Wounded

I became a spiritual writer because of deep wounds I was suffering after the second member of our family was handed a fatal cancer diagnosis. I could barely get out of bed in the morning, but I did (and for a little over four years until his death.)

I started a now-defunct website in which I became a spiritual essayist. I had no idea that I would churn out thousands of essays while I was grieving and recovering.

Because I know my own wounds so well, I know the wounds of others. No one values my writing unless they have a wound in the psyche that they are tending. It may be big or small, but it is a sacred wounding that calls for the soul’s deepest attention. The first few paragraphs of an essay get me started and then I wade out as far as I can go.

Leonard Cohen is my all-time favorite writer because that is what his work is about, too. The only difference is his genius!

I heal my wounds by writing and by studying myself on every level. On the psychological level I have come to a certain amount of peace. I know that I am deeply introverted but enjoy the occasional outing with my son.

On the spiritual level, I know that I am being cared for. I have finished buying spiritual books, though I pick up an occasional favorite from the shelf. I have given most of my books away, though. The shelves are shockingly empty.

My website is not indexed so it does not get any new readers; I have suffered a great deal over the mistake I made in losing it. The one I have now is just where I park my essays and I get most of my readers from Facebook.

There are no easy answers for the deeply wounded soul. For me, and this is a personal thing, I find that I can’t stand any clutter in my home. I have it, but I try and keep it under control.

I sit off and all during the day, letting myself breathe consciously. I am soothed by silence, as many people are. I defer to Vernon Howard and Joel Goldsmith and the writings of a few Eastern philosophers. The Book of John in the New Testament is the powerhouse for me, though.

Most people that read my essays have come to know everything I am writing is about the same thing. That is how we learn. The greatest among us say the fewest words. They keep it simple and repetitive.

And so I write on and some of you read on and I thank you for that. Living water is our constant need because the world gives us only chaff.

Vicki Woodyard

Comments welcomed....