Vicki Woodyard

2010-11-15T11:53:00.000-08:00

My new blog is here:

http://www.nondualitynow.com

Pay me a visit and sign up for the feed. It'll be worth your while!

Thanks and love,
Vicki

2010-09-28T16:49:00.000-07:00

You get to the high places by way of the low....

I had a transformative experience this weekend. I flew to Memphis for the memorial service of my aunt. It was a time, of course, for a family reunion, and our little family was in need of it. My aunt lived to be 97, so we all knew she had lived a full life. After the graveside service, we gathered at a beautiful park for a picnic.

I took my copy of LIFE WITH A HOLE IN IT. I passed it around and asked everyone to actually lay hands on it and I told them my prayer for the book—that it would find its way into the hearts of those that were open to receive it. My sister-in-law wanted me to autograph her copies and I said I couldn’t since she was out of town. “I’ll order the books, mail them to you, you sign them and mail them back to me,” she said firmly. I looked at her with wonder and she said, “Vicki, it’s a family thing.” I was moved.

My sister’s birthday was the next day and we all had brunch at Brennan’s of New Orleans. The food was ambrosial. At the picnic my cousin, whose mother we had memorialized, had served us the best barbecue on earth (Memphis, Tennessee) I realize some of you will argue with that, but I have a bully pulpit here in which I proclaim Memphis barbecue to be the best. We ended with an Italian dinner at a marvelous restaurant called Pete and Sam’s. Their barbecue pizza has been featured on The Food Network. My son got his picture taken with Mr. Sam, who is in his eighties and holds court at the register, where he rings up most of the sales.

Our flight back to Atlanta was yesterday morning. My son said, “Do you want to stop by the cemetery again?” I said. There was a crystalline blue sky. We walked over to the family plot, me holding LIFE WITH A HOLE IN IT in my hand. Rob, my son, had his camera in the trunk and I asked him to go get it. Then I placed the book on my husband’s grave marker and asked Rob to take a photo.

“I’ve been finding pennies, heads up, recently,” he said. “ I intended to leave one on each grave after the memorial Saturday, but didn’t, so I’ll put a penny on Dad’s grave and Laurie’s (his younger sister.) The wind had picked up, so he put the penny on the book to hold the cover down before he took the picture. We stood there in silence for a few moments and savored the symbolic completion of the little book's journey. After all, it has its roots in the loss of the beloved. Then I moved the book to my daughter’s grave and we repeated the process there.

“Look,” I said, pointing to the sun. Light was breaking through the gigantic oaks. It resembled the book’s cover photo, which was taken in Norway. He took some shots of the trees and sun and I knew this day in the life of my little book was transformative. The roots of the book lay within my heart and the light was breaking through the clouds of illusion. It had been a long journey on the horizontal level and a wink in the eye of eternity.

As we drove to the airport, I left with a heart full of peace and gratitude. You reach the high places by way of the low.

http://www.booklocker.com/books/4931.html

2010-09-21T05:48:00.000-07:00

How Sorrow Gave Me The Gift Of Self-Kindness

I have not always been kind to myself. Like any other ego, I am capable of self-critiquing until the sky looks level. But my life took a sharp turn when I was thirty-two years old. My only daughter was diagnosed with a fatal cancer at the age of three. She became a patient at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee, and I became drenched in sorrow. Sopped in self-pity and rage, I nevertheless found the courage to help keep her alive for another three years.

By the time she died, I was exhausted beyond belief and knew I had to go with. Our son was ten when she died and he, too, had been through the hell of losing his only sibling. We were isolated deeply in our bereavement. No one knew what to say or how to treat us. Some mothers told their children that Laurie had moved away. She had finished first grade, been a Bluebird and made innumerable friends. Sadly, their sorrow kept them from coming around.

But I was on the spiritual path and knew that my burning desire to walk on until the end would keep my spirit alive. I kept it to myself, however. Within ten years, I had found my teacher and devoted countless hours to studying what he taught. That I was the Self in all beings and that God was within. My heart, however, was not light, even though I was bathed in it. I had to move through the grieving process one painful day at a time. It seemed never ending.

Life went on. We moved into a new house and my spiritual studies deepened. But in 2000 my husband received his own fatal diagnosis and he was told he had less than three years left. Believe it or not, this was harder on me in some ways than my daughter’s death. I was older and my husband was my strength, or so I thought. Now I became his and I cursed the situation like you wouldn’t believe. All of my inner work seemed lost. I wept until my face looked like a giant puff. But I was determined to grow. And grow I did. I had to witness my anger, fear, denial, all of the stages of grief. I went through them during the four and a half years that he survived.

At the end I was left with myself alone. And kindness began to move in me. Self-kindness. Mercy towards this woman who had lost half her family. It manifested powerfully. I began saying no to things I had no interest or energy in doing. I kept up my meditation and writing. I moved slowly through each day, as if I was teaching a child how to live. But the child was me. And I listened to her and comforted her. I played soft music to her at night when she couldn’t sleep. I lit candles for her and let her watch as much TV as she liked.

It was obvious to me that self-kindness was a spiritual teaching. And so it is. And so I am flowering in the wilderness of sorrow. And learning that kindness, as Naomi says, follows sorrow as surely as new flowers follow the rain.

You may buy my book at Booklocker.com.http://www.booklocker.com/books/4931.html

Selling this book one heart at a time. May it come into your life if it is meant to be.

2010-09-16T08:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers,

LIFE WITH A HOLE IN IT is available for sale at
http://www.booklocker.com/books/4931.html

I have spent all summer working on it. Those of you who are regulars know the story well, but now people who don’t know me can read it and hopefully embrace it. I have certainly given it my all and know that light surrounds it as it goes out into the world.

Someone gave me a reading almost two years ago in which she saw the book already written. This encouraged me to bring it to reality on the physical plane. I had lived it; now I needed to make it available to others. Bob Woodyard, I am sure, is keeping a benevolent eye on it from on high, since it is his story as well. Love does not end with the death of the body but grows richer by the physical absence. I know that.

Here is a piece of good news. I am beginning work on a new website. This one is almost ten years old and in need of some sprucing up. My outlook has matured in some ways and remained the same where it counts. I want the new site to be a place that encourages regulars, people who can help spread the word about it, people that believe in what I do. That helps and blesses me no end. Right now I have no way of getting comments and the site will allow for that. I will keep bobwoodyard.com up and running for now while I am figuring out what bells and whistles to put on the new one.

My life is very simple and the website will continue to reflect that. No reason for jargon when direct contact with reality is at hand. Let me hear from you....and please order a copy of Life With A Hole In It.

Love, Vicki

2010-08-10T07:21:00.000-07:00

I have made the astounding discovery that I am not a neoadvaitist. Duh! That is just not a girdle I want to wear. The love handles of my bhakti disposition aren’t comfortable within the confines of an Indian philosopy adopted by westerners as their very own. Oh, I agree that “I am” is the most powerful sentence ever uttered; but it, of itself, can be merely a sentence that sends you to parroting jail.

Inside that jail are the parrots of parsing that dominate online nonduality. Polly wants a cracker and needs someone to put a file in it so she may escape. The bars of “I am” are restrictive if only intellectually squawked.

Wholeness is a term I prefer. In my wholeness I resonate with who I am. Perhaps I will always be a plus size in comparison to the runway models of advaita.

Right now the parrots are squawking madly in the cage. Bring it, birds, for I am about to fly away.

2010-08-05T05:14:00.000-07:00

I did Jerry Katz's radio show, Nonduality Street. Listen here. It's half an hour of entertainment. Give it a listen.

2010-08-02T07:50:00.000-07:00

Musical Coda

I don't know if anyone is reading the blog these days. I may quit it altogether since I have the website that people can visit.

Anything I say here is usually said there as well. The only virtue of this blog is that people can comment. But few have found it.

My writing is musical and always has threads of sorrow and grace running through it. I didn't realize that until I wrote a little humor piece for someone and she said, "It's so musical!" And I realized that is how I approach my writing and speaking. As if I were playing the keyboard of my Mac or speaking music into the air. I like rhythm, tempo and the emotions I can evoke in that way.

Any comments?

2010-06-24T05:51:00.000-07:00

Spirituality and Loss

In our culture, grief and loss are often ignored, particularly in online nonduality. I became a writer while in the process of losing my husband to a fatal cancer. I, apparently, was the only one going through such an ordeal that was willing to write about it. It was considered poor form by many whose main goal was to rise above all personal identification.

But these days I notice that more and more nonduality proponents are undergoing necessary losses and being more open about it. That is a good thing, for awareness of grief is the same as awareness of not-grief. The witness does its job and the personal self, although essentially unreal, is in the dark night of the soul. Someone needs to notice because the veil has temporarily dropped.

We are all the characters in the greatest story ever told. When we have someone beloved in the valley of the shadow, we are personifying grief and loss. When Jesus goes into the tomb, we are Him as a person. When Mary cries for the loss of her Friend, we are her. And when she sees Him in his new body, we are both Mary and the Christ. It is all a teaching vehicle. But let us never forget that we are learning conscious compassion. It is poor form to say that Mary should have known better.

When I write about my inner life of moving through grief and beyond, sometimes I am amazed that I am still here and in a new place. It no longer feels raw and unbearable. I move through my life in an emptier way, but empty is my new fullness. Every evening as I do my stretching exercises at the foot of my bed, I gesture to the place where my husband used to sleep. I speak a word to him and a word to me, as if both of us were together in that place. I am comforted to know that we actually are. I am not sure what place we left behind, but where we are now is good enough.

I know you are already wondering what place I mean. It is hard to articulate but I will try. It is that place that has lived through the crucifixion and the resurrection of the personal. It is bittersweet and hard-won. It has gone through the valley of the shadow and become the shadow and the light. What it is now is whole and unreachable. Pure and stained with all that has touched the glory. Willing to give up dreams of perfection. Going on because every step was necessary. Every step was leading back home.

2010-06-23T10:50:00.001-07:00

Not much goin' on here down south. I made some lemon blueberry scones that are to die for. Yesterday it was Chai cookies. Too hot to be out stirring around. So the stirring is in the mixing bowl.

Here's a homemade essay from scratch: Enjoy with a scone and cup of tea.

Resting In the Real

Resting in the real underlies everything we do, so why do we resist letting go of what is unreal? It is the unreal that clings to the unreal. The aphorism “Cling nowhere” is something that sounds downright wise, but we are too busy clinging to investigate it. Our monkey minds have very long tails and busy little paws.

There is a What If factory in my mind that is never short of workers. Thousands of thoughts hire thousands of other thoughts to manufacture What Ifs all day long. The irregulars are given away. What are some of the irregulars? What Ofs, What Fors, What Nows. You can drop by the factory and take home an armload for nothing.

In my particular What If factory, awakening is a primary product. What if I was awake and what if I was enlightened are popular products. What if I stay asleep and what if I die before I wake sell well to the advaita market.

The What If factory never suffers a downturn in sales unless an enlightenment seminar comes to town. And then, look out. For about a week, the factory has to let some thoughts go. That is because enlightenment is not about thought and What If is only a thought. I don’t like to admit it, but What If is a fearmonger disguised as a useful business. And I am running it in my head!

Down below the head is the heart, the original mattress factory. Here I rest in the real.

Vicki Woodyard

2010-06-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

What I Know (Written around the table at Cancer Wellness)

I know how to cut to the chase–

To lay my heart bare to the bone.

To stand my ground as it slips away

Knowing I will fly at just the right time.

I know my pain and so I know yours

and I know how to lift the load.

I know how to settle into peace and

how to sleep at night.

I know nothing about anything that

isn’t true to my little, beating fleeting heart.

It’s all written there scratched out by a dime

I found in my pocket.

Vicki Woodyard

2010-06-17T07:01:00.000-07:00

A Ballet Of The Soul

I see life as a ballet of the soul. In spite of crisis, boredom, ennui, tragedy, grace of the soul is being danced across the ages. It is an eternal rhythm that is subtly experienced. Believe it or not, this dance is not done by anyone that we know ourselves to be. It is the part of us that is immanent and transcendent. It knows nothing of sweat or toil. It’s only job is to express what IT is. And what it is is grace beyond measure.

