ASCENSION FIELD NOTES – TO BE COMFORTED BY KATHY VIK 11-29-13
I’d considered this should be called “Comfort and Joy,” but, a the end of it, knew it had to be titled “To be Comforted.” To be comforted is different than being comfortable, and/or joyful. I want to take you on my journey, how I got here, feeling a comfort that is like a grandmother’s love, draped over me, around my shoulders, it is, now.
I hope you, too are feeling comfort, feeling loved and feeling safe, just for this moment, just for now. Suspended above but curiously connected to the events, the obligations, the plans and mechanics and linearity. Now, right here, there is peace in abundance, a solid, in-our-bones recognition of self, of selves, and of our totality.
I got here by having a healing this morning. I woke up feeling really good, as I do anymore just brimming with very very obvious and profound truths, knowledge, ancient and true. They’re so obvious and feel so right that it seems like folly, an absolute waste of time, to write them down. How could I possibly forget THIS? I ask myself.
But now, as I sit here writing, I have no recollection of what was given me when I came to this morning. None at all. I am somehow hard-wired to feel an aversion to writing, when feeling that way. It’s the obviously wrong thing to do, in those waking moments. So I have long since given myself a break about that, rather than forcing myself to transcribe that which would prefer to be revealed, in other ways, using other methods, maybe, is what’s going on. I guess I could “make myself.” I think a lot of people, and more than a few who I’ve met who are deeply into metaphysics, “make” themselves do stuff they don’t want to do. Everyone has heard of a “Honey-do<‘ list, and there’s a whole psychology around motivation of others. And, of course, there’s advertising.
So, lots of us wind up doing stuff we would rather not do, we tell ourselves. Yes, there are tasks which are less aesthetically pleasing than others, but where does the aversion come from, for certain activities, and the pull toward others? What makes one person adventurer, and another content to work in a cubicle, or doing the same routine daily, ad infinitum?
I think that’s a big reason for my divorce. I found it something like a poison, being in a reality with no escape hatch, no hope, really, in doing anything but what we expected. I felt like I was going to die, back then, realizing I’d have to find a way to live very small, content with a family, a home, a husband, and keeping this as the prime objective. It would require trying to keep things good, without actually doing so, patching a leaky boat while bickering, or, more often than not, in stone cold silence.
It was an interesting dynamic, and one that befuddled me. I had been as genuine and true as I could have been, about my weird beliefs, and all that stuff, because it mattered so intently to me. And it was accepted, at first. Btu soon, just like my family had done before, I was found to be too “in the clouds,” not down-to-earth enough, impractical, and listening to a different set on instructions than my peers.
This is an interesting pattern, and no one in my boat is going to do anything but smile, nod their heads and say, oh my god, that’s how it was for me too. Trying to conform, to really get the lessons, down deep, past the marrow, unlocking, in the process, the keys to life and death, crucifixion and resurrection. I’m not the only one who swims these waters. I’m not the only one anymore.
Today is 11-29, an 11:11 day. I was told, heard it somewhere, that there was a second, and even more auspicious 11:11 in November this year. It is a good day to write to you, because there is much here to be comforted by, and much joy in the very selection of words, that I feel like I’m breathing it, and am hoping you will be able to, too.
Yesterday was blessed, from beginning to end. My dad emailed me, meek and sweet, businesslike and clear, he emailed my sister and I, and told us about our Christmas gifts, which he would give to us when he saw us that day, for me, and the next day, for my sister. $1,100. Each. That’s how the day started. It was not lost on me that the very first person to ever donate to me because of my writing, wired me $11.
I see multiples routinely anymore. It’s odd to look at a clock and not see a multiple. Or license plates. Psychologists call this attending, being aware of certain stimuli to the exclusion of competing stimuli. I call that a good attempt at languaging the exquisite nature of synchronicity. It’s a poor man’s description of the daily life of the filthy rich.
And, while taking a break,, talking to Sam just now, I glanced twice at my watch. Only twice. At 2:44:55, and then at 2:55.
