Change is coming….

This morning I got a stronger prescription for my glasses and the world suddenly seems drunk! I look out with a wobbly eye straining for balance. I often feel that way emotionally, as if it can’t be me that is wrong. But oh, yes, it can be. Oh, yes, it can.

For the world is only a reflection of who and where we are. To write this, I find myself leaning into the screen as if to clarify the pixels. I feel pixilated. But nothing happens without some sort of inner resistance.

Brugh Joy, in Joy’s Way, writes about a woman who heard a voice saying, “Make no judgements. Make no comparisons. Delete the need to understand.” I love that.

The dog barks. I hear it. I don’t resist it. It is his nature to bark.

Ordinary life at times feels boring, the same old same old. But a new pair of glasses, meant to help you see more clearly, at first makes you dizzy.

Change is good. Resistance is bad. (Is Tarzan getting ready to say “Fire, bad!”?

New glasses, good! Resistance, bad!

Something good is about to happen for me. My book, Bigger Than The Sky is going to be published by Non-Duality Press this fall. I am so excited. Stay tuned….

Love,
Vicki

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The Heart Speaks

I went to Tai Chi today. We had such a good lunch waiting for us on the counter in the Cafe at Cancer Wellness. Chicken, salad lush with blackberries, a spicy noodle dish, salad with watermelon in it, cookies, teas. Yum.

Then we did an hour or so of Tai Chi, all of us happy to be in the room again. What makes this place work is the intention of everyone participating. They just want to be healed and happy. And so it is.

At home I ate a piece of pizza left over from yesterday. Divine! Took a walk and worked a crossword puzzle.

At this moment there is nothing to do but type this group of words and say “fini.”

I have learned that when people are cooperating in happiness, the intellect has no place to go.

The heart speaks on a vibrational level. You might say it purrs.

Vicki Woodyard

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Dear Pilgrims….

Dear Pilgrims,

One can hardly call Facebook base camp before one leaves for Mount Everest. Yet it is precisely here that egos flourish in the guise of selflessness. It is so seductive to Friend people without end. But what one gets in return is more disguises than one can handle.

Who knows who anyone is, really? All we have to go on is hearsay.

We hear that so and so is a powerful guru. Look closely. It is their own PR drum they are beating.

Who speaks honestly and without getting paid?

Your very own heart.

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Vulnerable

I don’t know who I am but
I feel vulnerable most of the time.
I feel guilty about feeling vulnerable.
I try to think my way out of my feelings.
I fail at this.
I suck at this.

So other people mirror this back to me.
Because they feel vulnerable most of the time.
And they feel guilty about feeling vulnerable.
They try to think their way out of their feelings.
They fail at this.
They suck at this, too.

What say we all have a good all-round hug
before we start the whole miserable thing up again?

Vicki Woodyard

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How to be Enlightened

Here’s how to be enlightened,
how to attain nirvana,
do you wanna?

First you vacuum out
your mind and empty it
into the void.
Rather like a metal ashtray
it can be used again and again.

Wade into the water,
at least up to your neck,
what the heck.
Go for it.

Rise into the sky
you earnest son or daughter.
Drown in the bliss
of the sun’s first kiss.

Show no scorn for it.
You were torn for it.
Born for it.

When you get there,
no fair writing postcards
saying “Wish you were here.”
That ain’t enlightenment.

Vicki Woodyard

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Grace’s Twin

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It was like rain,
the heart’s surrender
into love,
divinely tender.

It pooled around me,
formed in strands
of silver round my feet,
An ecstasy apart, we meet.

No umbrella,
nothing hidden,
shivering like
we were bidden
to come clean now,
as waters pour upon our brow.

The filaments of water fell,
We dipped and swam right out of hell.
Out of darkness, in again,
Sorrow seen as grace’s twin.

Vicki Woodyard

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Time in Tupperware

Past, present and future are all happening at the same time. No wonder all this talk about being here now rings so true. They just forgot to add what Christ said. That He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. That is simply another way of being in this world.

When we force ourselves into the now, we are pushing away the past and the future. They are with us whether we like it or not. I have been sensing a deep change in my life. I keep weeping. And it’s about loss. So why all the tears if everything is happening at once?

This is just my theory, but I feel I am saying goodbye and hello at the same time to everyone and everything. Nice to meet you and sorry one of us will die before the other. That’s how it happens in this planetary kindergarten. Play nice because time is out to get you one way or the other.

Time is a description of eternity. Like you might put the ingredients of a tossed salad into separate baggies and throw them in the fridge. The carrots are the past, the lettuce is now and the radishes are tomorrow. It’s all tossed salad going by different names.

Experts know nothing of the omnipresent reality of love. Because if they did, they wouldn’t cram everything into their cranium and then go around boring us all with what they know.

