My goodness, I am tired of being on break, however much good it is doing me! I had my second cataract removed today. We were told to arrive at the clinic by six a.m. and only at 8:15 did I get my turn to enter the operating room. Well, the laser room; it came first. While I was lying there on the gurney, I told the nurse/anesthetist, that I needed to go to the bathroom. In her kindness, she said, “Well, we have time to do that.” And she and her partner wheeled me down the hall and stopped in front of the Women’s Room. Ah. I needed that. I had been lying down on the gurney for well over an hour. They had done a meticulous job of prepping me for the surgery, but waiting was on the agenda.
The surgery went well and now I am back home. Tomorrow I see the surgeon and again a week later. Then I can get new glasses! In the meantime, I can still see the screen only under eye strain. But I wanted to say hello.
What I write is for the few; those who hear me love me. At least I feel something akin to that emotion coming through the screen and across the pixels. If I am wrong, it is still a nice feeling to mistakenly have.
I am so serious about what I do; I must be or I wouldn’t continue to do it. I am unknown to the masses and for good reason. The masses want solutions and there are none. The masses want confirmation and it can’t be given. The masses want themselves and they do not exist except as individuals. What a mess. Messes are things we can identify with. Messes sprout wings without notice.
As the two women were wheeling me down the hall today, I said something silly about realizing I looked just like my mother, meaning I couldn’t see that until I had the surgery. “Then your mother must have been beautiful,” one of them said. What a lovely thing to say to a patient on the way to eye surgery. I really loved her for that, even though she had her tongue-in-cheek.
I came home a bit nauseous from the anesthesia but was fine after a couple of hours rest. Took a bath and made myself a grilled cheese sandwich and had a piece of frozen dessert pie. Life is good. Don’t miss it.
I was having an email chat with a friend with whom I have much in common. We have leveled with each other about needing large amounts of silence. I have a theory about this, but it is hard to put into words because it is not about words. Let me know if you resonate with what I say.
From the earliest age I had a sense of disquietude about being away from home. I remember spending the night with a friend before I was five. My father picked me up because I cried and said I wanted to go home. This has continued on some mysterious level for my entire life. You see, the soul knows what it needs. It will simply not be fooled.
By the time I was thirteen I had begun to have panic attacks and social anxiety. The only cure for me was “home.” I don’t accept that this was a disorder but an order—from somewhere deep in my soul. I had no label that said “introvert”written on my forehead, but it was nevertheless true. I need to be alone most of the time.
And out of this solitude comes my calling, the almost daily writing that I do, despite what is going on in my outer life. As Vernon Howard told us, “The inner life and the outer life are the same.”
My destiny is quite clear to me, and not one that I have always relished. I belong to another order than the social one. From outside the circle I serve the inside. Raise your hands if you understand. Higher principles require total dedication. Oh, we always slip and fall, but we manage to return to that solitary center. And from that center, which I call the still point, we heal ourselves and then the world.
My husband and daughter live in universal peace now; I can only hope to join them when I leave the body. In the meantime, just know that the words I write arise from stillness. I have little idea of how the writing is done; it flows from a place both above and below me. It just happens, like everything in life does.
I am filled with flaws and failings, just as we all are. I don’t care how many positive statements are pasted on the walls of Facebook, I know when it is time for me to go home. Home is that place you recognize by its deep quality of peace, the peace not found in this world. From that place healing happens all around you. The darkness that used to dog you has fallen away from lack of feeding. Now you float on something lighter than air.
It’ll be 2 weeks tomorrow since my first cataract surgery. During this time I can barely see, even with my old glasses on. They are too strong and make me seasick. This is probably the longest time I have ever been away from the blog.
A week from tomorrow I get the second eye done and in 3 weeks after that I will have new glasses. It is has been a strange and enlightening experience to have this much time on my hands.
I deeply appreciate the donations made but can certainly use a few more. It seems that only a small handful of people throw in to help ease the cost of the site and my work on it. I would encourage you to donate on a regular basis if you are profiting from my work in any way at all.
I have been off Facebook long enough to know I will not return except to keep apprised of local announcements and to check in on a handful of friends. I do not miss it at all.
