Awakening to Ordinary.

Here I am – whoever that is…

It’s day 5 out of 7. Knee deep into my first official Awakening Class. I sit within the awake space, having lost my Core Veil. After experiencing various levels of initiation from various lineages. After experiencing multiple awakening movements, shedding identifications, conditioning throughout different aspects of my totality being liberated…

Here I am, whoever that is … wondering, how the fuck did this happen?

At the beginning of this year, I embarked on a course to arm myself with more tools for service, with a deep knowing that in order to increase my capacity for a deeper level of service, I had more inner work to do. I was totally up for the challenge, with no doubt in my mind that I had the courage to walk my talk.

Let’s do this.

You might relate…to the notion that this journey is not for the faint of heart. “It’s a losing game” they say. But never did I truly grasp the gravity of what was to come. That there was and is, SO much to lose. But not in the way that I would have thought.

I realise now that I had never dreamed or aspired to take the Awakening journey. In fact I don’t think I ever really knew the difference between Awakening and Ascension. I’ve been on the ‘love and light’ train, the ‘Ascension’ mission, the discovery of soul and landing it into my being. More recently I’ve been delving into alchemy, transformational healing and consequently…awakening.

Awakening.
So.
Very.
Different.

Awakening wasn’t on my ‘to do list.’ What was important to me was healing and transformation…my motivation was for others. My healing would be a biproduct of my passion for helping others, a needs basis. I wanted to help more, so I needed to heal more.

Fair call.

To be capable of holding more space, develop deeper tools with more energy, increase my ability to bridge transformation and healing in service of others, it made perfect sense that I first needed to empty my own cup.

I have learned, this is not a destination peeps! There’s no achievement to unlock or sword to remove from the stone as a final climax to end the brave journey. There are just more and more layers to be shed – more truth and divinity to be revealed. But there is no end game, it’s a continual spiral. More grime bought to the surface to be cleared and worked through, before uncovering a deeper truth…more Grace and the embodiment of that which we are.

As beautiful as it is – it can also be excruciating. Not totally annihilating (despite it feeling remarkably similar when deep in your stuff.) All the while, beauty and Grace can be experienced alongside the illusion of catastrophe…a tapestry of dark and light – folding in and over itself in a theatrical dance.

What started as a ‘service’ journey, quickly became my own healing path. I am just realising this now as I write…that as a bi-product of my own healing, awakening was imminent.

I never dreamt of Awakening as a child or a teenager. Even as a young adult who communicated with angels and dead people. I had no plans or aspirations to Awaken…if I did, it certainly didn’t look like this. Life had other plans, and keeps me evolving. Within this tide I find the exchange, replacing layers of stubbourn rigidity for adaptation, surrender and flow.

With the curiosity of a child and the uncertainty of being lost in the wilderness…I question everything.

If I knew this path would lead to uncovering these stark realities, would I have taken that step?

Realities and realisations: that everything I ever knew about myself (my inner and outer worlds) was a lie.

That the lens I had always viewed myself through, made me the biggest liar of all.

Had I known the chilling isolation of dropping so much karmic conditioning or the gravity to which it would shift the dynamics in my relationships, would I still have been game to take this journey?

Had I known that I would swim in the depths of my own muck, float in the abyss of un-belonging and non-existence, lack of identity and constant inquiry into my sense of self…would I have been so bold and willing to blindly follow the universe’s call?

Well, the simlple answer is yes. Yes I would.

Perhaps with more brawn than brains…that’d be a fuck yes, actually. From ‘past Niki’ and from whoever she is now who sits and writes these words.

Worth it. Warts and all.

Being Turned Outside-In.

I have always followed the current of life, juiced and motivated by the feedback of grace, both within my own field and within the world around me. My life to date has been overwhelmed with feedback I’d received from subtle intuitions, dreams and feelings that seemed to arise out of nothing. This feedback – felt, seen, and proven through profound synchronicity, mysterious and divinely timed unfolding.

