Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I learned there is nothing
comparable to the strength
of the human spirit
when aligned with its creator
and wililling, win or lose,
to protect all that is innocent,
sacred and true.
I learned there is no greater joy
or frightening responsibility
than the vow to preserve
something sacred,
no matter what —
or to hold and honor what had
once been threatened,
knowing nothing could ever
divide what is and has always been
forever, divinely
connected and united.
There was a time when
the vast contrast between
what I knew to be true
in my heart
and what I observed in the world
around me was too painful to hold,
and I choose
to surrender my heart.
And then there came a time when
the pain of being separated
from my heart
and the very real effect of
a withering soul taken over
by darkness
gave rise to something surprising —
a renewed spirit that had no need
for any kind of attachment
to deception —
a whole spirit unafraid to face,
hold or let go of whatever appeared —
whatever was required.
The journey to wholeness
meant accepting the challenge
to stand
alone with God at times,
the only safe place being
the silent space within
a heart disconnected
from its very source
and in process of repair.
It meant pushing on
and digging deeper,
no matter how crazy the challenges
became.
It took every last bit
of energy to choose
to align with love
again and again —
letting go of attachments
to the dark
where there had been trauma.
It meant the rising up
and coming together
of healed parts
no longer needing to fight
against or prove dominance over
each other.
It meant reaching in
and following the parts
what were most whole —
holding space for all that remained
unhealed.
It seemed to be important
to be in the world
at that particular moment.
Somehow I knew it must have mattered
in some way
that I had managed to make it that far,
having lost my heart and soul…
almost, but not quite.
Sure enough, they were still in tact —
somehow.
And… there was, in that exact moment,
no way to avoid, not look, numb,
justify or unsee what had been
seen through.
There was the overwhelming
sense of powerlessness to protect what had
been held so sacred in my heart,
sometimes by a thread.
And although screaming wore me out
and added to the intensity and insanity
of it all,
I allowed myself to scream.
It had taken so long to be able
to scream again,
only to feel like I was just in time
to be too late,
turned away and unheard
while facing impossible choices
again,
Only this time something had shifted,
if only in the unseen
silent prayer
and inner promise to God
to do whatever was required
to remain connected to my soul
in that moment,
as I had practiced,
not so gracefully.
so many times before.
Somehow it had mattered.
I found it was possible
to navigate through
the process of awakening into
our own true being.
I understood the courage to face fear
and pain
this required,
while at the same time
navigating through extreme challenges
in the physical world.
It wasn’t easy,
but it was possible.
It was possible to hold my ground
and find a way through.
It was possible to observe and understand
what was indeed happening
in darkness,
to resolve to hold a place of light,
to stand up or speak out when necessary,
and to offer love and forgiveness
where it seemed impossible to do so.
The necessary steps seemed
unclear at times —
only to become clearer
as they appeared.
It required trust, creativity
and the courage to try one more
one more time.
I found it most beneficial
to enter what I would later call
a prayer break
during times of deep healing.
I intuitively took actions that needed
to be taken —
letting go of everything
that could wait,
I spent my time with nature, creativity,
simple and nourishing foods,
and meditations (including moving
meditations)
and words from the most
nurturing and wise
healers I could find.
While I was able to trust
my own inner support,
I found it comforting to listen
and feel for truth in the words of others.
I found peace in allowing all emotions and
triggers, while becoming more refined at
responding from more healed parts of me.
I learned to take in information from
the inner and outer and “toss it all”
to my higher self or God.
I found peace in allowing
the pieces to fall back down —
a little at a time —
in ways I could easily understand.
I found there were many
forks in the road,
many places to choose
to walk where there is
no path,
where pain is held, honored
and transformed again and again —
each time leaving a little more space
for the one thing strong enough
to balance the traces of pain inevitably
left over from often difficult journeys,
the one thing strong enough to hold all
of the pieces
of an authentic life —
the space within our hearts.
Even when it seemed like
any sense of inner peace
had been lost,
it was there.
It took only the intention
of entering a state of prayer
to refocus on the present moment
and find the center of my heart —
where I could hear the quiet prayer
that was always there.
I began to notice moments
of unfolding tenderness.
It was okay if there were
challenging moments.
I had learned that experiences
were always transforming
and, like the wind,
could change course
in an instant.
And it was enough to know
I could, in any moment,
hold or allow myself to be carried
by the sweet, gentle breeze
of my deepest heart.
I found reprieve in
the remembrance of the quiet peace
ever present within my deepest heart.
I found a willingness to listen
a little deeper —
to observe a little longer —
to be carried and
set back down gently
in the present moment
where there was tenderness.
After a while, it was difficult
to see how I could have moved
through life in any other way.
Laurie's Notes 