We sit at the table drinking coffee and ruing what we did or didn’t do. We go to sleep and wake with aching heads and remember bad dreams. We don’t know how we got here or when we will leave. And the dance is happening. We work and rest and act the part we have been given to play. And the dance changes step and rhythm and lifts us up over the fog and lets us see the stars.

And when the dance needs a partner it finds one. And then it may leave that partner at the altar or by some violent act. And we denounce the dance. Indeed the mystery of the dance is that it is anonymous. No one there can claim to be anything but a dancer of what is the dance of life. And all too soon a silence falls upon the floor. And then it is that the dance begins on another stage in another universe. We sigh and go on. And then once again we find ourselves taken up by a new rhythm. And the dance finds us a new partner. And so it goes.

I found this astonishingly beautiful clip...please watch it.

2010-06-16T12:47:00.001-07:00

June 16, 2010--Well, folks, everyone is out in the sun doing summery things. And it isn’t even summer yet. Here in Atlanta everyone is baking. Swami Z is too hot to bake. I haven’t seen him lately. As far as my book, I am going to take a deep breath and have it edited. I didn’t plan on having anyone edit it but myself, but it has been suggested...so I am looking for an editor now.

I have made some new MP3’s but the last one I posted, The Crate, got so few listeners that I might as well save them for another time. If anyone is itching to hear a new one, hit the Donate button and I will upload them :) Editors aren’t free and I am scraping the bottom of the barrel at this point. But one day I will have that book available for you, hopefully in a couple of months.

In the meantime, go to the stillpoint and listen to some symphonic silence. I do.

Love, Vicki

2010-06-11T07:36:00.001-07:00

The Fall

I fell into the darkness seeking light. Oh, it was a terrible, bone crushing landing. The pieces of black sky and the dark waters of midnight swept over me and I was gone, lost in the land of mechanical introspection. The professor who tutored me in this place was called Nameless.

Soundless was Professor Nameless and my inner screams were magnified a thousand fold. I was searching my mind for a route of escape and the harder I searched, the darker it got. Where was the fair land of enchantment called enlightenment? Had the professor hidden it under a diabolical rock?

And then the winds of despair began to whip over me. My lips were parched and my throat closed around the words, God, help me. Nothing was heard now and the professor had disappeared into the midnight.

Suddenly something occurred to me. I turned around and began to walk away from myself. I had no other direction in which to go, you understand. From that point on I was enveloped in grace. It didn’t matter if I made my escape from darkness or not. The “I” seeking escape was left behind. I walked out a free spirit. I turned one last time to scan the darkness and all I saw was light.

2010-06-09T12:22:00.001-07:00

Today my daughter would have been 39. Coincidentally (?) I sent my manuscript in to be formatted for publication. I have gone over it a jillion times and had to make a firm decision to STOP and be good enough.

No one is reading this here blog. Is it that dull? Is everyone going to my website instead. Does it really matter?

What really matters is that we are all living our passion. And I am doing that. Mine burns with a low, steady flame. I love being with the silence and writing as I am moved to do so.

I cherish an ordinary day filled with nothing but the day itself.

At night I love to settle in and watch TV. Right now I am watching So You Think You Can Dance....I love dance.

So that's it from the bottom line of everything's fine.

Love,
Vicki

2010-06-01T05:32:00.001-07:00

I Am Not My Thoughts; I Just Think I Am

Beyond the mind, there is a place of deep silence. Cross the borders of the mechanical crankings of thought and enter there. See if you can stay longer than a few seconds. The monkeys guarding the gate know that you are apt to leave silence and become them. They know the score.

Once you are a monkey, you go ape. You swing through the jungle of your wild emotions and scattershot thoughts like it would do you any good. And your eye is on the silence, you will return there any moment now. There is a nice ripe banana that is distracting you. But you will return to silence after that.

Comes the day when the pain of thought is cracking your heart wide open. It may be a disgrace, a shame or a loss. Never mind what it is; it is the event that causes you to make a vow to cross the border once again.

The silence says nothing about your return. It offers itself to you with generosity and you say a silent prayer. This is your home, your essence, your grace. Perhaps it knows how you meant to return, how you suffered when you thought you were your thoughts. But it says nothing. What happens in silence stays in silence.

2010-05-26T13:00:00.000-07:00

You Are Bigger Than The World

You are bigger than the world...yes, you. We all have a sense of this when we come into the planet for our sojourn as such and such a personality. By the time we are in our teens, we have somehow come up with a pretty permanent character to play. And yet, for all the protection it seems to offer, we are constantly in conflict with ourselves.

The spiritual path opens up before us when we come to understand that this conflict can never be resolved by thinking about it. On the contrary, the more we think, the more we sink down into the morass of our egos.

When I began studying with Vernon Howard, he was living in Boulder City, Nevada. He chose it, I think, because it was isolated and in the desert. You really had to make an effort to arrive in his presence. I went for the first time, guided by a dream. I had been listening to one of his audio tapes and knew I needed to see him in person.

He was, in a word, formidable. He allowed no room for anyone to argue with him intellectually. His job was to back our personas into a corner and he did an excellent job. By the same token, his job was also to confirm what our intuition was saying about him. With me, this happened in dreams, in things that students would say to me, and by synchronicity.

He never lied. And it is worth all the effort a student makes to be in the presence of someone without guile. Someone who knows the ego is rotten to the core and bent on keeping its so-called owner in hell.

I am a lifelong student of truth and luckily for me, I always carry that with me, regardless of any ego shenanigans I might be up to. My husband was a student of truth as well. As some of you know, I have written many essays about our experiences as he bravely faced his death from multiple myeloma. Recently he came to me in a dream. It was wonderful and sad at the same time. That is how the path goes. It’s not about roses, roses, but about roses and thorns. Our egos are thorns that we must reckon with. Our true nature shines on.

There is a new MP3 on Audio 2010. Something about The Bars of Thought...

2010-05-17T07:47:00.000-07:00

Just uploaded When The Mind Falls Away on Audio 2010 . Give it a listen. I like it.

2010-05-14T14:29:00.001-07:00

Dear Bob,

Everything is coming together at last. The book is finished. Within the last two weeks, both Rob and I had someone run into our cars and they are both in the body shop. He is walking there right now to pick mine up until I can find a new one. Mine is totalled, but they are going to straighten it out just enough so that I can drive it until I get a new one.

I feel this is a purging of sorts. I cannot feel one negative thing about it. I have learned the lesson well. That no matter what happens, choosing to go through it consciously is the only way out. And when we don’t do that, we are still forgiven.

Our love is fixed in the firmaments. You know that. Just as you know that I am doing fine. Better than fine. Although there are days when I may get discouraged, most of the time I feel my purpose in life is being fulfilled. My writing benefits me first and foremost; and hopefully, a few others.

So it’s on with the book, my love. A new chapter in my life is about to begin and I look forward to it. Of course, time is a illusion, but so are we, so is two-ness. There is only the One.

Love,

Vicki

2010-05-12T12:57:00.000-07:00

For the great mystery is contained within us. It is flowing like wine and congealing like aspic. It is breaking our self-concepts into smithereens and dashing us into the pilings of the cosmic pier. The tsunami of the Self is bearing down on us and we are rushing for cover. No more time for tweeting and blogging and texting while we drive. Too late. It’s always too late.

How ironic. After posting the essay yesterday, a lady ran into the left rear side of my car in the grocery parking lot today. Crrrunch. Bang. Reread the paragraph above and make your own conclusions.

2010-05-11T18:52:00.001-07:00

I have been so caught up in working on my book that I have not taken the time to enter the flow of intuitive writing, which I love to do. So I am going to clear my head and do that before something else snags my feeble little mind.

I have this to say. In spite of loss and sorrow and not wanting to go on alone, I have, I have. I have conquered innumerable fears for no other reason than it was time. The flow carries us even against our wills. What a mystery we are enacting while we brush our teeth and then eat chocolates before bed. When we strain at gnats and swallow camels. And truffles. And that is who we are.

And who we are not.

And there is never enough time to turn our lives around by taking thought. That bus pulled out of the station long ago.

And so we fritter our lives away while cancer or AIDS or whatever is taking someone’s life tonight. And somewhere hearts are breaking and stomachs are tight with dread and nurses bring pills and patients go suddenly quiet and leave on a mystery train.

And who we are suddenly kicks in. And we do something great. Or not. And maybe a crack opens up in our psyche and an angel wings past it and we feel a chill. And then we know that we are not alone.

And that we are standing on holy ground and wearing mismatched socks and it’s okay.

And so it goes.

2010-05-10T08:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday my son took some pictures of me. Thought I'd post one.
I knew he'd have to be patient with me since it was Mother's Day. Been feeling good about the book I'm trying to finish. Hopefully it will open a new chapter in my life. I was told I would do this, and it's taken a while for me to realize the dream.

2010-05-07T10:43:00.000-07:00

I'm getting excited about the publication of my first book. I'll let you know when the title is locked in. The manuscript is all but finished. In any enterprise, tying up loose ends is the hardest thing because you save the thorniest problems for last. They are not always the biggest, either.

It is, essentially, the story of the five years that as a spiritual student, I struggled with my husband's impending death. Perhaps I feel better because I know how proud he would be that I actually finished it. He was my biggest champion, of course.

There are many things that I couldn't include. Between the lines of the essays lies the heart of the story. Bigger issues than life and death, even. Issues about the soul's purpose in taking a human birth.

I hope to write a follow-up to it in which I write more about how I live my life these days. The essays are already written, for the most part. It is the stringing them together that's the challenge.

Love, Vicki

2010-05-05T14:22:00.000-07:00

Went to a Dreams and Mindfulness Session today at Cancer Wellness. Half a dozen of us sat around the table with two facilitators and went into a centered space and shared dreams. This is the most wonderful place. It's my experience that these wellness centers offer more than satsang. They offer a place of continued connection with who you really are. And they are free to cancer patients and family members.

At some point my spiritual path converged with wellness and those two things are working as one.

If the light of the body is the eye, the light of the spirit is "I."

Sometimes disease humbles us like nothing else will. Ironically, the cancer patients that I know are taking care of their spiritual lives better than many so-called spiritual students. The lines blur as the eyes fill with tears.

2010-05-04T12:11:00.001-07:00

The Mental Pause

I am going through the Mental Pause. Not the menopause. This comes about the same time, though. Some advaitists teach this as an actual principle, can you imagine? They would have us do this on purpose! They advocate being in a room and staying with the emptiness. Not wondering why you came into the room in the first place. Was it to get some peanut butter or to defrost the refrigerator. Do Zen masters have this problem. Do they just sit and forget stuff, like milk and bread on the way home from the zendo. Are there patriarchs of peanut butter?

The old master sat with

his tongue stuck to the roof

of his mind.

Yum.

I am an advocate of all things tasty, fresh and good for you. I just can’t always remember it. So I end up eating Fritos and Cheetos and Cheeze Whiz and Cocoa Puffs with whole milk instead of soy or almond milk. I am like that in my impermanency. My thoughts are definitely impermanent. That is perhaps why I cannot finish what I start. War and Peace, to me, might include installments of Tvgasm.com and Facebook pages of my nearest and dearest jillion friends. I don’t Twitter because I don’t have time for the inanity. Stop the inanity. Now there’s a good Tweet.

The new master sat

with his iPad

watching the old frog

plop into the virtual pond.

Blog. Tweet.

As I travel through the badlands of this essay on the old gray mare of my mind, I suddenly decide to alight and encamp among the blog rushes growing wild around the virtual pond. Soon I am lost in thoughts of assorted and sundry enlightened ones blogging about their spiritual virtuosity. The reeds and clarinets of awakened egos are suddenly giving me a headache of monstrous proportions. Before I know it, I will be just another nondual celeb faking it until I am making it. So onto the final haiku:

I dismantled my walking stick today

and sat down on the ground of my being.

Ouch.