And so it goes. Numbers, as I have said, inform much of my thinking, and I do the math with dates, times, and events, and it’s very fun. It speaks to the weave, the threads that innervate our truer reality.
I am comforted, more than I can express, by having stumbled upon the Chaos Astrology website yesterday. I googled “free astrology chart,” and Chaos came up, but I went with Astrolabe, which also offers a very solid chart, free of charge. I did mine, then my son’s, read them said by side. It was fascinating. But, I kept getting the message that I needed more depth, the houses and all that stuff, an interpretation.
And then I found Chaos. Holy God. I told Sam, it was as if someone had been trailing me my whole life, taking notes, and then put them in a twenty page essay about me. But, that’s not quite accurate, really.
I understand that our astrological chart is us winking at us. The big self who dreamed the whole thing up, who had certain propensities, proclivities, preferences and agreements, we select which snapshot will best represent our core to ourselves, if we ever get to looking around.
That’s how I felt, reading my chart’s interpretation. I felt immensely comforted. I felt, if it’s ok to say, vindicated. Recognized. Seen. Understood. Not by the astrology site, no, no, of course not no, but by my own self. Littlemind and big mind being seen as one in the same, finally, once and for all. Congruence. Explanation. Confirmation. Comfort.
We had a brilliant Thanksgiving, Sam and I, and it was at this point of the action that we took a break and headed out for a movie at the place where they feed us, and then on to my dad’s for pie, and his gift, of course.
These activities were memorable, and gentle, and easy. But then the action picked up again, once home, again.
Sam requires much time alone, and took it, while I got back on the internet, because I had only read half of the interpretation of my chart. I wanted to keep going. I did, and laughed out loud so often, was so touched, and this feeling of coming into myself more and more sort of, then, settled within me.
I sat with it, and then decided to read Sam’s long chart. It was amazing, reading them side by side. I gained a clearer appreciation for him, and saw the things about me that are troubling to him, per this interpretation, an adept and skilled and accurate one. I realized that there are things about me that are just naturally uninteresting, or even revulsive, if I can be forgiven in using that term, a term I use to indicate there are primal urges at foot here, things that are magnetic, attractive, repulsive, quantum.
And then, I did my best at guessing my friend’s birthdate, first calculating with my own chart how a variance of twelve hours effects the whole. Knowing I could be off by quite a lot, and liking this not knowing, because it didn’t feel quite so invasive that way, I read my best friend’s chart.
I have said before, here, that we are sisters, and we acknowledge this about the other. We have both said, she before I,this is for life. There’s no break in this. We know we were together quite a lot as nuns, and we have had multiple lives at each other’s sides.
And so, I read her possibly somewhat inaccurate chart, and there it was, the further I got down the page, it became more and more amazing, and immovable, and clear, that we are magnetically similar. Same signs in the houses, same trines and conjuncts. Remarkable.
By the end of the chart, I realized it really didn’t matter if the time was off, even significantly. I had not been rooting around in another’s chart to invade their consciousness or try to take away, of course not. Instead, the point had been, on this day, to see, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that variety in personality structure, motivation and psychic orientation is the way of it. It is good, and it is normal, and it is why some people just don’t get me, and some people can’t get enough of me.
It lets everybody off the hook, in other words.
The night ended as peacefully as it had begun. We’d been held in the arms of love that whole day.
And then, this morning, coming to, and realizing that I am suddenly wealthy again, and wondering how this is going to play out, if I will be able to act differently this time.
My son handed me the envelope, and within it is a check of $1,000, and five 20’s. I looked at the date. Not payable until 12-1-13. A 1. New beginnings. You should see the numerology around yesterday. Stunning. Meaningful. Beautiful.
I considered, mid-day, how much of a blessing it was that dad post-dated this check. “It gives me time to be ready,” I said, out loud, while walking to the garage to retrieve.
The healing I know, now, happened after I came back upstairs, after having that thought. I settled in, and was just amazed at the Kryons I was told to pick out. The themes were so obvious, the language, the concepts, coming together in different recordings, taken from different years, even.
