Quiet Reflections and Prayers
Life began to soften
ever so slightly.
It was risky to hold
the love I had found
in my heart.
There were body memories
of the times when the contrast
between my heart and the world
had been too much to hold —
or so I thought.
Little by little I had somehow
learned how to hold whatever
needed holding —
for however long it needed
to be held —
even if it was forever.
Sometimes words and tears
didn’t come.
Sometimes standing
in the empty space where words
and tears should have been
was the exact right place.
It’s where I found the most
shattered parts of my heart,
dusted them off
with my very last bit
of strength,
and promised to somehow
fit the pieces together and make
something beautiful of the mess —
again.
Of course each time I
realized the impact
of the imperfect journey
and willingness to show up
in that very moment —
breaking through my fear
of getting it wrong,
shattering my heart a little more
and directing me back again
to tenderness.
It was a little risky to dare to understand tenderness. It meant first knowing the opposite. It meant knowing bitter coldness and disconnect, the only way out being back through painful layers of healing as each healed layer began to let in a little more light of hope and courage to continue on. Aiming to get to a future place or remaining stuck in past stories became courage to drop more deeply into the present. It was an extreme path — the result being the capacity to hold and love the most traumatized parts of the human experience. There was accumulated trauma from painful attempts to heal the original trauma, and there was a love and compassion nothing could ever touch or take away.
Life took on a welcome
subtleness.
The ability to create
a lighter, more playful relationship
with thought offered
a new kind of reprieve.
There was a renewed trust
in the two-way communication
with life
and a reconnection with
sacredness that made being alive
begin to make a little more sense.
What seemed like
a subtle shift in thinking
and the ability to focus
within
became a valuable tool
to navigate in a world
in the midst of its own
healing process.
It was a lifesaver during
overwhelming times
to be able to focus feelings
and thoughts
in such a way as to allow
them to be reflected.
Writing in the moment
began as a way of telling
the story of past healing
and quickly became a way
of moving through present challenges,
flowing new kinds of thoughts
from a quiet space within —
remaining open to the possibility
that new kinds of thoughts
and feelings could begin to be
reflected.
Writing became a meditation,
an easily accessible way
to connect with a truer sense
of self —
in any moment.
My notes became precious tickets
back to parts of self
and back into the world.
Even after I reached a point
where I could safely let go,
translating lived experience
into words continued to be
a ticket into the quiet space within
I wouldn’t have traded
for an easier path.
And so the unfolding continued,
along with challenges.
It took a bit of reorientation
into finding calm
in the midst of challenge,
but it was possible.
Finding creative ways of
meeting challenges and triggers
head on and moving through
quickly became a valued skill.
It helped to be okay
with having a tender space within
where it was understood
that some things might not ever
be completely resolved.
It helped to understand the difference
between resolution and transformation.
This quickly shifted the focus
onto the tenderness of meeting
the present moment without attachment
to future results.
It helped to remember that it was
this tender space that had
been the source of past healing
and creative processes.
The way of love
seemed so simple
at a certain point.
But that was because I had
taken other paths to the edge.
I had lived the opposite.
There was grief
And there was steadfast knowing
that somehow guaranteed
I would never again be tempted
by darkness —
not ever.
Anything that wasn’t aligned
with love eventually fell away.
It seemed odd there had
ever been another path.
But it was understood,
looking back,
that parts of the whole
had felt disconnected
and a sacred journey
to the remembrance of wholeness
had been carried out.
Laurie's Notes 