Vicki Woodyard

http://www.bobwoodyard.com

2010-04-30T06:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers, I have been in the throes of putting a manuscript together. I couldn’t come up with the right title and that was driving me crazy. I knew I hadn’t found the exact one. But last night it came to me. I won’t say what it is quite yet, but it is exactly right. I asked Swami Z what to call it. As some of you know, he is a fictional character that gives me full access to my heart. You may wonder how a piece of fiction can help me. Well, we are all fictional characters playing our roles on the stage of life.

I haven’t been posting many updates lately and probably no one cares. For those of you who do, I am still here...just working behind the scenes.

I write an essay from time to time or upload an MP3 I have recorded. Here is a brand-spanking new one called The Noisy Mind on Audio 2010 . If you can donate, please do so. Thank you for your presence in my life.

Love, Vicki

2010-04-20T08:20:00.000-07:00

Just uploaded Inside Outside on Audio 2010 . I thought I better get a new MP3 up before I forgot how to make them. I hope you will give it a listen. It’s brief, as always. But brief doesn’t mean it’s without depth.

I may have to scrap the blog....most people are visiting my website instead.

It's address is Nurturing the Now .

Blogging is a funny thing. Some like it and some don't. Since my homepage has been up and running for so long, I thought a blog might be an interesting addition, but.....we shall see.

2010-04-18T11:33:00.001-07:00

I was waiting to go to the dentist and just idling around the house. I went over to the bookcase and pulled out a book at random, which was Jonathan Livingston Seagull. An index card fell out of the book. In Bob’s shaky writing was printed these words: "By His stripes we are healed."

Another sign that he is with me as I try and polish my manuscript about our journey together. I am not sure how to interpret that Bible passage. To me, it is saying that by my husband’s sufferings, I am healed. For he surely went through devastation after devastation and bore them all with great dignity. All of his ribs broken from the cancer, all of his bone marrow infiltrated by it, he finally bled to death one drop at a time. In hospice, his nose bled for days until finally his heart stopped. There had been months of transfusions of blood and packed platelets to keep him alive, but finally the doctor said it was time to quit. He didn’t want to go; he wanted to stay as my protector. He asked me if I would ask the doctor to sign him out of hospice and put him back into the hospital.

“Yes, I can do that, if that is what Bob wants,” he said. But Bob died before that happened.

Five years later, an old index card falls out of an inspirational book. I sit and hold it in my hand. I read a bit from the book. “The only true law is that which leads to freedom,” Jonathan said. “There is no other.”

A friend had recommended that I get the book and read it to Bob as he was making his transition. He was never that interested; I suppose he was too weak to pay much attention. So it has been in the bookcase all these years. I have gotten rid of hundreds of spiritual books, but that is one that has remained. And I am so glad.

2010-03-25T15:05:00.000-07:00

I Am Paring Down

This morning I sat in my comfy brown leather recliner and had at it. I pulled up a wooden wastebasket and began my work. I said “I am” and left it at that. The silence felt as silky smooth as a Dove Bar. But that was not why I sat down to work. I was going to run through a pile of self-descriptive adjectives and then toss them in the trash.

For example, I said to myself, “I am bigger than my body.” and so I tossed the words “my body” into the trash. Next I said, “I am bigger than my emotions,” and tossed the words “my emotions” into the trash. I was left with simply “I am.” You get the picture.

It was easy to come up with descriptive adjectives because this was a conscious exercise in self-awareness. It is not so easy to do when you are sleepwalking through your life or when you are in a crisis. When my husband was dying from multiple myeloma, the adjectives around “I am” became as thick as an animal’s winter coat. “I am terrified of losing him. I am afraid I won’t be strong enough. I am angry at the cancer. I am trying hard to do the right thing. I am desperate for a good night’s sleep.”

All of those words and phrases hovering around “I am” reduced me to a pile of mush even though I was on the spiritual path. I was defenseless around a pile of adjectives. I began a correspondence with a man named Peter who was quite ill from a series of strokes. He could barely get around and yet he told me he was “bigger than the sky.”

After his strokes, he found that the old pile of adjectives around him did him no good. “I am a good-looking man, a man’s man,” he told me once. And yet he found himself unable to walk down the hall to the bathroom for two years running. The new adjectives people were using were not particularly helpful. Strings of words like “poor prognosis, stroke victim, unable to work” were now applied to him.

He went to spiritual teachers and found them to be useless. “They could not help me,” he said. “They simply did not know how.” So he did the only thing he was able to do. He sat in the sunshine with a little cat named Alex on his chest. The cat’s purrs, in lieu of a nursing staff, conveyed to him the healing power of nature. He watched the robins run across the grass because they were what he saw. He was grateful in the most basic way. And he began to realize that what he had found was the living experience of himself. No adjectives need apply. And so I sat in my leather recliner in perfectly good health, and remembered that I was not who I thought or felt I was. I simply was.

By the end of the morning I had a wastebasket full of words that seemed to describe me. I was bigger than any of them. I knew what Peter knew, that I was bigger than the sky. I was bigger than anything that could be named or described. Peter is no longer among us and yet he lives within all who loved him. How does he do this? I was never sure how Peter did anything but feel the joy of the moment. “When I in pain, I yell. And when I fall down, I say “ho ho.” But he never latched onto anything. He learned to hold on to “I am” and it became stronger than any stroke could ever be.

He had had a brilliant career and then he had almost no memory of who he was or who his friends were. He couldn’t make change. But he sure made a difference. You see, the “I am” that we all are is indestructible. It is too bad we don’t learn this unless we are reduced to helplessness. In Peter’s case, he saw through the illusion of having a separate self. He realized that no matter where he found himself, he was bigger. And that brought him joy that few of us will ever know.

When I take a walk around my neighborhood, I often see the robins running across the grass. My heart opens to the understanding that Peter gave me. “I am” bigger than anything. I am bigger than the sky.”

Vicki Woodyard

http://www.bobwoodyard.com

2010-03-17T09:32:00.000-07:00

Mar. 16, 2010--Just uploaded True Love Waits on Audio 2010 . It’s about true self-love, which is the last frontier. We don’t turn to it until we have been thoroughly trashed by the illusion that somewhere out there it is waiting for us. No, it is within that we find it. Charity begins within.

Haven't gotten any donations for the month of March. Should you care to donate, now is the time. The word goes out from me faithfully and what comes in is up to God, but the begging bowl is out :)

2010-03-15T18:15:00.000-07:00

A Whiter Shade of Pale

In the end it all comes down to nothing. A baby toddling toward its mother, a graduate receiving his diploma, an old man reaching for his walker, a tearful son or daughter standing over a grave. Why do we try so hard and go so wrong when all that is needed is self-love? What makes us watch our dismal mental movies of failure over and over and never think to get up and leave?

We believe we are powerless in a world gone mad. We feel terrible because we are “not good enough.” But by whose standards are we judging ourselves. Why do we watch TV in order to feel worse about ourselves. Why do we rush to purchase deodorant and just the right new car when inwardly we are parched for pure water? We have Bibles and other holy books close at hand where the truth is laid out for us. We say we believe and yet we feel miserable. Whose fault is it but our own? And how do we mend a broken heart, as the song asks.

A young woman with cancer has just lost her brother to the war and her sister to cancer. What words of wisdom will comfort her? Platitudes are useless and true comforters stand powerless as well. What would I say to that young woman?

Only silence offers solace at times like these. A holy hush that admits that as humans, we can never know the final truth until we become so one with it that our very being is a healing.

2010-03-11T08:07:00.000-08:00

"Everything is foreseen by the higher Self.

And still we buck and fight against

what is forged of destiny and cannot be escaped

except through love."

Vicki Woodyard

Nothing in our lives happens by chance; we just think it does. When I was studying with Vernon Howard, I would frequently have precognitive dreams about my visits there. They told me that I was on the right path even when it felt wrong. And it almost always felt wrong to my ego. But since the ego is an illusion born of the belief that we are separate, why listen to it?

We listen to it because we are afraid. We are also afraid of society with its message to conform. Society preaches love and delivers hate, preaches joy and delivers misery. And yet we stay, in the vain hopes that it will, one fine day, deliver what we have been waiting for.

The only way out of delusion is awareness.

Once in awareness, we see with clear vision, that we are the Self.

And the Self is love incarnate.

2010-03-03T10:49:00.000-08:00

My friend Connie Caldes is a gifted shaman. She has journeyed for me on occasion and each time it is an enriching

experience. She did a soul retrieval for me today and I wrote about it in the poem below. Her website is

Shamanic Dreamtime .

A Piney Wood

The little girl inside of me walks a piney path

following herself home to a hollow tree.

Owl mother beams at her joyfully

as she kneels to crawl into the hole of

the old tree.

Little girl cares for owl babies

until her heart softens into sunlight

and she listens to the wind through

the pines.

Owl mother and her babies,

little girl inside of me all

feeding on love that cares

for all that live.

Now the little girl has returned

to live with me in my grownup home

where I listen to her until my

heart grows warm and melts like wax.

Vicki Woodyard

2010-03-02T01:53:00.000-08:00

Why I Write

I write because I must. Just like everything else I do, it is incomplete, unfinished in some primal way. I think we are all like that. Something is impelling us to move, to grow, to change and yet that something is as ineffable as the wind.

I consider the website a place for what must be to happen. So many years of plodding on, of wondering how much longer I could stand things the way they were...and then suddenly I was out into the sunlight again. Alone. And with nowhere to go and nothing to do. I must be about my Father’s business. And it isn’t selling or buying. What is it, then, that I must do now that I am standing alone and free?

Once I answer that question I can move on up the vertical ladder that we are all born to climb. While I pause on this rung, I am here breathing with you and listening for your voice. Or is it mine? Or ours?

Often I am awake in the wee hours like so many others are. Today is one of those nights :) I just ate a piece of toast and had some Ovaltine. And came in here to visit myself in the form of words to us all. One piece of advice I give myself: Rest easy. The hard part of the journey is over.

Listen to Suffer Consciously on Audio 2010 .

2010-02-25T18:31:00.000-08:00

A Year of Going Deeper

I made an MP3 called No Shit and it got more initial hits than any I have done to date. I like that. It tells me that my willingness to go deeper, to be more myself, has paid off. For those of you who have not listened, it is actually part of the love story between my husband and me. I was being broken on a daily basis and so was he. Whoever orchestrated the event did not include

moonlight and roses.

That is the way of the cross. A long time ago I woke up from a dream where a woman was asking me if I would like to be a teacher. In the dream I said yes. The next part of the dream included my meeting an Indian guru. I asked him for his blessing and he put oil on my head. He asked me if I had a teacher and I said yes.

I don’t remember anything else that happened, but at the end, he said, “You may have some experiences. I have given you the cross.” He was an Indian, so that part of it was strange. But he had such a solemn expression on his face. Suddenly I woke from the dream and remembered those words with a shock. I felt the dream took place on the astral level.

In real life I had just met a mystic who was signing a copy of her book at a local book store. Bob had wanted to go and I told him I had too many books as it was. But at the last minute, I changed my mind and went. She was sitting there all alone, so we had ample time to talk with her. I told her about my teacher, who had recently passed away, and she said, “Well, you had better be at the bus stop or it’s going to go on without you!”

“How did you know about the bus stop?” I asked. She looked at me and said “I don’t, but last night as I was meditating, I heard a voice say, “She better be at the bus stop....” I told her that

Vernon Howard’s last talk was about a young woman who wants to get back home. The moral of the talk was that all she had to do was go to the bus station and ask for a ticket home. Everything else would be done for her.”

The mystic suggested that Bob and I might want to visit her. She lived in a small adjacent town. I was fascinated and in a couple of weeks we were sitting in her home. She said that when she heard the voice in her meditation, she saw a large silver bus with eyes all over it. “It was the safest thing that I have ever seen.”

We talked about the path for a long time. She said she had an Indian guru and that she had an inner guide that told her things. She was a beautiful, intelligent blond and seemed far ahead of me, although she was somewhat younger.

