I can only reach so far down or up physically. This goes for emotionally and mentally as well. Being somewhat of a perfectionist, I do my best at things I am good at. The hard or boring stuff I tend to put aside. Or things I am afraid of.

That is one reason I write poetry. It can reach both higher and lower parts of the psyche. So here we go.

What is squeezing the life out of me?
My own expectations and fear of failure.
Boa constrictor.

What keeps my eyes closed?
Creepy crawly fears.

What makes me write my best stuff?
Encouragement.

What am I avoiding?
Punishment.

Why do you avoid punishment?
It makes me feel so bad inside.

What is missing in your life?
Relationship.

Do you feel hopeless about
ever having a really close relationship?
Yes.

Is that why you open your heart to your readers.
Yes.

Do they feel much like you.
Yes.

So your writing is intimate?
Yes.

If God handed you a gift with your name on it, what would it be?
Surrender and that can’t be gift-wrapped.

Would it be possible for you to stretch just a little bit in order to receive the gift of surrender?
Yes.

Well, alright then, the next thing that happens to you must be perceived and then received as a gift.

Yes, Okay. Five minutes later: Nothing happened.

Then receive your nothingness as a gift. Voila! Nothingness is free. P.S. Be sure and give it away to the next person who feels that a relationship with the Self is not “a really close relationship.”

Vicki Woodyard

Note #1500

The other 1,4999 weren’t bad. (Excuse me while I pat myself on the back and type with one hand.) They started out on a much more somber note. Hopefully, I am a lot wholer now than I was then. See, I can’t resist a good joke. Spellcheck is smart enough not to recognize that as a word.

I now know how to write an essay without letting my mind get in the way. I type too fast for it to function. That way, improv happens. That’s one way to trick “old monkey mind.” Go ahead of it.

I remember a woman minister say that she found it helpful to speak only when the spirit moved her. That meant she was silent a lot. It saved vital energy and made her words more meaningful. I like that idea a lot. Here is a reprise of an essay posted on the website I began back in 2001.

Pouring

“What you don’t experience positively you will experience negatively.”
Joseph Campbell

Right now I am sitting at my Mac wondering what it is going to say or do next.  That doesn’t make any sense, but neither do my random, compulsive movements to find grace and structure inside the mind.

Suffering can be decanted into the silence without spilling a drop. The water of suffering is changed into the wine of acceptance…but how? That we shall never know. I pour myself gently into the invisible, giving myself permission to watch the process.

At some point, I have poured myself into the void, into the absolute. I am now better able to see the liquid sorrow of my soul, as it shimmers in front of me. That is the secret—that my sorrow be kept in front of me. As soon as I turn my back on it, I begin to suffer all over again.

I am the vessel holding all that I am.  My life is littered with mistakes, miscues and downright sorrow.  Isn’t that the stuff of transformation? If it isn’t, I don’t know what is.

Vicki Woodyard

God said something about the present moment
but He spoke in unfurling leaves and this went
unnoticed.

“He is always speaking,” said the rock I stubbed
my toe on as I took my morning walk.
The robin left a smear of white upon my car.

“Oh, God,” I said, “Oh, there You are.
You wink at me as well as frown.
You turn my vision upside down.”

And inside out, God did reply,
As me, He heaved a little sigh.

Vicki Woodyard

I am going to write this a bit differently, but just a bit. I have asked to hear what my higher Self has to say this morning.

What we have to say is that you are doing splendidly. Watching over you is easy because you so want to stay out of trouble. But you often place yourself in harm’s way for the quick thrill of it. You like to push the envelope with your writing. Sometimes you feel a sense of shame about doing that and use the Delete button. We would prefer you not do that. Sometimes we are sneaking in a truth quite ahead of what you would prefer to do. Shaking people up a bit is the way to make things happen faster. Things that you let appear on the screen may shock you but not the one meant to read them.

Your knack with words is quite amazing, honed by years of steady application of hands to keyboard. Bob assigned you this mission and is so proud of you for making a new life out of the old one. You know what recycling really means.

When it comes to your thoughts slowing down since you went to Amsterdam, that was indeed a week of deep letting go for you. What with moving at a faster clip, dealing with all sorts of new behaviors, like wearing your passport around your waist, we were able to penetrate your heart quite readily. We will not mention the man you went to see for you know that was transcendent.

What you don’t know is that you are the means by which freedom happens for you. No one else is responsible. Yes, you have done damage to those you love but mercy is yours as well as forgiveness. Do not think the years ahead of you will be lonely or unfruitful. You have seen a bit of what comes next for you when you follow your heart.