I dream a lot at night, mostly unpleasant excursions into my past. The old family issues do not dissolve; they recur again and again during a lifetime. And the dreams feel so real. It takes a while to shake them off when I wake up.
Rob is chauffeuring me to the eye doctor, grocery, etc. I know he is tired of it. I am watching the HBO doc about Dr. Dre and Jimmy I. I hate to confess it, but I love the new Gong Show.
I am trying to get used to seeing myself without glasses; it is such a shock. Maybe I will do a video soon. I shouldn’t have any problem doing that. If someone has a subject you would like for me to talk about, leave a comment.
Dear Friends who have contributed to keep the site going, thank you so much. For those of you who haven’t donated, please consider it. Those who donate come into contact with me personally and realize that there is a string tugged between us, a heart string, if you will. I am a real person. I do this because it is what I do and who I am. But at some point, I have to cut back on how much time and energy I spend here.
I am not dispensing universal nondual advice, far from it. This is, instead, a personal journey back to the Self. As Leonard Cohen said, it is a baffling journey. No nondual teacher can fully live what they give out as the truth. No one is perfect.
I have to go rest my eyes now. Chip in what you can. And what I need is continuing contributions for that is how I write, continually.
Here is the link to click to donate….
A snakeskin right at my kitchen door. Change is underway. I still won’t be able to read for a month or so. Just in small bits. Enough to get by.
Only 3 donations…looks like the handwriting is on the wall. Less time here with you all. God knows best.
If you care about what I do and want me to continue posting here, please donate what you can now. Some of you have been reading me for years. I would so appreciate it if you could support me via a donation. Otherwise, I am hanging it up. One reaches that point, ultimately. I have a goal of at least $300 for now.
Someone reposted this on her Facebook page. I wrote in a few years back.
from Vicki Woodyard, worth rereading ~
You go to the guru in hopes of finding enlightenment. Instead, you meet your own darkness head-on. How can it be otherwise? But the guru knows a dirty little secret. You are not your badness any more than you are your goodness. You are nobody dressed up psychologically as someone. The sooner you can shed those rags, the better off you will be. But you continue to cling to them time after time after time. The ego has a very thick skull and beats it against the wall of the guru’s heart until one magnificent day it cracks and the light begins to seep in.
A good guru is worth his salt and will pepper you with the shot of wisdom until you clutch your imaginary hands to your imaginary chest and lie dead on the battlefield. It is then, and then only, that he will come and tenderly scoop you up and carry you off the field. I am speaking metaphorically, of course. But it’s like that.
The guru knows everything about you and loves you anyway. He is already in your heart. He had you at hello and he will never say good bye. But in between, your ego will be chopped liver. He will ignore you and chastise you at the same time. He will teach you lessons that give you no room for escaping them. And yet you have given him your life and that isn’t even enough. He wants you to see that you have no life outside of the One.
My guru had to break every bone in my psychological body. And no matter how hard it got, I couldn’t let go of my self-defense. I was too smart for my own good. So he pounded me into fine grist for the mill. Poured me into the finest possible sieve and stuck me into the hottest oven. I was that stubborn.
Why am I writing this to you on a Fourth of July weekend? Because this is the only thing I have worth doing. Confessing my sins in fireworks that would light up the sky. The play’s the thing, said Willy S. And it all feels so real, until it doesn’t. I am practicing gratitude these days. Perhaps because freedom is real only when you are. And that’s the truth.
I am recovering from cataract surgery and cannot focus on the screen for long. A wonderful chance for me to take a good long inner look, and I hope you can do the same. This is what I see.
Almost 20 years writing daily about the inner journey, 3 books and thousands of essays. Now I see that it has been exclusively for my own benefit. I have indeed become a writer. It is what I love to do. But I also love the silence I find only at the still point of a quiet mind. That is the true knowledge of the heart.
I may retire altogether from the screen. Who knows? If my work continues to be of value to you, your inner spirit, I gently suggest making a small donation to keep the blog afloat.
If I get enough, I will return. If not, I shall realize that the time for being in the public eye is over.
The tao knows what is best; I can only offer up words that point to the difficulty of even waking up a little bit.
See you down the road.
With love always,