KUNDALINI REIKI is THE Powerhouse of Reiki!!!!

What can Kundalini Reiki do for you?

Kundalini Reiki activates the Kundalini which is based at the base of the spine which brings greater experience of peace and balance of the female/male energies thus experiencing total union within. Kundalini Reiki is extremely safe, and to experience it is truly a shift and acceleration on your spiritual path.

Kundalini has its own sense of direction. Its natural flow is up the spine and out the top of the head; along that path it brings new awareness, new abilities, and transcendental states. As the plant reaches toward light, the Kundalini pushes us to reach for enlightenment; it removes any energy blocks in its way..

You may wish to further enhance your Reiki power by receiving Kundalini Reiki Attunements and opening up your self to those energy fields known as Kundalini. Much like Usui Reiki it is given in three attunements. There is no formal pre-requisite to receiving Kundalini Reiki, although I believe it is best to be attuned to Reiki 1-3  to understand the full force of Kundalini.

Kundalini is opening yourself to the earths energies. Just like Usui Reiki, Kundalini Reiki means certain Chakras and healing channels are opened up in you. Kundalini is also known as "Kundalini Fire" because after ones attunement through Kundalini the energy runs all the way up through the body through the "main energy channel" and out the crown Chakra.

You do not need to be attuned to any other sort of Reiki to receive this attunement. All who are interested in this form of Reiki must begin with Kundalini Reiki 1 and work your way up through 2 and then Masters. I will explain exactly how in the manual I provide after your attunement.


Kundalini I

The first attunement clears healing pathways to allow the unobstructed flow of  energy. Simultaneously, you are prepared for the Kundalini stimulation in Kundalini Reiki 2. This step  further stimulates the Crown, Third eye, Throat and hand chakras. You are taught to perform a complete healing treatment and to heal remotely from a distance.

Kundalini II

Kundalini Reiki 2 - Microcosmic channels are enhanced. Gradual kundalini awakening occurs with  the front and rear meridians coaxing the Kundalini “fire.” Kundalini flow reaches the Hara, the Solar plexus chakra. It paves the way for the final Kundalini 3.
 

Kundalini Master III

Kundalini Reiki 3 (Kundalini Reiki Master) - The previous channels are widened one last time. Energy conduits to Sex and Base chakras are blasted open.

The Kundalini “fire” is strengthened and trickles up and beyond Crown chakra. Your aura is reinforced against stressors, psychic attack and phsyical ills. It is with Kundalini Level III that you can finally attune other people to the same level (or lower) than yourself.

Please be aware, Kundalini Reiki Level III by no means causes a full Kundalini Rising. Kundalini rising takes a year or so of meditation on each chakra. Kundalini Reiki is one such method that can cut down this lengthy training time.

Should you desire full kundalini awakening, take up courses in Indian chakra meditation, pranayama and Japanese Ki healing. Take it further and study the various resonance frequencies of the chakras. It's been theorized that playing certain frequencies stimulate chakra awakenings and lead to Kundalini rising.

Here is my BONUS for you:

Once you reach Kundalini Level III resonance, I will attune you also until level 6 if you feel the need for a more penetrating energy flow. The following options are available and are included in this package for you: 

Kundalini Reiki Booster 1-2-3
(Kundalini Reiki 4-5-6)

These attunements fortifies the previously received attunements, Kundalini Reiki 1-2-3. After each booster, the chakras, the main energy channel and the meridians to the hands are widened and strengthened. After Kundalini Booster 3, your resonance to summon Reiki will have been increased approx. 100 percent! You will also be able to pass on the Kundalini Reiki Booster 1-2-3 Attunements.


You will also be attuned to these extra power with Kundalini II

Note: Inbetween each Attunement, you have to wait a minimum of 2 days to integrate the energies into your aura.

In SUMMARY:

Kundalini Reiki is possibly the simplest and most effective form of healing and Self-development system that exists!

By opening and strengthening the energy channels of the body, it is possible to channel healing Reiki energy to yourself and others, just by intention.

Kundalini Reiki was brought to this Earthly plane by my friend Ole Gabrielsen, who is a Master of Meditation and has inspired many people throughout the world.  Kundalini Reiki is a direct result of Ole's  many hours of Holy Communion with Master Kuthumi.

Master Kuthumi is the Chohan of the second Ray and is also known as Koot Hoomi and is connected to the Crown Chakra and The Temple of Love, Wisdom and Understanding.

I will work with Master Kuthumi as well during the giving of the attunements.

FIELD NOTES – IN A STATE SUCH AS THIS BY KATHY VIK 11-22-13

www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com

When writing Deeply Awake, oftentimes I thought of myself as a bit of a spiritual reporter, someone who liked going down rabbit holes, and sending notes, in pails, up the the surface now and then.

I feel that way again, now, but this is something new, something different, I feel freer, now. I am now, thankfully, without my faithful companion, doubt.

I puzzled over all of this so much, because it mattered to me. I did not speak of it freely, not at all, during most of my time here, just because, I needed to make sure I had it right. I would balk at seers and bloggers who speak with crashing authority, but still in highly linear terms, still bending low to gods, still looking at self and coming up short, and being mad about it.

I would read some folks, and just be floored at their arrogance. It used to crush me, that I didn't have their marketing skills, but, there it is, the idea of selling this stuff, holing it hostage for a few rectangular, quite ugly, pieces of paper, or zeroes in a bank account. So, I did the poor me thing, but, riding along with it, always, was this sense that they didn't have things quite as sussed as they should, before opening for business.

That is a gloomy way to live, and I stopped thinking that way. Although I think the way UFO stuff has been interpreted is pretty dark, how full it remains of creepy duality, intrigue, mystery. Men have warped truth into monsters that eat human flesh and do science experiments on us like lab rats. It's pretty dark, a lot of it.

But to me, that's just an interpretation, an understandable one, but laughable. Are there lesser, darker beings here along with us? Maybe. But I have seen people who have given themselves over to darkness, and they can get pretty nightmarish, without scales or putrid smells. I am done with thinking anything but that I will probably be surprised with how huge, and clever, and amazing it is, once the galactic piece is clearer. But it's just the god-the-father overlay to think that galactics are among us, unless you want to consider those of us who know we aren't from around here.

You see, I just had an amazing experience, and it is this that I need to cement, make real, and hold a light on, for all time.

I drove home this morning after dropping Sam off at school, and as I drove home, I could not access one bad thought. Not one worry, no anxiety. It was all real solid, a good, grounded happiness, not thin and cute, but strong and sturdy, this happiness. A great fondness for myself, I think, is what was its strongest generator. I thought good thoughts, not trying to, they just came.

I remember driving by a house, and there was a “For Sale” sign on the front lawn. I imagined moving in there, and realized it would feel too fussy for me. I need funky. And with that, I was off, imagining where we are going to live, and, you know, now, it feels very immediate. I have felt that the last two days. Immediate change. I can't imagine how that could happen, so it seems odd and sort of erroneous, but it also feels really, really good.

So, I hung with those thoughts, and it was all sweetness and light, all the way home. I came home and continued some correspondence, checked out the web. I found a Kryon post on www.lightworkers.org, and that is highly irregular, so I read it. I was The Recalibration of Self Part I, and it spoke to me about light and dark, and about ascension, I think, but there were two or three themes that I had needed to hear, but hearing them (reading them, I mean), I started to get a brain itch, a need, a restlessness.

I needed to go to the Kryon site. I needed to check this year. I scrolled, but knew that's not where I needed to go. I scrolled back up, and felt I needed to listen to The Ascended Doors of the DNA. I listened to the pre-party, liked it, started to feel good, kept playing my restaurant game on my phone.

Then the big event came, and, within a few minutes, the phone was down, the glasses were off, and I was with him, them, away, getting helped.

Four doors, they explained, four doors which we can't open yet, because it's not time, spoken in February of 2013.

I understood, from the first few sentences, I was needed in front of my computer this morning. It was necessary for me to have heard that today. I needed, wanted confirmation, and now, thanks to Lee Carroll, Kryon , and me, I have it.

The information is still too abstracted within me to stretch out and discuss, point by point. As I listened, I thought, I don't need to, don't want to, no need to share what I think I have done. Those who read me know, I kept realizing. Those who read me will know, some of them. They will understand. And they will know, only because they are also aware of what I am aware of.

What I know comes through this writing, has informed it and enlivened it. What I know now was just a doubt, for many, many years. The pain this doubt created was excruciating. The waiting was really hard. Let's just be honest about this.

I understand that what I know is new to the age, but it is so old, so revered, and so comprehensive. I feel a bone connection to places I no longer long for, know are within my breath, inside my heart, waiting on my tongue, for the words, said in peace and reverence, for a remembering of what is real.

How magnificent, that the wonderful feeling I felt while looking out of my window at the mountains, while Kryon was talking, it is still here. Still feeling like it's now something I am wearing, but inside my skin, something I can feel from the inside, coming from everything.

We know that had we talked like this only five years ago, well, it just wasn't time for it, was it? It has only been the last several weeks that I have been feeling very different, very expanded, easily remembering things, bigger things, upon awakening, not having to dig myself out of a huge pile of pain to get to the truth of it, to start feeling good again.

It's as if the things that used to just break my heart, just fill me with a poignant feeling of imperfection, that is gone. It's just gone. The sad feeling I used to carry with me, that there is no point, that's gone too. There is no futility. There is no futility. There is no futility.

Do you have any idea how revolutionary this is, coming form me? Do you have any idea how depressed and full of despair I was, most of my life? Filtering through to me, on the happiest of occasions, was a weird sort of doom feeling, that things aren't right, and may never be right. That's sort of how I felt, most of the time.

How odd to find out that this is actually not so far from how things could have gone. My teachers, when they explained about ascension, it was rarely about the mechanics of personality structure. They talked about how things really are. That ascension is how planets evolve. That it is normal and beautiful, it is sacred and it is complex, and it is possible to understand. It is real, and it's ok to feel these things so deeply. It's ok to remember.

Although I am happy to think of my larger self as Pleadian, I will tell you, I think that is pretty limiting. I was told I came from Antares, one night, in the parking lot of a hospital, on my smoke break. A red flash. I kept hearing “Quasar,” and I googled it and learned about space stuff right after that, but I have no idea if Antares turned into a quasar, or I am from somewhere else. Does it matter? They're details. They are riding along with me, and I don't access that stuff by pondering what color my skin is on other worlds, I get there by knowing that I have lives going on, right now, on far away galaxies, and we are connected with my consciousness and heart. I can join in as much as I want. They'd like that. But it's all up to me, and this DNA of mine.

What we are capable of imagining is a result of how our DNA is functioning. This is a time of massive DNA acceleration, for those who have spoken their intent for it. Mine was spoken long ago. This is why I am here. Everything else is details. My sister knows of this madness, and we rarely speak of it, but one day, on the way home from Central City, she asked me what I thought my purpose was. Without hesitation, with a clarity that frankly surprised me, I said, “Ascension.”

it's all that has mattered, and although I got as hung up as the next person on who likes me and who doesn’t, all that old stuff just feels like fussy filigree. It's just fading into a blur, and it really just doesn't matter.

I have always felt that if I am not putting people at their ease, I am bad. And I think that is only a dysfunctional stance when I surrounded myself with people who could not, would not, simply refused to do anything but criticism, hate, fear, name call, minimize, resent me, their circumstances, their government, themselves.

It's only really stupid to love when those around you prefer punishing such behavior.

I learned early to hide my light, and to expect brutality from people who said they loved me. That goes for employers, lovers, friends, family. The whole lot of it.

But those were different times, you see? There have been upgrades, changes, beautifications, all along the way, but just like the 100^th strawberry, sometimes it just takes a perfect moment for things to turn. In this case, they have turned sweeter, more gentle, more recognizable.

I know that these ascended doors open slowly. I saw, while listening, how my summer and fall were the opening of the never alone door. I am not alone. I am comfortable with my multiplicity. I am beginning to sense my imprint.

I want to dwell within the light that was given to me on Christmas Eve, all golden and liquid intelligence, true recognition of how much everyone loves each other, understanding how I am physically constructed out of love, benevolence, creativity, source. It was something I want to know all the time, and like that, a moving golden take-your-breath-away reality. Where I could see into other galaxies, or at my son's hair, flittering in the air the heater spat out. I'd like to be able to materialize things in my hands, heal infirmities, channel 24/7. I'd like all of that. I was told at a young age that this sort of love, loving everything, seeing everything as creator, this would be what I would have. I thought it seemed like a good goal.

Growing up was hard, being an adult, in this timeline, not easy either, but here's the thing. I look back on the challenges, and I can't feel the pain anymore. It's not there. I see the sense, the timing, the way x moved me to z, but I grieve nothing. And neither, in this state, do I fear anything in the future. It is an impossibility, here. Not a faux pas, an impossibility.

AS I have said from the beginning, I do not know how long I will be able to sustain this, and so , I am writing about it, to capture what this is like, so I can remember. I try to be clear, use anchors I can remember, and I worry this has been yet another cryptic essay, rather than being a song of celebration. However it comes off, it's ok by me. I know I will be helped if I read it again, and, like all of these essays, I don't doubt there are other messages, coded within, ready to bump into me and wake me up, if I do re-read.

I know this isn't for everyone, and that's more than fine. Not everybody wants to think or live the way I do. No biggie.

But with the change comes the hope for the future. Those who cannot act and think and be in their love, those who must fear, and must drink its koolaid to feel “normal,” those days are done. It's over. It's just so over. And when the young ones come in, they're the ones who passed away clinging to old ways, the old energy still their only yardstick. But everything changes, in this new energy, within the DNA there are changes, now, and these changes will ease the burdens of the ones so set to carry them for eternity. The burdens of fear and anxiety and worry, of separation and suspicion and derision, they are ended. These are weak constructs, and they will fall, and from here on out, those who come back in have a new set of rules to start off with.

And you know how this came about? People like you and me. People who found no satisfaction with dogma, but were drawn to spiritual things. And many who pursued none of them this lifetime, just holding that high energy, on vacation. But, I think I want to pat you on the back today, actually.

High consciousness, to me, is loving consciousness. Inclusive, merciful, imaginative, funny, often times, but at its base, it is generous kindness. Benevolence. This is the mark of a master, for me, and also, mental health. I grew up around mental illness, and have practiced as a psych nurse. I only have one definition of mental illness. Those who are intentionally mean, they are the craziest. Who dip into the crazy well over and over, and deliver insult after insult to one's being, those are the crazy ones. Mental health is seeing things whole, seeing people as more than they present, being willing to guide and teach, and even to admonish, as necessary, but only with great great love, and this sort of person is patient. More patient than they should be. I've had many people in my life like that, and I am blessed for having known each of them.

What has steadied me, from time to time, when things have been bad, is knowing that there is always going to be a way to change whatever is in front of me. Nothing stays the same. What was science fiction is not fact, what was once uncomfortable can be mended, and no one turns down love unless they are having problems understanding their own magnificence.

I am no one's critic, no one's enemy, and everyone's friend. I mean no harm, and know that I am unable to do harm. It's not in me anymore. If I feel I am off the mark with someone, I make it right immediately. Folks didn't know what to do with me, because I would call or revisit them and tell them I was sorry, for something they failed to notice. Some snag in the conversation, where I thought I'd missed an opportunity to be clear, or kind, or more gentle or thoughtful.

I felt, after Deeply Awake was finally done, that I would need expository writing less, or that it would morph. It has changed, in cadence and complexity, and, I hope, in tone. I revisited sad things, yes, that's true, but it was a final foray into that land. I think it Is well past time to stop resurrecting the things that were hard, and to cherish that I understand, now, why they were hard, and I love it all now, so it's really ok, whatever transpired.

I heard the admonition, to be quiet about this, from Kryon, and maybe that's a poor translation of what was being communicated, run through a filter of mine I had lying about, or maybe he did say to be in silence. To show your mastery by giving silence. If you know all things, he said, then it becomes unnecessary to tell anyone anything.

And that's where I want to be. I really do, but, you see, I have this need to speak. I know I must, and that this feels best, not channeling, and not fiction, but exposition, yet again, today.

Because where I have been, what I have seen, today, it is a joyful and completely unspeakable place. The word god is a misnomer, a shiny marble, a pretty bauble. Source, Creator, That which I know but cannot name, that golden light and benevolent person, this is my god, unnameable, unending, and I am part of it. Imagine such a thing. It is here, tapping on this keyboard, eating a twinkie, smoking. Imagine such a thing!

It is fitting to write to you about such awarenesses. In such a state. In a state such as this.

Thank you for reading along, my dear friend.

Hi everybody,

I already posted a message earlier about an interview with Jamye Price about Light Language. There are two parts of this interview and I have just listened to the second part. I was amazed by the empowering contents of this interview. I really recommend watching this!

Part 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVaDlsc5Nq4

Part 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7839QuNazsU

Love and Light

Louise

Hello Everybody,

I am a big fan of Jamye Price, an American lady from Sedona, who works with Light Language. I want to share a video with you where she talks about her own journey with Light Language and also what it is and what it does.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVaDlsc5Nq4

Love and Light

Louise

PATRICK HEARS VOICES, CHAPTER 36 - 42 , 11-20-13, NaNoWriMo

Copyright, 2013

While writing this for all of us, a novel to and for and about lightworkers, I am asking for whatever financial help you feel moved to provide me. Private message me, or contact me at amissvik@gmail.com.

Follow my work at:

www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com

www.facebook/deeplyawake

www.lightworkers.org/magartha

www.cityofshaballa.net

www.saviorsofwarth.com

www.nanowrimo.org/amissvik

and

www.patrickhearsvoices.wordpress.com

My PayPal account is open for business, and I'm going under, at the moment, guys.

CHAPTER THRITY SIX

Indra drove down the wide highway cutting through the foothills west of Denver. By El Rancho, she could think a little more clearly, but she was still feeling a little blown open, strangely lost.

Valerie had been waiting for her, when Indra had returned from her day at the office. Val had looked stern, angry, as she often did these days. She made me sit, just like a kid, Indra thought. I should have known what was up. She hit the steering wheel, opened the window, and let the wind ruffle her dreads.

Indra was going to the Light House tonight for the solstice. That Indra had not followed through with doing the solstice festival at the DC had actually led to the break up, it turns out. Ironic, Indra thought. She values none of it, but still, she had to put her two cents into it all.

Valerie had told her she needed to move out. She said she couldn't take how Indra was “spinning her wheels with this garbage,” and had “put up” with Indra's spiritual pursuits, what Valerie disdainfully called “your hobby,” because she saw a potential for Indra a make some very significant money. She'd urged Indra to branch out, market, sell, sell sell, and at first, Indra enjoyed it. Her beauty opened doors for her that her ideas did not. She'd charmed a lot of people into the Temple, but that's not what made them come back. Indra knew that. Valerie was, sadly, blind to it.

And then Kevin told her he wasn't sure he was ready for what he sheepishly called, “a bigger audience.” She'd felt wrong about expanding so suddenly. She'd gotten used to the small group at the Temple, and wanted to be selective with who joined. Something, it seemed, Valerie took as something like a deal breaker. Indra thought it might blow over, if Valerie could ever find anything that made her happy. But it never did.