Your heart is quite simple. You are able to show readers how you live your life and they feel the grace in that. And the whole time you are muttering under your breath. That’s okay. We are on your side even when we seem to be pushing you. Sometimes you push yourself too hard and we would ask you to be a bit more lenient in your treatment of yourself. You are loved and protected. So let go and keep up the good work.

After I wrote this, I sat and read some of The Angelic Way by Rami Shapiro. Here are his words:

“God is not a static ‘I am,’ but a flowing ‘I will be’; not a fixed product, and the process is creative, unpredictable, always surprising. To say ‘The Father and I are one” is not to identify with a static state, but with a creative flow. God is creativity and all expressions of creativity. The nature of God is to create forever new forms, new options, new possibilities.”

“Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom
is the only condition for happiness.”
~ Thich Nhat Hanh  

How is this letting go to be done? There is no knot to untie except on the level of thought. So when the mind begins to yammer, grab the hammer. I apologize for that; it isn’t that easy and satisfying.

We are born attached to something called a “mother.” The father is a bit freer in that respect. Once that cord is cut, the mind begins a plan to attach itself to us like Superglue. Now we have, as Vernon Howard called it, “the glue view.” We are stuck on ourselves and must now be ripped away.

My friend Peter realized that only he had the answer. He shared it freely because his mind gave up when the pain got too bad. Perhaps it simply couldn’t handle it any longer. Who knows.

I met Peter online after the illusion had been lifted. I was able to peep through the gate of my mind into the open expanse that had become his. Ah, it was grand.

Vicki Woodyard

Everything is broken now.
Everything is whole.
Everyone is wondering
How to heal their soul.

Nothingness is calling me
into rooms without a view.
No one here is willing to
be here before they’re due.

No one’s happy.
No one’s sad.
The music here is pretty bad.

Until you came and sang
your song.
Until I saw both right
and wrong.

No one’s happy.
No one’s sad.
The music here is pretty bad.

And then I rose to where you are.
And saw you singing on a star.
The music here is now sublime.
I think we slipped the ropes of time.

Vicki Woodyard

Deep inside the earth of me
is a fallen tree of
alchemy.

Retracing steps of ancient times
I sit and write them in these lines.

I retrieve the parts of me so lost
I did not stop to count the cost.

Believing shelter lay inside
I simply wanted to abide.

But the tree took wing,
Began to sing.

Round the ages we do go
rising slightly with each blow.

Keep your heart inside the tree,
Sheltering many, sheltering thee.

Vicki Woodyard

“Unlike real Holland, this dream Holland had viaducts standing in lakes banked over canals. You were seeking for something to pass you over the water. There were signs to the ferry, to footpaths that led to boats, to boat hire, or to buy a rubber dinghy, even to where to get a rubber ring.

None were right for you, so you agreed to sink; and wearing nothing but a dancer’s costume made like yellow rose petals, you sank into a lake of what might have been sheep’s milk— all creamy on top with jewels that might have been dew drops. You were radiant with joyful acceptance of your fate (not that death or drowning seemed imminent at all) and you wore a hat made of what might have been lily petal-feathers.”

I asked my guides to speak to me about this and these are the word which arose.

“Daughter of Life, how can you die? Only your body perishes. Let us share a story with you. Once there was a woman by the name of Vicki who never fit in. Oh, she tried. But she tired of trying. So she withdrew from life, having suffered many grievous blows.

She sat alone year and year, wondering if she was irredeemable. Nothing but a dreamer with an unfulfilled vision. And then a friend had a vision for her. So she got busy and actualized the vision of another. It wasn’t hers and yet she knew it was.

She traveled to another country, watery and alien to her. She followed the slender thread that the vision had thrown out for her. She wandered down a city street and went into an antique shop. There she saw an old tile with a blue background and a yellow lotus-like flower. Was that a symbol of his vision? She wasn’t sure, so she didn’t buy it.

She had lunch with her son and suddenly said, “I’m going back to buy the tile.” And this time when she entered the shop, she heard Leonard Cohen’s voice coming out of a boom box. The young man working in the shop smiled radiantly at her as she said, “Do you like Leonard Cohen too?” And she begin to sing and so did he. “I’m guided by this signal from the heavens. I’m guided by this birthmark on my skin…”

And she bought the tile and now it sits on her kitchen hutch along with a teak buddha bought the next day.

That woman was you. You actualized the vision. On an unconscious level and a conscious level, everything came together. Unity had to emerge from the sea of sorrow. Go now and tell your story.”