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
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
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
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
Saturday, April 11, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
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.
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.
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