And now it was over.

She had an overnight bag in the back of the bug. As she turned onto 6^th Avenue, running straight and true into the heart of Denver, she smiled, turned on the radio, and began to think that maybe things were actually pretty ok. This wasn't the end of the world, she thought. Just the world as she'd known it so far.

She loved hotels, and idly wondered if it might be good to just stay at the Brown Palace for a couple of nights. It was Thursday. It would be fun to walk to the office from her hotel, she thought. Just for the weekend. She smiled, then, and felt an unfamiliar calm. She knew enough to lean back, lean into it, and let it carry her into the city. Valerie really doesn't know what she's missing, thought Indra. Just then, a song came on KBCO. Indra drove through the evening traffic singing, “If you're sinking like a stone, or you're sinkin' like a stone, Carry o – o – o – on,” breathing better, feeling better, ready for whatever came next.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

There was a gold Ford Focus in her driveway, when Bernie returned from her gambling excursion. She wondered what sort of shape Daniel was going to be in. “Jet lagged,” Bernie said to herself, resolving to stay on the first floor of her house and let him sleep until they had to leave for Ellie and Bill's.

She had told Daniel of her compulsion to gamble, before he'd left for his last book tour. It had been three months of Skype sex, but they'd gotten through. She only craved the slot machines when he was gone, and it had been such a strong, sudden compulsion, it really hadn't been too hard to figure out.

Daniel had been especially tender to her, after she'd told him, hesitantly, about how she felt drawn up there when he was gone. She felt an odd ache run through her, as she got out of her car. She wanted nothing more than to go up to her room and crawl into bed with Daniel, just spoon him and stay quiet, breathe with him, get into his rhythm, or he into hers, as was usually the case. Her body longed for him, as she turned the key, hearing her dog stir and begin to try to bark, behind the door. A rescue dog that sounded like a squeaky toy, that was her dog, Ed.

She greeted him, thankful that he was a relatively noiseless creature, feeling the house as quiet, holding stillness.

Ed followed her into the kitchen. She wanted the last piece of cheesecake, praying Daniel hadn't gotten into the fridge before passing out.

She turned on the light, and found Daniel sitting at the table.

“Lordy, you surprised me, Daniel,” Bernie said. “Tell me why you are sitting here, my love. Are you ok?” She walked to him and enfolded him in her arms. “I missed you so much,” she said. Then, she straightened up and asked him questions, how was the flight, when did he get home, how was the rental.

He took her hand and gestured for her to sit across from him at the table. He was smiling, which decreased the freak out factor, but this was, Bernie thought, very weird.

Daniel looked fresher than she'd expected. After a European tour, he was usually out of commission for at least a few days, in bed, “my travel bug,” he called it.

Once she was settled, he said, “I've missed you too, dear Bernie. My dear old friend.” He ran his finger down one of hers, an intimate act, and both of them could feel that old familiar fire start to kindle again.

“Bernie, I called Ellie this afternoon, and was sitting here, you then see, quite purposefully,” Daniel said, like the college professor he once was. “I wanted to be the first thing you saw when you got home. I needed to talk to you first thing.”

Daniel retracted his right hand from their embrace, and explored an inner coat pocket. Perpetually dressed for a lecture, Bernie thought. She particularly liked this coat. Boldly blue, more blue than a navy coat should be, it was just as vibrant as his intellect. Soft. He told her it had set him back two grand, tailored in a little village in Italy he'd visited once.

He brought a small ring box out, and placed it on the table.

He said, “You'll forgive me, I hope, for not having asked you the obvious earlier. Bernie, please consider being my wife, I your husband, dear Bernie. I think it is now time to be equals in the same city, my love. I knew it when I saw this ring, but I knew it, was certain of it first, when you told me about this gambling thing, before I left.”

He studied her, smiled, and asked, “How much did you come home with today?”

“Just shy of a grand,” Bernie said. “Ellie and I cleaned up. It was a clean grand, but I got snacks at the gas station in the canyon. I went a little crazy.”

She picked up the ring box, and found inside what she could only describe as the one that she'd hoped she would one day wear. Not a girly-girl, Daniel seemed to know that there was, still, a delicately female being within Bernie. This ring was all antique lace, pave diamonds, intricacy and understated brilliance. It was amazing, and its center stone was breathtaking. “Daniel,” She said, “This is, oh...” She broke off, putting it on, “Oh, Daniel, you outdid yourself. In every way, my friend. Yes,” she murmured. She repeated, this time a declaration, an intent, a knowing, “Yes, Daniel. Yes.”

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Kevin stood in front of his bathroom mirror, and had to admit, he would be glad to be done with this living situation.

As he shaved, he felt a sour sort of disappointment in himself, something that had been haunting him the last few weeks. “I'm forty two,” he announced to his mirror. The number floated there, unpunctured by outside noises.

Then there was a big bang, and within moments, deep bass notes started rumbling through his tiny bathroom. The tenant above him was into reggae, and liked it loud. Kevin hadn't made a dent, fielding complaints with polite admonitions. He shaved being serenaded with Bob Marley wailing “No Woman, No Cry.” Kevin would have preferred something more mellow.

His kitchen was little more than a ship's galley, and he'd had to use the adjacent room to store cereal boxes, cans, and even his plates. “This is no way for a grown man to live,” he said, as he went through a pile of clothes, all worn, most only once. He found his least stained pants, and a shirt that wasn't too covered in cat hair, and then put on his shoes.

He'd been told by the building's owners, an elderly couple still trying to manage an ambitious rental empire, that they'd just sold their homes to a corporation. Ira told him Kevin could expect he would be interviewed by the new management next week, but Ira had taken Kevin aside and told him to “not hold your breath.” Ira had done some digging, and found out that none of this company's buildings had live-in management, Ira told Kevin. “The writing is on the wall,” Ira had said. Ira'd called Kevin Yiddish names, mensch, especially, and kept saying “these new ones, tsuris, I told Doris, but does she listen?” He'd used that word tsuris like a swear word. Kevin had no idea what it meant, but got the feeling Ira had done him a big favor, speaking to him in private as he had. Doris was a sour, fussy woman, and the two barely tolerated each other, it always seemed to Kevin.

Kevin made his way through his cramped basement apartment, petted his cat Jinx, and hesitated at the front door. He looked back, into his dark apartment, some of its general disrepair due to his lack of love for the place, he knew, and he thought, I need to channel tonight. It's time to get some answers.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Bill was sanding a huge block of wood when his cell phone rang. The vibration woke him out of the hypnosis sanding induced, and he noticed it was a call from an unfamiliar area code.

“Hello?” he said.

“Dad?” Melinda asked, a little panicky, she thought. “Dad, can you talk?”

Even though all the kids knew that their parents always talked with one another about everything, still the kids asked each of them to hold secrets. Bill told her yes, and asked her to tell him what was wrong.

She'd been calling him more frequently. The first time she'd called in crisis had been, Bill remembered, the first time Patrick had stayed any length of time at the house, documentary day, Ellie called it.

She'd called him drunk, more than once, and then, then next day, apologetic and, usually, quite shaken.

Bill had told Ellie about the trouble, knowing she'd be able to relate. She'd overcome a fondness for wine, and it hadn't come easy to her. But she'd chosen to drink, and heal, privately, the kids never party to her problem. Ellie and Bill agreed that whoever any of the kids calls is fine. Best they call at all, if they are in need.

Melinda was a beautiful girl, off to New York at 17, modeling, mainly for European fashion magazines, ever since. Three years was, she told her dad, a long time for anyone to model. She started talking like this during her months in Barcelona. She'd begun to call at all times of the day, altered, and increasingly anxious, suspicious, at times.

Bill began to wonder if his baby was perhaps slipping away from reality, here just lately. And now, here she was on the phone, sounding scared.

“Melinda, where are you,” Bill asked.

Ellie came into the studio then, took a chair in the sun. Smiling, she'd gestured for Bill to continue as if she weren't there.

“I'm in Chicago, Daddy,” Melinda said. “I'm coming home. I know it's sudden, but, daddy,” she said, “I can't do it anymore. I can't do any of it anymore. Daddy,” her voice broke then. He waited as she gained her composure, telling her then that he'd meet her at the airport, to check her ticket, “Just tell me the airline, Melinda. Can you see a Flight Number on the ticket, dear?”

He could sense her gaining control, focusing. Her breathing slowed, and she didn't sound so panicky. She read off numbers, and Bill wrote them on his hand with a Sharpie, the only pen that had been handy. She was calmer now, complained that her head was hurting, and didn't have long before her flight took off.

Her hand was shaking as she hung up the phone. She'd be in her own bed by bedtime. “Home,” Melinda said. She felt awful, but looked forward to a nap on this flight. She wanted to be left alone. She;d be seeing her mom and dad in just a few hours. She was already sleepy.

Bill hung up and looked at Ellie. He'd been keeping Ellie up to date with Melinda. Ellie wondered if any of this had to do with Melinda's boyfriend, talked about a boyfriend, Yakob, he'd been told, an Israeli here on a Visa, rich, devoted to Melinda, she said. They'd been dating for six months. Melinda never willingly admitted she was having problems. She'd always had been this way. It had been endearing in girlhood, but became harder to watch, as she stretched into her version of adulthood. Of all their kids, Melinda was the simplest, in many ways. She trusted readily, and seemed to have trouble sensing when people didn't have her best interests at heart. Naive, Bill thought, and a knock out. It had been a tricky combination, for her, and for her parents.

They'd let her fly free, absent as she'd become to her studies in high school. She'd always wanted to be a star, and preened constantly, something the other kids teased her mercilessly for.

Ellie was glad to hear her baby was coming home. She'd been worried for Melinda. Bill asked if her room needed anything before she came home. “Just check the lamps, would you?” Ellie asked. “One of those rooms has two burned out bulbs, but I can't remember which one.”

Bill ruffled Ellie's hair, hugged her, and thought of how keen Ellie was, so able to see into people, their inner workings, and yet she rarely knew what day of the week it was. “God love her,” Bill said to himself, walking hand in hand with his beloved wife, into the house, another day's work put to rest.

CHAPTER FORTY

Since moving into the Light House, Patrick had become a very good cook. Ellie and Bill called him great, but Patrick knew there were things he dared not yet do with cooking. He found it stress reducing, and soothing, doing the things he could do in the kitchen, and he liked that he got to eat his creations.

Ellie had been surprised with Patrick's versatility as a cook. Bill let him cook more and more often. Bill had stuck around to answer questions Patrick had about some of the finer points of cooking, but it was a very natural thing, for Patrick, as natural as football, or math, or understanding the things he learned from Ellie. In the weeks he'd lived with them, Patrick had he taken notice of the dishes that went over well, and those that didn't.

Ellie was overwhelmed, as she was led by Patrick to the different cooking projects he'd done for this meal. Each and every dish had been the resounding successes, the stuff Bill and Ellie had told each other they wanted to start requesting Patrick make, the meals had been so good. All their favorites were there.

Bill rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and volunteered to help Patrick with the finishing touches. Patrick asked Ellie if she'd set the table.

Ellie went into the dining room and found it had been prepared expertly, tastefully. It looked more stunning the tables Judy used to lay, when she lived with them.

There was an envelope on one of the place settings, one word on scrawled in a childish hand on the envelope, “Ellie.”

Ellie took the envelope into the cabin, shut the french doors, turned on the space heater, and opened a window.

“Dear Ellie,” the letter began.

“I'm not good with words, and am just now seeing that being open, like you guys are, might be a better way for me to live. I have been lonely for a long time, Ellie. I told you once I didn't have a right to feel that way. But, since living with you guys, I think I did have a reason to feel that bad.

I can't ask you this in person. I'm not sure what will happen, asking, but I kind of feel like it is ok to do. If I'm wrong, please be nice to me anyway.

My dad's left me alone, and that's not a surprise to you, I know, but me being ok with it is. I don't feel like his kid. I sort of feel like an investment he made.

I don't feel that way with you and Bill. I feel like one of your kids.

So, on this solstice, instead of burning my hopes or blocks or whatever, I'm going to tell you my secret. I think you are some sort of mom of mine. I feel that way about Bill, like he's a dad.

My solstice wish is to be able to call you mom and dad. Just around the house, maybe, I don't know, but, I figured out, this is a wish that couldn't come true unless I say words. I wanted to ask you this way. I hope that's ok.

Patrick Augustus Sweet”

Ellie pulled the letter to her chest, and she breathed in the summer air, and this newest love. She smiled, and could feel that overwhelming heat surge through her. Looking out at the traffic, she imagined herself once again like a surging, bright white pillar of light. She could hear her light crackle. She imagined what it must have been like, just then, to have been burned at the stake. “This is the fire the legends speak of,” she felt, heard, in some non-auditory way, words coming to her whole, full blocks of information, sometimes, but now, for now, just words, “Invoking the fire which cannot consume, the friend of the witch, the pagan, the wise woman,” she heard the knowledge like a physical throb. “You are charged with creating, not destroying, community this lifetime. Gone are the days of a community devoured by ignorance.”

She closed her eyes, and saw the Light House, her Light House, but it was somehow bigger, now, and there was a parking lot. There were flags. It was night,and there were so many floors, some little squares of windows lit, groups of people meeting, teaching each other, laughing, she saw, inside.

“Honey?” Bill was at the door.

She turned and looked at Bill.

“I'm here. What's up?”

“Judy's here,” Bill answered.

Old shaman that she was, that she had been, she knew that Judy had come for another fix, another balancing, another healing.

“Where is she?” Ellie asked. “Is she ok?”

Judy poked her head in, just as she had the day she'd told Ellie of her decision to leave.

“How've you been?” Judy asked happily.

Ellie was up, then, smiling and approaching Judy as she always had, grateful to see her face, feeling Judy's innocence and her troubles as her own, seeing Judy as a friend, struggles and all.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

“I'm not sure how it's going to go tonight,” Kevin was telling Indra, in the pantry off the mud room. They'd been tasked with fetching chips, paper products and a six pack of Coke, the last for Patrick.

“What do you mean?” Indra asked. “I've never channeled, you know? Can you tell if it's not strong, or something? My mom never talked to me about it. Kind of shroud it in mysteries, you know?” Indra asked. She was suddenly aware how nervous she was around Kevin.

“Well, it's sort of like that,” Kevin said. “It's more like getting out of my own way,” he explained. “It's easier to do that around strangers, I think.” Kevin found the chips and pointed Indra to the paper plates. “I just need to disengage, and I’m wondering how easy it'll be with this audience.”

“You use that word a lot,” Indra said, “about when you channel,” Indra said. They emerged from the pantry and returned to the kitchen. They drifted, together, to the foyer, and then went onto the porch.

Kevin lit a Lucky Strike, offered one to Indra, shook her head and then pulled a black pack of clove cigarettes from her front pocket.

Indra leaned against one of the lions flanking the porch and said, “What I see happen, week after week, Kevin,” Indra said through sweet smoke, “Is that what you do for people is individual. Everyone has a different experience. When I think of what you do, the word 'audience' doesn't seem correct. Do you follow me?”

Kevin smiled, pulled a piece of tobacco off the tip of his tongue, and said, “You're right, Indra.”

They smoked in silence. Off in the distance, Kevin watched Daniel and Bernie come up the block. Indra was looking the opposite way, facing north.

Kevin returned to Indra's face. He wondered how set she was, being with women. He thought to himself that it was just his luck, that this woman would be gay.

He wanted to tell her, ask her, reach out to her and shake her, just then. But her eyes were distant, her heart sad, he could tell. He wished it felt right to tell her how he felt. He wondered, watching Bernie scale the treacherous stairs leading up to the house, if he'd ever feel free to talk with anyone. He felt alone, just then.

He greeted Bernie and Daniel, turned to let Indra greet them. He opened the door and let them go through, following Indra, walking in the wake of her perfume. Kevin would follow her anywhere.

CHAPTER FORTY TWO

Bill, Kevin and Daniel found themselves in Bill's studio before dinner. Daniel had sought Bill out, told him the news about he and Bernie, and to celebrate, Daniel asked if Bill wanted to get high. Daniel had an encyclopedic knowledge of marijuana strains, was a connoisseur of the local growers. His last book had been on psychedelics and their role in ancient shamanistic cultures. He'd done his own field work for it, Daniel always said.

Bill suggested Kevin join them. Daniel brought out a small plastic tube and flashed its contents at Bill. At least a dozen joints, tucked in a canister that let out a pungent, skunky odor. “Ask anyone you like,” Daniel said. “I always have enough when I'm here in Colorado. You know this, Bill.” He heard the edge in his voice. He pulled out a brown cone fattened with oily herb, and left for the studio.

Bill got Kevin's attention from across the huge kitchen. Kevin excused himself, and in a few minutes, walked into the studio's thick haze of dank.

“Daniel, how've you been?” Kevin asked, before pulling on the butt-end of a joint. Kevin noticed that Daniel was looking sharp tonight, real dapper, Kevin thought.

“I'm glad to tell you I'll soon be your brother in law, Kevin,” Daniel said, smiling.

“No way,” Kevin said, shaking his head. “Bernie said yes?”

“And why would she not?” Daniel asked, just lightly enough to be taken very seriously, indeed.

“I didn't think she'd ever do it again, is all,” Kevin said.

Daniel nodded his head, “She and I have certainly had some misadventures, yes.” He sounded detached, amused. “I'd also vowed to stay far from such archaic commitments,” Daniel confirmed. “But I have been feeling my age more, lately. I sicken of my vagabond life,” he said, with his usual verbal flair. I deserve a rest, I think, now that I am established, such as I am.”

Daniel was proud of his work, but was ever aware that his theories were seen as “fringe” by many of his former colleagues.

“You guys seem to fit together,” Kevin observed.

“How big of a deal is it going to be, your wedding, do you think?” Bill suddenly asked. “There are some very unique spaces here in Denver, you can go as big or small as you want, really. It depends on how much funk you think Bernie is going to want.”

Kevin laughed, “Are you thinking about doing the wedding planning, Bill?” Kevin turned to Daniel and said, “What you probably don't know about Bill is, he's a sucker for chick flicks. What's the one with JLo and Matthew McConaghy?” Kevin asked Bill. “Wedding Planner? Wedding Something. One of his favorite movies.” Kevin took another hit, “But he'd never tell you that.”

“No, no,” Daniel laughed, “No, this is good. I have no idea what Bernie is going to be wanting,” he said, in his peculiar lilt, “But it's good to have some ideas. I don't want to do that old saw, with the woman taking over the plans. I must have input. There are some things I feel it is overdue to include in these rituals we persist in perpetuating”

“Oh, you mean like, ancient rituals and things,” Kevin asked, feeling stimulated and calm, simultaneously.

“It's a different approach, really,” Daniel said. “More maternalistic, more pagan, if you will, but, um,” he paused, coughed, “But, um, fully clothed, quite tasteful, actually. Old pagan, not Alistair Crowley pagan.”

