let’s say.

I can now see that it is not a destruction, denial, or punishment of these “other” identities, long loved, well-recognized, and obviously comfortable, that is at hand, and I am glad for this. Part of this process of integration seemed to have a death quality, and much of the ascension process is laden with it.

Illusion, it can be seen for, in this new light, as twilight burns off and a new, unexpected light burns through the day and the night, but I was stuck on the idea that these bent up, sad, cruel, terrorized, repressed people I have been in the past would be nullified, sentenced to death for just cause.

It was tricky, a game of high-stakes internal chicken, and I waited, I guess, until things were less charged before deciding what to do with my past, how I have behaved, the choices I made, the things I KNEW to be true, which were not. What do I do with these unskilled, sometimes paralyzed, sometimes frenetic pieces of me? Is it a forgiveness thing? Is it an absorption thing? Do I pump them full of light and send even THEM Home?

I realized today that I couldn’t be sitting here, all consolidated and happy like this, if I had split off and murdered my tortured soul, you know? She’s here, and she’s sitting up sipping tea now, in bed, no longer in the fetal position. Her eyes dry, though her face is hollow and old. Without her, I would lack the depth I do. Without my crazy, rebellious, “I really, honestly do not give a fuck” person, maybe my boundaries would be a little fuzzier than they already are, retarded by continued coding as my limit-setter is.

I realize that what I was told in 2016, that I was going to write a tome, a thesis, entitled Personality Reintegration: The Theory Of Validity, is true. At the time, I had told them I would have no part in writing such a text without a partner who could help me stay physical while I worked on such a thing. Another cosmic joke, looky-looky, I have been working on it, since then, every single ding-dang day.

I didn’t like the intimation of the title, that maybe  I had a mental disease called “Multiple Personality Disorder,” and that I had bumbled into a cure. I see now how naive and tiny that thinking was. I also fully recognize that the “You’re crazy” motif sculpted my life, others thinking I am not quite right, for the reasons I’ve described above, and because I’m not entirely like them.

I guess I didn’t want to be thought of as diseased. That’s reasonable. I am not, though I am at times perceived as such.

Now I recognize that I have, as a dear friend of mine said once in relation to his life, my jaw dropping as he said the words, “I’ve lived many lifetimes in this one.” I am soothed now in knowing this is far from an individual battle with madness, what I have been puzzling over for a lifetime, and hitting that buttton about as the days melted into this living sculpture, this person I have become, this breathing, laughing, smoking, bleeding work of art. It seems it is about deciding, negotiating, realizing, just who is in the driver’s seat, taking stock of how skilled they are at navigation, resource management, time management, project management, direction, inner and outer environmental data, where the car is pointing, and to what end, and are they happy about it?

I think many times I have let a terrorized 8-year-old drive, who only knows anxiety. It’s a clusterfuck, every single time. Sometimes it’s the one who is just coming to, her body on fire with insults, her mind reeling from outrage, her breath hot with rage. Sometimes it’s the serene meditator, who loves crystals and angels and Jesus. Sometimes it’s the galactic, who knows of what we are doing, what the Body Of God looks like in space, who remembers dealing with other galactic races on this planet. Sometimes it’s the discarded, sad one, who never ever got a freaking break, to her narrow, angry mind. Sometimes it’s the detached scientist, the observer.

And sometimes it is the little green one, convinced there is no endgame here other than the realization, acceptance and normalization of abandonment, convinced the only answer is that I have been abandoned by the ones who matter the most to me, the nearly forgotten ones, amidst drama and chaos and betrayal and storyline.

Without sense memory of my little green comrades, the ones who I sometimes allowed myself to know were watching me, I dumbly pushed that button, clutching the little box in trembling sweating hands, at times.

It is the end of the story, now, the mystery finally revealed, I reflect, as I tuck that little box with its big button into my sock drawer, protected with soft, fluffy cloth, no longer my lifeline, no longer my radio, no longer the answer to my unending question of why.

Who is in your driver’s seat?

I understand now that I can find out simply by feeling into my body and being a little less swept away by emotion. Emotion is like rocket fuel, and I understood recently that when traumatized, which, let’s face it, every single one of us have been, to lesser or greater degrees, for lesser or greater lengths of time, when traumatized, it is natural for the brain to re-wire so that we no longer experience thoughts and emotions quite as clearly. We feed the now experience THROUGH memory, and then experience emotion. We feed the now moment through trauma, and then make assumptions, in essence perpetuating trauma.

So I have been playing with this, disconnecting that circuit of running stuff through the past, through past experience, which was often terrifically painful. It has helped a lot to know about this circuit and to then circumvent it. It leads to clarity, I am finding.

I have indeed developed a theory, and it is now that my bigger, happier self can finally come forth. That’s the funny thing about finding the truth: defense is no longer necessary. It is childish. It is a time waster. This, I think, is the best kind of skin to have, rather than thick skin. Translucent skin is better, the multidimensional kind.

Somehow it took nearly six decades for me to be comfortable with being me, unapologetically, and with great familiarity with and aptitude, but no further interest in the minutiae required by those who cannot and will not understand.

I can see that there are two levels of consciousness always present, the one from the higher agreement field, who knows all, and happily sends me notes, songs, thinkers, friends, guests, others, and the one who must and may forever have to, at the least, negotiate the lower agreement field, which you can call the dominator culture, the patriarchy, the old way, the Kali Yuga. To deny either lies madness.