I called her a few days later. “You are very powerful,” she said, “I think you are being called.”

I was both thrilled and terrified by her words. I had never felt powerful in my life and yet I knew that I carried a calling deep within and it was to that she was referring.

“I don’t think I am a teacher,” I told her honestly. And that remains true to this day. I am comfortable writing and recording at home. Perhaps one day I will take the next step.

I had a wonderful friend and guide who passed over in December of 2007. He said I would have a ministry of sorts but that at this point I was simply planting seeds. He felt the recordings were important for me to do and I have always made them without notes or prior thought.

This year is a time for going deeper; I hope you will join me here and on Nurturing the Now .

2010-02-23T15:19:00.000-08:00

Coming...Vicki Woodyard on YouTube...if she gets up the nerve.

So I ordered a Flip HD to do videos with. I’ll keep them short and sweet and to the point, Because that’s how I roll. I also know my strengths and weaknesses and how little I have to do with either one of them.

Today I whiled away the morning setting the little Flip up now here, now there. I cut off my head, moved out of range, coughed, flubbed what I said, etc. Finally I got peevish and relegated little Flip to an assortment of end table debris.

I discovered a wonderful new blog today, http://www.gailstorey.com/ Gail Storey and her webmistress Amber, tickle my funnybone and warm my heart. Happily, some of us are called to do that and there is strength in numbers. I just wish I had a friend like Amber. I have Swami Z , but he ain’t no doll. If anyone should care to create a Swami Z doll, let me know. I will pay you in his homemade cookies 24/7 and 365. I will have him rock you to sleep and enlighten you as to which makes the best disciples and the best cookies. He will claim to do both, but he is a tad senile.

So that’s the news from this part of virtual reality...

Love, Vicki

2010-02-21T06:23:00.000-08:00

A Garden Of White

Twice in my life I have had my heart ripped from my chest. The first time it happened I was thirty-five years old. My only daughter died of a rare childhood cancer when she was seven.

The second time I was considerably older. My husband of thirty-eight years, minus a week, died of a fatal, incurable cancer--multiple myeloma. In between those two devastations, I began walking the spiritual path. Needless to say, it was uphill all the way. But somewhere deep in my soul, I was never bitter. Sorrowful, yes--bitter, no. I just wanted to find God so that He could answer some questions for me. Like “Why are you doing this to me?”

Oh, yes, I am a curious person and there is nothing like double sorrow to hone the edges of the question. It became a piercing point in my side, a crucifixion lance. I had to watch my husband slowly but surely lose his ability to make blood cells. Had to help him in and out of bed, had to make the decision to put him into hospice. Had to call on God for strength and mercy. He delivered.

Five years have now gone by since we laid him to rest. My tears have been transmuted into drops of light. As I type these words into the computer I feel their transformative power. Given to God, sorrow becomes soft rain to make the heart flower once again. This time I am expecting a garden of white.

2010-02-20T09:19:00.000-08:00

Deepak Chopra's Glasses

Nonduality turns out to be nothing more than everything.

Yes, you heard it here first. Nonduality is nothing more than everything, tax included. If you would like to learn more about nonduality, tough. The only teacher in town isn’t taking any new students. His old ones chewed his ear off with useless questions and left him for dead in a No-Parking Zone.

Mountains are mountains again and rivers are rivers and somewhere lies a man with no ear and no stomach for discussion.

Deepak Chopra will be discussing this on Larry King Live any minute now. Stay tuned.

Larry to Deepak: Is it true that there is only everything?

Deepak: Of course, Larry, of course. Tax included. Free shipping for orders over twenty-five dollars on Amazon.com.

Larry: You mean you can order everything on Amazon.com?

Deepak: Except for these glasses I am wearing. I found them in Liberace’s tomb. Do you like them, Larry?

Larry: Hello, Tucson, do you have a question?

Tucson: Tell the guy in the nerd glasses I admire them and would like to own a pair just like them.

Deepak: These are not nerd glasses. Do you see any electrical tape on them? Of course not. I am a man of great wisdom and....glitter. Have you got a mirror, Larry? I love myself...but in a philosophical way, of course.

Larry: Washington, what do you think of Deepak’s eyewear?

Washington: Reminiscent of Elton John on a camel on acid. I’d like to order a pair. Does Amazon.com carry them.

Larry: Of course and you can upgrade to two-day shipping. But we’ve gotten off-topic. After the break: The guru left for dead in a no-parking zone. His students are said to now be following Deepak Chopra’s glasses, which have taken on a life of their own. Deepak, you are no longer needed. Only your glasses hold any interest for our listeners.

Deepak: I can talk about my special relationship with Michael Jackson.....

Larry: Thanks but no thanks, Deepak. After the break, Deepak’s glasses speak. Don’t touch that remote.

Vicki Woodyard

http://www.bobwoodyard.com

2010-02-20T07:54:00.000-08:00

February 20, 2010--Just uploaded The Sticker on the Orange to Audiohttp://www.bobwoodyard.com/Audio2010.html Has lots of Vitamin See :) Other than that, just doing the Work in silence. I am going to make a brief video soon so at least you can see me. It’s always good to learn something new technologically...so as soon as I do it, I’ll post it. In the meantime, carve out some solitude for yourself...

2010-02-18T16:13:00.000-08:00

Yum....learning new things is fun. I'm gonna be putting some pictures on the blog and this is a test run. My son eating dessert somewhere...but I don't remember where. He is six four and can eat anything he likes and not gain weight.

I am eating Valentine's candy on sale. Working my way through three bagfuls of Hershey candy. Sounds like baa baa black sheep.

2010-02-15T13:24:00.000-08:00

-Uploaded A Successful Life on Fishpond. There is also an audio about this. It’s personal yet universal. Give it a listen.

Okay, so I've been spoiling you guys. Giving you all the links to what is happening on the website. There is always new material there written by moi.

So go there, Nurturing the Now and click on Fishpond Thoughts and read A Successful Life. Then hop on over to Audio 2010 and listen to a different version of it.

I'm not sure if anyone is reading this blog or not except for Anonymous ;) No one comments if they do.

I am having a boring day due to the severe cold weather. Over-eating and being too sedentary.

Roses are blue.
Violets are red.
I am sweet
and you are too, possibly.
Who knows?

The zen master in me is about to jump into the old fish pond just to break the monotony. If you hear a splash, it's me in the moment displacing agua....

2010-02-13T09:29:00.001-08:00

The Sky....Is it Falling?
Of course it is....it’s just a matter of where and when.

I just bought myself a crash helmet. Now that I have it on, I will no longer be bothered
by the fear of the sky falling. It’s about time I got practical about it. Up until now, I have worried myself sick about the sky and it’s tenuous grip on reality. And the sky doesn’t give a flip about me; that much I know. It would think nothing of falling on just my house, leaving everything else intact. That is how compassionate the sky is.

I encourage all of you to get a crash helmet. I suspect you have your own fears involving the demise of your perfect little life. You may be planning an outdoor wedding or just a barbecue. If the sky falls, it will ruin the whole thing. No guru can prepare you for such an event. For that, you need a helmet.

Gurus are always telling you not to worry, to just be happy. I believe Meher Baba started that ridiculous belief. Obviously he never had the sky fall on HIM. That would have changed his philosophy. It’s hard to believe in unity when the sky has taken out your skylights and blown out all of your windows. And the insurance adjuster says the sky falling is not an act of God. How dumb is that?

I used to study books about enlightenment until the sky fell on my effing house and now there is no house at all. The sky gave me enlightenment by taking away my house and the security it afforded. Big mistake, Sky. Big mistake. Because today I am wearing a crash helmet and you can’t touch me anymore.

I am offering a special deal on crash helmets. One size fits all and the only color they don’t come in is Sky Blue. I don’t want to give the sky any free advertising. I also have a treehouse you can
timeshare with any or all of your buddies. If you have any brains at all, you will want to order your helmet before the sky gets wind of this and takes us all out.

Vicki Woodyard
http://www.bobwoodyard.com

2010-02-05T07:42:00.001-08:00

She Came To Us

She came to us at birth with a head of dark black hair
which later fell out and came back in a light
wavy brown-blonde.
And then she came to us with a dimple in one
cheek and riddles about what is black and white
and red all over
and then she came to us with a lump in her leg
which was cancer and she was three years old.
And it came to us that this just wasn’t fair.

Her hair all fell out and it came to us that
bald was not only beautiful but hopeful
so she sang and riddled and loved her life.
And it came to us that we would do all that we
could to keep her alive.

And then the cancer came back and there
was no more chemo but radiation so
her hair grew longer and lovelier
as her days among us grew shorter.
And it came to us that we were being
broken.

And then she moved among us no more
and it came to us that movement of a different kind
may be happening...a wing of angels traveling
over us, always before us, saying love without
the words.

Vicki Woodyard
Written in memory of
Lauren Paige Woodyard
1971-1978

2010-02-04T10:42:00.001-08:00

There is a line from When I Grow Old I Shall Wear Purple by Jenny Joseph
that says “I shall learn to spit.” I aspire to spitting, myself. As it is, I was born into this world a prim and proper lady. My mother swears to this. It was nothing I planned to do; it’s just sort of who I am. I remember my friend’s mother saying, “Why can’t you look like Vicki. You look like you’ve just been pulled through a knothole backwards.”

In spite of the fact that my demeanor is prim, as a kid I told dirty jokes I heard from my father. He owed a pharmaceutical company and called on doctors. His entree was a joke and I loved hearing them. He gave the nurses boxes of chocolates during the year, so there was often a large cardboard box of them in our home. We felt so rich with chocolates that we would bite into them and put them back if we didn’t like them. My mother finally insisted that we pinch them instead of biting them. Makes sense now, but at the time, that was real persecution.

If I learn to spit, I can also learn to do what I want and say how I feel. There can be nothing more therapeutic than a loud, unaffected burp. My grandmother had burping down pat. She did the burping and my father took care of the flatulence. We called it “expelling gas.” And there was quite a lot of it expelled, I must say. But I remained a lady.

But I am still looking altogether too prim. When is it going to be my time to strut my stuff and how do ladies do this? I do have an active funny bone, but usually I save it for writing funny. I need to exaggerate myself so as to make people notice. Being under the radar all your life is rather boring. Anybody got a feather boa?

My writing is usually serious, but I also have Spirituality Light and Swami Z. I suspect he came to live with me to loosen me up a bit. So for heaven’s sakes, have a piece of candy. You can pinch it and put it back and I’ll eat it. And I would certainly appreciate a small donation to buy another box. I write better with candy in my mouth....Love and Happy Valentine’s Day :)

2010-02-01T08:22:00.000-08:00

I just made an MP3 called I'm No Saint. I recorded it after I wrote the essay, so it is different.

Have a listen here:

2010-02-01T07:42:00.001-08:00

I’m No Saint

I’m no saint. I have maintained this website for years, finding my voice and using it here. It has lost money, on the whole. It’s only been during the last three or four years that I even put up a Donate button. Most people don’t bother and two people, believe it or not, have paid the operating expenses for a whole year. That tells me I am going in the right direction.

I try and leave a trail of breadcrumbs back home to where we all live and move and have our being. Lord knows, most of the time the crumbs get eaten by hungry birds and we lose our way. Then it is we sit in darkness and curse it. But what happens when we just sit there and let it be? That is what we are called to do on the path of awakening. To trust that higher forces are watching us and will not leave us comfortless.

What does it mean to awaken? It means to be so familiar with your state of sleep that you know when you are beginning to snore. When you see yourself sleepwalking and bumping into the furniture of your fellow human beings...that you have reduced them to things that get in your way. The bruises on the shins of your soul are an angry purple and your face is red with anger. That is sleep with a capital S.

I’m no sinner, either. (See first paragraph) Vernon Howard said, “You are not your strengths and you are not your weaknesses.” To see that, you must be in a state of wakefulness. And to be in a state of wakefulness is to be in a state of grace. But today I must go to the dentist and get my teeth cleaned. I dread going, I always do. But if I didn’t go, I would ultimately be sorry. There are parts of life that we do because we “must.” There are other parts we do because we are fed by doing them. Trying to awaken feeds not only us, but the multitudes.