“If I get any higher, it'll be too obvious. Who has Visine, Bill?” Kevin asked.

“”Visine?” Daniel asked. “Whatever for?”

“I'd rather not have Patrick know we're high,” Kevin said.

Bill laughed, “Oh, Kevin,” he said, “That horse has left the barn. We live together, and Ellie and I are not all that secretive anymore. We've relaxed a lot.” Bill nodded over to the furthest part of his studio. Bathed in the sunlight this studio sparkled in, Kevin noticed six huge pot plants. “It's legal, dude.”

“What about Patrick?” Kevin asked.

“”He told us, he doesn't care what we do, but he doesn't want to do any of it. He doesn't drink, either, never has.”

“Never experimented, then?” Daniel asked.

“No,” Bill said. “Patrick told us he's never used any kind of mind altering substance. Says he doesn't see the need to.”

Uncanny,” Daniel said.

“Megan was like that. So sure of herself, so solid, you know? Couldn't argue her out of that sort of thing either.” Bill took another hit and asked, “How did that happen?”

They left the studio, returned to the bustling kitchen, and within a few minutes, their plates were laden, the music was playing softly from the big stereo, and the group settled into their meal.

Kevin was hearing the voice of The All so loudly, at times, over dinner, that he had to just go silent. This was the other reason he stopped talking, at times. Sometimes it was all so intense inside, he had to tend to it, regardless of how it looked from the outside. Silence helped him.

Kevin looked around the table, once they were settled in. He saw that the group no longer wanting to fracture and regroup, change and morph. Tonight, it was a group of people, instead, who were choosing to be cohesive. Who seemed to know that the night was a significant one.

Ellie raised her glass then, got everyone's attention, and called a toast.

What followed, what this toast created, they're still talking about today.

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

FIELD NOTES – UNWORRIED BY KATHY VIK 11-20-13

www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com

I have every intention to crank out a bunch of Patrick later on tonight. Canceled once again. Haven't worked for 9 days. Seems I am going to pass through the eye of the needle again, get real real focused, count every damn penny, once again. This happened last year around this time. Tricky. Very tricky.

But at least it's familiar... the first time I went through this I was panicked a lot of the time. I', not panicked, not now. That's a totally valid experience, but completely optional, and really taxing to the old biology. Unnecessary, now. I am here, at my dining room table tapping away, on purpose. It's all been purposeful, voluntary.

Something happened to me this morning that I want to tell you about, although I want to end with the story ideas that called to me, kept me in this awakening game, and then I want to laud and magnify the creators of Wilfred. There. We have an outline.

This morning, I was doing the facebook thing, and there was a video post with a title like heart-warming, something like that. I rarely do videos, because my phone is so slow, it makes videos all skippy. Anyhow, I had to stop the thing five or six times to let it load, but I watched a twelve minute video that had me crying from the first scenario.

It was all set in athletic competitions, people who went out of their way to love someone competing. Many were about opponents being honored by the victor, but what got me spinning was a scene which began with a big man carrying a body onto a gym mat. The body was twisted, spastic, and the child was dressed as a wrestler, helmet and shoe wear and unitard.

The child lay there writhing. And a boy approaches, and gets down on the ground, and begins to writhe, and for just a second, I was unclear what was happening. I feared the healthy boy was going to pin the infirm one. But, then the little boy flips on this back, and starts nudging into the spoon the sick boy's body was making, and it became clear this little, healthy normal boy was then going to wind up sort of wearing this sick boy, pinned down, beaten.

The ump did the count, and someone came over and took the crooked hand of t he sick boy, and raised his ill formed arm into a sign of victory.

I had to stop. I had to hold all that love. Oh my god, I cry now thinking about it. It was so tender, so kind, so loving, so beautiful. So selfless, but more, such a statement of truth.

It was a truth, there wrestling on the ground.

The inform, the ill, oh I love them so much. I'm full on crying. I love the sick. I love them. I love the misshapen ones, the ones who think in ways that just make their lives hell, the ones who broke themselves, the ones who need to be sick, wanting the drugs and the tenderness and the unconditionalness of it all. I love them all, but I love the frail, the irreparably broken ones the most.

I will tell you now of an experience I had my first job out as an RN.

I worked nights with some really cool people. The nurses were always stick in the muds, but the aides were amazing. I had a crush on a boy with dark, long hair, who was an actor or playwright,I forget. I went to one of his works. I couldn’t tell you if it was any good. I was so in love with that guy, I just sat there and ate him up for two hours. Unrequited love, awkward girl that I was, and remain.

Anyhow, there were other cool ones, mainly doing the family thing, and then there was a boy who I will name Brett. I don't remember names, as a rule.

Brett had no face. He had eye, and I guess lids, although I can't really remember. He had blow holes for a nose, and a really little, scarred mouth. He was bald. And it was never clear to me if his face had just melted off in a fire, of if he was born that way. It seemed rude to ask. It's off, being among folks who are just undeniably in a tough spot, like the blind or deaf or retarded or misshapen, crikey, they are different, they are blessed, you see. They are closer to God than we are. They just are. All people who suffer are very close to god, but these, they are different. The suffering is exquisite, the sacrifice enormous, and the payoffs intense, sometimes.

Anyhow, I liked that kid, and he was always really nice to me, very encouraging. Some, who have been reading along, know that I set it up this way, being able to receive very little love, and being surrounded by people who just really didn't like me very much. So, here is this fellow who is kind to me, amazing with patients. All I could think about sometimes, though, was how Aunt Edna would feel about getting care, in the middle of the night, by a dude who has no face. I wondered if he flipped the old ones into hallucinations. I would laugh, guiltily, about that sometimes.

Then one night, I had a dream about him.

He came to me with a face, a very handsome one. But that isn't what was so amazing. In the dream, we were married. We were one with one another, complete, satisfied, whole, together, committed and true. It was such a strong and true love, it was healing, feeling it.

And then, upon awakening, when I followed the feeling state tot he images, I was amazed. Just amazed. Io wondered if that meant I should pursue him sexually, but I discarded that thought. I could feel this person's resistance, sitting on my bed. It was plain that was not the point.

I thought about him, while watching the remainder of that video. More and more and more scenes of compassion, communicating in a way that made my muscles ache with love, I watched these acts of love and knew that something was again shifting within me.

I thought about my career as a healer, a volunteer at the hospital at 13, an aide through college, dropping out for a year to do it full time, a nursing aide at a nursing home up in the hills, living with my folks that year.

I saw it all, felt how I felt so many many times at the bedside. Freed. Alive. Whole. Happy. It's the only place I whistle, work. I love being around the sick, I love them so much. I love it all.

I thought about it there, in my granny chair, in my jammies. Why? Well, I figured that out a while ago. It's because most people don't let themselves be loved until they are in a desperate situation. They usually are closed in some way, unhappy and troubled and sad, the ones not born with a disability. They are unhappy within. Sometimes it is an old injury, lifetimes old, an imprint that is biological, an infirmity we have married our biology to, something we live out life after life, and has nothing to do with processing or character issues. It is deep and mysterious, why people get sick. It is not to be judged, not to be assigned value. It is all valuable, meaningful.

I remember when I needed to get some IV fluids. I went to an outpatient clinic. I wanted to go back the second day, even though I didn't need it, I wanted to go, because they were nice to me. They didn't think bad thoughts about me. I could just tell. It felt good, being around people who were nice because they wanted and could be.

So I get it, sometimes being sick is about getting something that nothing in one's life provides. There's lots of reasons. I have a limp and my hip hurts a lot anymore. I don't think bad thoughts about my person hood, but I am deeply curious, certain that no doctor can or should fix this infirmity. It's me having a profound conversation with me, and I don;t need anybody mucking that up for me. No need. No one knows how to heal me better than me. But I get it, not everyone believes so much in their bodies, and all the other reasons people show up sick. I heard of one guy, who'd survived all sorts of extreme medical and surgical stuff, just a freaking train wreck physically, he went into hypnosis and learned it was because he wanted, had signed up for, all the experience. He wanted to really, really, know illness. HE was examining it, like a science experiment, and I think many of us have lives that speak to testing simple but profound hypotheses.

So the ill, I thought, there in my chair, they are just more willing to take my love, and I love them so much, so much, so much. I love them. It is not a personal love, and that's what I love most about it. It is sort of a category instead.

So, I thought about it, there on my chair. I have seen, often, writing as the highest form of selfishness, narcissism, especially this writing. Who am I to expose my consciousness like this? Who am I to reveal myself in such a way? No one else has. Why me? Am I really that sick, that borderline or narcissistic? I have abandoned, in my heart, my love of the sick. And it was my best part, I sat there crying, that's my best part.

I sat with a great love for who I was, who I have always been. I saw, in a glowing moment that just kept shining, kept going on, gentle but intense, I saw that I have always been good, always been kind, always been loving. Sure, I did things that were bad, from time to time, but it was by agreement. I saw the circumstances of my life all turn benevolent, and I couldn't really identify a mistake. Everything was symmetry. Everything was beautiful.

But, I had a thought, after that. I realized that I have been able to channel the most pure love, allowed myself this great fun, through nursing. Turning from this, oh, my, I am not so sure that's a good idea. I'm not convinced. I don;t think I can love that purely, do as much good, writing. It's not as sturdy, not as immediate, as nursing.

And tonight, I had another letter from a dear reader, who said she spent the day reading Patrick hears Voices, and loved how she could see herself among my friends, these slivers of myself I am populating through my imagination and willingness, and She had just asked me if there was someplace she could go, to learn of my awakening.

I told her about Deeply Awake, and then, I decided, once fully clothed, up from my, it turns out, totally unnecessary nap, to re-read a few of the old essays.

Here's the weird part. I randomly chose two essays, one recent, talking about my experience at the Riviera, when I was told to love it all, all the time, that is the point, to love it when you win or you love, just love it all. And then, randomly, I happened upon the essay I wrote when the experience was fresh. Funny how that works, when I re-read the work. I am convinced it is a gospel. There. I said it.

And I realized, as a read, that what I have done is just as valuable as nursing, just as aligned with my core truth, that I want to ease people's burden, lift up the suffocating blanket folks are sheltered under, tell them that the way out is here, that the suffering is over, all is well. That has been my purpose.

The shame I felt after finishing the video has faded, this faint tribal chant, “You are selfish, you should just stay quiet. Keep small... When you are big, you are scary” this is a chant that is fading now.

And so, I will finish up, spending good words on this essay rather than on Patrick, but some things must be said. They just must.

When I worked with The Teachers, after they left, what consumed me was a story for a novel. There was a woman whose life sort of implodes, and part of it has to do with her missing brother, someone who, she discovers, she never knew, because he had been working spiritually, and had prepared for ascension. When he was “taken away” she went on a quest, to find out what happened to him, and thus, in the end, winds up running a commune up in Leadville, and her brother returns, to assist, and bring the galactics.

Good story, right? But every time I tried to write it, it came out trite and unbelievable and dumb sounding. Like a teenager was writing about feelings they had yet to encounter. It was embarrassing, really.

Then I woke up, and thought, well, this is sort of like that story. I think I'll write about this thing that is happening to me. Deeply Awake.

I could see, once things were underway, that that story idea was more a metaphor, a story my future self was telling me about my path.

When I woke up in January of 2012, I was brought to attention with a brand new novel idea. A woman has a fascinoma and is slow to come out of a coma, or she has some sort of mysterious brain bug, so something. Anyhow, she comes to, and there is her physical body, but there is also someone else in the room, Ernie, who has been one of my guides since the '90's. He is crude, a bit of an imp, sort of socially retarded, but purposefully so, abstracted, wise, in complete control, but with a light hand and tons of really really good humor. That's Ernie. He's also a comedy writer. The first time I channeled, there was Ernie, and he wrote a drop dead funny script idea. That's my angel. SO he was going to lead this woman into her future, into the probabilities she'd set up, not that her life was on “pause,” and it was by manipulating, exploring and healing in the future that when she awoke, she found she had a completely different back story, and a present she'd only dreamed to have.

Yeah. Another metaphor, I know, but a good one. I've long played with time's plasticity, talking with my future self, telling her I need some really clear guidance. Been doing that since the '80's. And yet, to split these realizations off and personify the,, give them flesh and blood and lines on a page, this was a leap I was afraid to make. I was unconvinced I could contain it without losing touch completely with what everyone insists is reality.

And so, I knew, in the back of my mind, part of Deeply Awake was to shake out all the doubt, try on all the ideas and wear them around, see what holds up, reminded, as I was, more and more, of old ways, old selves, but all of it brought into sharp focus, in this now, whole, together, integrated.

I can't think of a nicer thing to say about a person. The highest honor I can lay on them is that they are integrated. Integrated. Whole. Complete. Fearless. Unashamed. Joyfully whole. Integrated.

I am not there quite yet, I'm just not. I have these money and relationships to deal with, this reawakening, now, into the physical, in a brand new way, with new skin, a new set of values, and my expectations, they have also changed.

I wanted to tell you how much I love Wilfred. That is, in essence, my talk with Ernie. I love how these writers split the selves, and then examined a word, and from that word tell us amazing truths.

I found listening to the commentary for Michael Clayton, that I felt a rising sense of alarm and disappointment, when the writer spoke of his work, and said nothing of spiritual or energetic principles. That movie is so obviously a story of a human Archangel. It is so obviously a tale of truth, the power of inner truth.

The line from the movie I love the most, besides, “Do I look like I'm negotiating?” is “I am Shiva, God of Death.”

But the writer didn't give away any clue that he'd channeled a great spiritual tale. It was all details and details and more details.

I want to sit down with the creators of Wilfred, to find out if they are aware of what they're doing, or not. I have no doubt, really, that they are aware of what they're doing. It is such an amazing tale, complete in twenty minutes, satisfying, but ongoing, the tale is. It is lyrical and beautiful and intense. Surprisingly, Sam loves it. He'll hang in through Season Two and get the pay off, and feel better for it.

I know this is all in divine order, and that I am as good on paper as I am in uniform. I understand now that it never was true, that I was worthless. It never was true, that I was wrong for being who I am. Those were things that were said that made me question my own worth, made me examine and come to peace with what was inside of me that often made things hard. I felt so much, thought so much, knew so much, it was hard, in some ways, to function normally.

I like that now, things are sweeter, clearer, it feels, and much more happy. Receptive. Lighter. Things feel very light, and I have few worries now. The ones that come, I deal with, and return to a state that holds no fear, holds gratitude and thanksgiving and excitement instead. Me, here with just change for the milk and stuff I need before Friday. Laid low by cash flow, idle. Stalled.

Purposefully so, but I need for the nightmarish part of it to end. I have learned that I often got rid of money as soon as it came to me, because I was deathly afraid it was going to be taken. I had that happen to, with my bank account, these invisible hands that would automatically deduce things form my account. It shouldn't but it would throw me into a panic. People taking. And this was the way of it,how I interpreted it, anyway. Always feeling like people take, and have no idea how to give. Just no clue. And it got old, real old.

But I can let it go. Those were different times. The lessons were different, and the messages have been received, loved into wholeness, released to go on, but to move from me, resolved, loved, just a bass note in my song now, not the lyrics.

And this is where I end it. I feel this is very long, too complex, perhaps, but this is just a function of the change. This is not Deeply Awake's voice. I feel there were three or four complete transmissions in this essay. Feel Complete now. Am heating up as I wrote, and I know I can go places on the first re-read. If I want to go away and have some fun, I'll be able to. These essays send me away sometimes, on re-read. I am open to that tonight.

And then comes Patrick, and if I am lucky enough to have such a reality come to pass, metaphorically or literally, as my reality, my own, then so be it. It is a good place to be. It is kind and open, curious and soft there, and people are nice there. I like it there. And the more you're there, the more you're there, you know?

Hi! In this post I will teach you how to clear a room of negative energies and spirits,

and how to capture a spirit in a jar!(More on that later.)

Clearing a room is pretty simple. All you need is a chair or something you can sit on and relax on in the middle of a room.

So to begin, sit on it! Now, depending on how many walls you have in the room, most have four, you will need to do this at each wall -- direct the Reiki Power symbol, Emotional symbol, then Power symbol again, towards each wall, as if you are making a 'symbol sandwich'.

Now, direct Reiki to these symbols and will all negative energies or spirits back to their home in the light.

If you don't know that there is a spirit in your home, learn a basic Chakra meditation and practice it for a week or two, to attune yourself to the spiritual energy around you, when you meditate you will be able to see the spirits.

Now, what about putting a spirit in a jar? Well, it is all the same general stuff, but with a twist in the 'home in the light'.

So, again, sit comfortably, not necessarily in the middle of the room -- hold a jar of any size, in your hand. I suggest you put a gemstone in the jar or you may not be able to keep the spirit in.

I also put some sand in the bottom, to make it look pretty and for an emergency grounding, if this goes wrong, you want the spirit back in its' body, wherever it is in our physical world.

As it is, you may not actually HAVE a spirit about, this is really simple to overcome as you just need to get one.

Sit there and meditate for a short while to get into the 'zone of energy' then ask your higher self for a spirit, make sure you are clear on whether it is a positive or negative spirit, as this may be a bit tricky for your first time in clearing energy.

Now, just as you did before for the room clearing, will the spirit into its' home in the light, but this time -- will it into the brilliant light of the gemstone in the bottle, request that is stays there until you ask otherwise, and that it does not harm to anything or anyone, unless you ask otherwise. You may want to ask your spiritual guides to help keep it there, if it is a negative spirit it may make up its' own mind.

Make sure you put Reiki into the bottle to keep it full so the spirit does not anger and become negative.

For this point, remember also to keep clearing a room how I showed you above to ward of spirits, just in case they want to hang around. Do it every few days for maximum safety.

Thank you for your time to read my post.

Love and light,

Solomon.

It has been impossible for me in these last couple of months to write.
By the time I was able to get my feelings down, I was off experiencing another inner shift and could not finish.
Or I started with one thought and was slammed with so many ideas I could not write any one down.
All over the house I have ideas, thoughts written down,in pieces of papers everywhere,one thought which was as far as it got,but which seemed so monumental at the time, yet quickly forgotten by the next thought...just as monumental.
It has been amazingly weird.

But daing it if I didn't somewhat get a handle on patience through this writing drought.
Somewhere within me I knew my ability to express my feelings in written form would come back, but it was going to be different some how.
I accepted that I had to wait until I was ready to express myself in this way again but in a new way.
To find the words to describe this new world of mine.
I just had to wait it out, hence: patience.

(I also understood how I was judging myself.I have come to realize I judged myself on so many things...constantly really.
My own worse enemy....But that is a blog for another day.)

And while all this was one going on, very insidiously,small steps everyday,I didn't know I was even "progressing" at all...
I became a new way of being.
Now I feel the energy around me, constantly, and I read it like I used to read,say...,the newspaper.
If it is in the flow of my heart for the highest good, it feels like stroking velvet with my senses.
If it is not for the highest good, it feels like stroking against velvet.
All bumpy and rough and gritty...(these are the best words I can use to describe this feeling which comes from within me.)