Pass the salt.

Love,
Vicki

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Mystery Meat….

For me, this is Tai Chi Tuesday, my big social day of the week. And often Wednesday is Cry Chi. The reason I call it this is that energy moves around a lot in Tai Chi and the bad energy says ‘buh bye.” And so on Wednesdays, I ofen cry.

Heck, I went for years without crying much and now I do it almost daily. In a nutshell, I am crying for Bob. Not so much for his absence as for the presence of such a love. There is a fine line, of course, between mortal and immortal love. No human being can live either one purely. It remains mystery meat in the daily cafe of life.

Mystery meat has a bad connotation, but in reality, tears soften whatever feels inedible to the ego. The ego always goes for the prime rib, the caviar and champagne of emotions. Sadly, few can afford them or receive them. I am quite happy with a peaceful serving of whatever God dishes out. And yes, He does wear a hairnet!

My life is sans Facebook much of the time since June. I am studying my addiction to it. Apparently, being on Facebook is a pacifier of sorts. But there’s no real meat to it. There I go again, with the food reference.

“I am that bread that came down from heaven. I have meat to eat ye know not of.” So spoke the Master Jesus.

Let’s leave it at that. I think we are all on the same page and it is in the Bible. Facebook is not quite the same thing.

Love,
Vicki

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Blank Canvas Monday

Mondays are blank canvases. Today I started off slowly and then simply put one foot in front of the other. I went to the grocery to pick up a few things. Storm clouds were ominous and I had to turn on the windshield wipers a few times. It was only later in the day that it poured, dropping limbs from vulnerable trees.

I feel vulnerable myself. Summer idleness prevails and hope seems to be dormant. My teacher did not put any stock at all in hope. He saw so clearly that it is the ego that is involved in wishing and hoping. He wanted us to be always working. Sigh. Unrolling some wax paper off a piece of salt water taffy, I try to be patient with my life.

I watched The Butler on HBO last night. It’s been a long time since I sat and watched a whole movie. And yet that is I how I watched them as a child. Sitting in the theater, eating candy, and enjoying the smell of a theater, pure buttered bliss it was. I have a random memory of my whole family going to a downtown theater. My father had bought a box of candy and at some point we spilled it all over the floor. Groping in the dark, we picked the pieces up and ate them anyway.

I feel that the electronic life is not nearly as redolent as real-time life. And much more addictive. Even when I was visiting Vernon Howard classes back in the eighties, technology was merely a whisper. He could have been a Luddite, eschewing computers for his old typewriter. He had already written his classics anyway.

Truth is not for sale, although books may contain it. I still struggle for reality while under the sedative effect of the media. Yes, the media is almost a pharmaceutical. But so is the internet. We are now an aging population Googling up our diseases and our recipes for dinner. Finding out that nothing is private and everything is mostly unnecessary to read.

What am I doing here? I am supposed to be living life as an alive and awake human being. You can’t Google that, not really.

Love,
Vicki

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Meeting God At Every Moment

July 12, 2014

I was looking back over my journal from 2012. Come to find out that nothing I wanted to materialize did, except for one or two small things. Obviously, positive thinking is weaker than the omniwill. The omniwill is what Ramesh Balsekar referred to when he said that everything is destined, but there is no individual for which it “happens.”

That should take a load off the old fanny, but guess what? The mind does not have ears to hear. Something on a different level altogether is needed. That would be essence. We are here to develop our essence, not to have things go our way. And yet, ego is deaf to the words I just wrote. And don’t tell me you are any different than I am. We are ego down to the last drop! That is why we are all in this together. When one person wakes up, it helps every other person. Unfortunately, waking up equals death of the ego, so no one lives to tell, so to speak.

I am a fairly smart person, although the older I get, the slower the brain cells work. My aha moments now arrive five minutes later than I need them to. I smack myself on the side of the head, saying “Of course, her name is Jane!” And I am briefly relieved that I can still remember anything at all. That is the nature of aging. And ageism is the last frontier we are not willing to explore.

My little girl died too soon. That loss is imbedded so deeply within my essence that everywhere she touched my heart, a diamond mine arose. These writings come from sorrow and that’s the truth. Sorrow is the inevitable outcome of losing a child. If I felt none, I would be a sociopath or something. But I am like anyone else. My losses carve out a certain tributary in my soul. The river flows along a certain route. And when I finally arrive, I will be met again and again and again.

So what if nothing I want materializes. Once I see that, I can toss out the manuals and rulebooks. I can chuck the chains, forget and forgive and leap fully into the present moment. I will be met again and again and again. Some things are so true we can’t see them in our mind’s eye. God has put them up higher than that. And so it goes….not my way but His Way.

Love,
Vicki

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