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 .

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 .

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

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.

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

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...

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.

-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....

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

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

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 :)

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:

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.”

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.

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.

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

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"

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

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

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