The lower agreement field presents in humanity through karma, coding, deep grooves of expectation and fulfilled prophecies of doom, and is manifested by polarization.

Knowing about it helps, because it is the difference between the light body and the body who must negotiate a reality which has death as one of its core, required expressions. Connecting with things that are alive, eating them, thinking on them, allowing them to course through your blood and your brain and your biology, this helps. Meditation helps. Psychedelic plants help. Therapy helps. Friendship helps. Meaningful work helps. Music helps. Poetry helps. Painting helps. Driving helps. Giving gifts helps. Receiving gifts helps. Curling your toes helps. Deeply breathing in a favorite smell helps. Eating root vegetables, plants, and stuff you love to eat helps. Physical activity helps. Breaking up routine helps. Challenging outrageous, silly conclusions you or others have made helps. Humor helps. Study helps. Prayer helps. Switching it up helps. Travel helps. Humble conversation helps. Being a student of something complicated helps. Being out of your depths helps.

“Ego dissolution” is the point. It allows one’s true self to finally assert itself. Sometimes that dissolution must occur in the physical, and the bottom falls out. That’s the low-tech version of ego dissolution, but really, the most violent (and successful) episode of this was from Jesus.

It’s really all the same, to me, if this is read widely, or by me and a couple of nuts. I put it out there, and what the consciousness does with it is their business. I only know that I embody new vistas of peace now, and due to what I witness and participate in day to day, saying something about getting clear on a thing or two doesn’t seem weird at all. It seems like the least I can do, and it is, in fact, the most I want to do.

I know where I am headed and I know that my imaginings are as cooperative as my awakening was, so, for me and my house, I will leave it here: upon waking a couple days ago I felt it in my body, how true it is that I, this big, uncontained I, is present in what I will be experiencing this day, and each day in the future, just as surely as this Big I stands beside me every moment of my past.

Somehow, until that morning, I didn’t get the velvety physical aha that I needed to make such a beautiful thought real, that all day long, in new and possibly impossible situations, my Big I will be there, within and through and because of the circumstances, in the room, in my ear, as this thinking, grocking self experiences the events presented to me.

There it was a crystal clear understanding that seemed to emanate from my bones and skin. The feeling of safety and continuity were astounding.

So much of what I now experience day to day I described in my writing as Deeply Awake, when it came through often at a lower octave, needing to do so just to get my attention. As the frequency has raised, I have jumped octaves, and can now trip the whole scale.

So, I had been wondering, who is gonna drive, how does this work, and how do I ensure that the old one is at the wheel more than anybody else? I like remaining clear, I like really liking my self. I like being unconstricted in my thinking, my imaginings. How do I stay at the wheel for the duration of the ride? That has been my fundamental question, understandably so, given the state of the collective, and the individual realities being acknowledged and healed these days.

I will continue to ponder, but I like that I am not as quivery, shivery, shimmery in my belief that this bigger I is real, and is a friend, and is on my side, and really likes me, and is super happy to be here now. I like the sense of continuity and safety I am feeling.

I am aware, abundantly aware now, of the things which flip me, sometimes instantly, into old patterns of behavior, old assumptions, old memories of horror, old hates and loves and needs.

It is with permission to have past selves, and a Big I, and all the rest, that this peace is embodied. With permission.

For me, this was hard earned. I am glad I put in the effort. My work stands as a testament to my devotion to a belief that there was so much more than what my senses and my companions knew was real. I am glad I was guided, I am glad I was trusted, and I am glad I am home.

Deeply Awake: Self, Identity, Death And Transformation 9-28-16

 

A beautiful, comprehensive and helpful discussion on ascension, current energetics, and spiritual evolution.

 

Deeply Awake — The Root Cause Of The Collective’s Psychosis By Kathy Vik 9-17-18

Denial Is A Dissociative Device

Through my studies and personal experience, I have been led into the areas of mental health, mental illness, the meaning, cause and consequence of cruelty and neglect, as well as theories on energetic management, and thoughts, always, about what might be driving this thing.

Through the years and experience, I knew that there had to be an answer to the problems I was required to face, and a higher purpose to the pain, but until recently, I did not know what it could possibly be.

I have realized that there is a requirement inherent in the collective reality (dissociation) which, if undetected, can cause grave harm, and lead to a zombie-fied life. An inauthentic, troubled, angry life.

Sit back and plug in and think on these things that I bring to you today, me here with no malice in my heart, no anger left to toss at anyone, no suffering left to take on. My burdens are put down now. I don’t have to take them up again.

Through this process, I have seen the stupendous, unbelievable, personalized and sainted magnitude and beauty of the troubles I was in, as well as the larger purpose for the koans. It’s a stunning, panoramic view, and it’s from here I speak.

I am pleased with my current awarenesses, knowing there is more to come, but from here on out, it’ll be less spicy, and it’ll be easier, since I see and operate more willingly from an energetic level now.

I can hold all harmless now, as my attachment to outcome is finally weakened, my need to calm others appropriately holstered, and my need to be in the dark ever dissolving.

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

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

http://www.kathyvik.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he said, “Stand up.”

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

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

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

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

He smiled and he said, “Watch.”

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

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

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

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

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

Here’s a photo of my winged visitor…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The trouble of the age, huh?

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

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

Not healthy. But very understandable.

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

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

This core concept of free will is no small thing.

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

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

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

It’s time to re-adjust.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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