Over and over.

Resonance and feedback – synchronicity that seemed to be the lifeblood of my existence, the juice to keep me seeing life through eyes of wonder and a sense of innocence and magic…despite how ugly and painful my experiences were.

It has made me fucking good at my job.

The job life gave me, that I have said ‘yes’ to over and over, even to my own detriment. The job that helped and will continue to help countless beings. But…It stopped me from truly feeling the ugly. From really allowing the hurt to hurt. To be with my grief, my suffering, my wounds, instead of piling falsehoods over the top of them like a band aid. As though I was immune.

But with this vision, the gift of sensing and seeing…with a gift for helping others and bridging through their loved ones in spirit. The gift of connection and healing.I felt aligned with integrity that my stuff wasn’t as important, as helping others with theirs. Not that I was above my drama, my pain, but that I was fortunate enough to be strong.

Ha! Strong…
Let me tell you…
There’s a difference between being strong and being numb.

As I embarked on this profound new training, I had a sense of the aspect of the Divine (known as Magical Transformation.) A peculiar and at the risk of falling short of using words to accurately describe it – a very present energetic. Impressions and words, feelings and sensing translated through my system in a way I was used to working and understanding.

“Just do one class. I’ll move those obstacles out of your way.”

As it does, Life shuffled things around and cleared the path, the path that seemed hopeless and impossible. For me to attend classes it involved expenses, bending time, sorting out commitments with children and so forth.

BLAM.
No longer overseas travel for classes.
Early bird prices.
Sudden shift in my children’s father’s ability to take more care, more often.

The extreme generosity and patience of my partner – unwaveringly supporting the flow of synchronicity and bridging the gap between home life and my ability to attend this Divine ‘education.’

Space was made. Life was listening and so was I. (What came first, the chicken or the egg?)

I attended my second class soon after, when impressed upon again “Just one more class. At the very least you need to do this one too. I will move the obstacles from your path.”

Ah… the Divine has a wonderful sense of humour and playfulness.

Three or four classes down (they all blend in after a while!) and I found myself becoming more embodied, more human. I was also working with other aspects of the Divine in the background too, utilising my gifts and bringing a deeper level of service to my passion. Using my shiny new tools and sharing my gifts in a way I never had before, and I was working on projects with my lover! What a spectacular shift from where I was merely a year prior.

This was what I had always dreamed of. Being a professional- not a party trick or a whoo whoo weirdo. To be taken seriously after many years of being referred to as ‘entertainment.’ A quick thrill. Meanwhile I have always taken my work seriously. Spending tireless hours, investing money, time and energy to develop…as though my intuition and healing gifts had a life force of their own that requiring tending to, adjusting, radical honesty and the utmost integrity. Finally it was paying off.

Then…

Wait for it. You know there’s a punchy story coming…

Roughly five classes in, meditation started to repulse me. I resisted it so much, and didn’t understand why. It is such a huge part of my connection and my purpose. How could I just one day wake up and refuse it with all of my being? It was so unconscious and twisted inside of me that it began to play out in shadow, creating disturbance in my relationship with myself, my identification as a ‘spiritual person’ and caused a rift in my dynamic with my partner.

I realise as I write…my resistance to meditation was really quite obvious looking back. I could no longer fly out of my body and into the multiverse in full HD 5D motion picture. It wasn’t all freedom, sparkles and Dr. Strange-eque…weightlessly moving my consciousness through time and space. Instead it became physically agitating. Painful. I was stuck inside my meat suit with all of it’s damaged innards…like a fly in a jar, bashing up against the sides without the understanding that there was no way out, and yet continuing to bash up against my own body.

Slowly but surely, all my cool toys were taken away.
No visions.
No feeling.
No dreams.
My intuitive sensing reduced to shadows of ‘maybe’ through a thick fog.
What the actual fuck?

