Vernon Howard Roots

The only thing I can do is return to my Vernon Howard roots. They hold me fast to the ground so that I can learn to fly.

Try as I might, I cannot get too far away from the teachings of Vernon Howard, that maverick of a mystic that herded his true students in a hard and unrelenting fashion. To study with him was to enter the bliss of being burdened with yourself consciously. For we are fools that do not know that we are fools.

Lately I have been watching myself want my new book to be a success. On one level it is, because I love it so much. But in the world, it has made scarcely a ripple. So I must give it over to God and walk on.

I find that I want to walk back into Vernon’s classroom and all I have to do is pick up one of his books. They separate the wheat from the chaff in a remarkable way. I see exactly where he is going and if I choose to go along, I am renewed from top to bottom.

You see, we are passing ourselves off as counterfeit currency. We have no worth other than essence. And essence is free and undefined. It filters down through the sun to Mother Earth and touches whom it will. For everything is bought with a price. As Gurdjieff said, “Take what you want and pay for it.”

I cast off the skin of negativity in order to find that the beauty of the shedding is inevitable. I can relax so deeply that joy percolates furiously at the speed of light.

I am a mystic by nature. My silence is my birthright and those who feel it benefit from it. My words just get in the way. I also fall into self-pity and depression with regularity; that is not who I am. It is merely who I mistake myself for.

I don’t buy the school of awakening that lays claim to constant joy. I think everything comes and goes. Love would have us just keep walking through both sunshine and shadow. And my teacher had a sign over his door that said, “When the pain gets too bad, come back.” And so I do.

Vicki Woodyard
Author, Bigger Than The Sky

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