The Pathway Home

So I woke up this morning, having had a long and involved dream that I cannot recall. Something about me wanting to be at an event but not being dressed properly. I was caught out, as they say.

I felt a little sad, lying in bed a bit before getting up. Dread was lurking in my head and I am not sure why. I seem to carry a surplus of it.

No one is sick today. No one is wanting anything. Dread kicks in anyway, because who knows what the future holds?

This is why we do the Work. To investigate the machine. We are no different than Cadillacs or Fords, according to Vernon Howard.

So I had a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea. I sat in silence feeling things I didn’t want to feel. I wanted to be awake, but it was hard to shake off the dream. This is our situation.

Today will happen whether I am awake or asleep. That is the final truth. If I can summon up an ounce of energy, I must put that into my wish to awaken. There is no other pathway home.

Synchronistically, I just read this on

“I think you do have to be in contact with yourself or be interested in establishing contact with yourself. A lot of people aren’t interested in their higher state. It just happens that I am interested in my internal landscape and just paint pictures of it” ~Leonard Cohen

That is what this note was about, taking a vital interest in your inner life.

Vicki Woodyard

The New Horizon

Becoming conscious is the new horizon. This cannot be taught by anyone outside the Self. I speak from experience, having had one main teacher and a few minor ones via books. They can only show you your unconsciousness; they cannot know if you have gone beyond it or not. Why? Because you are the only one in there!

Leaving Facebook, for me, is like rejoining my own consciousness in its pure state. Had I not left, I would still be under the spell of social media. And it is a spell, make no mistake about it.

I am not fully awake. No human being is. They may say they are, but it remains unprovable by other people. It does sell books and seminars, though. The hope of enlightenment remains a huge folly on the part of online spiritual seekers.

You have to part company with unconsciousness if you want to become yourself. There must be no turning back or you will turn into a pillar of Likes!

Much better to sit alone in your townhouse or studio and study yourself. The rewards are endless. The search can be called off and you can disregard the steady stream of Friend Requests and invitations to like someone’s page. It’s an exercise in futility to spend your day lost in a state of sleep.

Call me a cynic and a sceptic, but there is something that far outweighs Facebook Likes and that is your own inner approval.

Vicki Woodyard

Tincture of Timelessness

I heard a huge hit against the window and I looked outside. A hawk was sitting on the kitchen deck railing. He didn’t stay long. I yelled for Rob to come down and take a picture, but the hawk wasn’t having any of it. Rob said he might have been chasing something and flew into the house or window. There was no mark on the window, so I can’t be sure where he hit. He didn’t appear to be hurt.

Went to the grocery this morning. I am on a countdown to the days before I get my glasses. This summer has been quite peaceful. The weather keeps me indoors and I can’t read, so I just sit in silence a lot.

Last night old dream themes resurfaced. I slept fitfully and woke up tired.

Silence is something that happens and is always in the background of our noisy lives. It is medicine. It is tincture of timelessness.

Vicki Woodyard


Yay! I am officially dismissed from the eye doctor and have ordered my new glasses, finally. Only one more week before I get them. To celebrate, Rob and I had a burger. He is taking delivery of a new bike today, so it’s a new beginning for both of us. He rides almost daily and had worn his old bike out.

I am feeling deeply grateful for my present life. More and more, as I stay in the moment, I get more and more relaxed. Some might call this a development in faith. When you have been through the cancer wars for long years at a time, it is hard to feel relaxed about much of anything.

As I got out of the car at the restaurant, I found a new penny with the head side up. They say that means someone in heaven is thinking of you. I smiled.

What’s up with you guys?

Vicki Woodyard

A New Day

I’m tired of it! What am I tired of? The endless stream of non dual pundits, no better than politicians at working their game. They are boring, repetitive and useless to me personally.

Oh, you say. I am not a person? That the person has to be seen through? You would be correct if you weren’t busy being a non-person! See where I am coming from? The non dual pundits could not help me when my husband lay dying. Their input on suffering was inept. Not only that, it was cruel.

Persons and non-persons are on the same level. Let me talk to someone who is above me, who is “out of the game,” as Leonard Cohen put it. The pundits are on the level of the game.

The only people privy to this are those who have been broken of their own will.

You are broken not by a pundit but by the living experience that words are simply not enough. You must summon up your courage and quit the stage.

Pundits are still onstage with their clever rephrasing of the same-old same-old.

Can you find the person inside of you that is totally fed up with the Papaji wannabes because they cannot help you. That is the One that knows better than the pundits.

It cannot help a pundit quit preaching, but it can help you quit listening. Listening to pundits is a bad habit, stronger than coke or heroin. Why? Because you think they are smarter and better than you.

Have the last laugh. You know how.

That way love can enter your bloodstream and quietly course through your heart.

Vicki. Woodyard

Grace Comes

Grace Comes

I have been studying my consciousness for a long time now. I have learned how to jump from mind to heart, not all the time but oftener and oftener. To do this I have to become aware that I am suffering from myself. This happens because I am stuck in my head. Esoterically the skull is Golgotha, the tomb. I must be resurrected from this and the way to do this is to die to this state of consciousness. But how? This is the perennial question of people longing to be free.

You must make a confession that you are stuck in your head. The very confession is what springs the trap and you fall into your heart. When I choose to do this, and it must be chosen again and again, I feel as though I am in a daze. Not the daze of the mind, but the daze, the shock, of returning to myself.

You see, I am the universe and it is quite a shock to see this. The first thing we do is want to return to our former state. The disciples did this; it is nothing new. It is hard to follow the way of consciousness. A price must be paid.

It is not as if we had any free will concerning actions; we don’t. We only have control over our attitudes and emotions, as Edgar Cayce so famously said. All we are asked to do is confess and from that confession comes our new life.