If a person is deceitful,the against velvet feeling arises and I feel guided to separate myself from any future dealings with them.
If a place "feels"bad( the vibration is too dense)-my inner voice says "no" right away.
If the energy intertwined is not for the highest good, I feel it.

The choice is mine whether I step into that flow or not.
But for now,I choose to not have that energy around me anymore.
I have come to realize I trust myself with my inner voice and my intuition.
I trust myself in what I feel.

This new heightened sense has now become more comfortable for me.
I understand now why I was a hermit as I went through my dark night, I had to learn discernment.
Of self.
Alone I learned my energy.
What my energy feels like to me.
I learned what my feelings were and which were not mine but from those around me.

I am also being driven from within to join to those I term soul family.
It is those that I wish to build my new life with...

So,I now enter this new phase of being with a new tool that gives me a huge advantage in helping me stay in the flow of my heart.
Everyday it gets easier to trust myself.
The energies I feel from people,places and things guide me upon my path.
It is so much easier this way.
I "see" the world with my senses expanded, my heart affirms if I am in the flow with feelings of inner peace and clarity...

This is our new way.
And we will continue to expand.

For the energies of expansion(x-flares,solar winds, CMEs, etc...) which are blasting us from our Source of All that Is, affect EVERYTHING.
Timelines which were not for the highest good of all are collapsing as they too expand ,yet the lower density experiences are no longer able to take root if they are constructed in the old paradigm of service to self.
As the collective reconnects to their inner guidance and shift from service to self to service to others(while remembering the loving of SELF), the vibration of the planet rises.
Triggering more awakenings and rememberings.

Souls whose physically cannot raise their vibration will cross over.
Many will collectively choose to experience passing in large soul family groups.
Meanwhile as the vibration(consciousness) of the planet rises, new souls are incarnating, many which are being born already connected to Source through their heart.
Have you seen these kids all over the web and the news?
These kids are amazing.

The divine process is one step at a time,connected to our Source through our hearts, yet incredibly scientific at the same time.
A merging of spirituality and science.
For the rising of a third density planet has to be very gradual.
One soul at a time.

Otherwise the density of the earth will not stand the rising vibration(which is the rising of the collective consciousness as well)and it will become chaotic and very destructive, with possible destruction of the planet.
We have seen this as the geo-effective space weather has caused major climatic events which have caused great loss of life.
However it is my understanding that the destruction timeline is no longer an option.

The collective has chosen to awaken and raise their consciousness so that solutions on healing the planet can come to fruition.
The consciousness of the planet has to rise, for a problem cannot be solved from the same level of consciousness which created it.
That is why I know my soul is here.
To balance out the breakdown energies with the creation energies, so that this amazing earth makes this shift without complete destruction.

I know I am NOT the only one in this service.
And for that I am so grateful,for my light family supporting me through this shift,being here with me as I support them too.

Shine bright my beautiful family.
Every experience from every soul is divine.
For this amazing earth is our classroom for understanding our Self.
For understanding what love IS NOT.
What WE are not.
The gift of our experience returning to our Source, part of the eternal cycle of learning and experiencing.
Of growth and expansion.
Of creation.
Of Being.

Live In Joy, and enjoy each day.
And drink as pure water as possible to help in this intense detoxing cycle.
The healing properties of water are truly divinely amazing.
As are we.
Amazing.
In Light and Love
marie

PATRICK HEARS VOICES, Chapters 22 - 26 , By Kathy Vik NaNoWriMo

While writing this for all of us, a novel to and for and about lightworkers, I am asking for whatever financial help you feel moved to provide me. Private message me, or contact me at amissvik@gmail.com. My PayPal account is under amissvik.

Follow my work at:

www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com

www.facebook/deeplyawake

www.lightworkers.org/magartha

www.cityofshaballa.net

www.saviorsofearth.com

www.nanowrimo.org/amissvik

and

www.wordpress.com/patrickhearsvoices

As I am re-writing, for continuity's sake, as I go, so I will post this as a book, in case you haven't been reading a long, on my wordpress site. It's fun to just read along, bit by bit, but also fun to read the thing in one block, if that's your thing.

And here were go.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

By seven, the hall was filled and there were a few folks seated on the floor. A few were sipping coffee, others were already meditating.

A calmness came over the gathering, and folks naturally became still, having stowed away their refreshment in that odd place between not being ready, and being ready.

Kevin came from the lobby area then, and slowly walked up the aisle between the folding chairs. He looked at everyone's heads, and began to feel more and more expanded as he walked.

By the time he;d taken his seat on the stool, his vision was blurred, and he could appreciate huge colorful hazes coming from each of the participants.

He'd been told by what he called The All, to say his prayer out loud. It was important, she'd written through him just recently, for others to see how it is he communicates to The All.

He settled himself on his stool, smiled, got every person's eyes for just that one moment of connection, and then, he closed his eyes, and began to speak.

Afterward, he always felt invigorated, almost giddy. So far from his usual social stance, it had taken time for the others to trust his altered demeanor. Within about an hour, the energy seemed to dissipate enough to become more reigned in, less enthusiastic. Kevin found that enthusiasm worked best on established friends. He'd found early on that he overpowered folks unaware of his abilities if he didn't dial it way, way back. He'd taken to the gifts of silence, and it was only after a transmission like this that he felt no filters, no social constraint.

He was just coming off this state when Patrick came to him, looking troubled.

“How did you know?” Patrick asked.

Kevin remembered little of what had gone on this night. He'd been called away, farther away than usual. “I'm sorry, Patrick, but I have no recollection of what was said, at the moment. Some of it filters back to me with triggers, but it's inaccessible to me at present.” he studied Patrick, the relief that seemed to wash over him. “Do you want to tell me what was said? I'm always curious, when I get so knocked out. You telling me is the only way I have of recapturing it, sort of.”

Patrick was considering this when Kevin added, “But, hey, don't tell me anything you don't want me to know. It's yours, if I'm gone. You own the message, I'm just a messenger, you know? Some letters from home you just don't feel like passing around, I get it.”

Patrick saw how Kevin’s face seemed to glow, a happiness crowning him somehow. His eyes glittered, in that simple building, with its retro lighting and weird grandma smell. He wondered just how much he should let Kevin into his own mind.

Patrick thought, then, about the message he'd been given, and he felt a stirring he could neither explain nor argue with. Without editing himself, without worrying what Kevin might think of him, he began.

“You were explaining The All, and this beautiful concept that The All is The One, and The One is The All. It was so beautiful. And then,” Patrick hesitated, thinking on the event, “You opened your eyes, looked right at me, and told me things only me and my mom know. It was like she was in the room. I could smell her, man.”

Patrick shook his head, and continued. “You told me, or she told, or, oh my god, I don't even know how to talk about this stuff!” Patrick exclaimed in frustration.

“Try this,” Kevin said. “If you feel it was your mom's essence that talked to you, you can just say that. Or just say 'she.' That's fine.” he patted Patrick's shoulder and urged him to continue.

“She looked at me and told me she wanted me to have proof that we go on. She said she wanted to be dead before I got to the hospice, so that she could embrace me as I found out. She told me her nurse and she used to be married, and she wanted to spend those moments making things right with him.” The words tumbled out of Patrick without filter, one long rush of disbelief.

Patrick took Kevin's hands then, and asked with all of his heart, looking inky those murky eyes of his, “How?”

Kevin disengaged from Patrick, shrugged, and said, “I don't know. I'm willing, I guess. I'm glad you got a direct message. Usually things aren't quite so pointed. It's unusual, really. Are you doing ok?”

Patrick smiled broadly, and told Kevin exactly what was in his heart, “I don't think things could be better, Kevin. I really am ok. Thanks for this, Kevin. Thanks a lot.”

After Valerie and Indra got done cleaning up the kitchen, stowing the coffee urn in its moldy spot in the broom closet, they joined Kevin and Patrick folding the last of the chairs. The building was chilly, the heat having been turned down a half hour ago.

Indra said, “That was quite a time, Kevin. I don't know how to thank you.”

This never ceased to puzzle Kevin, in a vague way. Kevin was asked to do for them something he so enjoyed, he knew in a real way that he lived just week to week, session to session, on some days. He felt honored for being invited, and here was someone thanking him!

“Really, honestly, the pleasure is all mine,” Kevin said, as he bowed low, like an English gentleman.

They locked up as a group, and walked over to their parked cars, the last four in that part of the parking lot. The liquor and grocery stores were still getting traffic, but at this end of the mall, businesses were already closed for the night.

“Oh, say!” Kevin said, “I forgot to bring in the applesauce I canned. Would you girls like a few?” he pushed a button, and his Jeep beeped, letches unhinged, and the lights came on. He popped open the back, and took out two huge Ball jars filled with chunky applesauce. He handed them to the Indra, and then went back for two more. “I've got more than this, if you can eat it.”

Indra laughed as she said, “Kevin, I'll give you forty bucks for six. Not a penny less.” She turned to Indra and said, “This stuff is amazing. I don't think I've had any around for you before.”

He walked a box of six over to Indra's car, spoke to her and hugged her, Patrick saw from the jeep. Valerie was hanging around with Kevin, although she didn't know why. She was tired, and had an hour drive ahead of her.

Kevin returned empty handed, smiling. “That's quite a girl you've got there,” Kevin said. “You want some applesauce now? I have plenty?”

“No, Kevin,” Valerie said. “Indra and I live together. I'm set. I like baking with it.”

“You're not into this channeling stuff, are you, Valerie?” Kevin said, as he was closing the back of his jeep.

“I can take it or leave it, really. I think it's all just rearranging chairs on the Titanic. It makes people feel like they are doing something purposeful, but, really, they're just trying to calm themselves in the midst of disaster. But,” she said, “That's just my take on things.”

She said good night, and thank you, but the conversation had been over with the word “disaster.” Neither Kevin nor Patrick felt welcome in her presence after her speech, and they excused themselves politely, Kevin then pointing to Patrick's car and mentioning his long drive home.

At the car, Patrick asked Kevin how he felt about what Valerie had said.

“To each their own. There's a lot of people living in despair, and it's nearly always impossible to argue them out of it. I just wander away. It gets to bouncing off, after a time. She's mad at something, but it ain't me.” Patrick smiled, liking this old guy more and more as the evening progressed.

“Why don't you come by the house this weekend?” Kevin said. “I mean, Ellie's house. Bill is a basketball fan. There's always a game on.”

“I have to get back to school on Monday,” Patrick remembered. “If I can bring over my books, I'd like that. I have an essay due, and I've been putting it off.”

“What's your dad doing, kid? Would he like to join in? Sports fan?” Kevin trailed off.

“He works on Saturdays, all day, and on Sunday he golfs all day,” Patrick said, suddenly aware of his situation. Now that mom's gone, he thought, there was little for him to do, outside of hanging with friends. But there was no one in his circle who felt equipped to deal with what Patrick had been facing with his mom. A few had grandparents who'd passed on, but no one he knew had lost a parent yet.

Kevin's invitation was accepted, plans were made, loose ones, and they shook hands. Patrick lingered in his dark car for awhile after everyone else had driven off. It was a full moon tonight, and he looked at it through his windshield. He thought about what Kevin had said, what she had said, his mom, tonight.

He slept deeply that night, using his old cat Pal like a farting pillow, and dreamed of worlds he was yet to see.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

“What the fuck?” Bernie said angrily, as she slammed her laptop shut.

“What the fuck, what the fuck?” answered a heavily accented, deep voice.

“Oh, there's an eBay seller who sold me a broken camera,” Bernie explained, “and now she's moved the goal posts regarding her return policy. Shifty little bitch.”

“How much was it?” Daniel asked.

“Three hundred and change,” Bernie reported, matter of fact. “It was a relic of a Kodak. Here. It's in the box.”

Daniel picked up the thing, and played with it, unlatched a gizmo, pulled a couple things, and the camera looked as it did in the eBay printout lining the box.

“There's your problem,” he said in his measured way. “That, and your temper.”

“Whatever, old man,” Bernie said flippantly.

“Oh, I see how this is going to be today,” Daniel said, coming up behind her, putting his arms roughly around her waist. “Old man, am I, today? Luscious.” He nuzzled her neck. “Just luscious.”

“Old,” Bernie said, her words catching in her throat, “old and twisted.”

The two had been on and off again lovers since the mid seventies, day trippers, in and out of psychedelia and new sciences. He traveled in a more esoteric crowd. They rendezvoused once a year at the MUFON conference, and got together whenever his traveling permitted. He lived in New York, summered near Avesbury, and lived most of his time on the road lecturing about ancient civilizations.

They had dinner that night, on the 16^th Street mall downtown. He'd wanted pizza, she'd wanted Subway, so they got their food and ate on a bench. They ate watching passersby, listening to steel drums playing a couple blocks away. It was chilly out tonight, but spring was in the air, something neither one of them wanted to ignore. It had been a particularly harsh winter, in both of their home towns.

Bernie knew that Daniel liked to go the bookstore to visit his own publications. He swaggered even more than usual after such a visit. Bernie just happened to dig him even more when he swaggered.

What was not well known about Bernie was that she was a bit of a groupie. She took the guru thing just a bit further than most, and most people she idolized wound up feeling the same about her. She'd followed rock bands, comics, intellectuals. She'd been able to travel a lot, and had more stories than most decent people have. She was usually proud of her accomplishments, until she hung around someone like Ellie's house guest, Judy. Judy took one whiff of Bernie's story and shut the door. She'd been called a starfucker more than once, and Judy seemed to secrete this word into every conversation they had.

She looked at Daniel, and knew that what was contained in his navy pea Coat was just a scrap of what she was in love with. He was connected. She could feel it. She loved being around him, and others like him. She lived for it. Judy, she thought, can go fuck herself.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

“What are you smiling at?” asked Daniel.

“Just thinking about a friend,” Bernie replied.

They each had an armful of books by the time they'd made it to the ground floor of the massive building. Bernie went to an unoccupied counter and rested her books there, as the patrons in front of them wound through the ropes, shuffling toward one of just two cashiers manning the downtown Barnes and Noble.

Ahead of Daniel was a severe looking woman, dressed in a flannel shirt and work pants. Daniel bumped into her while moving forward in line, and the woman looked at him with distaste. She said, “excuse you” to him, and went back to gazing out into space.

Daniel and Bernie looked at each other and smiled.

At the counter, the pimply clerk ran the lady's cards, and handed her a slim bag, telling her, “You saved ten dollars today, Valerie.”

Daniel and Bernie left the store with four plastic bags, and headed for the train station.

Waiting for the train heading west was the rude woman at the bookstore. She saw Daniel and Bernie approaching, and muttered, “Aw, shit.”

Bernie and Daniel leaned against the handicap ramp, happy to poke through their bags while waiting for a train back to their car.

“Excuse me,” a voice from behind Daniel called out.

Approaching them was the lady from the line, Bernie saw. What joy, Bernie thought to herself.

“Say,” the woman began, “I really wanted to apologize for my behavior back then.”

Daniel stood from his bags and extended a hand, “Not to worry,” he said, in his lilting Scottish brogue.

“Ireland?” the woman asked.

“Scotland. Live near Avesbury now,” he added.

“Well, I'm sorry for being such a jerk. There's something about lines in stores that makes me put my hackles up,” Valerie explained. “I'm Valerie. And you are?”

“Daniel Wheeling,” he introduced himself, “And this is my lovely companion, Bernie.”

“Nice night for it,” Bernie said, lighting a smoke.

“Could I bum one while we're waiting?” Valerie asked.

“If you don't mind unfiltered. I took these off my brother,” Bernie explained. She turned to Daniel and said, “While you're in town, we should go see Ellie. Kevin called me last night and told me they're all getting together tomorrow for, for sports viewing. I know that's not your thing...”

Daniel smiled and thought about The Light House. “I haven't seen Ellie in, wow, has it been two years already?” Daniel said. “Yeah, that sounds good, in the afternoon, though,” Daniel said, smiling what Bernie knew to be a wildly wicked smile.

Valerie boggled at their conversation.

“I'm sorry to intrude,” she said, “But are you talking about Ellie Benz?”

“Yeah,” Bernie said. “She's my sister.”

“You're probably not going to believe this, but,” and with that, Valerie explained of this odd urge she'd been having to call Ellie, go see her, this insistent thing she'd been putting off doing, much like she'd since been putting off her laundry.

By the time the train had arrived, they'd made arrangements for the next day. Bernie insisted Ellie had an open door policy on game days, and Valerie was free to bring a guest.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Ellie long ago made peace with Bill's sports fanaticism. She'd drawn the line at sports radio, but everything else was fine, including letting the weekends be game day at their house.

She used the weekends to work on the house, doing odd projects and major makeovers. When her kids were small, they'd had modest homes, many of them rented. Once they moved into the Light House, Ellie came to discover her love of decorating, puttering, and DIY'ing. She'd gotten all the kids involved, when not doing things with friends, as they began to mature. Those who found themselves at home learned to make wreaths, sand dressers, clean carpets and shop.

Ellie and her kids frequented ARC's, Goodwill’s' and Salvation Army's on weekends, taking advantage of weekend specials, when projects were less compelling than finding a good bargain. Even when the family was no longer living paycheck to paycheck, their passion for deals continued.

Today was not a shopping day for Ellie, but she and Judy had plans to rummage the next day. Today was a game day, and the sooner she got cooking, the sooner she could do her own thing.

Although Bill was the official cook of the house, Ellie had perfected a few recipes, and because they were crowd pleasers, she made massive quantities of them on Saturdays. Visitors usually came with something in their hands, more often than not beer, and it had become the norm that Ellie would provide food for those who strayed over, until 7. The house closed up at 7, that was her other rule.

Today she was making Spam sandwiches, an old family recipe, that tasted incredible even though it shouldn't, and even though everyone knew they were eating Spam, she nearly always ran out on game day.

She ground the Span with her ancient steel grinder, and wondered to herself what she should do today. She'd finished a waterfall dresser last, and it now held the mail, leash and two drawers full of junk, in the foyer. Something fun, she thought, something no one might even see. Maybe I should try watercolors?

She removed her rings and kneaded the pink mixture, her hands red with ketchup. She smiled, thinking how her mom only made these sandwiches for “company.” They were like our good chine, Ellie thought to herself.

She'd started a stock pot of French Onion Soup first thing, and was just going to make a couple boxes of cornbread mix, and then that would be that. She thought she'd go poke around in Bill's studio for supplies while things were cooking. Once the sandwiches were wrapped and in the oven, the meal was on auto-pilot.

Although she'd made enough for twelve today, she really just anticipated a quiet day with Kevin, and maybe, peripherally, with Judy. Bill and Ellie had discovered that Judy preferred her own company when at home, but spent most of her time elsewhere: at adult education classes, church, the rec center, the library, the Y. She'd become more vague with Ellie about her various pursuits as the months had passed since Judy'd moved in. The last time they'd talked was over breakfast a week ago, and Ellie realized Judy was looking like a different person these days, relaxed and unworried. Ellie idly wondered when Judy was going to be moving out.

