I haven’t been in the mood to write lately. Not much to say. Spring is soft and welcome and I am reading Britt-Marie Was Here. I see myself in that book; that is what a good writer can do.

I am very neat, as if compensating for something I did but cannot fix. My son is the same way. Seems it has something to do with death and grief. You can’t fix it, but at least you can cease to cause problems.

However, as I have always been neat, I cannot blame losing my child for that. It must have been in a prior incarnation. My mother told me I was prissy as a child. There is a photo of me when I was about three holding a tiny purse and looking just right.

Although she also told me I was a dreamy forgetful child, having to be reminded to get dressed for school. I took to reading effortlessly, as did my children. I loved books.

After absorbing way too many books on the subject of spirituality, I am well-qualified to say that I don’t know. Not only that, those that claim to know do not know either. Why? Because IT cannot be known by us.

The biggest pleasures of my life come from surprise. When events have marched up to me and sat down beside me and beamed in my direction.
When I have dreamt of things that were meant to happen.

When synchronicity smiles on me.

That makes up for the years when nothing worked, even when I did my level best to have things happen for the best. I simply kept messing things up.

Now I know that I don’t know and that, too, can be deeply satisfying.

It happens when mind and spirit meet and agree to get along. For most of my life, Mind had the upper hand. That is when I searched for God in books.

Then Spirit kicked me to the ground and held me there.

But now the two of them get along, even though one is prissy and the other is too powerful to be bossed around.
It all works out in the end, and also in the beginning. By the time we see that the ending and beginning are just lines in the sand, the water of life has washed them both away.

Vicki Woodyard