I am intrigued by the blank page. It is an open door into the subconscious. Last night I had a typical dream. In it I was cleaning out a huge basement full of tools and wood and debris. It had belonged to my husband, but it seemed to fall to me to clean it up. In the course of cleaning it up, other issues arose. My mother was making me feel guilty. My neighbor’s child was getting a divorce. I was chided for not being able to turn over responsibility to someone else. It was, as they say, a nightmare.

Our waking lives are nightmares, too. Some call them daymares, but you know what I mean. I watched the new special on the death of John F. Kennedy, Jr. In a way, the papparazi killed him just as they did Diana. I say that because the constant following had begin to wear John and his wife down. They had begun to argue as they were hunted like animals.

Vernon Howard’s secretary died in the same 24-hour period that news of John’s death broke. I had a dream in which I saw him underwater with his family. He said to me, “You should be a teacher. And he alluded to my healing hands. Perhaps I use them to type. A couple of years before that, I dreamt that he hired me to teach him about the path.

Tragedy is a given when you come into this world. You ignore it at your peril. You can’t outrun it. You must face it head-on day by day. There are no escape routes. John found that out.

The Work is a way out of this world while you are still in it.

Although Vicki can get bored and discouraged with her life, her soul is ever-busy. And that is what feeds her. What the world feeds the personality is sawdust and garbage.

Glamour is the biggest illusion of all.

John Kennedy had it all and the world took it from him, as the world is wont to do. Meanwhile, the way out is clear and ever-present. It is within.

Vicki Woodyard