The doorbell rang, and thankfully Bill answered it, elbow deep in Spam as she was. She looked at the clock and was surprised to find it was already 11. It felt to her, suddenly, as if she'd just gotten out of bed ad dressed. How could it be 11? she asked herself.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

She was washing her hands in the sink when Kevin and Patrick came into the kitchen. Patrick was holding a grocery bag full of vegetables, and Kevin came with two pies.

“How goes it, guys?” Ellie asked.

“I'm doing better. I saw Kevin channel. It helped a lot,” Patrick said, surprising himself with his eagerness.

Ellie wondered what condition Patrick was referring to having seen improvement. She didn't push the boy, but let conversations about these sorts of things be guided by his openness. She was glad he was so comfortable with their odd world.

Kevin made another pot of coffee as he talked about the evening he'd channeled. He'd let Ellie into his channeling after he'd established himself at the Temple. He’d given her one of his notebooks and had asked her to look it over, one night last year as he was leaving after a game day. She called him later that night, and they'd had an amazing conversation about Kevin's abilities. Something had settled between them, from that conversation to this day, something even stronger than the family bond they'd once had. They both liked the change, and encouraged it now, when they spent time together. Mostly, Ellie thought to herself, it still comes down to letting him be mysterious. Ellie grinned, and went over and hugged her brother, just because she was moved to.

Ellie's cell phone rang. It was Bernie, she saw. “Hey, sister,” Ellie said.

“Hey, I wanted to let you know me and Daniel want to come over today,” Bernie said. What do you want us to bring over?”

“What time?” Ellie asked.

“Say 4, give or take.” Bernie said. Ellie could tell Bernie was happily distracted.

“Looks like you get fruit,” Ellie decided. “Just buy it whole and come by 4:30 so I can make it into a salad, ok?”

Ellie heard Bernie muffle the phone and talk. When Bernie came back on the line, she sounded like she was in the bathroom.

“You're not going to poop while you talk to me, are you?” Ellie asked.

“I can wait,” Bernie said. A god-awful sound echoed. “OK,” she said. “We met a woman last night who overheard our conversation at the train station. She says she knows you. I forget her last name,” Bernie hesitated while she flushed, “Wait,” she said.

“You know, that is just so gross, on so many levels,” Ellie said. “Why do you do that on the phone?”

“Poor executive function, I guess,” Bernie said off-handedly. “Anyway,” she continued, “Her name is Valerie something. I forget her last name. It's in my phone, but I don't know how to get at it when I'm talking on the phone.”

“Executive function deficit,” Ellie said, and Bernie laughed.

“I guess you're right. Anyhow,” Bernie said, suddenly bored, “She's short, dressed like a stone cold butch, in her fifties. Ring any bells?”

“A dyke named Valerie,” Ellie said affectionately. “Nope, no bells.”

“well, then, this could get interesting,” Bernie said. “I told her about game day. I guess maybe I should have called you first. I told her she could bring a guest and come over any time after 4.”

“Thank God for that. I'll have to think about it,” Ellie said. “What are you doing til then?”

Bernie was thankfully less graphic about her plans than she was about her bowel movements. Ellie knew Bernie would be more mellow than usual when she came over. Daniel had a wonderfully sedative effect on her sister.

“Well, have fun, Bernie,” Ellie said. “Patrick and Kevin just showed up, and I need to tend to them. See you no later than 4, Bernie, ok?”

Bernie was routinely late to events, and again silently thanked Daniel for being around. He couldn't tolerate being late. “Tell Daniel four sharp, Bernie,” Ellie asked. “I'm sure I'll remember this Valerie, but it'll be a lot less awkward if you're here to make the introduction, in case I don't know her.”

“Oh, I know you do. She talked about you, your house,” Bernie trailed off, “Well, I guess we'll just see. Bye for now.”

Kevin was in the fridge, looked for sandwich fixings. Patrick asked if he could set up his computer in the breakfast nook. “I don't study very well if there's a TV on,” he explained.

“Well, I'm thinking you might like to set up in the den, or the cabin. The cabin gets cold, but there's a lot to look at. The den is just off the TV room, but the door is pretty solid,” Ellie explained.

“How long are you going to be in here cooking and stuff?” Patrick asked.

“Well, I like to use my game days to craft,” Ellie said. “I was thinking about trying my hand at watercolors today. I like doing that in here,” Ellie pointed to a far corner. “I have a card table. It's in the mud room.”

Patrick seemed lonely to Ellie today. She saw him as a lost kid today, Ellie realized. She had trouble shaking feeling bad for the boy. She didn't know why.

“Let's work in here together, if that's ok, Patrick,” Ellie suggested.

Ellie turned to her brother, “What are your plans, Kevin?”

“Kevin took a beat up copy of a Carlos Castaneda novel out of his back pocket. “If you've got food and coffee, I'm good anywhere.”

The three of them passed their day in relative silence. KBCO played, and each found it comforting to be around people who felt no need to fill the air with words. Each pursued their joy silently, happily.

Patrick didn't tell Ellie, during their quiet afternoon, just what had caused him to feel so peaceful. He felt odd about feeling so at peace with his mom's passing, and didn't know just how to bring it up. Ellie never pushes me, Patrick thought, as she began to put away her painting supplies, readying for the dinner meal.

NEW ENERGETIC CHANGES – MAGARTHA Through Kathy Vik 11-19-13

www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com

We greet you to the table of elders, we ask you come as light, imagine the body which you inhabit coming with you, rather than trying to split your consciousness, as is often done with meditation. Let what you can imagine be within your physical form, and allow this form to become living light. Come to the table as an equal, a family member in this family of light, we welcome you home.

The Great Central Sun is delivering, even now, in your time, a great transmission, the channel sensing this as geometrics and light, when able to see. This is nearly a plasmic transmission, and we wish to now highlight the truth of such things.

Many have sensed a ramping up or refinement in energies. Some are having profound changes occur within what they have come to identify as their psyched, and this is but one way these transmissions manifest.

The energy is constant, but has been refined, and yet, we wish to explain this as more of a frequency than a transmission. Although there is much information, all information, within these bodies of code, of coded, quantum, inferential and revolutionary information, because they exist at all, they exist eternally, and it is your interpretation of truth which you are then manifesting within you physical vehicles, your personality expressions, and this then translates for the individual in terms of questioning that which was once obviously true, and moving then to a place, oftentimes, of surveying that which you once found solidly accurate, regarding a situation, person, or reality, and you find these once cherished belief structures looking quite out of place, clunky, we can describe it that way. Perhaps comical, perhaps a little poignant, realizing, one by one or all at once, that what was once your vantage point, the place where you housed your perspective, many are now finding the perspective has shifted very dramatically, and new vistas are becoming clearer, daily, we tell you. Daily this is now occcuring for some.

We wish to reassure those who are remembering, or becoming aware of, their multiplicity, their oneness with expressions they now own as theirs, and have since discarded. Those who find themselves remembering profound truths, about your place, your history, so to speak,, your identity, the roles you have played, many are seeing a consolidation of personalities, and we say this plural, purposefully.

Do not fear this process. It is a unification of expression, and it was what many of you had heard would occur, a unification of timelines, it has been called. We say, better to describe it as a unification of self, many now able to hold multiple foci of awareness, while doing mundane or intricate things, these awarenesses are now yours. If they have not yet come to your awareness, this has nothing to do with worth, with deserving, with no judgment or comparison are these revelations given. But it must be said, these words of reassurance and care, for those experiencing such things. This is the way of it, and those having these revelations are calmed and relieved in hearing this is to be expected, whispering between each word, remember, remember, remember.

Returning to the concept of frequency, spin, wave, however it is most easily visualized, these frequencies or bodies of waves of information, love, divine love, are available to all, at all times. This is to do with preparedness.

Did not most of you read, years ago, in channeled messages, were you not party to teachers, be they strangers, acquaintances or paid guides, were you not told to prepare? To do the work? Do you remember the catchphrase, “If you're not working on yourself, you're not working?” Some took such simple adages to heart, and they did the work. They are now prepared to take in frequencies which are unattended to by those whose energy contains within it overlays from the past collective agreements, old energy patterns and thought/belief/emotional structures which have, at their heart, fear. The need for validation, the certainty of doom, these are overlays which obstruct the natural flow of these cosmic frequential fields more in step, so to speak, with a quantum, or entangled, awareness.

Be at peace, we pray, with wherever you find yourself, with whatever dilemma or puzzle remain. And if none remain, if you can see all as purposeful and benevolent, we tell you this is a valid and true place from which to create as you see fit. All will come to see the dilemmas and decisions in their lives in richer terms, but there are some without the karmic overlays you have carried from birth, and this creates not so much a wobble, but a need to tend, paradoxically, to the physical vehicle with tender care.

We urge you to see your bodies as divine expressions, durable and healthy, ready and clean, strong and wise. See this physical vehicle as your wise friend, someone who has protected and loved your consciousness so much, that it self corrects gross neglect, at times, borne out of the belief that the body has no voice, cannot be trusted, must be fixed, and is dying as it lives. Although a valid philosophical point of view, ta clarified attitude toward the body is essential in progression.

Consider the heavenly visitors you receive, the lights in the sky many are seeing now, the profound astrological messages that are being sent, consider these messages from source, and from your own selves, please, we ask for this larger perspective from those willing to hold it. Not only are these “rays” which are “downloading” information amplified by celestial events, but your consciousness, collectively, calls these events into significance. It is a cooperative effort, and it is important, we feel, to reiterate your part in this grand time. It is no accident you are here, doing precisely what you are doing. Many are living moment to moment is a deliberate, aware fashion, and this state, many are finding, is the seat of synchronicity itself.

Dwell here when you can, and do not criticize your consciousness when you find your attention drawn into the detail you are, in fact, placing within your own awareness. This is living deliberately, understanding that you are indeed one with all that you are aware of, and you are the sovereign of your awareness.

Many are finding breaks in significant relationships which might come as a surprise. If there has been unending conflict within a relationship, the see-saw of energy which made many feel incapable of self regulation, many are finding these relationships unplugged, and they are unable to relate to the drama in which they used to spin. Many have found they just “cannot go” certain places, toward habitual thoughts, behaviors and expectations. Things are not “sticking” as much, for many.

This is a change in energy that has been called forth for experience. Always there, always ready to be available, there have been changes within Gaia herself, due to your shifts in consciousness, and your express, spoken permission, and this allows you, your physical vehicle, your mind and pineal gland, your entirety, to access what had been waiting there for you.

Can you not see the benevolence in a system which has, and now had, built in triggers, built in releases and openings, which could organically change your receiver-ness, your abilities to appreciate them. This is a cooperative, organic effort in consciousness, and many are finding that these changes have made their former priorities and desires alter, and for some, this has been dramatic. If looked at with a glad heart, with a mind which has absorbed its training, it can be seen as nothing short of miraculous.

And this is how we wish to end it, by reiterating that it is you who allow this grand procession, and the level of permission by those who are naturally able to do this, is astounding. There is a very important point to this we stress now. The translation of this energy must, must, it must, be communicated human to human. You are now able, many of you, to contain the planet within your fields, in your most deliberate meditation,s eyes open or closed. Many can do this, but what matters more is the physical translation, human to human, of this energy. Your interpretation, your embodiment of a more cohesive DNA field, creating more and more opportunities for further activation, this is a fire which need only be lit here and there, and then moved around, wither with consciousness or in the physical. Many of you are doing work which would still boggle you in your physical reality. Your abilities are vast, as is your influence, and this contact you have with your fellow man, coming to all in peace, with laughter, with kindness and generosity, with forbearance, with permission, we tell you this is the balm, the act which relieves burdens.

The grid has once again sweetened, lightened, and you will find this work easier. Many of the resistances so many sweet souls found crushing has since been removed. Consider it an alchemy, please always consider this, you are participant as well as originator, creator. You have an effect on others. They are not pretend, they are not made up, they are not projections of your consciousness, except at the highest levels of energetics. Consider your fellow man and woman as fellow travelers, as grateful as you are to be held in high regard, regardless of what is said, or done, or thought.

You will have contact with those who have resistance, and what you will find that the resonance is such that your reactivity has been nullified, in many instances, and this can make dealing with those who are still entrenched in fear and the behaviors it generates, you much easier for you. See to it that you pity no one, and judge no one's progress, or what you might think is lack of progress. Each human being is valid, and having a profound conversation WITH THEMSELVES. As are you. See to it that your conversations, with one another, are harmonious. Do not hesitate to speak your mind, and do not doubt the guidance you will find helping you with difficult situations.

You are not alone, and your daily puzzles, activities and challenges can be handled joyfully and skillfully, by more and more and more of you.

We tell you, this is the way of it, a simple path which allows you to love that which is being expressed by your self, all the time, without end, in peace. This spreads, and through your mingling with, talking with, encouraging and helping others, all gain momentum, all stretch, all hear your song of home. It is sounding in your very cells, and we ask, in closing that you celebrate your song, cast any remaining worries aside, and understand the profundity of what you, as a human living in the time of this great shift, have done for yourself and your fellow traveler.

We are gratified you came to this table, and remind you this communication does not cease, it is only your changing, beautiful awareness which allows you access, as you see fit.

We walk with you in love.

FIELD NOTES – THE MORE YOU'RE THERE BY KATHY VIK 11-18-13

www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com

There is much to say, here, sitting with you, on my bed, both of us in our jammies, eating our favorite snack, our favorite drink nearby. You and I talk about a lot of stuff, and today, I am telling you about this change I have noticed.

Maybe it was on a facebook poster, I don't know, maybe someone really deep wrote it once on papyrus. Who knows. But I heard “The more time you spend there, the more you're there.” Sort of Ars Gratis Artis, the act is the reward, that sort of thing.

I see how this really is a telescopic thing, a fractal all on its own, the awakening process, at least for me.

My first real encounter with this amazing energy was when I felt gripped and pulled by a breathtaking love, forgiveness so thick I could hardly breathe, and I kept seeing myself go back and forth inside this moving tube of love, of light. It was stunning. I was not only eager but able to, in one shining moment that just kept coming and coming and coming, I could see the benevolence in each moment of my life, the beauty, the symmetry, the love, all the love, all the sacrifice everyone made, all of it there, inside me, but all around me.

As it was happening, I saw, shining and it kept going, once I moved to my room, sitting on my bed, still I could see it, it was just a fact, a galaxy shaped like an eye, red and blue and moving and alive.

This experience faded, and things changed, quite dramatically for me, after that. I had already had a couple big aha! Moments. I knew things were shifting, June of 2011, but my outer life was just about to breakdown, for all time, it would lay defunct, but I carried it along with me, examining it, trying to figure out how it ticked, until 10-31-13, the day I finished Deeply Awake. I had vowed, if I ever got to the place where I had it more of less good within me, I would demonstrate for a couple three essays, and then bag it. Done. Mission accomplished. Mission freakin' accomplished.

But since that time, I have written under “Field Notes,” and I have to admit, they were cryptic, at best, chaotic, unclear, abstracted, highly abstracted. I was scaling the tippy top of a mountain that had been my driving purpose, since sentience, is how I like to put it. Such a need to have these questions satisfied, about it all, and I am glad that I have found answers I can finally live with.

I mean, after all, the seeker would not be the seeker if they were satisfied with the answers they received, right? What makes a person hungry for this information, set on fire the first time they hear a certain word, or hear a certain concept. Distant whispers pulling you into odd conference halls, into the company of other seekers, not rebelling against, but having no interest in conventional answers, conventional stories, conventional questions.

What makes some of us follow the words of those who say that what they are communicating comes from something greater than themselves? And, we know this about ourselves, being told something, and agreeing with it, that's everybody's choice, all down the line. Some agree that this is a valid form of self development, learning from others, allowing others to trigger and learn from and teach, some in the physical, and some are not, and we are ok with this too.

There is a new wind blowing, and it is easy to breathe here, and here is the thing I need to say: the more I have been able to get here, spend time here, the more I am here, and this is a valid pursuit, a beautiful and synchronous and purposeful one. All is in good alignment, in divine timing, with benevolence toward all.

I spent a lot of time, while working on stuff, dwelling on such things as Monsanto, Dems vs. Repubs, aberrant, violent behavior, and I was hung up, really angry about, our surveillance, nanny, distrust-all-with-mercy-toward-none attitude seeming to grip the imaginations of those less willing to see good common sense, and because there was a bully, there was a victim.

And so I wrestled with that thing until I got it winnowed down, and came to understand and master fear. Fear is a test, there to shut you down just as pretty as you please, disconnecting you from all the good sense there is in the world, the obvious truth, that we have clean energy just waiting there to be developed, Agribusiness is in bed with the FDA who is in bed with BigPharma who is in bed with insurers, who are in bed with bankers, who are in bed with our elected officials. There's the food chain. So what. It's all coming down, so, now, I see these fear thoughts come up, about the poison of vaccines and pro or con on providing pretty shitty health care to everybody who will, must go through quite a few unpleasantries, just to get something as basic as getting an arm set if you break it.

It is ridiculous and unkind and corrupt and so over. It is a brutal, disrespectful way to live. Not sharing with others when you are gifted with so much. Shame on those who do not help their neighbor, just the one sitting right across from them. The way of it is to share, to keep currency flowing, to assist when you can, and to see everyone you meet is family, and you don't cheat or lie to family, when you know it'll just bite you on the butt and get found out, anyway.

See, that's where I live now, and in the beginning, it was just now and then, just now and then. I had that big psychedelic thing, and then months passed before another such an event. And those days were spent scraping by, paying bills late, trying to make ends meet, and always, scribbling, scribbling away about how everything is feeling so good, and wanting more than anything, by the act of writing, to prolong that energy, to be in it, understand it as well as I understood futility and despair.

I'll close by revisiting something I have been writing about now for a while, this idea of a group of us, the first wave, here to do this waking up thing, that we are early. A generation or two early for the big reveal, from the looks of it. But there are stirrings, there are stirrings. It's like in March, April, when the ground is warm on the inside, but not on the outside, and there might even be snow still scattered about, but if you put your hand on the earth, in a seam, you can feel it teeming. Just teeming.

Who is the earth, and who is doing the feeling, and what is teeming? These have been valid questions to ask, and to use this forum to answer, I think.

Bashar has a youtube video out about Comparing Yourself To Other People. It's the most profound 15 minutes of audio I have heard in a long time.

What I keep going back to is what he said about agreements. My old teachers always couched things in terms of “agreement fields.” He said, even when you have a similarity with another, it is only because you are agreeing to have those similarities.

And this is what I wish to end on. I think there are more than a few of us, now, who hold agreements which many do not hold, but when we get amongst ourselves, we agree, in principle, to whatever degree of minutia (and there's a ton of it!) on surprisingly core things. Things many of us have held in our deepest hearts and never told another living soul about. And have that happen a few dozen times, and bam, there you are.

I have thought since the beginning that there is some weird sort of joke being played out, one that I am telling, and it has always been a bit of a knee slapper, my life, let's be honest. For all the boo hooing I've done, it's been a pretty cool one. At least, that's the one I remember more and more, now. The old horrors and sadnesses are there, but I'm not as interested.

