I entered the earth plane wrapped in ruin. A forceps delivery introduced me to my mother in a traumatic way. As she would tell me later, “Your head was misshapen; you were not a pretty baby.” Later, I would read that Bernie Siegel suffered a similar birth, but he had a grandmother who told him how beautiful he was.
All I remember of my early childhood was how connected I was to everything, especially to the earth. We are so small that we look down instead of up. I smelled the earth when my grandfather let me help hold the hose as he watered the flowers. I felt it when I popped snapdragons open to see the black seeds pop out. I fell in love with mimosa blossoms.
As an adult I lost all of that wonder. I was too smart to be comfortable. Arrows were aimed at me that said, “Who do you think you are?” The stings warned me to put my light under a bushel and be quick about it. Yes, I dimmed the best parts of myself to make others stop attacking me.
I met my husband Bob early; in fourth grade. He always told me he saw me coming down the stairs of our grammar school and felt like I was an angel. He always called me that. He kept me safe.
Now I am no longer dependent on human safety, although I would love to be. But I have seen through it. The wrappings of ruin can no longer protect me. For we must outgrow our need for human safety. If not, we grow old and infantile. And old age is a second childhood. One I will spend in happy freedom from the wrappings of ego.
A wise man told me that I was now in a karma-free zone. I can do what I like. And what I like is to reflect on life without the use of the mind. The mind has worn me out, worn me down. I do not write from the mind, but from the heart.
Life is bloody, messy and hellish. The hints of heaven are seeded right here in hell. For the earth plane is not under the influence of God. That may shock you, but Jesus said His Kingdom was not of this world.
I remember the gentleness of the earth when I watered the plants with Papa, my grandfather. I remember Mama rocking me and singing me. I remember rocking and singing to my children. The mind cannot do this. Only the heart.
Vicki Woodyard
Oh, so beautifully said, Vicki, and a post I can truly relate to. Isn’t it sad that life and conditioning from society tries to kill that child within us? But, this is a time we can return to smelling the earth and the wonderful scent of mimosas. That is a vivid childhood memory for me too! I embrace getting older because I feel I am returning to the beautiful gift of simplicity and being present in the moment. Thank you for such a wonderful reminder.
In the poignancy of ageing, we come to realize that this child is a sage and not our mind.
It is poignant to realize that we are this child and not our lives lived as a “mind.”
Hi Vicki.
I have been reading your blog for awhile now, but this is my first time to comment. These words from your heart touch mine. Lately, your words have gained power. They have a beautiful, raw honesty that truly inspires me. I thank you so much for what you give. Much love.
Thank you for taking the time to comment on what I write. It is a labor of love.
Dear Vicki, so precious the golden breeze and angelic tenderness sourcing from your being. It is melting down the captured mind – its walls and isolation. The heart – our temple and inner core – THIS IS THE WAY TO GO. Age, old age is so precious, I see it with my mother, I see it within you. More and more our much travelled and brutally hardened, nervous ways of the mind cease to count. One leaves them aside ever more freely. Old age is en-acted wisdom, a flowering heart spreading serenity and intimacy without a price, without a bond. There is no business involved. Giving of its core freely and offering depth, it reaches far beyond the earthly skies.
It is not the mechanical mind that is wise, living solely from remembrance, either approving or disapproving. It is the wisdom of the heart, that intuitively finds and knows to walk many new roads, despite the closed doors around him, despite the countless difficulties within this world.
Precious is the ageing man, as there lies naked truth, meaningful heroism and finally – upholding unconditioned love he gracefully soars into the Beyond.
Thank you for your time, your Open Source – your fruitful Life.
All my Gratitude to you.
Something to live up to!