Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I learned the value of
tenderness and became willing to
set down many things in exchange for
a deeper connection with life.
I knew without a doubt that
whatever appeared would eventually lead
back to a tender place in my own heart.
And so I became willing to bear the ache
of leftover traces of unhealed and
unresolved experiences —
to be in a place where there are
no guarantees —
to show up in each moment
with a quiet prayer and renewed reverence
for the sacred journey,
however it unfolded.
The transition into tenderness
required delicate footing.
I learned to look a little
more deeply into my surroundings.
Nothing was at it seemed,
but that meant
something beautiful must be
hidden beneath what appeared.
I learned to look a little more deeply
into what was there,
intuitively drawn to remain
in each moment —
no matter what —
determined to find just one
small sign of beauty
when at first glance,
all was dark —
holding each faint whisper of hope —
becoming more determined with each step
to help it to grow.
I vowed to continue on –
settling in a little more deeply –
holding what was right there
in front of me
as best I could –
embracing each new moment
as a prayer.
There came a time
when I had traveled too far
and learned too much.
And so the only thing to do,
having reached the end of the path,
was to stand still right there in my heart,
in the middle of the chaos,
let go of everything
and hope for the best.
The tenderness found
in that first moment of surrender
initiated me into the delicate process
of walking through the most
difficult times.
It taught me to hold
and let go of all that is
unhealed and unresolved
in me and in the world.
It offered a glimpse into our creative,
resilient human nature
that finds a way to look
a little deeper
for beauty and hope
and a gentler path.
I learned to find my way
back to the quiet space
within.
I learned to be okay
with a prayer
and a tiny spark of hope.
And I remembered
to never again let go
of my heart.
And so the essence
of every experience became
a prayer —
a continuous flow of love
that had breathed me
back to life.
The quiet prayer in my heart
continued on
no matter how many times I forgot
to listen.
It was there in the quiet moments
when I dared to gather up all
of the confusion and anxieties
and frustration and ongoing traumas
playing out all around me.
It was there in the aha moments
when I became quiet enough to remember
all I had forgotten to gather up –
all the little bits of hope and the pure
miraculous way they still existed
after everything.
It was there when I remembered
just one small, sweet memory
of the journey –
a time when I seemed to be
completely alone but realized I was not.
In a sea of traumatic memories
and the long list of things lost,
what stood out, if I looked
and listened a little deeper,
was tenderness.
I learned to allow things to be
unsorted –
trusting in previous lessons learned
about truth and love
and the fluidity
of all states –
knowing beyond all doubt that
there is tenderness
in this place.
I learned that in order to retain the delicate
reconnection with my true Self,
there was to be a clean cut
with all that was of false light.
There were moments of extreme grief
and disbelief as one piece after another,
all that was holding my heart from
it’s true calling was torn back.
I did my best to gather up anything
that might help in retracing my steps
and somehow returning with some kind
of treasure to share —
which helped to create a sense
of meaning in the pain.
Eventually, even carefully gathered treasures
had to be set down — for a while,
adding to the already immense grief
I didn’t know if my heart could bear.
But it was at that point I began to
understand tenderness and
compassion and grace
more deeply.
And I knew I could never
turn back.
Laurie's Notes 