I worked really hard at figuring out a way to maintain the levels of ecstasy I've briefly experienced. I believe, since that last solid gold gift of seeing things as they truly are, made of, by, for and with benevolence, the whole thing sewn out of its cloth, we are breathing it, and cloaked in it, we eat it and excrete it and hope only to speak it, live it, because, baby, that's all there is, this is where I have been, and where I want to forever dwell.

I know you have had moments of bliss. I had them early, and often, but not like what I have know the past little bit here. These moments, where your heart just feels like it's gonna stop because you're so choked up, because it hits you hard, that you are loved, it is good, and it changes you, bit by bit, experience after experience.

I want to see through those golden eyes, be that happy and big and aware and loved all the time, and bit by bit, I keep staying in a place that is adjacent.

I always thought ascension was going to be some big aha, light up from the inside out moment, when I turn into light, burn off the bio suit, and come back a light being. And although I think that's the end product, we are nowhere near that now, as individuals, or as a planet. But there are varying degrees of awareness, ever expanding now, ever increasing. It's all there, just for the taking.

I find I inhabit a new place, and that's the puzzle. What I have come to know of this odd, overtaking bliss has been wonderful, and necessary, since I am a doubter, a skeptic, want things very concrete, very literal, very physical. I always tell “them” to dumb it way down, make it funny and gentle and sweet. Make it so I can't miss it.

I give up hope from time to time, get lost in thinking that all is lost, even now. Once in a while, it happens.

And that is the point.

Before, two years before, the reverse was true. The reverse. I weighed so much, was physically miserable, emotionally fragile, afraid all the time, all the time, hating myself so much, so disappointed in how I'd turned out. That was me.

So, it really is about doing it just as often as you can. Making shiny, sparkly moments, self indulgent, compassionate moments the rule. Seek them out. Seek out ways to give to somebody else, even if it's just a word of encouragement. Do it often enough, and you're there more than you're not. Things get easier. You might build in tests, like I did, to see if I could think from the heart, not react in anger or hate, trying to find the good, and it worked.

I think there are some of us who prepared for this. Who can think fluidly, who are not attached to a clock, and who are feeling as if their moorings are finally giving way, as if this big shiny ship is finally ready to make sail, move away from the harbor, discover itself by discovering what is around it, supporting it, feeding and guiding it.

The first day I had a sustained period of clarity, I think the Indians call it samahdi? Was Thanksgiving, 2012. Less than a year.

And the time of comparisons is over. I want to converse with those who have gone where I have gone, and I am willing to admit that I have gone many places, and have good stories to tell about what I have seen, what I continue to see, now more than ever.

Because, you see, I am there, more and more, and there is always, always, always, more.

And there, it is here, on this bed, talking to you, you indulging my love of cigarettes, incense burning, leaf blowers and traffic in the background. Just the sound of typing, and other people's activities.

I'm glad we spent time here together. It was good to see you again. I hope, more than you know, that one fine day, we can do this in person.

MERLIN CRYSTALS 

I had the honor to meet the man that mined these stones. I bought all he had; rutile is very very rare in Brazil. What he told me via translator was that he goes into the mines in Minas Brazil about 30 feet down and then they tunnel out from that point, it is very dangerous. The crystals actually create a light in the dark tunnel then the miners know where to dig.  He said that sometimes the light is large and moves deeper into the tunnel beyond where they have access. The miners all know the power of the stones and the rutiles seem to be the most animated at this time calling to the miners pushing them to release them from their earthen holding pattern. This miner became part of our Light family. Now he knows me and will know what stones want to come to us.

These extraordinary rutile crystals, come to teach us about a time when’ words were like magic’. A magic that goes beyond the earth elements beyond the stars, deep into our primordial Celestial DNA. These powerful pieces call themselves Merlin Crystals and are filled with a deep knowledge laced with ancient truths. They ask you to follow a star home to your true nature. To wish upon your Self like a magical Christmas Eve Star. To believe in the Divine Magic that is yours by birthright. These powerful rutiles are a Touchstone to Journey inward to the real source of your power.  Some of these are all polished others have a little raw nature to them.  The being known as Merlin lived in many dimensions and times and wore many guises.

These crystals support the earthen strong physical energies of creation. They align with action and movement.  They are alchemical of nature and deep elemental in appearance escorting one into the hidden chambers within the earth and all possibilities. These Merlin Crystals hold within them valuable light, like shooting stars pointed in the direction of your deepest desire. Use these stones as a guideline to bring you back to a place of " I'll see it when I believe it'. Allow them to release your subatomic encodings and ride their magical properties like a Pegasus in flight. These magical stones will assist you in changing the heavy metals of your life into pure golden opportunity, Transmuting limiting patterns that have kept you less than.

These Merlin crystals exhibit a powerful earth energy that is asking to be used.  They are strong of command with the sheer force of nature.  They are aligned with places of great knowledge. They house the teachings of time, the wisdom of the elements and the universal consistency of change itself.  They help one to gather the forces between here and there, bundling these energies as sacred DNA.

I Merlin, come to introduce you once again to the magic that you have forgotten, the magic of transforming all that is dark into golden opportunities. I come to show you how you can turn the rusty lead of your life into hidden opportunities. You all have the innate ability to transmute through a thought, a word, a glance, or a touch. You have the ability to move past time and space as you know it bypassing the speed of light and sound. You have forgotten the beauty and power of the elements of your very planet.

You stand at an intersection of light and remembrance waiting for the light to turn. Alchemically your timer is set to engage automatically. You cannot separate yourself from what you are creating and what is creating you. Every inch of you, every hair, every thought, every iota creates continually with or without your permission. Creating by default is not acceptable. Creation stops for no one and no thing.. Do not spend your time and energy looking for ways to transmute what is lead into gold. Just Create GOLD To Begin Withand skip the need for lead.  See every situation, no matter how it looks to your human eye is an opportunity to shine your light.  You are a body of earth. You are a body of light. You are a body of the stars. Treat yourself magically.

PATRICK HEARS VOICES, CH 17- 21 By Kathy Vik 11-17-13

While writing this for all of us, a novel to and for and about lightworkers, I am asking for whatever financial help you feel moved to provide me. Private message me, or contact me at amissvik@gmail.com. My PayPal account is under amissvik.

Follow my work at:

www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com

www.facebook/deeplyawake

www.lightworkers.org/magartha

www.cityofshaballa.net

www.saviorsofearth.com

www.nanowrimo.org/amissvik

and

www.wordpress.com/patrickhearsvoices

As I am re-writing, for continuity's sake, as I go, so I will post this as a book, in case you haven't been reading a long, on my wordpress site. It's fun to just read along, bit by bit, but also fun to read the thing in one block, if that's your thing.

And here were go.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kevin was in the kitchen when Patrick and Ellie got home. He said, “Hi,” in a general way, and went back to cutting up apples. On the stove was a stock pot, steaming, boiling water waiting to make the applesauce Kevin was known for within his circles.

Ellie made the three of them lunch, and joined the boys in the TV room. They'd put on a documentary about wolves. Ellie sat with them, and actually got into it. Turned out there was a marathon of documentaries on the wildlife of The America's, and by the time they'd all had dessert, Kevin and Patrick were asking if Patrick could stay and watch. It reminded her of her days as a mommy. Sure, Ellie heard herself say, that's fine, sure.

Kevin had run lunch and dessert out to Bill, who preferred to work through creative impulses. On this early afternoon of an early spring-feeling day, Ellie now checked on Bill.

Through the short hall with its tiny bathroom and closet, into a cramped but charming log kitchen, and then through to the studio, a greenhouse, in some respects. In the middle of the room was a half-realized hunk of fused metal bits. Ellie liked watching projects come together, thinking on her time with them as snapshots. The finished project always stunned her. She was curious to see how he was going to pull a rabbit out of a hat with this, though. It was in an awkward phase, certainly.

“What medium is this, Bill? Are these bits of nuts and bolts?” Ellie asked.

“Time intensive thing to do, but, yeah, I got some junk yard stuff, played with it, sort of like tossing a salad, and then, there's this.” He looked at his work so far and frowned, looking puzzled, and frustrated.

“Where do you see it going, honey?” Ellie asked.

“Hell if I know,” Bill said. “I want to go look for some copper. Joseph has a great supplier, but I'm not sure the discount would be extended to me.” Bill came over to Ellie and gently brushed bread crumbs off her blouse. “Thanks for lunch, my sweet Ellie. How goes it with you?”

“Patrick's here. He's troubled. He wept in the breakfast nook. I held him like a big kid, and he hasn't wanted to talk about it since. I don't want to push.” Ellie looked into Bill's eyes, and felt that old familiar calm, a certainty, a joy. Bill. My Bill.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Bill asked.

“I think it's best to have Kevin hang with him. They make a good pair. They're watching Animal Planet together. I think they're going to order pizza later. It's a marathon, I think” Ellie said distractedly. “Are you going someplace now, or are you going to stay here?” Ellie asked.

“I'll go see Joseph, see what I can work out. I have a couple ideas. I should be home by six or so, I think” Bill said, looking at his watch.

“I'm going to go upstairs, then. I think it's Chinese for dinner tonight, ala carte. At least,” Ellie smiled, “At least, that's the plan.”

“Spoken like a true retiree,” bill said, giving her a little goose as she left his studio.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

There were many things about Ellie that only Bill knew. And then, there were things that only she and someone else knew, but, she reflected, always, upon entering her meditation room, always, there was one person who was always there. “I was always there,” Ellie said, while removing her shoes. “I have always been. I shall always be. My moment is This Now Moment. I am that I am.”

She then walked to her little altar, made from a discarded bookcase and a fancy tablecloth, touched her little icons, and said her word for that feeling, of before, after and now. She said, “Seylah.”

She'd never heard anyone else use that word. But it meant worlds to her, and she used it before she sat in her meditation room to think.

It was a simple place, with bright murals and colorful tapestries. She liked Song of India incense for these times, when she was going within deliberately.

She needed to get right with something that had been bothering her since walking out of East High for the last time.

She considered her blessings first. She'd long since reconciled with the notion that she was on a vacation now. She had had difficulties, but not horrible ones, and she'd known true happiness and peace, more and more, since all those years ago in college.

She considered her marriage, her deep sense of sexual satisfaction, she thought of her home, her absence of debt, her positive bank account. She thought on her unusual, colorful friends. She considered it all, sitting there on that march day, and realized that she was blessed, that she was loved by something so benevolent, sometimes when she thought about it too hard, it made her dizzy.

She felt her life breaking off, into two worlds. She was done with even part time work now. She is retired.

“Now what,” she asked silently, in her room.

She had to admit that her imagination had been slumbering. Somehow, having a place to report had satisfied her, and she realized only now that she'd said “no” to many friends and opportunities, just because she wanted to be at a job, among kids, helping.

And she'd rarely asked what might come next. She'd been happy to be surprised, up until now.

And yet, here she was, mind suddenly busy, thinking on images of what might the fun to do next, flooding her with imagery and even a few whiffs of foods she began to feel a hunger for, music she'd never quite imagined.

She opened her eyes, and looked at her favorite “thing” in all the world, a four feet high ceramic Ganesha that her friend Pauly had shipped her while he was over in India. It was so satisfying to her. She felt full, centered, clear, in this state, looking at that statue. Pauly had said his guru had blessed it. Ellie liked the thought.

“Tell me now, Babaji, tell me, what do I do now?” Ellie asked the glittering idol. “I know you to be me,and within me is the remover of all obstacles. It is my intent for the next bit to be reveled to me. Let me see things bigger, and show me what you all know of my path, what I need to know, where I need to go. Be loud, be clear, be humorous, be gentle, to everyone involved. Allow timing to run smooth, and Babaji,” Ellie said, “Give me the gift of divine patience in the meantime.”

She felt better, after her prayer, but was aware of no new plans, no visuals, no words. Silence in the house, Ellie could feel the stillness in the house.

She allowed herself to become this stillness. She shed all ideas then, unfettered from what she bemoaned she knew all too well.

She soared, and become a crackling, surging column of light then. She bathed in this, as she was it, it her, and she suspended each and every thought, every care, each concern, puzzle and worry. They were meaningless here.

She returned quiet, still, serene, once again ready to argue for the compassionate action in each situation, once again only able to see benevolence, unable to recognize anyone but the creator's eyes in everyone she met.

She went to her little window, opened the cold latch, and let the chill of march's new air bring her to life. She saw the old Oak, just now budding again, once again, my dear old friend, she said quietly, in her mind. Now she began to feel expectation, the curious sense of opening she sensed each and every spring. She breathed it in, bent her head low, and laughed out loud. She looked up again, at the clouds now, and realized she was famished.

She was ready for whatever came next, now.

CHAPTER NINTEEN

The group had decided on using her shredded potatoes for latkes, and they'd eat pizza for dinner. They watched two hours of animal documentaries in the evening. Bill received a call during the last commercial break of the evening, taking it in the library, off the TV room. Ellie gathered dishes and boxes as the last segment aired, a nice recap of all the creepy crawlies living in a Californian desert.

Patrick followed Ellie into the kitchen, and helped her load the dishwasher.

“Did you have a good night here, Patrick?” Ellie asked.

“It really hit the spot, Ellie. Thanks for letting me stay.” He hesitated, and then asked, “Are you sure I wasn't a bother?”

Ellie had been repeatedly struck with how hesitant and unsure of himself Patrick seemed to be. She was glad to know he was open to mothering, and that this was,in fact, what helped draw him out of his shell.

“You were the opposite of a bother. Had you not been here, lad, “ Ellie said, “We'd have just sleepwalked through our usual routine, with the exception of the change in cuisine.” Ellie handed him a huge casserole dish for the bottom rack. “It was wonderful having you here, it was a gift, kiddo.”

Patrick blushed and smiled as he rearranged things for this huge pan.

“Let's just run it, Patrick. Here's the soap,” Ellie said, handing him a big bottle of sweet smelling goo. Patrick squeezed, closed the door, and searched the console for the “On” button. Bill had insisted on state of the art appliances two years ago, and now Ellie herself often forgot how to get the things going.

“I have just a few more things to hand wash, and then I'm free,” Ellie said. “Do you want to stick around, or are you headed home, Patrick? It's getting late.”

Patrick checked his phone. Nearly nine. He'd forgotten to call his dad. “I need to go, but thanks again for everything.”

Ellie walked him to the front door, and watched him walk to his car. She waved at him as he drove away, curious what thoughts Patrick didn't feel he can share. Let him be, Ellie heard. Let him be. He'll be back.

Kevin was loading his Jeep when she made her pass through before going up to bed. She gave him a kiss and a hug, and watched him drive away, too. Locked, still, silent, the old house stood, feeling contentment, feeling full, somehow, Ellie thought, as she made her way to their bedroom.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The next evening, Patrick drove to a little building tucked behind a strip mall on Colorado Boulevard. The meeting as at seven, but Kevin told him to meet him at Sunrise Sunset diner at the north end of the mall. They would have dinner, and then go to Kevin's event together.

Kevin and Patrick had gotten to know each other between TV commercials at Animal Planet marathon at Ellie's the day before. Patrick had felt reassured by Kevin, sensed him as a kind and solid man, and, locking the car, he hoped he was right.

Kevin took a booth two doors into the modest restaurant, and when Patrick showed, a low, “Right here,” was all that was needed to hail the kid. Kevin didn't like to call attention to himself, and was glad to find someone similar in Patrick.

“I'm glad you showed up,” Kevin said. “The food's good here.”

Patrick squeezed into the booth, tried to look comfortable, and looked around for a waitress.

Kevin said, “You know, these tables are too skinny. Do you mind if we move to a table?”

Gratefully, Patrick agreed, and awkwardly extricated himself from the booth he'd squeezed into. A table felt more exposed, but would be easier to sit at comfortably.

“I had your bulk once. I played college ball. CU. We did the usual damage to CSU while I was there,” Kevin smiled, considering telling Patrick about his senior year championship, but he held back, wanting the kid to feel less self conscious. Patrick said enough to let Kevin know he followed college ball.

“So, tell me again what it is we're going to tonight,” Patrick asked, after they'd put in their dinner order.

Kevin gave himself permission to speak, something he often withheld. Patrick looked like he could handle it.

“Every week, a group of us meet over at the Temple of The Third Eye. Norma Henges, she's an old psychic who started the thing going on thirty years ago.” Kevin began. “It's a Theosophical Society. Do you know anything about Theosophy?”

When Patrick said no, Kevin fished a think book out of his inner coat pocket and gave it to Patrick. “I don't... I'm not...” Kevin stammered. “Listen, kid, this is just one way to go, and I don't take any of it too serious, but I thought I'd bring you something from White Eagle. Norma gave me one of their books the first time I went to a meeting there.”

In Patrick's hands was a thin volume with a colorful dust jacket, called White Eagle, on The Divine Mother.

Kevin got out his phone as Kevin flipped through the book.

Patrick was drawn to a passage in a chapter about Mary.

“See the glory of the original Light, itself like a sun, the most beautiful light and radiance. See that which has been conceived and born from previous systems, from a previous cosmic life. Imagine the whole cosmos in the form of light and radiance and life.”

Patrick let these words fall through him, felt himself heat up, and, without calling it to him, he began to feel, once again, how he felt for those few minutes, in front of his locker.

Patrick studied Kevin then, trying to get a handle on what this fellow was up to. He was balding, wore glasses, an overbite, and a thick, solid body. His clothes were worn, and his yellow coat looked like it needed to be retired.

“Find something in there that speaks to you?”Kevin asked.

“I did. This is really nice stuff, Kevin.” Patrick said.

The food arrived, and they ate in silence punctuated by talk of baseball, college basketball, and Kevin’s work. Kevin explained he was a plumber by trade, a handyman now, living down the street from Ellie as an apartment building sup.

Kevin paid the bill at the counter, got them both a packet of Lifesavers Pep-O-Mints, and walked to Patrick's car.

“I prefer walking over to the Temple from here,” Kevin said. “It clears my head. My car's over there.” Kevin pointed to a silver Jeep three cars down. “Never had a problem just parking it here. Come one with me.”

On the way to the Temple, Patrick asked about what to expect.

“Well, I thought you might need some guidance. You strike me as ready,” Kevin began. “But, I'll tell you, it's not for everybody.”

Patrick let this statement hang in the air between them. He'd tried three other times to get Kevin to tell him something concrete about this “meeting to like minds” Kevin had asked him to attend. In the distance, a tan clapboard structure was coming in to view. Patrick again asked for specifics.

“OK. Patrick, do you know what channeling is?” Kevin asked.

“Channeling,” Patrick said. “No, I can't say that I do.”

“That book I gave you was channeled. White Eagle is an energy that comes through people, and they feel moved to write the words that come to them, when under that influence.” Kevin said. “You know all those books people refer to as 'the word of god?', the Bible, all of it? Channeled, I think.” Kevin fished a Camel out of his coat pocket. “I don't think God came down and wrote those books. Men did. Men who were channeling.”

Patrick tried this thought on for size, and found he didn't have a problem with it. It seemed to make a lot more sense than taking words in a book literally. He liked how roomy Kevin's thoughts were.

