Hitting Bedrock


Hitting Bedrock

We live our lives avoiding hitting bedrock. That is why our plans continue to fall through into the nothingness that they are.

We have a shovel but we keep it in the shed. We hope that we can get by without having to use it.

Bedrock is a mystery best kept under lock and key. It might hurt worse than we are hurting now.

It seems to be rock bottom, the very opposite of what we want our lives to look like. Society tells us to tame our wild hair and apply dye to fool others who are doing the same thing.

So we have a world of cool-looking people that simply refuse to carry a shovel.

And then something happens beyond our control. The devil pays us a visit and the angel on our shoulder is called away. We see clearly how foolish all human effort is.

When I was in the hospital I was hooked up to an I.V. For a couple of days, I had to do #1 and #2 every 15 minutes! At some point, I was doing #3, but this cannot be scientifically proved. The I.V. pole did not want to hurry as much as I needed it to. It was quite comical to see me racing between the bed and the bathroom dragging the pole. I was yelling into the intercom for more ointments, more underwear, more this, more that!

And more than one person on the staff remarked on how good I looked to be so sick. I guess I am just indestructible. When I got home I had a major meltdown. I hit bedrock and it hurt like hell. So this is who I am and who I am not when they come together and kablooey! All that repressed rage had to be expressed before I could begin to heal.

My voice is still raspy weeks out from the initial virus. If Christmas comes, I will barely make note of it.

I hope to God I don’t return to normalcy. It was worse than the virus, although it looked good in principle.

I saw how out-of-control my control-freak is. She needs to take a breath, one that allows her to die into her true nature.

What will it take? Where is bedrock? Look around. You won’t find it outside of yourself.

Vicki Woodyard

Love and Healing


I am still weak but finally made a trip to the grocery a couple of days ago. I felt like an alien. The car seemed unfamiliar; I accidentally hit the button that makes the horn beep. But it felt good to be able to do even that small shopping trip.

This morning the world is blanketed in a beautiful snow. Just as my life is covered in the hypnotic trance of unawakened man. Snow is beautiful and treacherous and everything is a metaphor.

Theo says the universe is “in formation.” I like that way of putting it. My soul knows geography. It showed me in dreams where to go to find teachings I could profit from. The desert, Hawaii, the high desert of Arizona. I followed these dreams easily.

My mind knows nothing about geography. I barely passed the course in college. Actually my mind is not meant to know the soul’s terrain.

So here I am looking out on a blanket of snow on this sleeping planet. Parts of it are on fire and parts are being flooded. There is no safe place here. We must come to know that so deeply that we look for love and safety outside of the world.

Vicki Woodyard

The Healing Silence


I have been offline for a while in order to recuperate from a viral illness. As I move about the house silently, gathering energy, I appreciate the lack of being connected to the world on the internet. No one really grows from electronic stimuli. One is entertained but not necessarily fed the nutrients contained in silence.

Someone wrote me a very cogent letter about not casting one’s pearls before swine. That happens way too much. Real pearls are grown slowly and inwardly as the soul works with its irritations. The mind simply cannot contribute to this alchemical process.

I write these words for the few rather than the many. I write them for the One, actually.

I will write more as I am moved to do so. My body is getting stronger and my dreams are rich in symbolism. Last night I dreamt of taking too much clothing for a short trip. I woke up very early. I honored the dream, as my friend Tallulah says, by going through my closet and removing things I no longer enjoyed wearing.

This prolonged illness and recovery will be quite fruitful, as I explore ways of letting go of things no longer useful or pleasing to me.

Vicki Woodyard

Afterthought….

Some of you have recently donated to the website. If you would like to receive notes via email, just let me know. I don’t want to take anyone’s money and not fulfill their expectations. This may be temporary or permanent. I am just going with how I feel at the moment. Getting better but very slowly.

Others can revisit my old notes on the site if they wish.

Aloha,
Vicki

The Stench of the Trench

I am appallingly exhausted. Been in the physical, mental and emotional trenches for weeks now. Devoid of anything I can get a hold of, so this is a time for me to let go. To give a damn about myself before others.

To stop playing second-string in the world of online spirituality. There is something above the game of enlightenment.

I know what the others know and I am sick of deferring to them. I am on my own.

This is not bitterness but the end of seeking approval from people that disrespect me in the first place.

There will be no more notes from me until the clouds break and I understand how badly I mistreat myself. Thousands of essays under the bridge.

I may or may not come back. There is more to life than being online dishing out my vital energies to people that are mind-surfing in hopes of “getting it.” I got it a long time ago. I just forgot where I put it.

I have no ill-will as I say this. I just have the beginning spark of self-respect. Thanks to a good friend who is walking through this with me.

This illness was no accident. If I don’t return, I may have to learn how to stay in silence until the dawn arises within.

“Abandon your masterpiece. Sink into the real Masterpiece.” ~ Leonard Cohen

There comes a time when you are enough just as you are, in your wretchedness and poverty. Not in your joy but in your fierce surrender to the impossible.

Vicki Woodyard

Don’t Look Back (a photo of my bedroom hearth)


My viral illness has not been a pretty picture. So many ruts to fall into and rise up out of. Yesterday I saw my doctor for a post-hospital checkup. She has been very compassionate and reassuring to me. She just shook her head at what the virus had put me through. She let me come directly into an exam room and when she ordered lab work, they came and drew my blood in there so I did not have to sit in the waiting room.

It was rather odd, but the nurse could not get my bp to register on the automatic cuff. She tried both arms and got no reading. So she went and got her manual one and that worked. My bp was normal.

When the lab tech came in and begin to draw blood, she put the needle in and begin to draw it. Suddenly she said, “That’s funny; your blood just stopping coming out!” And just as suddenly, it began to fill the tube again. Hmmm.

This morning I got an email from the doctor saying all of my lab results had resumed being in the normal range. Hallelujah! All I have to do now is watch my strength and immunity rise back up to normal.

I am, of course, pondering the “why” of all this. It is totally beyond my mental projections. I am just glad to be back. Appreciating sunlight coming into the great room….that is enough right now.

Vicki Woodyard