I woke up in a strange mood this morning. I ate breakfast and then went back to bed. Rain threatens and I feel heavy and lifeless. Doom looms large over the American landscape—indeed over the world.

Decades ago I had a prophetic dream where I was inside a mountain radiating yellow and purple. I sat with American Indians and heard this prophecy given: “There will be years of rain followed by an Ice Age.” The rains have already begun, due to global warming.

I am not a prophet but occasionally I get a big dream and that is the biggest one that I can recall.

Words fail me in the presence of prophecy. What is there to say and to whom? Are we not one in our essence? Is that not how we were created?

The social scene is an illusion, as is the political one. What we are left with is truth with a capital “T.”

Words are not the thing; being is.

We must rely only on the Self and its purity; all else is mumbo jumbo.

Vicki Woodyard