“So anyway,” Kevin continued, “A couple years ago, I kept being moved to start a journal. I don't write, and I don't like journals, but, there I was, sitting in front of a notebook I found lying around the house. I started to write, and what came out, with some practice, was pretty surprising.

I showed some of it to Ellie. She encouraged me to keep at it, and I did. I started to get comfortable with it. I found I was sometimes really surprised at what came out. I'd sit, start writing, and then, a couple h ours later, I'd have pages and pages, and it all made such good sense.

I'd ask real specific questions, sometimes, and I started to take the advice this voice gave me, when I came to the notebooks with specific, like, life questions. And that led me back here.”

They were standing in the parking lot of a simple building, a weird orphan of a building. Between an upscale neighborhood to the north and a busy strip mall to the south stood n incongruously simple structure, nicely ringed by fir trees.

Kevin finished, “I'd not been here for a long time, busy with work and stuff, but I came back one night a while back. Norma's daughter runs the place now, and I handed her my last notebook. She put me in front of everybody that night, and I've been coming back every week, now, to channel for folks. And for myself.”

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The meeting hall smelled faintly of smelled of mothballs. There were twenty or so beat up chairs lining the hall, pointed in the direction of a little altar. On the walls were large portraits, in bright pastels, of people Patrick had never seen before. He wandered over to the artwork. St. Germain, Archangel Raphael, Sananda, the brass plaques read.

Kevin went up to the front of the room and put his coat over a bar stool that stood to the right of the little altar. He went over to Patrick, studying a portrait of St. Francis of Assisi. “I want to go find Indra. I want you two to meet. If you want coffee, there's some right past those double doors,” Kevin pointed to the meeting hall's lobby. “Indra usually has some snacks set out, too. I'll go find her, and see you in a minute.”

Indra was a tall, athletic woman in her mid forties. Her graying blonde hair was in a tangle of dreads, and the simple blue shift she wore was part of a nice set she'd scored at Nordstrom Rack. She was a study in sharp contrast, and never failed to confound Kevin. He liked her contradictions, and enjoyed her company.

“I'm so glad you came early, Kevin,” Indra greeted her friend. “I wanted to see if you'd be up for a psychic fair I'm putting together for the solstice. Do you have plans for it yet?”

“I hadn't thought that far ahead, to be honest,” Kevin smiled. “I'd be honored. Are you having it here?”

“Actually, we scored a bigger place. Jeff has gotten us the conference space at Denver Center for Exploratory Awareness. Have you ever gone there? It's called the DC, for short.”

Kevin had been going to the DC, on and off, with Ellie and Bill, for years. Kevin had been there just the week before for their monthly drum circle. He was surprised they were letting little groups like theirs join in.

“It's sort of a conference of all the smaller groups around town this year,” Indra said, seemingly responding to Kevin's thoughts. This often happened in her company, and Kevin had gotten used to it. “It's gonna be two days of channeling, classes, tons of food, lots of music. Jeff and the band are going to do a kirtan, even.” And with that, Indra sang a little bit of a favorite chant of hers, moving her body as she quietly sang, mischievous smile on her face.

“Oh!” she said, “Look who's pulling up! This is quite a night, Kevin! Come see!” She led Kevin by the hand, out to the parking lot.

Valerie saw Indra from inside the building, talking to a an overweight, balding man who looked like her uncle. She lit a smoke and waited for her girlfriend, leaning on her car, waving at the two of them as they approached her. The sun was setting, and the colors were gorgeous tonight.

“Valerie,” Indra said, almost a prayer coming from her lips. “How was your drive, sweetheart?”

Kevin watched as the two women greeted each other with hand holding and smiles.

“This is Kevin. He's out featured guest tonight,” Indra told Valerie, while presenting Kevin with a flourish.

“I've heard about you,” Valerie said. “Indra refers to your channeling quite a bit at home. It's good to finally meet you.”

Kevin shook Valerie's hand, and then remembered he had also brought a guest. “You know, I could use a smoke before we get going,” Kevin said, “But I left my friend inside. You mind hanging out til I go check on him?”

Valerie nodded, mentioned something about not minding another one, and Kevin went back inside to find Patrick.

Patrick was sitting on a couch in the lobby, reading his White Eagle book. “Why don't you come outside for a little bit, Patrick?” Kevin asked. “I want you to meet a couple folks.”

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Archangel Indriel ~ Your Greatest Tool is Your Life Experience ~ via ~ Bella Capozzi
Posted: 09 Aug 2013 09:31 PM PDT

⁂ Precious Beloveds, once upon a day, so very long ago by way of linear thinking and time, sprung forth from Source the most luminous sparkles of Light. A breathtaking sight to behold it was, these intricately faceted and complex creations, countless as the number of infinity, grew and multiplied until all of the Heavens were ashimmer. Designed by Father.

Birthed by Mother. They wept, they sang, they danced in jubilation, did our Dear Creators.

You, the children of their One Heart, would now embark upon countless journeys and adventures, experiencing everything in the novel manner by which your Parents had yet to ever experience before. All that has ever been required of you is a willing heart and an insatiable thirst for knowledge. And so you went. The learning, it has been glorious! The raw physicality of being presented deep, unprecedented intensities of emotion. Pain and healing, love and dismay, laughter and tears, confusion and clarity, triumph and tragedy…

there simply cannot be a price placed upon any of these Sacred things, as each one has been experienced through the life a thoroughly unique aspect of Themself, thereby rendering no two sparks particularly alike. And so it went…

⁂ Here and now, your greatest tool is your life experience. You are to think of life this way, henceforth, and draw upon the multitude of lessons you have learned. It is scarcely important at all that you should consciously remember the details of your past incarnations and why you have this knowing. It is irrelevant, because you carry this knowing within you as you go along. It is interwoven in your DNA. It is alive in every cell, every atom, every nuance of your beingness. You needn’t exhaust yourself to find it, as it is there regardless of any expenditure of effort to “resurrect” it and put it to good use. For it is as natural as breathing! You shall simply and quite easily know. Trust that as you skip jubilantly through the open doors of the Lion’s Gate, much more of this stored knowledge shall become openly recognizable to you – this by way of your inner sight and clear knowing. Trust yourselves implicitly, as the days are now upon us where we of the Upper Realms are reliant upon you to take action. You are the incarnates. You have chosen to be thus, and to be the forces on the ground. You walk Gaia’s surface in physicality, and you are in a position to affect change in a way that we of higher density cannot.

⁂ Praise be. We are quite awed by your tenacity. You shall never give up, and it is for this reason you were chosen. I have remained ever so close to you, and I am first to concur that a lackadaisical journey it is not! Some of you have designed more challenging programs than others. There are also those who have deigned to come here as the placeholders, the keepers of the peace, gently and quietly creating harmony wherever the go. Teachers, warriors, storytellers, healers, the list is as endless and as varied as the vibrant colors of the Universe. No one is more essential to the cause than the other. Each snaps neatly into place to form a dazzling tableau!

⁂ The ultimate goal has always been the Now. Every one of your experiences has led you here. You chose the lessons, decided who the players would be and what would ultimately be the purpose. You have studied, have been tested sorely and then passed your exams with flying colors. But school is over now. It’s time to take on, fully, your mission of truth. Shy not away from this. You are more than qualified. You have been working towards this for aeons. The Karmic Wheel is slowing down now and drawing to a standstill. The audacity of these past several month, oh my, how they have caused you to rail at the Heavens! One thing after the next, Sweet Dears! Yet it has had to be this way. Class is over and graduation day has thus commenced. Step forward in all your glory. Stand proud upon the stage and look out at the crowd of smiling faces before you – the faces of your peers, your Guides, your Angels and of Creation itself. Then walk with confidence as you embark upon this fresh and exciting phase of your existence.

Copyright © Bella Capozzi. All rights reserved. You may copy and distribute this material as long as you do not alter it in any way, the content remains complete and you include this copyright notice.

Mother Mary ~ Claim Your Rightful Place Amongst the Masters in Your Ability to Love and to Create ~ via Fran Zepeda
Posted: 09 Aug 2013 09:31 PM PDT

franhealing.com

Hello dear ones. By now you have realized that you have reached a crossroads, a crossroads of true unequivocal belief in your divine nature. We have been telling you for quite a while now of the magnificent essence that is you, naturally and never-ending and eternally, and many of you have accepted it with open arms and true belief in your true nature.

However, there are many that still doubt this, and for you to move forward, it needs to be embraced fully and without any hesitation. Deep down you know of your nature, your Divine Nature. Deep down you know of its possibilities and its consequences. Deep down you recognize yourself more and more, as the veils are lifted from your hearts and as you accept yourselves truly and absolutely. But are you fully embracing it? Are you fully believing it? That is the question we pose to you this day, where you find yourselves continually inundated with purer and purer energy into your hearts, if you so accept it.

For many it is bringing up doubts and resistance. For many it is still bringing up those parts of you that still cling to old beliefs of what you think you are, of who you think you are. But beloveds, I come today to ask of you: let go more, surrender more; look closely into your hearts and see any remaining doubts and fears and beliefs that are holding you back from receiving and accepting this pure light of such magnitude, that nothing can hide now, that nothing can be in your way of expanding more fully into your new lives and new sense of yourselves.

But it isn’t really “new” now, dear ones, is it? You are indeed coming back to your true beginnings, your true center, and while it may feel sometimes that you are like a new fresh seedling newly sprouted and waving in the harsh winds of change, feeling very vulnerable, know that you are not alone and you can withstand it, that you can grow further and stronger into your true glory.

I come to you now to give you comfort and love in your treacherous journey, or so it may seem to you now. Hold fast to your center, dear ones, and see how much love you can hold without feeling like you are bursting. And bursting is ok, even so. For you are breaking the barriers of old paradigms for one last time and it is so – it is rightfully so - that you claim your rightful place amongst the Masters in your ability to Love and to Create.

The only thing stopping you, my dear ones, is belief and trust – belief and trust in your Divine Nature, in your Divine Essence, in your Christed Self, in your Lighted Ascended Being. You merely have to choose those thoughts and feelings that support that new level you have found yourselves in. It feels new, yes; it feels strange yes, but go with it. Allow it. You are almost there.

You are the Lighted Love-Bearers of the World. I have told you this before. You are fully capable of sustaining that role; you are perfectly capable of carrying forward as supreme examples of Lighted Ascended Beings, of evolved Ascended Beings, so full of Love and promise that no one can deny it. Don’t deny it, dear ones. Be with us in your full glory. Now is the time. Now is the Creation you have been waiting for – the creation of so much Love oozing within you and without you and for you and by you. Take it in further, dear ones. You are almost there.

We love you immensely, dear ones, we in the Celestial and Galactic Realm. That has never subsided. It grows and flourishes with each further acceptance of it. Let this Love and Light now illuminate any remaining dark patches that may prevent you from fully accepting that you are a Full and Lighted Divine Being, here to spread it further out than you could have ever imagined. For the dark patches are merely beliefs and fears and doubts you have accumulated to sustain you in the times of separation. But that time is closing dear ones. And you merely have to light them up and move through them like wisps of fog lingering before you on your path to full freedom.

You have my deep abiding love always. You have the deep abiding love of all the Celestial and Galactic Realm, of which you are one. Believe it fully, dear ones. Now is the time.

All my love.

Mother Mary

©2013 Fran Zepeda. Permission is given to copy and distribute this material, provided the content is posted in its entirety and unaltered, is distributed freely, and this notice and links are included.

http://www.franheal.wordpress.com (Blog)
http://www.franhealing.com/Current-Channelled-Message.html (Website

Pictures of the week

A Greek firefighter runs to help a colleague as a forest fire rages in Marathon near Athens (Reuters)

Iranians gather on the street to pray during Eid-al-Fitr celebrations (Rex)

A newborn albino wallaby takes a look at her new surroundings at Gumbuya Park in Victoria, Australia. (Rex)

The financial district in Shanghai, China, where the world's second tallest skycraper, the 632m Shanghai Tower, is nearing completion. (Reuters)

The sky over is illuminated by lightnings near Goerlitz, Germany. (PA)

Bathers in the Volcano de Tutumo El Totumo mud volcano are left fully caked in mud (Rex)

Hands up! Newborn panda cub Yuan Zai puts her paws in the air during a routine health check. (Rex)

A lab-grown meat burger made from Cultured Beef, which has been developed by Professor Mark Post of Maastricht University in the Netherlands.(PA)

A Greek army helicopter drops water over a forest fire in Marathon near Athens August 5, 2013. A wildfire fanned by strong winds raged near Athens on Monday, damaging homes and sending residents fleeing, fire brigade officials said. Reuters witnesses said the blaze had damaged at least three homes at a hamlet by the town of Marathon - the site of the historic 490 BC battle between Athenians and Persians about 40 kilometres (25 miles) northeast of the Greek capital.REUTERS/Yannis Behrakis (GREECE - Tags: DISASTER ENVIRONMENT TPX IMAGES OF THE DAY)

Lance Bombardier James Simpson of the Royal Artillery, who lost both his legs in Afghanistan, during a training session in woods near Otley, Leeds, ahead of the Spartan Race, in which he is competing in September. (PA)

A female polar bear looks down from a cliff at birds below in Spitsbergen, Norway (Rex)

An aerial image shows the flooding chaos over Herne Hill, south London, caused by a burst water main. (Rex)

I know this is old news, but I thought I would post it again as its such a wonderful thing

Dolphins granted personhood by government of India
Friday, August 09, 2013
by Mike Adams, the Health Ranger
Editor of NaturalNews.com

(NaturalNews) Dolphins have been granted "non-human personhood" status by the government of India, making India the first nation in the world to recognize the unique intelligence and self-awareness of the cetacean order (a class of aquatic mammals).

The decision was announced by India's Minister of the Environment and Forests which also outlawed captive dolphin shows. The ministry added that dolphins "should have their own specific rights." (SOURCE)

Dolphins are extremely intelligent mammals with a highly-developed social structure. Recent research shows that dolphins call each other by name and can remember the unique name whistles from old "friends" heard just one time 20 years ago.

Dolphins choose their own unique name -- a series of complex whistles -- before they reach one year of age. From that point forward, all the other dolphins in their social group call them by that unique name.

Dolphins use highly-complex grammatical communications

Previous research has shown that dolphins have human-like self awareness and engage in highly complex communications with other dolphins using grammatical sentence structure. Yes, dolphins have their own complete language, much like humans. (See the Dolphin Communication Project.) The main difference between dolphin language and human language is that dolphins aren't vaccinated as young children and injected with brain-damaging mercury. Therefore, dolphins grow up able to speak in fully coherent sentences while many humans now are cognitively deficient and unable to compose meaningful sentences. (They are literally brain damaged by vaccines, mercury fillings and toxic chemicals in foods, medicines and personal care products. Idiocracy has arrived!)

As this 1999 scientific paper on dolphin communication explains about a dolphin named "Ake:"

...the relation of thematic role to word order were firmly incorporated into Ake's concepts of the grammar of the language, strongly suggesting knowledge of argument number. Overall, this set of findings underscores the robustnesss of comprehension by Ake of her learned language... [the test] required an understanding of grammatical and semantic relations and of pragmatic issues deriving from the link between thematic role and syntactic position.

Ake, in other words, is grammatically smarter than many adult humans as is evidenced by the fact that many human beings no longer have any ability to parse meaningful concepts from language and instead are nothing more than "hypnosis subjects" who punch chads at the voting booths and live on Cheetos and Gatorade.

Why I support the "personhood" of cetaceans

Let the record show that I fully support non-human personhood status for dolphins and other cetaceans (whales, dolphins, purpoises). The idea of violently kidnapping these intelligent mammals from their wild habitat and forcing them to engage in parlor tricks for an audience of sunburned, nutrient-depleted vaccine-damaged ice cream-licking over-medicated drooling human children is wildly offensive to all intelligent beings (meaning the dolphins).

It would be far more appropriate to tow a raft full of these "flotation device" human junk food slurpers into the ocean and let a group of intelligent dolphins observe them performing stupid human tricks for Pop-Tarts and aspartame-laced diet soda.

See some of these stupid human tricks for yourself in these videos:


"Fork up nose"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZtEeP7n15o



"Man folds himself into hide-a-bed"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tK8IJNvez6E



"Woman spits out gum and sucks it back in"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sJPTEZjz-74

I'm sure any dolphin would pay good money to watch a few more. Perhaps they will kidnap human children off the street and force them to live on island cages in the middle of the ocean where they have to endlessly perform stupid human tricks with no hope of ever escaping their maddening confinement.

Yes, this part of the article is pure satire. (Any dolphin would have already known that.)

And yes, I have far more faith in the intelligence of dolphins than I do the intelligence of humanity. Dolphins, after all, don't build nuclear bombs, radioactive power plants or GMOs, and they sure don't inject their own children with mercury and genetic fragments from diseased animals. Only humans are stupid enough to do that.

Every animal on the planet instinctively protects its young... except humans. Human mothers actually turn their children over to insane doctors who inject them with methyl mercury (vaccines), an extremely toxic brain poison that "lobotomizes" human brains and turns brilliant children into low-IQ future slave workers.

Perhaps one day human scientists will finally be able to talk with dolphins. If so, I'm sure one of the first questions we'll be asked by them is, "Why do you brain damage your own children and call it medicine?"

Action item: Help fund the Dolphin Communication Project
Help Dr. Kathleen Dudzinski, Director of the Dolphin Communication Project (DCP) raise funds to conduct more research on dolphin social structure and language!

Details at:

http://www.fundageek.com/project/detail/853/The-Science-of-Dolphin-Fr...

You can also adopt a wild dolphin and help raise money for important scientific research! See: www.AdoptaWildDolphin.com

Sources for this story include:
http://www.dolphincommunicationproject.org

http://www.fundageek.com/project/detail/853/The-Science-of-Dolphin-Fr...

http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/dolphins-can-re...

http://english.pravda.ru/science/earth/05-08-2013/125310-dolphins_ind...

Learn more: http://www.naturalnews.com/041547_dolphins_personhood_intelligence.html#ixzz2bTvmGygM

This is a' WaterShed Moment' in Human History

Dolphin Brains are as Big as Human Brains & as Convoluted as a Human
The Convolutions ( Folds ) increase the Surface area of the Brain
The Unfolded Human Brain Area is the Size of a Pillow Case
The Sperm Whale Brain is 9 times Bigger than a Human Brain
Dolphin & Whale Skeleton is VERY Similar to the Human Skeleton
Dolphins & Whales have the same Hand Bone Structure as a Human -

The Huge Dinasors ( the size of Whales ) had Walnut Sized Brains & that
was all the Brain that was Needed to Function as a Large Animal
__._,_.___

undefined

PATRICK HEARS VOICES, CHAPTERS 12 – By Kathy Vik, 11-15-13

While writing this for all of us, a novel to and for and about lightworkers, I am asking for whatever financial help you feel moved to provide me. Private message me, or contact me at amissvik@gmail.com. My PayPal account is under amissvik.