Grace is not something easily gained. If it were, no growth would ever happen. People would grab grace and run into their private life, hoarding it. No, grace comes, but the price is your old life.

Vicki Woodyard

Falling into Silence

Facebook and all social media fuel the Ogre of Instant Gratification. Oh, most people will deny it and say they just love to interact with others. Bosh. Balderdash. Rot. Social media encourages vanity and oneupmanship. I know; I was a part of it.

Self-inquiry is best done alone rather than in the company of other people. I just had one too many boring encounters with people rushing to brag of their enlightened state. There is no such thing, if you ask me. Enlightened states care nothing for explanations and proselytizing, not to mention making money in the process.

Vernon Howard did nothing but continually strip us of any ideas that might encourage us to be socially active. His students were fed steady diets of admonitions to “shut up.”

Enough of that for now. Down south we are stuck in a rut of sultry weather and soggy skies. Outdoor workers are unable to get anything much done. Everyone is ready for the coolness of autumn. August cares nothing about what we think. It swelters on.

My neighbor’s butterfly bushes are teeming with vitality, though. I stopped to watch a hummingbird feeding from it. There are bumblebees and smaller bees, big butterflies and tiny yellow ones. They thrive on the heat and humidity, I suppose.

I am still on a break of sorts. Waiting to get my new glasses, still a few weeks away. With no reading to do, I am falling into silence more and more easily. It would be nice to have nothing at all to say.

Vicki Woodyard

Never mind the mind….

What is my average day like now, as I detach from social media further and further? It’s as if my eye surgery had given me new eyes spiritually as well as physically. All the signs were there—the snake skin and the four hawk feathers, for example. All spoke of leaving the old level and arriving at a new one.

Part of my day changing is that I have not been able to read much. Prior to the surgery, I was reading a lot of material every day. Now I am reading everything! I am letting life speak to me directly and it has a lot to say to me. It always did; I just wasn’t paying much attention.

Everything Christ said was true. Everything my teacher said was, too. It is the mind that lies. It is the mind that beleaguers us and tempts us endlessly. So out of that insight, we leave the mind behind more and more.

What happens when we leave the mind is the classic rebirth spoken of endlessly by men of insight who have gone before us.

I grew bored long ago with the yada yada yada of spirituality found online. It is mental rather than spiritual. No one can have your breakthrough but you. You can bet your bottom dollar that the words of Jesus or the Buddha will bear fruit in your own heart when the time is right. You can have your own self-realization.

Today will be like any other day for, but I will be paying close attention to it. Never mind the mind.

Vicki Woodyard

Your Energy Body

I am a spontaneous spiritual writer. I write what comes to me and often it is exactly what someone is looking for. I love when that happens, for synchronicity is a great pleasure to experience. It is as if the universe was handing you another piece of the puzzle.

Coming into this world, I learned to know it energetically rather than rationally. My experience of it counted more than my understanding or explanation of it. This is in my essence and it can be no other way.

I only failed one course in school, I think it was called plane geography. I couldn’t grasp the concept. My parents hired a tutor for my friend Jeanne and I, who was also failing. We giggled throughout the sessions. I don’t remember if she passed or not.

Other than that, I was pretty much on the honor roll all the time. I liked to study and never crammed. I was ready for the tests and aced most of them.

When I married an engineer, he continued to be shocked to realize that reading maps or knowing east from west was not something I could comprehend. I lived in my head in that respect. I maneuvered through the world energetically.

When my husband got sick, I wrote my way through this long dramatic period of my life. I did it spontaneously and rather than draining me, it healed me. Some of my writing is healing for people other than myself. That is why I keep it up.

Your energy body is a vital aspect of your life. Let no one pollute it. Honor it and let others benefit from it, whether it is about business, the creative side of things, or whatever. Your energy body needs curating. Study it, use it, and it will grow beautiful things.

Look what Leonard Cohen did with his. He has left the world but his legacy lives and breathes. I read something he said that I love. “Be your own crash test dummy.” Yes, indeed. Put on that helmet and get to work.

Vicki Woodyard

Princesses and Dragons

I watched my mind as she slept deeply. It was time for her to heal; she had no other way of doing that. When she was awake, she was busy creating havoc and discord. Like a two-year-old hurling herself into a tantrum, my mind knew no other way to get things done.

I sipped my tea and turned within. As the witness, I know all things. Not at once, of course. I know them as they are revealed. I am just waiting on that. But now I am here inside my own home, my nest. The little bird of my mind has her head tucked under her wing. She is not flying into tantrums now!

Silence is the medium in which I thrive. Diving deep, I am a creature of both air and water. A bird or a fish, either one.

My mind sleeps on. I hear an occasional murmur as she dreams of different things. She will never grow up. Did I tell you that? She will remain a child, just as I remain one myself. But she will remain asleep and I remain awake. There is quite a difference there.

There is opposition in the mind and never in the heart. She has no idea that there is anything above her. She lives in contradiction and that is the most tiring thing imaginable.

I tell her stories of princesses and dragons in order to hint of things to come. Sadly, she takes them literally. She takes everything that way. She takes her crayons and writes on the walls. I just do what I always do. I have to allow her to make her mistakes. It makes no difference to me.

I never said I was perfect, did I? I only said that I am a witness. Who knows where I came from and where I am going?

Here is a poem I wrote a few years ago.


And I lay in bed
thanking God for
letting me forgive
myself for endless sins.

And I kept saying,
“I forgive you,
I forgive you,”
and the body
relaxed into the
arms of my own

And I cried,
but soft healing
tears of yielding
to my own sweet soul.

And I got up forgiving
myself for not
forgiving myself
most of the time
because self-forgiveness
is manna I can eat
for breakfast
every day.

Vicki Woodyard