Be happy in your unhappiness. Be unhappy in your happiness. The law of reverse effort is quite remarkable. Just turn around and go the other way and you will meet yourself in the middle. When you get there, give yourself a hug. You just hugged everyone on the planet. What goes around comes around.
Since there is purported to be no doer, disregard everything I just wrote. Donuts, anyone? I thought so!

Miriam Louisa is an old friend, a gifted artist, writer and one of the most creative people I know online.
She has me on her list of Wide Awake Women! Yesterday she featured me and my book in her blog. Pay her a visit and experience the light she offers.
http://thisunlitlight.com

a mind full of light by guest Vicki Woodyard
POSTED ON FEBRUARY 4, 2012 BY MIRIAM LOUISA

“A drop of water has the tastes of the water of the seven seas: there is no need to experience all the ways of worldly life. The reflections of the moon on one thousand rivers are from the same moon: the mind must be full of light.
~ Hung Tzu-ch’eng, 1593-1665

How do you get a mind full of light? That is an intriguing question. Like a dipper of cold water, a mind full of light would be soothing to the parched soul. Enlightenment must equal that.

But wait a minute. Hang on a sec; there is no mind. It has been said, however, that when the mind is still it can reflect the Self. That is why we sit in meditation, pray, do zazen, whirl, and so forth. We want what we haven’t got, a mind full of light.

I am not such a good student of Zen koans. To me the sound of one hand clapping is pretty clear. A dog has Buddha-nature and you can’t put a head on top of a head, but I am getting off topic. I see that someone has put up a sign saying, “Mind has just been mopped. Stay off of it.” Okay, okay.

Right now I am in the school cafeteria of life and as usual I have put more on my tray than I can eat. First I grabbed dessert—lemon icebox pie. Then I saw clear red cubes of Jell-o and grabbed that too. Next came fried chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans—gotta have a yeast roll and a cup of coffee. That’ll be—how much?!

I sat down with some other students and saw that they had done the same thing. Bitten off more than they could chew. Karma, predestination, free will, nonduality all look pretty tasty until you start to consume your attachments. Belly ache, get the Pepto, call the witch doctor—where’s a good shaman when you need her?

I had completely forgotten that I wanted a mind full of light—an empty tray sitting serenely, reflecting light from the overhead fluorescent bulb. I come to myself—hear dishes banging, silverware clanking and water running. I just sit and take it all in. So that’s how I get a mind full of light. Neat.”

~ Vicki Woodyard

If you haven’t delighted in doing so yet, this guest post from Vicki is a gentle reminder to read her book, LIFE WITH A HOLE IN IT: That’s How The Light Gets In.

The e-book and paperback versions can be ordered here: http://www.booklocker.com/books/4931.html

Jerry Katz has said, “Vicki Woodyard is one of the treasures of spiritual literature.”

I so agree!

I have written a book that took place in the depths of my soul. Inwardly I was breaking. Outwardly I was shaking, trying to hold everything in place. It felt like planets were falling from the sky and I was either dodging them or trying to hold them up. It was a miserable, miserable descent into hell. All of the teachings flew in my face and mocked me, or so it seemed.

I had been raised to be a good little girl and I did my best to keep up the facade. Your husband is dying. Be a good little wife. Go with him to the doctor, take over the jobs he used to do, continue to maintain a good home and never let ‘em see you sweat. I didn’t.

Writing quickly became my salvation. I knew how to write. I did not know how to watch a fatal disease unfold in front of my eyes and sleep in my bed every night. For I was nurse as well as wife. Towards the end he was my child and I was his parent. But I could write.

I was an embedded reporter from the chemo room. I sat patiently there for hours while Bob was hooked up to an IV. I loved the courage of the patients and their families. I realized I was more practical than I gave myself credit for. The only thing that really stymied me was driving. Some days I would have to let Bob off on the ground floor and then try and find a parking spot in a crowded garage. One time I just couldn’t remember where I left the car and the security guard has to put us in his van and drive us around until I said “Oh, there it is.” And yet I was a force of nature 7 days a week. Of course I was exhausted. In my despair one day I cried out to Bob, “You would never take as good care of me as I am taking of you!” It was the truth but it was coming from a very dark place. I was losing myself as well as him.

I stood by him and wrote. I watched him be valiant. I listened to his stories of childhood because he needed to sum up his life. So we sat at the kitchen table and talked, our son listening with a breaking heart.

Today I had an earth-shaking cry. It did me so much good. I cried for every moment of those five years. I cried for the hard ways in which I have learned my lessons. Yesterday a plumber treated me like a nutcase for telling him he had installed my bath tub faucets backwards. That is what brought on the tears. He is a jerk, but he led me to the place I needed to go.

I know how to write. I know how to express things in an intuitive straightforward way. I am not sure I know how to love myself. That is the last lesson and the hardest.

If you enjoy my writing, please order a copy of LIFE WITH A HOLE IN IT: That’s How The Light Gets In.
It can be ordered by clicking on the book image.