Follow my work at:

www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com

www.facebook/deeplyawake

www.lightworkers.org/magartha

www.cityofshaballa.net

www.saviorsofwarth.com

www.nanowrimo.org/amissvik

and

www.wordpress.com/patrickhearsvoices

As I am re-writing, for continuity's sake, as I go, so I will post this as a book, in case you haven't been reading a long, but I'll do that at the end of this installment of chapters. It's fun to just read along, but also fun to read the thing in one block, if that's your thing.

And here were go.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Oh, Bill, it felt real good, it was closure,” Ellie said over the phone, “and it just felt right. That paperwork, oh, Bill, it was the last straw.”

I can be there in twenty if you w ant me to help pack you up and walk you out,” offered Bill. “I'm presentable. I used my potter's apron today.”

“Twenty will be more than fine. I'll see you then,” said Ellie. She paused, then, and thought about the strange turn of events. “Bill, are you okay with what I've done?”

“Ellie,” Bill soothed, “I've been watching your discomfort with those surroundings build, now, for quite a few years. I think you've earned some rest, Ellie. “I trust you, dear. You know this.”

“I love you, Bill,” Ellie said. “if I'm not in the office, it's because I'm out looking for boxes. Just hang out.”

Their evening was spent in their cozy home. Judy was gone for the night, off at a yoga retreat, or woman’s retreat, something through her church. Bill and Ellie did what they always did, new every time, meaningful without ever trying to be, complete and perfect in all its imperfection. They stayed with the other, as friends, intimate in mind, naked in emotion, surprisingly humorous throughout. They celebrated where they'd been as a couple, and what might the future hold, and stayed, happily and lovingly, in the Now they consciously chose to create, especially when the winds howled and things could look menacing, if looked at from just the wrong angle.

They were both asleep by nine.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

As fate would have it, this was the night that Patrick's life changed. It was only once the sun had set, an early 5:30, that he realized he needed to charge his phone. He checked the message service for the land line, and heard three calls from the hospice. His mom had taken a turn, and they'd put her on watch. The time stamp was 12:12 that afternoon. He'd slept through the call. The others were to tell him that they were doing for her, looking, he knew, for his blessing, his input.

He charged his cell while calling the hospice back on the land line. He asked for Diane, hoping she was on duty, but not knowing for sure.

There was her soothing voice, so southern, so lady like, so gentle. After telling her it was him, he learned quickly that his mom was really on her way out this time. Judy described it this way, “Hon, I'm glad you're rested up, I figured when we couldn't reach you you were either at school or home sleeping, so there's been no harm done, dear one. Your mother is alive, and has a little bit longer. Do not rush over here willy nilly. Drive over here thinking about last night with her, ok, hon?”

Patrick fought back tears as she spoke her words, admonitions she'd said thousands of times in her long career, meaning them every single time. He agreed to use a clear head to drive. “Traffic will be bad this time of day,” Patrick said absentmindedly.

“Well, if you can manage your temper in traffic, come now. Otherwise, you have some time. Not a lot, and I can't predict every time, but all signs says she may last a few hours. You understand I could be wrong, now, doncha, dear heart?”

“I can't change how far away I am. If she hangs on, she hangs on,” Patrick heard himself say. “She knows I love her and I'll miss her , but I want her to not have pain anymore. Please, just be with her until I can come, ok, Diane?” Patrick said.

“Patrick, you are wise beyond your years. I'll be right with your mom until you get here, don't you worry about a thing, sugar.” With that, Diane looked up and asked her partner Nancy for some help in dividing the tasks at hand.

Patrick arrived after a harrowing hour and a half in traffic. He'd had his headphones on, listening to that Krishna Das character he'd been introduced to by the Benz'. It helped, but by the time he got to the hospice, he felt jangly and nervous, hyper vigilant, and tired.

He walked right to his mother's room, and found Diane sitting by the bed, her considerable frame blocking Patrick's line of sight to his mom's face. Without looking to him, Judy said, “Dear one, I saw you pull up. She's gone Patrick. She just died,” she looked at her watch, “Three minutes ago. Please, sit with her, if you wish, dear Patrick.” Diane had her arms around Patrick then, holding him only as a mother can hold a child. He melted into her arms, she could feel him turning soft and young, like a little child, so many of them do, she thought, as she swayed with him, holding him.

He looked over at his mom's face, during that embrace, and saw that she had a smile on her face, as changed and hollowed as it had become toward the end. The side table lamp was on, the lighting soft, and she looked at peace, still. He noticed that she wasn't breathing, and this is what struck him as odd.

While in Diane's arms, he realized he'd never NOT seen someone, anyone, everyone, breathing. His mom wasn't he felt mesmerized by the sight, and then, the fascination abruptly ended. He turned away then, knowing this was real, it was over.

His mom and he had spoken honestly and openly about death. She believed in reincarnation and lots of stuff that his dad called pagan, and other words, too, but he liked her honesty and her fearlessness about her own death. They had their jokes about it all, even, he considered. She'd told him, once she goes, she'll be hanging around for a while, and she'd get his attention, somehow, arrange things in a weird way, and he'd know, just know, that she was right, that we just “go on,” as she called it.

He moved away from Judy, thanked her, and asked what happened next. She explained it all, and he remembered then that another nurse had gone through a similar list a while back, when she'd been sick the time before. He and his mom had talked. She'd released him from any and all rituals, as he saw fit. She knew they were important for the aggrieved, and so she told him he was free to do as much or as little as he saw fit.

He told Judy that his mom and he had talked, and it was fine to have her go to Feldman's as originally planned. He said, “I just want a few minutes here, and then I'll be done. I don't want to stay. Is that ok?”

Diane smiled and told him, Sure, and left the room, leaving the door cracked open.

Patrick spent a few minutes with his mom, and although these moments were important, and transformative for the boy, we shall pick up his story after those moments pass. Patrick would want it that way.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Valerie was coming out of Panera's when it hit her. She had to get in touch with Ellie. The feeling had been coming to her stronger for a while now, but this realization, as she juggled her purse, a huge bag of food, and her car keys, it hit her like a lightening bolt. “I need to go see her. It's past time for calling,” she said out loud, settling into her old beater.

Valerie and Ellie went way back, back to third grade, in Lakewood, just miles from Valerie's ranch.

She'd retired in Evergreen, close to her childhood home, on property her first live-in girlfriend had bought when such things could still be done reasonably. The boyfriend was shed years ago, but as a parting gift, he'd given her the property. They'd laughed through their tears over it, the day he handed her the deed.

Through the years she'd upgraded the simple cabin, putting on additions, gutting the kitchen, always improving, year after year, until it was a real mountain home, her home. Her role in all of it was to be the visionary, have the ideas, dream bigger. Then she'd hire or barter with locals who'd do the work. She had a rule with contractors. She preferred to know where they live. It's harder to con a neighbor, she always said.

She'd since gone through many relationships, living, at times, down in town, with whomever she'd lent her heart. She'd not found her it girl, but she'd had a hell of a good time, and was what one of her friends called “an elder” in the gay community. There's little that she hadn’t done, Olivia cruises, PrideFest volunteering, facilitating groups at The Center, all sorts of “gay stuff,” as her straight friends called it these days.

She'd lost touch with many of her breeding friends, disinterested in the drama of family life and child rearing. She'd liked Ellie, and tried to connect with her, about ten years previously, but they'd met just the once, and although they'd had a nice talk at a neighborhood cafe, neither of them pursued the other again.

Why the sudden need to see her, to physically see her, it was beyond Valerie. She filed it away under “Things I'd Prefer not Doing Tomorrow,” and realized that tomorrow was another “have to” day. She tried to schedule no more than tow or three of these a month. Have to do laundry, vacuum, get my oil changed. Have tos. Valerie snorted as she turned the engine over. Tomorrow's have to's can wait. It was time to get home, light a bone, and wait for Elaine. She was teaching night classes this semester.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Patrick's dad called the school the day after his ex-wife's death,and excused him for a week. Patrick told his dad he had a lot of things to get done as a result of his mom's passing, and his dad bought it. Patrick was saddened that his dad just let him do his own thing, but didn't know how to ask for help from him. His dad liked working, was a big attorney downtown, and felt justified for the sixteen hour days. The usual freedom Patrick was allowed felt like a thick blanket to Patrick, in those first few days, stifling him a bit, containing him. He wanted to be among friends, people who loved him. He didn't know, at first, who that might be.

The day he picked up his mom's ashes, as he was getting into the car from the mortuary, Ellie called his cell phone.

“Patrick, do you have any questions for me,” Ellie asked, once introductions were out of the way.

“What do you mean, Mrs. Benz?” Patrick asked.

“Well, I imagine you must be wondering why I'm not at school,”” Ellie explained.

Patrick paused, not sure he wanted to let this stranger into his loss. If he said he didn't have a question, she'd think he didn't care. If he said he did have a question, it implied he'd been to school. And if he told the truth, then he'd have to deal with other people coming into this feeling he had, of being adrift and alone. He wasn't entirely sure he was done feeling that way.

“Um,” Patrick said.

“Patrick,” Ellie asked, “Are you OK?”

“I'm good, I guess, but I can't really talk right now, Mrs. Benz.” Patrick surprised himself with his answer.

“We were just talking about you this morning,” Ellie said. “Bill was wondering what you're doing for dinner. It's Italian Feast day again, you know.”

“How is that possible?” Patrick said, marveling at the impossibility of such a thing, “that's weird. I could have sworn it was longer.”

“I know what you mean,” Ellie said. “So much has happened in seven days. Can you join us tonight, Patrick? You really can come by any old time.”

“Actually, Mrs. Benz,” Patrick said, “I can't think of anything nicer, just now. Can I bring anything over?” he looked down at the passenger seat, holding a box packed with packing peanuts and a sea-green and red enamel urn. “Food, I mean,” Patrick clarified, unnecessarily.

“I know we're out of salad greens. I'll pay you back. Can you pick some up and bring 'em with?” Ellie asked.

“If it's ok, I'll go do that now, and be over in, oh, probably less than an hour?” he looked at his watch. It was only noon.

“Well, sure, Patrick, that sounds just fine,” Ellie said, not thinking to ask why he wasn't at school, or if it crossed her mind, she did not let on. “That'll be a treat. Maybe we can go for a walk once you get there and settle in a little,” Ellie said hopefully.

“Sure, Mrs. Benz,” Patrick said, feeling hopeful, “I'd like that a lot. I'll see you in a while.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Patrick stopped for greens at the King Soopers tucked between Downing and Corona. He often when there for lunch breaks, if he knew he'd be making dinner at night and needed supplies. He greeted Jules, the green grocer who loved stacking things. He'd watched this guy work, and there he was again, this time stacking golden delicious apples, very artistically. Patrick was overcome with a feeling of futility today, walking past Jules, heading to the organic section. What's the point, Patrick's thinking went. He picked up a six pack of Coke too,and then checked out, still feeling bleak.

Ellie met him at the door, as did their dog and cat. She looked tired, he thought. He was still getting used to the idea of seeing this grown-up from school talk with him while dressed in blue jeans and bare feet. He liked it, but found it weird, still.

She invited him into the kitchen, and he took a seat in the breakfast nook, watching her work at the sink. KBCO was on the radio, and a cat was on the counter. Patrick turned, and looked out the window, overlooking the backyard. He could see Bill in his studio, the windows open. He was dancing, and looked to be singing, too. He wondered what it was he did out there besides sing and dance.

“Cider, Patrick,” Ellie said, more a command than a suggestion, as she slid a big clay mug of sweet smelling nectar his way.

“Thanks, Mrs. Benz,” Patrick said.

“Ellie, Patrick. It's just Ellie, if you're alright with that,” Ellie said, patting Patrick's arm.

“I try, but if Mrs. Benz comes out, is that ok, Ellie?” Patrick asked.

“Of course, dear,” Ellie said.

Maybe it was her giving him permission to do things wrong, and maybe it was that her “dear” reminded him of when Diane called him that, or maybe it was just everything, but Patrick quietly began to weep, right there, in front of his new friend.

Ellie got up and took the seat right next to Patrick, and put her short arm around his huge shoulders as best she could. She stood up, and sort of draped herself on him, and held his face in one cupped hand. She said, “There, there, dear one. It's ok. You aren't alone,dear friend.” Ellie wasn't sure what moved her to say the words she did, but as she languaged them, she meant each one, and holding his fuzzy cheek in her small hand felt more right than anything she'd done all day.

She straightened up as his crying eased. She got a couple of paper towels and handed them to him, telling him they were out of Kleenex. He gathered himself slowly, sipped some cider, sniffled, and then looked up at her.

She was looking at him now, expectantly, indulgently, from the sink. She'd started scrubbing potatoes again. “I've changed my mind about dinner. I decided potatoes were called for. More grounding,” she said, while studying his face. “I can see now that was good thinking. You wanna talk about it, Patrick?”

“I think I need a walk, Ellie,” Patrick said. Isn't there an ice cream shop around here? Lickety something, isn't it?” Patrick was already anticipating the fudge brownie he was wanting to devour, hoping they had such a confection.

“It's about wight blocks away,” Ellie said.”You up for it?”

“Oh my God, I haven't moved that much in a week. I think that sounds like a great idea.”

They gathered their overcoats, Ellie got the leash and calmed down her ancient dog by hooking him up to the leash, and they were off.

On the way, Ellie chose to not ask Patrick direct questions about what was going on. Instead, she started their walk by telling him, “When you're ready to talk about what's going on for you, I’d be honored to hear. I trust you are in no imminent danger, and are instead in distress. You strike me as a young man who knows himself. When you're ready, I'm here.” They'd walked to the ice cream shop in silence, not uncomfortable, but pregnant, both of them feeling something building between them, something that would, by virtue of its own strength, come out to be discussed in due time.

Ellie was surprised and intrigued to find Patrick not talking about whatever it was that brought no his tears, on the way home. He held the dog's leash, seemed to enjoy this, and Ellie took the time to notice the trees lining the streets she loved.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kevin was in the kitchen when Patrick and Ellie got home. He said, “Hi,” in a general way, and went back to cutting up apples. On the stove was a stock pot, steaming, boiling water waiting to make the applesauce Kevin was known for within his circles.

FIELD NOTES – ANOTHER CHANGE FOR THE BETTER By Kathy Vik, 11-14-13

www.deeplyawake.tumblr.com

There's a butt-tom of other stuff I could and, really, should be doing right now, just like a year ago, glued to my seat, far away and right up close, experiencing something extraordinary, and, after all is said and done, telling you about this is more important to me than clean laundry. I do look forward to going to the neighborhood laundromat today, though. I love the smell of laundry, and I love laundromats.

Anyhow.

It started yesterday. The energy was intense, what I wrote was intense. Really happy intense, not dark,not at all. Just very sparkly, very focused, light but clear, I guess.

And then, after zoning out to Community Season 2, Disc 4 and playing a fetching game on the computer, I had one of those things, when I get all weird feeling, like I'm going to faint, and my heart slows down, and I did not want to pass out at the table, so I called it a night and crawled into bed.

I slept in blocks. Anymore, when in a period of expansion, I sleep for just a little bit, wake feeling completely rested, look at the clock and can't believe so little time has elapsed. That's what happened last night. So I did what I always do, I go to the bathroom, get some water, and then return to bed for luscious other stuff. I know I'm going traveling, working, having fun, then. I get to go be active. And so, that happened until around 1, so two hours. And I woke up feeling extraordinary.

There's that word again.

So, I was immediately aware, not like I usually am, not groggy or resentful for being awake (sort of a problem I once had...) no, this was different. Awake, aware, all aware. I saw myself cleaved. I saw a big big part of me as diamond glittery, silver, and I was there, and I was surveying myself from there. I felt my life acutely, but none of it applied, none of it could be taken all that seriously. Odd. Not in a trivializing fashion, nor in a minimizing way, but as someone who is intimately aware of how the story is, in its totality.

It wasn't a conscious decision, not the end product of some breathing meditation or mud bath or homeopathy, just waking up and knowing things I didn't know before.

When I wrote in my journal, gosh darn it, it was frustrating, because everything I said sounded trite. Repetitions of stuff I keep repeating anyhow, but this time, I was inhabit those sentiments, those understandings, somehow. The words were flimsy excuses for what I was trying to get across.

I'll transcribe those notes for both of us now. I am very curious what I wrote. I will mention, the dictation was billowing at 1, and I really wanted to write, but I was tired and pretty disinterested, actually. When I woke up again at 3, I was physically very fatigued. I did the physical stuff one must do to get comfortable, and then, I wished I had asked my body to make up for all the work I did, really get me rested, but I neglected to do that...

OK, here are the notes...

“ 11-14

Split overnight. Woke up 3 times, 3 blocks. I saw my 3d life, all the stories, worries, I saw it like paper. Flimsy. Interesting, captivating but so flat. Then there was this other field, where I was, and I understood the 3d life is written by this biggerself. Embodying this larger mind. God. SO physical. I am CHANGED. I can't fear my 3d life and I'm not worried any,ore. This is not some kind of word play mind anesthesia. This is knowing that the setups and all are just that. Important but a by-product. But it's not what I saw as much as how I STILL feel. Detached and delighted. Like my “life” is beautiful. I'm OK. This isn't home, really, neither is India, South America. No. It's someplace I visit but it's not home. And yet I love it here, The Earth, I mean. I feel excited and as an equal when considering problems and questions and people I truly admire.”

Truth be told, all I want to do right now is go take a nap.

But the reason I interrupt that programming is because I have been able to sustain that feeling now, from since I woke up. When just coming to the last time, that sensation was a lot stringer. In the sort of woozy moments I had that last awakening, I ask for a key word, to make this key word be encoded with the whole thing, so that I can access it with just one word. Of course, this was a good idea, so it was done.

I can't remember the word now.

Silly goose.

So it will come back to me at the right time,but in the meantime, this feels good.

At the elevator, heading back to the apartment after dropping Sam off, I felt sort of like I was nicely vibrating. I thought, I wonder if this is how Lemurians felt. Is this old stuff? I felt good, and I kept feeling/running this light,this sliver ghost behind me. And at the elevator, I invited the ghost, this bigger entity,to spin with me, from me, so that we could be together and not apart, and I felt the silver come through me, getting onto the elevator.

I closed my eyes on the way up, wondering if this is how it will be now, being able to do this with my eyes open. I know I have been doing that for a while, but not like this. Not like this.

I'm bound to settle down. Funny how tasks can be sort of soothing, doing repetitive, mindless tasks. They soother me, sometimes. Usually they anger me, that I have to do them at all. But if I can get into the right groove, doing stuff I don't really like to do because it's boring and repetitive and necessary,but now I am feeling gratitude for it. It is grounding, you know?

I wish I knew what other people's experiences are. I've been more interested in channeled stuff lately... Meline LaFont's one today just blew me away. It felt so good, so pure and true, for me. I was glad of it.

I am going to go and attend to my business now, but I wanted you to know what is happening. I like the feelings and thoughts I am having, and realizing more and more that there is something very special going on here, very auspicious indeed.

And that's really all I have to say today. Thanks for tuning in, dear friend.