I fail every day and so do you. We get up and try again. The path is in front of us and behind us. It is all around us. It IS us. As you follow it, be mindful of yourself and how dreadfully difficult it is. It’s hard-going and the route seems to keep changing. Sometimes I sit down and cry. But I get back up because something is impelling me that is not my ego. The mystery is pushing me out of the birth canal and who will there be to catch me? I am not a baby, either. I am full-grown.

So together let us say a prayer: “Lord, keep me going.”

2010-01-29T07:36:00.000-08:00

January 28, 2010

Being is the New Doing

Being is the new doing. I say that with a tad of irony. But to mystics it is the key to the kingdom of awareness. Some of us were born into this world with a strong sense of being and a much weaker sense of doing. I am in that category. I have always wondered what the fuss of action is all about. Why western civilization has put weakness before strength is beyond me.

God didn’t say “I do that I do.” He said “I am that I am.” Beingness creates, not doing. Doing is but the servant of being. Doers try to cram activity down the throats of be-ers. Extroversion is vaunted as being above introversion. “Extroversion...try it, you’ll like it” could be the slogan for the U.S. of A. While introverts sit at home knowing full well they will never know the so-called joy of being over-programmed!

The mystic way is returning to your being and it’s about time.

Sit now and breathe. Relax. Let go. It’s not about time. It’s not about accomplishment.
It’s not about money. It’s about doing what comes naturally....

If you are a be-er, God will see to it that you can do exactly that and to great effect.

2010-01-25T18:24:00.000-08:00

In the Guru's Hands

Everything is in the hands of the guru, we just don’t know it or believe it. I am working on a manuscript that consists of spiritual essays. As we all know, spiritual essays don’t sell unless they are in the hands of the guru. I know that for one reason. My own hands are split into left and right, success and failure, can and can’t. They are dividing machines. Only the hands of wisdom can hold one’s hopes and dreams and give them back to us rendered purer than they were before.

Life is about reuniting the opposites, letting ourselves be held in hope and love. Unlearned lessons on this subject keep recurring and each time, they are saying, “Give yourself to me and I will heal you.” And we don’t do it.

When my daughter died, she passed from my hands into the hands of God. I didn’t like that arrangement, not at all. For it meant I would no longer shop for pink dresses or have her children to hold when I grew older. It meant a hopeless feeling of empty arms. And yet the guru was holding us both in hands of love.

Life went on and my husband passed into the guru’s hands. She had held him through almost five years of pain and now she is holding him on high. His hands can no longer rub my back or open a door for me, unless it is into higher worlds.

He came to me in a dream recently and let me know that I was doing fine, spiritually speaking. He wanted me to be less passive toward life and so I am going to share my message freely from this point on with whoever wants it. It is so simple. Everything is in the hands of God. Everything given to God is returned to us on a higher plane. When I am reunited with my lost loves, we will not recognize each other for our beauty.

2010-01-22T12:16:00.000-08:00

A Bonus Poem

This is a bonus poem for my blog readers. I have no idea who you are. Why don't you tell me? I love writing poems
in the very moment that I am writing them. In other words, no words but the words falling out of my brain and directly into the Mac.

Father, forgive me for I have sinned
and rather enjoyed it.
Savoring the nits I picked and
the overdose of chocolate and
the nasty comments aimed at
the famous bitches on ET.

Forgive me for I have fallen
off the food wagon and into
a vat of sugary confections
that settle around my waist
like a swarm of fat little flies
and of course on my fat little
thighs.

Forgive me, Father, for I am
up to my eyeballs in luxuries
I don’t need and don’t really want.
They seem to justify my existence
or I wouldn’t be buying them

Father, forgive me for asking for
forgiveness for such petty little sins.
Next time I will save my energy up
to do one big one.

Vicki Woodyard
http://www.bobwoodyard.com

2010-01-21T09:35:00.000-08:00

Jan. 21, 10--Just uploaded No Shit Part II on Audio 2010. Have a listen.

Who in the heck is reading this? If it's you, leave a comment.

Sincerely,

"Me"

2010-01-17T11:38:00.000-08:00

Jan. 17, 10--Here’s a fun MP3 about meeting a teacher on Maui. This year I want
to be free to talk about anything I like. So maybe one week I will tell a story
and the next week I will do something different. You like?

The title is A Teacher on Maui on Audio 2010

Comments needed. No pay but good karma.... :)

Vicki Woodyard
http://www.bobwoodyard.com

2010-01-13T05:52:00.000-08:00

I made an MP3 called No Shit. I like it very much.
I hope you will visit my site and listen to it. It's about six minutes long and is packed with
honesty....what I do best. When you get to the Index Page, click on Audio and it's the first MP3.

If you have a comment after hearing it, please leave it here and I shall pick it up.

If you can spread the word about my website, I would appreciate it.

It will come back to you....

Love, Vicki

2010-01-03T09:45:00.000-08:00

Jan. 03, 10--I am posting the first new essay of the year on Fishpond Thoughts. Welcome back to my faithful readers and welcome to all of you new ones. Fishpond seems to be the favorite page, so why not feature more essays there? Indeed. I am going to be working on putting my essays into a book. As many of you know, this has been an ongoing task for me. I appreciate your taking the time to visit and enjoy my writing, which is always from the heart. You will find no intellectual analysis here, for that time has past. It is high time we simply are....and that is grace.

Love, Vicki
If you have the time to guide your friends to the site, please do. There is a lot of competition for spiritual sites and I can assure you that this one is worth a visit :). Thank you for your time, input and occasional donations.

You are bigger than the world...

You are bigger than the world...yes, you. We all have a sense of this when we come into the planet for our sojourn as such and such a personality. By the time we are in our teens, we have somehow come up with a pretty permanent character to play. And yet, for all the protection it seems to offer, we are constantly in conflict with ourselves.

The spiritual path opens up before us when we come to understand that this conflict can never be resolved by thinking about it. On the contrary, the more we think, the more we sink down into the morass of our egos.

When I began studying with Vernon Howard, he was living in Boulder City, Nevada. He chose it, I think, because it was isolated and in the desert. You really had to make an effort to arrive in his presence. I went for the first time, guided by a dream. I had been listening to one of his audio tapes and knew I needed to see him in person.

He was, in a word, formidable. He allowed no room for anyone to argue with him intellectually. His job was to back our personas into a corner and he did an excellent job. By the same token, his job was also to confirm what our intuition was saying about him. With me, this happened in dreams, in things that students would say to me, and by synchronicity.

He never lied. And it is worth all the effort a student makes to be in the presence of someone without guile. Someone who knows the ego is rotten to the core and bent on keeping its so-called owner in hell.

I am a lifelong student of truth and luckily for me, I always carry that with me, regardless of any ego shenanigans I might be up to. My husband was a student of truth as well. As some of you know, I have written many essays about our experiences as he bravely faced his death from multiple myeloma. Recently he came to me in a dream. It was wonderful and sad at the same time. That is how the path goes. It’s not about roses, roses, but about roses and thorns. Our egos are thorns that we must reckon with. Our true nature shines on.

Vicki Woodyard
http://www.bobwoodyard.com

2009-12-31T16:31:00.000-08:00

January 1, 2010--There is a new audio called Be There When You Happen. I will be archiving some older MP3’s. As I begin 2010, I am giving thought to what I want to do next. As most of you know, the site began around 2001 and I have been working hard at maintaining the quality since then. I have found my voice here, learned to make recordings here, shared my life as deeply as I could.

That may all be changing. Someone has been kind enough to fund the site until spring of 2010, but donations are sparse, as they probably are with all spiritual sites. I never get feedback, although I know some of you are out there reading or listening.

If you can help, scroll up to the Donate button and help spread the light. Thank you.

Love, Vicki

Dec. 31, 09--There is a new piece of poetry on Fishpond Thoughts and a new MP3 on
Audio. The MP3 talks about gathering energy. Give it a listen.

December 24, 2009--
I Belong

I belong to everyone and no one.
Husband and child lie in the cemetery
as I roam above ground with the great
mystery.

Sometimes I sit in my chair and
self-pity visits like a swarm of bees
and it hurts like hell and I try harder
to let go.

It is then that I come in here to write
about the truth that also visits me
that I belong to everyone and no one.
And that is exactly so.

But imprecision makes the world go
round and it is certainly not square.
Everything that lives is my beloved
and I can cherish it like an old Pooh bear.

My voice reverberates in silence
in islands of the lonely human heart.
I belong to everyone and no one
I simply can’t be set apart.

Vicki Woodyard
http://www.bobwoodyard.com

Note: I haven't been posting to the blog lately because of some Japanese advertiser spamming me.

2009-11-26T08:34:00.000-08:00

Nov. 24, 09--There is a new MP3 called How to Increase Your Energy on Audio. And this morning I added Hot Nuts!

2009-11-25T16:11:00.000-08:00

Nov. 24, 09--There is a new MP3 called How to Increase Your Energy on Audio.

And here is me being honest with myself....

I would feel better if I wasn’t having my gall bladder removed the first week in December.

If the surgery was over and was a total success.

If I got supportive emails or comments from readers.

If I got three big donations this winter.

If I felt well enough by Dec. 14 to have a Christmas lunch with my neighbor
at the Mable House.

If I wasn’t a bother to people while I am recuperating.

If I didn’t fall into feeling sorry for myself because Bob died in December and..it’s just that time of year when I feel most vulnerable.

Below is a poem I wrote this week....

Hello

Heart cold as ice
has no recollection of
what it needs
to thaw it out
and so it beats on
courageously.

And then the door opens
and a breeze of clarity
blows in saying,
“You are complete
and you are beating
life and healing.”
And the heart once
cold as ice
finds purpose again.

Mute child inside of me
what would you like to say
if no one shoved you recklessly?

Dumb graceful thing
with purple socks and
lacy dress...look in the
mirror of my eyes.
What would you love
and why?

I’d bring you joy wrapped
up in fleece and little
dogs to make you smile.
I’d catch a bird that’s winging by
and you would sigh not knowing why.

Oh, little child is breathing roses
and unconcerned with artful poses.
She sits down on the ground
and speaks one word...hello.

Vicki Woodyard--*See note

*If you can make A Donation for the Christmas Season, it would be very much appreciated. The orange Make a Donation Button is at the top of the page under my picture. For $25 or more, I will be happy to answer questions on an MP3. Just let me know......and thank you for your support.

2009-11-10T13:28:00.000-08:00

It is so transformative to be with oneself in silence and inner grace. I was just listening to the beginning of a video where Ravi Ravendra says that the opposite force to unity is "me, me, me." How true. We are all challenged to wake up while the ego forces are wanting us to go back to sleep.

No one escapes the temptation.

To See the Temptation....

To see the temptation for what it is is to rise above it. May we all rise above it.

To see love for what it is is a miracle. May we all experience one today.

You are loved.

I just watched an eloquent video by Ravi Ravindra and Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee. Ravindra said, and I paraphrase...

I have not crashed the party; I belong here. This is the family business! This removes all fear of death because if God brought me to this party, he will also bring me to another one.

Two brilliant men speaking about the simple truth that the mind must be transcended to know self-unity.

Ravindra also said that if you want to really hear another person, you must listen first to the noise inside of your own mind. When you listen, it quiets down and THEN you can hear the so-called other.

Note: I am getting ready to have my gall bladder removed sometime next week. Will return when I can.

Vicki

2009-10-15T07:43:00.000-07:00

Oct. 15, 09--I uploaded The Guru’s Answer to Audio. Other than that, not much going on. Looking forward to hearing Leonard Cohen at the Fox Theater in Atlanta next week. Gained three pounds from eating half of a birthday cake with cream cheese icing. Ouch. It’s back to the heart-healthy drawing board for me. I knew how to eat right but I sometimes don’t. I know how to walk the path but I slip and fall there as well. But we are always forgiven and told to walk on....without a slice of birthday cake in our hand.

2009-09-10T14:56:00.001-07:00

I Am Here....