Yesterday I had a melding which I knew to be profound, but felt was best left un-described, for some reason. In such a state, I find, just as my morning thoughts fray and then dissolve into the atmosphere, so too might this meditation. And yet, I knew, was told, no, dear one, this is something you are going to notice.
Part of that event was in telling “them” that I want, in my head, to have “their”voice(s) be distinctly not mine. I want to KNOW with a simple device, a profound request, that they identify themselves now. And they have. I am not alone.
Add this healing to what occurred to day, oh my, the places I have gone. I put on Kryon’s “Physics to the Max.” As I have told Sam, and my readers, my desire is to be a quantum biologist and physicist, clunk terms for what is to come. Interdimensioanl biologist. That’s better. High consciousness, high science. But, I don’t really want to do it until base 12 math is the norm, or at least taught in school. Seems like a profound waste of time, living in lesson, waiting around for the structure to support the concepts. So, I figure, that’ll be next time. But anytime I can get my high science on, I do it. It soothes me, and I have had profound visions while contemplating physics.
So I went there. But first, and I’d forgotten, a lady preps the crowd with words, and a song.
She healed something in me, right the, listening to her. A song about how things were, inside, as a child, and then, one day, you wake up into a land where no one smiles. And I’d spent many years, I realized, lamenting this lad, and all the changes being there wrought within me, but this grief is now, I realized , finally over. She ends her song with the reality of dwelling within that sacred land again. I heard the song, and thought, I was given two doses of this magic, this reality, really. Once, in childhood, and again, with The Teachers, when everything thing had turned, once again, magical, understandable and bearable.
So, I sat on my bed and cried. Wept. And within this crying was its source, a love and forgiveness and tenderness I have come to rely on, and which increases its magnitude in my life as I increase my willingness to believe it exists.
I saw, then, my current money issue is a fractal. There are fractals everywhere, always, but this one was up for review, release, and my love and gratitude for it.
I realized, in a flash, that I purposefully slowed the tap to a trickle to learn appreciation. Appreciation. In poverty, appreciation. In extremity, appreciation. In violent stories which played out in, really, each of our lives, violence of all kinds, all stripes. In hopelessness, appreciation. In depression, appreciation. In madness, appreciation. In widely held disregard, appreciation.
And I finally understood that this was the overall message in the trip I’d been compelled to take, without enough money to travel comfortably, I did it, and I appreciated each and every moment of that arduous trip.
Appreciation. It washed over me, and I understood that now, now I can really have everything, because I can trust myself with it.
I thought about my dad. His great wealth, and the pain it has caused him, the peace it has brought him. But his lessons, I finally understood, were not mine, around the true god of the fading age, money.
My lesson was to learn appreciation. I don’t know what my dad’s is, for him, and I don’t really need to know. It is just as profound as mine, just as meaningful, and, I know, just as obvious, if I were to read his astrology chart interpretation.
As the energy changed, on the recording, I changed my awareness, and then I listened to Kryon, and off I went, yet again, understanding things whole, seeing things that I know to be true, and are beautiful, and are the way this whole thing is set up. Benevolent. Benevolent is the only word I know. Benevolent, so breathtakingly magnificently deeply magically beautiful. See how words lose all purpose, in even trying to embody this moment, this awareness, this knowing.
Eventually, I came back. But things are different now.
The feeling of appreciation and of being comforted, they have not left me. Toned down, perhaps, but not that much. Still palpable. Still here.
As I poured my coffee and did the tasks at hand, I have thought about things as they are to then be. How will this go now? Without worry, able to see trauma for exactly what it is, and to love it anyway, what next, for me?
And then the thought falls to the ground, shatters, and I walk on the shards as the rose petals they are. Everything is synchronicity now, and questioning a thing is just adding a vibration to it I’d rather not, anymore.