I sought the advice of my mentors and one of my teachers, who said “oh, you’re like a cricketer without a cricket bat.” No truer words had been spoken. He got it. I cried a little. I told him I was acutely aware that whatever was not of truth had to be shed, and for that I was glad. If I was full of shit – it’s not in integrity for me to keep working in this field. It’s not that I wasn’t intuitive…but there was certainly aspects of the way my intuition was filtered through my lens, my personality and all of its constructs…that it had to be changed. It helped me to realise where I had been full of shit, and what had to be changed as a matter of truth. Not in the way that I thought, though… I’ve never lied to my clients, or stretched, fantasised or romanticised the truth – I always gave what I got.

Always with heart.
Always with the highest of intentions.
Always.

But ‘what I got’ was being filtered through my exhausted and over-worked nervous system. It was being received and translated through my unique system, sure. It’s phenomenal how I could possibly have been able to see energy and read light, see dead people and communicate with other realms. But my system was inside out. It was stretched and damaged, and most likely through trauma – it kept me out of my body.

While I become more human, I literally have to learn to receive and sense from a totally different place. I have been spending months in remission from nervous system burn out, un-learning old patterns and re-learning how to live from this new unchartered water. I’m learning to be surrendered to rebuilding my pathways from how it always was, to a more embodied, authentic and healthy space. I am in the process of being turned outside in.

Outside in.

I hold capacity for Divine Healing and Consciousness tools now. I can move aside while the Divine does the work, decides whether it’s in the highest good (and if not, it simply won’t run.) It means with these tools I can work without my personal stuff interpreting or interfering – from a fully prepared and rennovated system. The responsibility doesn’t all fall on my insight alone, which is partly why I stopped giving private readings quite some time ago. I have tools to accelerate and enable deeper levels of healing and integration. This is where I was preparing to go, all this time. I had to get to this place, in order to serve with the highest and best authenticity and Grace. So all is not lost, nothing was a waste of time and there are no regrets.

Who Am I Now? Losing the sense of ‘I’.

I have been unconsciously on an awakening journey since the moment I incarnated into this body. It seems this would not have been my first rodeo…but the seeds planted from other lifetimes are ripened to blossom. Ready or not!

On some level I have known this, but chalked it down to perhaps being karmically here of Service: to help my fellow man, with a strong compulsion to develop and share my gifts in selfless acts of kindness. I have always believed if you’ve got a gift, give it away – share it with the world. It was never about me. Even when it should have been.

But suddenly, I had nothing to give away, no gold to share. No so called ‘party tricks.’ No energy or drive to serve. Nothing to offer. Just a bat-less cricketer with all of my stories, traumas, and icky ‘stuff’ spewing out of my system, I didn’t even want to be around me!

I’d been benched.

If I couldn’t help people, what was I do to? What stronger an identification to lose in this industry than the one of the healer?

What stronger an identification to realise I had an attachment to (and harder still, one that needed to be released) than the one of the psychic?

Without being able to help others in the way I was so deeply identified with, I quickly realised something really fucked. I don’t matter, and I never did. This became one of the biggest trauma stories to work through. One of the chunkiest identifications. ‘I don’t matter.’

I…

Who am I, anyway?

As I shed identifications with ‘I’ the accompanying wounds, stories and conditioning, I unwind a tightly bound pattern of selflessness, martyrdom, non-existence. ‘I don’t matter’ has been so deeply ingrained in my being that I have only just begun to feel the depth of how much this wound has festered unconsciously over time. Yet, during the unwinding of such patterns – I realise it is a ‘both-and’ scenario…a double-edged sword. The ‘I’ ultimately, doesn’t matter…but my dis-identification that ‘I’ possibly should matter but didn’t, created twists of resentment and anger within my being. I felt invisible, yet this created a feeling of not wanting to be seen.