I am here to clothe my path in words to share with those who are interested. The path is itself silent and that is the paradox to be held in wordless awareness. There is a simple energy invested in what I write. I never write with anything but the intention to let it unfold anyway it wants. I accidentally typed “funfold” and had to correct it. But funfolding oughta be a word. I say that because following your intuition is following your bliss.

The door to the collective unconscious is always wide open, but who dares enter it? The price you pay for venturing inward is often great. The void is nothing but trouble until you let it do what it wants to with you. And what it wants is mysterious and golden. The mists of your past block its cry; so you must be adamant in your intention to just discover what is.

Right now a small bird is chirping outside the window. His sound sings of the mystery. One day he will fall from the sky and no one will be the wiser. That is a teaching.

Vicki Woodyard
http://www.bobwoodyard.com

2009-08-20T13:32:00.000-07:00

August 20, 09--I just posted The Strongest Place on Audio. Give it a listen. I am certain that the truth is to be found there.

Are you willing to keep returning again and again to where you can never leave? If so, welcome to the select few who know that the game is worth the candle. Are you willing to be a total failure when it comes to “thinking your way out’? If so, locate your “I am” and become an iron filing to its magnetic appeal. It wants you more than Uncle Sam ever did.

By the way, leave a comment...

2009-08-14T07:37:00.001-07:00

August 14, 09--The Imminent and the Transcendent is on Fishpond Thoughts. So what is going on with me, you ask? I was talking to the bagger while he loaded the groceries into my trunk. He was giving a talk on Numbers in the Old Testament at his church. I told him I didn’t know much about it and he told me briefly some of the things he had learned. All I said was....people don’t realize that they are being challenged daily just as the Biblical figures were. When you do your inner work, you realize this....

I had to go back for a diagnostic mammogram and am scheduled for an ultrasound on Monday. This happens to me every other year or so, but it always causes anxiety. Nothing I can do about it but try and relax...which is a spiritual exercise in awareness.

2009-08-06T16:12:00.000-07:00

New Audio For You

I just uploaded You and Me Together on the Audio Page. I don’t know if you are tuned into my energy, but if not, this is as good an MP3 as any to experience it. It is how I enter the silence every morning and at other times throughout the day. Let me know if you enjoy it.

Seldom get comments on the blog....I may hang it up and just do the homepage. For what it's worth, writer's like comments and I am not set up to do then on the website...so this is your chance to communicate :)

Love, Vicki

2009-07-30T15:36:00.000-07:00

Living Water

I want living water. What does that mean? It means that I must bring my own consciousness to every experience that I have. Nothing less will do any longer. There comes a time on the path when the call for living water is finally understood. It means I must allow God to be in me as me. This is not without a price. It comes with the loss of everything that is keeping you dead, or half-dead to the living reality of who you are.

There are many ways to keep drinking everything but living water. There are many ways to avoid looking at Christ in our own consciousness. If we looked correctly, we would have to follow the teachings of every awakened being that ever walked the earth. Each has said, in one way or another, “You are it.”

I can no longer ignore my own divinity because someone has a degree, a class or a book. I can no longer push down my desire to serve truth. I can no longer go in disguise as someone who is not devoted to truth. No, I must stand up and be counted in my own consciousness.

The mystery must be engaged fully. A great silence forms around these words as I write them. It is the silence of completion...of claiming my own part in the puzzle of life. The last piece was me.

Vicki Woodyard, http://www.bobwoodyard.com

2009-07-23T07:15:00.000-07:00

No Third Choice

I have uploaded a new MP3 called No Third Choice on Audio. What’s going through your mind these days? Chances are it’s negative, limited and painful. I can say that because all personal thinking is. If you doubt it, spend a day watching your thoughts as they come and go, taking you with them. They are not taking you to enlightenment but to enfrightenment.

I spend a good bit of time in the silence and believe you me, there is nothing as opposite to ego-centered thought as silence. Apparently, silence has no problems ;)

2009-07-08T08:24:00.000-07:00

In The Sorrowful Hour
No matter how one may have felt about Michael Jackson, watching the memorial service opened one’s heart chakra to an amazing degree...not unlike the service for Princess Diana. It is easy to see why.

In the sorrowful hour that we all face sooner or later, when a loved one has left the body, we face ourselves empty and alone. Tears fall and strangely enough, we are rendered kinder than we might have thought possible. Forgiveness rains onto the hard earth of the human heart. We need this.

Our culture does not know how to mourn; there is no tribal ritual until someone as famous as a Princess Diana or a Michael Jackson or an Elvis Presley dies. Then we unite via satellite hookups to shed virtual tears together. Strangely, they plop down our living human cheeks, and this is a good thing. A good thing indeed.

I don’t know what I thought about Michael Jackson and it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I am a human living on this earth. Whoever takes us one step closer to each other is helping to heal the planet.

Our nature and our destiny are one. We are made of paradox and stardust. We rise and fall like waves and in rejoining the sea, there is somehow an exultation tied in with the tears.

Vicki Woodyard

2009-07-02T07:23:00.000-07:00

By the Jugular

The piece below was inspired by this comment from Miriam Louisa (This Unlit Light)

“I have followed your work for some years - your writing in particular. It gets me by the jugular. I love the directness, the honesty, the humour.”

By the Jugular

The first time God got me by the jugular it was about my youngest child, my daughter. Seems He wanted me to give her back-soon. Tried for three years to keep her, but in the end it was His Call.

The second time it was about my husband, my mate of 38 years. Same vein, same reason. This time the trying went on for four and a half years, but in the end...time stood no chance against eternity.

These days I am aware that He is there with me, closer than my neck vein, as someone wrote. He wants me and He wants me now. Seems that was always what it was about. He is indeed The Hound of Heaven.

Why do I keep writing? Every now and then a vagrant wanders by and reads what I have written and it seems to make them remember something they have forgotten...that to be moved by the spirit one descends into the darkness so that he can look up at the stars.

2009-06-25T09:30:00.000-07:00

Consider Everything as a New Beginning

Consider everything as a new beginning. Washing dishes for the first time. Sitting in silence as the world turns without any effort on your part. Do it with original mind.

You might see yourself for the first time when you look in the mirror or put on your shoes and socks. How about driving your car as if it were the first time. You would be slow and cautious more than likely. Would you be able to forget the past?

Beginner’s mind is something we have long forgotten. Try to have an empty mind.

See the world clearly with no judgement. Let it go on and on and on.

Listen to a fellow human being and let them go on and on and on.

Listen to your crazy mind and let it go on and on and on.

You are seeing and hearing it all for the first time.

Have you given up so completely that
you know you have....
that you know you are being blessed
by such surrender

The rose of awareness grows in the soil of surrendered thoughts.

There is a new MP3 called The Final Surrender on Audio.

2009-06-11T12:06:00.000-07:00

June 13, 09--I’m uploading two more MP3s on Audio. They are Returning to I Am and Self-Damage Repair. I hope some of you are regular listeners by now. If you are, let me know.

So lately I have been going to a chiropractor for numbness in my right hand. Turns out I have thoracic outlet syndrome.That has caused me to lose some range of motion in my neck. When I am at the Mac, my hand tingles. I am hoping some exercising and time will improve it to some degree.

A feeling of lethargy has crept over me as I have spent two days a week at the chiro. I am exploring what can re-energize my creativity. I will begin with true confession. No matter how often I am advised to get out there in the world and mix it up, it ain’t gonna happen. I am happiest with my quiet life.

One question I struggle with is if I should be putting my essays into a book. But for that I would need an editor. If I could get a broom and sweep all of the essays into a neat little pile, that would help. As it is, they are strewn all over my Mac. Colorful scatter rugs of words everywhere. Macrame messages. Quilted quotes. Crewel questions. Embroidered emotions. Tapestry truths.... that's my Mac :)

2009-06-04T14:38:00.001-07:00

A Mission Statement
Give Us What You’ve Got

“Give us what you’ve got” is the last sentence in The War of Art by Steven Pressfield.

“Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It’s a gift to the world and every being in it. Don’t cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you’ve got.”

And that is what happens on this website week in and week out. Just me at the Mac decanting stuff from my psyche to yours. I consider this sacred space and have committed myself to its continuance.

It began as a trail of tears back and forth to the chemo room when my husband
was enduring multiple myeloma. It continues as my sole experience. But maybe it’s not. Maybe it belongs to each of us. I like to think so.

June 5, 09--It All Comes Down to Energy is on Fishpond Thoughts. I said it as succinctly as I could. What I am aiming at these days is brevity with the emphasis on an energetic understanding for the reader. You can't ever go over first principles too much. "I am that" is an example. You can mine for gold in that sentence till the sacred cows come home.

While waiting for dinner, I wrote this ;)

Stew bubbling on the stove
as I type letters randomly
assigned to have meanings.
as if I knew how to make
life a savory thing by
intention.

Potatoes are a peculiar kind
of offering to the body’s god of appetite.
Every lowly bite a prayer answered.

Vicki Woodyard

Somebody leave a comment and you get dessert :)

Thanks for your time.

2009-05-30T05:30:00.000-07:00

May 29, 09--I just posted Your Body is Prime Real Estate on Fishpond Thoughts.
Connected with that is A Fruitful Darkness on Audio.

2009-05-20T16:44:00.000-07:00

A new MP3 entitled Fitting In is on Audio. This week was heavenly. John Fox, of Poetic Medicine, held a two-day workshop at Cancer Wellness at Piedmont Hospital in Atlanta. This is my community and it has taken me a while to realize that. Even though I have only been a caregiver, cancer has had me up against the wall this lifetime. When we stumble, we are held in hope. When we falter, we are lifted up. To do that isn’t easy. Unless and until you have faced death head-on and been able to summon your inner child, you haven’t really lived. Wellness is about rebirth into your essence.

The Poetry Reading with John Fox was a highlight for me. Never have I felt so warmly welcome. In that circle sat a group of extraordinary people drawn together in a common cause. Not of fighting cancer but of healing into wholeness through our very own voices.

Each voice is heard at Cancer Wellness...not only heard but honored and encouraged....to say more. Listening is an art and John Fox’s Poetic Medicine is a master class in listening.

I am so happy to be a part of the family at Cancer Wellness. Here is a poem written there:

Come surrender now and it will
prove you wrong about why it took so long.

Not because you feared it but
because you feared the consequences
of love.

For love is just another word for letting go.
You think surrendered love is dangerous,
involving loss and loss and more loss.

You are right. It is the loss of everything
holding you back from the heritage of
the heart.

I have put my young daughter into the good earth
and then again her father when his time came.
I did not surrender them because I chose to
but because I appeared to be choiceless.

There has been no compensation
but the willingness to come raw
with my words to the ones who
can appreciate the sacrifice.

Vicki Woodyard

2009-05-07T12:35:00.000-07:00

This is a public service announcement from the universe ;)

"There is only the Self. It is present in all beings. If you don’t get the message, relax. We are sending it to you all day long.

If you do get the message and forget that you got it, not to worry. We will resend it whenever you get ready to hear it."

Love,
The Universe

On that note, how is everyone doing? I am reading through some of my old archives and came across
that timely message. And I have correctly posted The Root of Suffering on Audio. Take time to listen.

Love, Vicki

How about a comment now and then....

2009-05-02T05:45:00.001-07:00

I deleted The Root of Suffering (an MP3) when I saw that it wasn't opening properly. I guess you will just have to wonder what I said. But then again, maybe you already know.

Morning is green and dewy here down South. There's a mossy little bird nest on the front porch and a family of woodpeckers living in the cedar siding. I just paid quite a bit for a painter to come out and replace the cedar that a pileated woodpecker had lunch on. That sentence ended with a preposition and his lunch ended up being quite expensive for me. Such is life.

2009-04-30T19:13:00.000-07:00

May 1, 2009--I am slowly getting back to my writing and recording. Sometimes we must take a breathing spell and this has been such a time for me. Everything comes up for review after the windstorm of loss has blown some landmarks down. What next, asks the battered and weary pilgrim, what next? The MP3, A Personal Update, speaks to that.
Love, Vicki

2009-04-17T09:18:00.001-07:00

I just uploaded The Tightrope and The Guru’s Question to Audio.
Here is a one liner that came to me recently:

Illusion is not on my side.