I understood that Kryon’s discussion about DNA and magnetism and astrology were to assist me in cementing what I had learned the last 24 hours, to integrate it and elevate it and raise my perspective above the mundane, the personality, the mechanics, and see it for what it is, part of the Mendala of The All.
So now, the activity will pick up pretty much where it left off. After he and I have had another block of solitude, Sam and I will get in the car and feed ourselves, buy a movie or two, a snack or two, and head home, to shelter, under the dark night sky, we will be, at home, tonight, the stars no longer a puzzle, but friend, the stars no longer untouchable, but the pens with which I wrote this story of my soul.
I understand without having to re-read this that this is probably the finest writing I have ever produced, and for that I am grateful, and stunned, as always. I know this has to be written, and it may not be to the liking of some. No one in my circle reads me, and, today, I thought about that in a completely different way, this morning.
I had all sorts of fits of pride, disappointment, loneliness, and a whole truck load of other lessons to learn from having the people who I placed in key supporting roles to be anything but supportive. They have at times been derisive, dismissive, worried, disinterested and deprecating. It has not been easy to be like this, around people who think being like this is an irresponsible luxury, and something that just makes life too hard for someone they love.
And so, I worked those puzzles, and, believe me, they were intense. Just read through Deeply Awake, and you’ll see all kinds of themes being played out, worked on, tinkered with.
But the thing is, that it is only with relief I think on my loved ones now. I am glad for the freedom they gave me. This morning, one of the only thoughts I can remember from my morning of big, huge thoughts was this: Imagine how fucked I would have been had they cared.
I would have felt the need to edit. I would have stayed small for the remainder of my days. I am so keen to criticism of the things I value most highly, and have lived a life of silence, being told to just be quiet. TO break out of it was astounding, and I am nothing but grateful for my loved one’s cooperation. It would have been so awful, so hard, and probably impossible, had I not felt the anonymity of disregard I have known from these guys.
And so, I released them, told them thank you, and am doing it now, again, so that it is indelibly stated, I love everyone who has come out and played with me, even if they took on the role of villain, and even if they still, at times, throw the cape around their shoulders when they talk to me. It’s fine. Not an indictment of my character, not an indictment of theirs, just how it is, how we do it.
It’s said that life boils down to choice. And I have always found this a harsh and sterile philosophy, and judging one, because, my response, looking at my predicaments and sufferings, my response to this would always be feeling like I’d been bitch slapped. All I wanted to say was, “Oh, really. Oh, really. You have no idea. You just don’t get it. I’d change if I could. I really, really would.”
“It’s all a choice,” implies that those who are smart make the good choices and those who are not smart make the bad ones. It implies that those in the know are the chosen ones, the lucky ones, the ones who have got willpower and who are masters of their own wills.
And although all of that is true, it is superficial, and, when the shit hits the fan, it just doesn’t stand up. It is a flimsy and brittle construct, and it is angular, sharp, and cuts people.
It led me, this dissonance, to ask, “Why do I choose what I do? What compels me to make the choices, have the preferences and the desires I do? They are so different than those around me. How do I reconcile this?” That’s a bigger question than it appears, of course.
It led, in the end, to giving myself permission to choose that which I had been told I could not have or know or be. It led me to choose something many still don’t understand or appreciate as they should.
It led me to a two day healing, and to this profound appreciation I feel for my very own self, in all its complexity and its singular purpose.
I have been healed of an ancient pain which I had, I know now, since the very beginning, since the first time our consciousness tumbled, right up until this ascent we’ve made, back into the light, into the awareness of duality as a tool, not our definition, and of darkness as the beautiful creative force it has always wanted to be known to be.
I asked them to personify themselves, and talk to me. And they do. But now it’s my son speaking, saying, “Mom? I’m waiting for you.”
It is time to share what I have learned, by being able to be kinder, more tolerant, more encouraging, more whole, and seeing this great love in everyone’s beings, no matter what their choices are, no matter what the stars wrote upon them at their birth, no matter what words are spoken or left unsaid.
And I can do this, now, finally, because I have been so loved, so recognized, so comforted.