All of my writing has arisen from my introversion. Suddenly I am ready to embrace it wholeheartedly. It is paying off to be true to it. After all, introversion is an inherent quality. There is nothing wrong with extroversion or introversion either one. We are all just wired differently. Some people are blends. I happen to be deeply introverted.

Sometimes people mistake me for an extrovert because I can “do” social patter. But here’s the thing. It tires me and I have to rest in silence to get my energy back. I could never be in the public eye, so God has given me the gift of words. I can stay home and drink in the energy that comes naturally to me. It is refreshing to be who you are.

I have put so much mileage on my keyboard that some of the letters can barely be read. Now I have entered a new phase of my journey. I believe it began a year ago when the shaman lifted so much of my grief.

A year went by before I saw him again. The woman that introduced me to him died rather suddenly of cancer. I didn’t know that he returned to our city anyway and did what he had been doing for years here. Nothing happens until the time is right.

This visit showed me his humanity. I have no real idea what transpired between us energetically. I didn’t feel anything lifting. And yet suddenly I know my life has once again changed for the better.

Don’t ask me to tell you much about him. I don’t know much myself. And I sense that he likes it that way.

Suddenly I am feeling genuinely ready for miracles. I don’t think I was before. Miracles are seen in between the cracks of our muddy little minds. You always know them, though, by your sudden uplift in mood. That cheap little heart lying quietly on that beautiful green moss was talking to me. Like the shaman, I don’t know what it said, because words don’t matter. And I am so good at them.

Vicki Woodyard