Even when I think otherwise, there is nothing I can think that thinks me out of fear and illusion.
(You may have to read this again ;)

Would like some reader comments on my audios now and again. Anybody up for that?

I took a slow walk today and thanked all of the azaleas, irises, etc. for their true colors. Such beauty.

I think all of us are beautiful when we manage to show our true colors. It comes with a price, doesn't it?

I have never liked the world; it has cost me far too much. There is a poem that you probably know, The Hound of Heaven. In it, it says nature can be a hideout from God. Ultimately we go to Him naked and He restores to us all we thought we had lost. However, sometimes that is just a noble sentiment. And we need to mourn our losses as regularly as we give thanks for our blessings. Maybe that is how they become the same....just a thought.

Another line of Francis Thompson that I like says something like this...
"The drift of pinions, would we harken,
beats at our own clay-shuttered doors."

Thanks and love,
Vicki

2009-04-11T15:08:00.001-07:00

Resurrection Morning

Sometimes those two words ring hollow to the human spirit. Right now I feel as hollow as a chocolate bunny. Had a virus last week that has made me feel quite weak. This allowed the grief for my mother and husband to gang up on me. I managed to cook a balanced meal and choke it down. Only the romaine salad tasted good. Suddenly I felt the tears welling up and there was nothing I could do to hold them back. My nose, red as a cherry, now swelled to comic proportions. Tomorrow is Easter and I am in mourning for lost human love. Yes, that happens to those on the path, believe you me.

The Masters is being telecast from Augusta; my husband and son went there together for several years. They even went after Bob was diagnosed with his cancer. Gently, son took father around the course. Hard to even type the words. Beloved family, cherished memories....it’s quite all right to mourn consciously. I smile upwards and cry for light as I go on alone.

If anyone out there finds this hard to read, they have never walked away from the cemetery alone. Oh, Easter will dawn again and again and life rebuds and bursts forth continuously. But there is a gentle Jesus in each of us who weeps with us even while He knows it is only a story.

2009-04-08T16:50:00.001-07:00

Wow, was I ever hit by a bug. This is the first time I have been sick since Bob died...well over four years. My son had a virus and I picked it up. It started as a sore throat and has now moved into my chest. Yesterday I went to the doctor for some medication. First off, she told me that my blood pressure was too high. Then she gave me a short course of antibiotics and some cough syrup. Last night I was really scared. My trachea was so itchy I wondered if I was having some kind of allergic reaction. I took a couple of Benadryl just in case and slept sitting up. This morning I had lost my voice from all of the coughing. I called my neighbor and asked her if she would go to the pharmacy and get something else my doctor had recommended to break up the cough.

She got that and it began to work immediately. She also left some soup with it, so hopefully I am on the mend. I am pondering the imponderables, as usual. Wondering what else I need to know besides the fact that I am? That is the short course taught by the universe. Just look in, look up and......look out!

Until next time...when hopefully I will have gotten my voice back....

A Bonus Piece

Life is neither linear or static; it is evanescently eternal. So much for book knowledge about who and what we are. As I find myself recuperating from a dreadful little virus, I sit at the kitchen table and sip some warm milk laced with honey. I find myself saying to the space where Bob used to sit, “I’m sorry I wasn’t always sympathetic when you were ill.” Suddenly I am alive with compassion for the no-longer-living. Is that a waste of time; I don’t think so.

Each life is art contemplated in fragments from something cut from compassion (if we are lucky). I have draped myself in my grubby little neck warmer and am waiting for bedtime. So what if I contemplate infinity while appearing both mortal and more than a little miserable. Maybe someone in deep space nine is missing me tonight. I don’t know; I just made that up. Writers can take liberty with words.

Bob and I had a pretty good marriage. It had a run of almost thirty-eight years. Many of those years were concerned with death and dying. Had I known, I probably would not have married him, but then again, we haven’t any free will. So what is must be.

I have been plodding along the spiritual path for millennia more than likely. Little progress has been made unless you can count perseverance. I have loads of that. I know what it is like to shoulder the burden of the cross only because you are choiceless. It must be done. Let’s get on with it. This is not morbidity but design. And He who writes the script also writes the score and provides the wardrobe. My neck wrap is part of the plan. And so is my sturdy blue bathrobe and my solitary life. I would trade it all for Cloud Nine, but it’s probably already taken.

2009-04-02T14:13:00.000-07:00

April 2, 09--Take a Stand for Healing

My words don’t fall into a vacuum but into the heart of the reader. That is why I let my intuition do the work. Maybe there is someone reading this who knows what it is to lose a loved one. I try to show through the skin of my words the body of wholeness that can survive grief. Not only survive but give the gift of survival to others. For losing a part of oneself leads to the discovery that everything is connected by love.

Often, make that daily, I fall victim to my mind. It tells me that I am alone and in need. But behind the mind is a power called awareness that goes before us to make the crooked places straight. I sit in the silence to let that power predominate. And it always does. Oh, I may have to sit for half an hour, but eventually I will come again to peace.
Take a Stand for Healing

My mother died last month and all of March has been a hassle. My house is reflecting her loss by offering up rotten boards and has been visited by a pileated woodpecker. So now I have to deal with that. But life is proclaiming spring to the weary spirit. Every tree is bowing down before the principle of renewal, offering their buds to those who are suffering failure, discouragement or loss.

It is time we shared all of life as one; we do this in order to take a stand for healing. Whenever we fall into a pit of despair, somewhere a prayer is going up to heaven. I don’t say this to be corny but to reveal how far down I have sunk into the pit. The very worst was when Bob was first diagnosed. He lay in the hospital doomed to death and I became his caregiver. I didn’t do such a hot job, truth to tell. My cancer experience was an emotional one, living to tell the tale of how we went through it all together. In the end I sat and slept alone, but determined to share my passion of writing as he wanted me to do.

So we are never alone; we just feel that way. So if you are reading this and nodding your head in any way at all, good for you. You are human and that is no picnic. Once you take to the spiritual path, it becomes a crucifixion of the ego and a rebirth into unity. And it takes the rest of your life. So that is the worst of it. The best of it is that you know when someone is using you, abusing you, ignoring or not loving you. And you want more from life than that. You want to serve love. The very desire moves you into action. Each word written in this essay has been straight from the place of truth. I found it in the midst of suffering and love prevailed.

2009-03-27T10:53:00.000-07:00

I have a set of two audios here. The titles are Neverending Story and Light in Darkness.

I am trying to get back in sync after my mother's death. But I am having to get some repair work done on the house....and you know how that is.

I usually copy my updates here, but I think I'll just share the link with you.

Updates

Got comments....would love to hear from you.

And in the meantime, have a handful of pistachio nuts....I just did :)

Love, Vicki

2009-03-23T09:36:00.000-07:00

I uploaded The Death of Illusion on Audio. In it I reference what happened at the Marriott Courtyard. I have spoken of this before, but for readers who don’t know, I will tell the story in a nutshell. In 2004 my husband died and he was buried in Memphis, Tennessee, two days before Christmas. An ice storm hit the city during his funeral and my son and sister and cousin and I were marooned there until Christmas Day. After the funeral, I wondered outloud as we ate breakfast how we would get a Christmas Eve meal. Mary, who was a cook and server there, offered to come in and prepare and share a meal with us. So there in an empty lobby, the five of us ate a Christmas Eve dinner. It turned out that her son had also been a patient at St. Jude’s but he was alive. At that point, we all recognized the miraculous quality of the night. I think it only happened because everything had been swept away...we were in the void...and that is where miracles happen. So give it a listen...

2009-03-14T05:35:00.001-07:00

When You are Sinking in the Sea of Samsara (or when you have the blues)

People sing the blues to achieve harmony where they feel it has been lost. They riff rough notes of discord into the blue notes that heal them. This makes perfect sense to me. I have been doing this for a long time. When my mother died at age 87, I picked up the old guitar again and begin to sing the blues....in order to heal.

We will never escape disharmony while on the earth plane; it is inevitable. But when you learn the secret of singing the blues, you are David playing his harp. You are doing what God would have you do.

So let me pluck a few notes in order to regain my sense of harmony...

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child....I checked a book out from the library called The Orphaned Adult. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but it is a book of wisdom and solace. Having come into this world via parents, we will more than likely outlive them. So as I placed my hand on my mother’s ashes, I was touching eternity.

Touching eternity, or the timeless moment, brings one into God’s time, kairos. Kairos is an ancient Greek word meaning the right or opportune moment. as opposed to chronos--time which is measured by the clock and the calendar. That is one reason that people in grief lose their appetite and find they can’t fall asleep. Something is afoot that is not of their own choosing. God’s Hand has reached down and scooped up someone who gave you life. And you feel like singing the blues.

Now you are rocking yourself in the rhythm of love. You could be B. B. King or Little David playing his harp. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you come back into harmony with who you really are.

Suddenly, you know it is quite appropriate to sing the blues. When you are dancing with sorrow, the angels sing. I don’t mean clutching it to you, or carrying it too long, I am talking about wailing consciously....surrendering control in order to regain your balance. You might even take it out on the dance floor of the cosmos. Who knows...stars may give you the nod. The man in the moon might wink at you. But one thing I know....you have a right to sing the blues.

2009-03-07T10:22:00.000-08:00

I just made and uploaded The Crawl Space on Audio. Give it a listen and let me know if it was helpful for you. I’ve got more MP3’s in the queue, but this is the one I wanted to use today. It can be played whenever you want to unwind a bit.

2009-02-20T10:40:00.000-08:00

The Essay I Don’t Want to Write

This title may arouse your curiosity; it has mine. As I write intuitively, we are both reading it for the first time. It’s about facing yourself. Last night my son took me to hear Krishna Das. It was a lovely evening of kirtan...him leading the audience in chant and response. I had never had this experience before and it was powerful. It lasted almost three hours and at the end, as the last strains of his harmonium died away, a rich silence was felt. It rang with inner music.

The words that KD spoke were self-deprecating and far-reaching. He said he hung out at the back of the temple where his guru, Neem Karoli Baba, and his disciples were. He was, he said, “at the back of the temple in his inner darkness.” He said with a soft laugh that outer darkness is nothing compared to the inner. Everyone can relate to that.

At another point in the music, he also said that all of us have to be forced to serve God.

A truth like that needs lots of space around it.

He speaks of western culture teaching us to be too hard on ourselves. We have to let go and trust ourselves and our lives. Use the letting go muscle.

I read a few articles about him today about how he knew he had to begin singing in America to people who hadn’t known him in India. He offered himself up and the rest is history.

I called this the essay I don’t want to write because I know I haven’t really done this yet.

When I do, there will be lots of space around me.

*****

My mother is in the last days of her terminal cancer. I received a powerful message
from a sage today: “Forgive the cancer.”

Sit with that and be healed.

If you want to write me, here I am.

2009-02-16T14:09:00.000-08:00

I have added a new link. It is Randolph. Below is the link to his beautiful
video called Liberation. Believe it or not, I had this dream myself some years ago. It was a “big dream,” pointing to the ultimate freedom. Watch it and let yourself soar.

Several days ago I learned that my mother has terminal cancer. As you can imagine, I have shed some tears. At first the doctor said she had less than a month; but today he sent her back to the nursing home where she lives. He told my sister to take it one day at a time. As some of you know, it was my sister who sat with Bob as he made his transition. My mother is in good hands, as Amma is her guru and watches over us all.

I spoke with my dearest friend about whether or not I should visit my mother. It is a long fly-drive and the weather is frigid. More than that, I saw her this summer and have lovely memories of that, which will turn out to be the last time I saw her in good health. She is 87 and has been the family matriarch for a good many years.

My friend said this to me: “You ARE sitting with the dying. You sit with it every day. And then you write. And then if someone is open enough, they read it and understand. The
work you do is for those left behind. Making the unbearable bearable.”