Life was giving me feedback. Stuff playing out repetitively in my relationships that showed me in a language that I understood, that ‘I don’t matter’ as much as everybody else. As usual, the phrases I found myself saying had a variety of meanings and interpretations. Reflecting on the montage of vivid memories that flooded my every waking moment was overwhelming, sobering, flattening, heart wrenching and extremely depressing.

I began to see loops and patterns of how this identification (unknowingly) had been played out in just about all my intimate relationships, working history, volunteer service work and so on. Perhaps the harshest of all was the notion that I didn’t even know how to truly care for myself, because honestly…I didn’t matter to myself. I knew all of the affirmations and love and light ways to walk the talk, but deeply and truly…I didn’t matter to myself.

From being that scared little girl in this life, to a wildly unfurling theme echoed into many past lives. Abandonment. Fear. Dread. Terror. Self-Worth. Self-Loathing. Sacrifice. Deservingness. Perpetrator. Punishment. All those dark little fuckers hiding beneath ‘selflessness.’

Selfless Service. I was selfless because it was either own it (cue identification right there) or be under the illusion of having it devour me. Perhaps I was selfless because on some level I was playing out the opposing role of lifetimes of potentially being the perpetrator, as though I came into this lifetime knowing I owed the world something or was repaying a debt.

I was possibly giving what I had previously taken away in other lives, this responsibility completely unconscious…looping, cyclically (not psychically) and wreaking havoc in the shadows, creating lower vibrational strong holds in my system – but I was too concerned with others to see it, and too comfortably numb to want to. Suddenly without my armour, without the labyrinth of walls and locked closets in my psyche protecting me from truly remembering my wounds – I had nowhere to hide. I had no choice but to feel every last bit of it.

The mirror can be a hideous sight, when the mask finally falls off.

My intimate relationships were under the microscope, with an acute awareness that those who’ve caused me pain know not what they do. After all, they’re stuck on this looping record, playing right into my old stories and keeping them alive. As though we’re all surfing the same LP as it goes round and round, same same different day, different person…but ultimately that record belongs to me. I was the common denominator in all of these situations. Life was showing me that if I didn’t make time to be in my stuff, I would be stuck on this track for ever. Looping the lessons and wondering why I still keep getting hurt. Getting ‘over it’ and ‘seeing the bright side’ wasn’t an option. I was blinded and baffled by the truth.

The truth is always the medicine. Even when it hurts.

Ultimately, ‘I’ don’t matter…because who am I anyway? Losing my sense of ‘I’ is becoming simpler as I move through these waves. Its refreshing and sometimes downright hilarious to be outside of it as a witness. Some of the things that made me ‘me’ were absurdly outrageous anyway.

The things I created to give myself a sense of false identity were just clever constructs to create myself. To fit in to this world, by intentionally and ironically NOT fitting in…

But underneath there was a longing to go home. A disturbance rocking the waters below, that I am not OF this place – yet I am MADE of it.

I thought I didn’t carry my trauma on my sleeve and could surrender ‘my stuff’ for the sake of service. I genuinely couldn’t feel it, I didn’t feel traumatised, or wounded, or broken. I felt like a survivor, a warrior…a humble servant. I thought my get up and go was a testament to my strength and courage.

Nup. Turns out I was so numb beneath calloused layers of conditioning and other karmic junk that I just couldn’t feel. ‘I’m just tough’ was the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever told myself and believed. I say this with compassion for past ‘me’ from a place of more truth.

Hindsight. What a beautifully torturous thing.

As I journey through…I am resting in the arms of The Ultimate, the all, the nothing and the everything. This experience of Awakening lived through this body, perhaps a journey long ago begun…is brutally profound and yet feels strangely ordinary…a bit anti-climactic, really.

I’m filled with gratitude, grateful that I am able to feel. Grateful for the Divine. For profound and real love in my life.

Grateful for life…in all of its forms. I sit within the awake space realising…this is ‘me’ Awakening into Ordinary.

Profound. Synchronistic. Mystical and Divine. But ordinary none the less.