I love you all and will continue to be here....will you?

2009-02-13T07:56:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine’s Day...I went to Dunkin’ Donuts for a dozen and obviously they are more popular than roses...because I ended up with the last few they had, practically. Bitterly disappointed to get only one chocolate one...and some I didn’t like especially. But then I never met a donut I didn’t like.

I didn’t see Larry and Ruin in there. It’s a sad day when you don’t see them at DD or Walmart...

I don’t have any new material this week. Visit yourself consciously instead and be your own valentine.

Love and powder sugar hugs...Vicki

Write me to request an MP3 here.

2009-02-05T12:17:00.000-08:00

Someone asked me to talk about inner peace and the result is two new MP3’s. They are Part I: The Spiritual Snag and Part II: Mount "I Want To, But I Can't". Rather than me trying to explain them, why not just go to Audio and listen. If you have a subject you would like to hear me discuss, I want to hear from you.

I have been cooking my brains out-everything from Peanut Butter Bars to Chicken Tortilla Soup. It’s too cold to do much else. I have been reading through some old Swami Z material and I think it’s time to reprise him. So stay tuned.

Today I made Disappearing Marshmallow Brownies. I may be getting to be a better cook than Swami...

Next week is Valentine's. I love you all.

Vicki
You can send me a Valentine here :)

2009-01-29T15:10:00.000-08:00

In Days of Great Peace is on Fishpond Thoughts and an MP3 by that name is on Audio. It's not the same copy, so give it a listen.

No one has taken me up on doing an MP3 on a subject which interests them. The invitation is an open one.....write me at Vicki.

What's going on with you readers these days....comment now!

Love, Vicki

2009-01-22T10:42:00.000-08:00

I wrote the essay below quickly, as I do everything I write. It always feels good to let the truth speak itself, even if it is against yourself. I am glad you liked reading a new essay on Fishpond. Well, you did, didn't you :) Here is my MP3 for the week: By Her Grace (A Hershey Kiss from Heaven). It's a look back at a spiritual memory. Taste it on your tongue. Go to Audio and it will be at the top.

Experiencing Resistance

I picked up The War of Art and began reading it. I had ordered it on the suggestion of a friend who knew I was experiencing resistance in regard to my writing. In less than ten minutes I was hit by an avalanche of understanding....about every negativity I had in relation to Bob’s illness. The author had explained it all.

Not only was I devastated by the diagnosis of “incurable,” I was devastated by my own reaction to my new job as caregiver. I didn’t want to do it. I was furious, rageful and downright disgusted. Surely I would not be asked to shepherd a second family member through a fatal cancer. But I had been picked by the Ironic Selection Committee to do just that.

I felt guilty almost every day at the fact that I was mad as hell about this cancer. Sometimes I would look at my husband and vow he was making it all up just to bring me down. Really. I was that distraught.

What I read in The War of Art is how every noble endeavor arouses resistance, and being a caregiver pushed every button I had so carefully hidden. Instead of feeling guilty, I should have felt the truth of what God was asking me to do....care for a beloved spouse when his time had come.

And so I began....and in that beginning I received my true calling....to write about the very experiences I was resisting so mightily. Day after day, week after week, month after month, I chronicled our experiences with what would turn out to be almost a five-year-battle with multiple myeloma. On December 20, 2004, the cancer won. I surrendered my husband to the good earth and walked on alone.

But now I am partnered with my calling, an inexorable march into the heart of fear. For only in that will I hear God saying to me, Well done.

2009-01-15T11:20:00.000-08:00

January 16, 2009--Finally, there is a new essay called The Bliss of Being on Fishpond. And when you have read that, I uploaded a new MP3 on Audio.
It’s called How to Forgive Yourself.

Traffic is down; don’t be a stranger...or don’t be any stranger than you already are.
Check back for more goodies or you will have to stay after class and clean my erasers.

I've been plowing through old essays and trying to get them into chronological order. This is a huge job. I changed Macs this summer and this seemed to have messed me up big time. If I ever get things straightened out, woe unto me if I let it get so sloppy again.

Who has a question they would like to hear me discuss on an MP3? Drop me a line...and throw out a subject.

Vicki

2009-01-08T06:17:00.000-08:00

Lizelle Reymond wrote a book called To Live Within. It is the master’s job to move us into our rightful real estate, which is inside. So I consider that a true calling...to let it be known that all problems must be resolved within. Joel Goldsmith had a list of “Wisdoms,” one of which said that all conflicts must be resolved within. Where else?

Within is where it all begins. Nothing grows from outside in. Nothing. Do you remember how, as a child, you were rocked to sleep in loving arms? If you do, you know that the feeling of comfort arose within your tiny soul. If you were not loved in that way, despair could have arisen in the same place. We are the ones who know the way home. We must travel the interminable distance between head and heart. We will know when we arrive. At that point, the teachings will have born fruit and the ring will be on your finger. The father inside will have blessed you and the mother within will have reclaimed you.

This week, know that all problems arise within and therefore so do all solutions. The way is not for the faint of heart; it is for those who know what is NOT working in their lives. Knowing that is to come home to truth.

No new MP3's this week. Perhaps you have a subject you would like to hear me discuss. If so, drop me a line here.

2009-01-02T14:52:00.000-08:00

Two subjects covered on Audio this week...

Question about Unconditional Love

Question about Attachment

2009-01-01T12:57:00.000-08:00

I posted an MP3 that I did by request. It is Attachment on Audio.

If you have a question that you would like for me to answer on an MP3, drop me a line here.

There is an energy exchange that takes place that is very beneficial. You might call it
the teaching/learning experience....whatever it is, it lifts you into a higher state of
awareness.

Vicki

2008-12-31T09:57:00.000-08:00

I added some Bonus MP3's to the Audio page. They are recordings I did not immediately post, for
whatever reason. Unless you are a devoted listener, you might want to skip them, but Helpless
is one I especially like.

Life After Death
The Final Surrender
Helpless

Got a request? Drop me a line here.
Vicki

2008-12-30T07:37:00.001-08:00

There is little that excites me outside of walking the path. Without the way, where would we be? But the path is difficult and exacting, until the moment that spiritual relief occurs. And this cannot be manipulated or artificially attained. Grace ushers us into the presence of God in its own sweet time. And we are trained to wait patiently rather than storming heaven.

I am impatient by nature, so this lifetime has been one of testing for me. I have to slow down, breathe and call on higher awareness to rescue me when I have bungled yet again.

Bob was an engineer and hated to hang pictures on bare clean walls. But my mother was a water colorist, so there were always pictures she had given us to frame and hang. He measured and marked and frowned as he went about the tedious job of hanging them just right. Now me, I take a pushpin and plunge it into the wallpaper to hang a calendar. And every month I make another sloppy hole. It doesn’t bother
me a bit. Vive la difference.

When I write, it is quickly and intuitively. I trust the voice I have come to recognize as “mine.” I always say it is God’s little joke on me that I tell everything when I write. That is because I am a very private Scorpio in every other way. I was born grown-up, according to my mother and was called Miss Priss. But I also have a wickedly funny side I inherited from my father. I wrote some pretty naughty lines back in my comedy-writing days.

But back to this website and its purpose. It began to support Bob when he was dying. It soon turned me into a writer driven by my passion. I hope you will come back to share life with me as I write and speak. I guarantee it will be genuine if nothing else.

I want you to come with me into the now. It is a dynamically healing place.

On the Audio Page you will find the first MP3's of 2009. They are

Become a Regular

The Kwan Yin Vow

Handcuffed

A Foot in the Door

I have archived the Updates and Audio pages for 2008. That means they have gone away. I am always reluctant to do this, but the old must give way to the new.

The updates are done frequently, so at the end of each year there is rich treasure trove of essays and new recordings. I hope you have enjoyed them all.

Each audio is an adventure into the tao. I hope you will come along with me as I record them this year.

I appreciate regular small donations to the site, as this keeps my operating expenses in line....so give what you can when you can! Thank you for being here for me as I am for you. I love you all.
Vicki

2008-12-27T08:56:00.000-08:00

December 27, 08

I have been at work all morning. I have archived most of the MP3's on Audio and also most of my updates for 2008. Should you care to download these MP3's, they will be onsite until January 1, 2009, so act fast! You might consider a small donation if you decide to do that. (Go to Audio to donate and download.)

Donations help me buy batteries for the recorder and defray the costs of the website. What are they?

The price of a digital recorder.
Batteries for it.
Monthly website costs
Annual renewal for the website names...bobwoodyard.com and vickiwoodyard.com

Miscellaneous expenses involved in being a writer. They add up.

The work I do in writing and speaking is free and voluntary.

What a deal!

I wish each of you a happy new year.

This will be the beginning of my fifth year without Bob. I owe the website to him. His charge for me before he died was to find my passion. I live it daily and am grateful to all of my readers and listeners.

Love, Vicki

2008-12-14T08:43:00.001-08:00

Here is a bonus MP3 called A Question From a Reader. Click on Audio and then on the title.

I like getting questions and sometimes I don't "hear" the answer until I let it arrive into the recorder.

I refuse to get the Christmas Crazies this year. I may get fat, but not crazy. I made some white fudge with pistachios and Craisins yesterday. Before that, I made spiced pecans and sugar cookies.

I was talking to a friend today who is on my wavelength. She was exhausted from the frenetic vibes of the season. Tis the season to be overworked, underpaid with notes of guilt, loneliness and angst. I think I will create a fragrance about that called Noel, Hell no.

If that offended anyone, you are just not being honest with yourself. The true noel is an inner chord struck by the Master. To that I say Heavens, yes.

Love, Vicki

2008-12-12T11:02:00.000-08:00

This just in: Part II of A Christmas Box is on Audio. It's called Why I Share.
Give it a listen and submit a comment.

Dec. 12, 2008--It’s time to sink into a nice hot bath....to soak in the Self that you are. To absorb right energy, conscious energy. You owe it to yourself to rest and relax. As Pamela Wilson says, “Rest and rapture....what else is there?”

Listen to this MP3 called A Nice Hot Bath on Audio. Be sure and dry off or you will be all wet...

Holidays take energy from us as rapidly as casinos take money. You can bet on it.

What can you do to put some nice fresh energy back into yourself? Listen to Into Wholeness Now on Audio and find out. I give you three energy statements to play with. Write them down and try them out.

I vow to relieve the suffering of all sentient beings.

I am in God’s presence now.

I choose to love myself.

Today is Bob Woodyard's birthday. May he rest in peace..

2008-12-07T16:46:00.001-08:00

This is the companion to A Christmas Box. When you unwrap the box, it's me ;)
Go to Audio and click on Why I Share.
It's right under A Christmas Box!

Love, Vicki

2008-12-06T08:55:00.000-08:00

I just uploaded A Christmas Box to Audio. What I want you to do is sit down and relax for a few minutes as you listen. There is nothing new or different being said; it is the state of peace being communicated.

I am still hoping for a few more Christmas donations. I have two...can you make it three?

Most of you know me by now. What I do is simple. I write about beingness as the solution to everything.

Thanks for dropping by. I welcome your emails and comments.

Write me here and suggest a topic for me to discuss. Thanks!
Vicki

2008-12-02T18:21:00.000-08:00

Watching Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison on PBS...weeping when Johnny Cash speaks of home. Writing this:

You are one thought away from enlightenment. What is the thought? It doesn’t matter. It could be about the greatest love of your life or your big toe. It just doesn’t matter.

What matters is that you know this. That you know it so thoroughly that you enter the vacuum of darkness that removing it brings.

Can you bear the darkness of living without that one thought?

This is not a Zen koan but an honest question. Can you experience the answer right now. And if you can’t, why not?   Simple goodness resides in that darkness; something so primitive that it has never spoken the first word.

Can you be that basic? Can you tend to your needs as they arise. Can you stop lying to yourself by way of thought so that you can know what darkness really is?

2008-12-01T16:02:00.000-08:00

Mike asked me to talk about selflessness and giving....so here 'tis. Click on Audio and then click on the MP3
entitled Selfless Giving....