Quiet Reflections and Prayers
And so the decision was made
to continue on
through all that needed attention
and healing
until my experience in the world
more clearly reflected
the peace I held
in my deepest heart.
It was an unshakable
determination to hold my ground
no matter what.
Sometimes the only thing
I knew to do
was to keep going,
which undoubtedly meant
surrendering to the creative flow
of life.
And so there was the
painful dropping of pieces
I had held so carefully
and an understanding
I seemed to have with God
that I would sometimes
hold on a little longer,
push ahead,
lose my center,
and struggle to find any
resemblance of grace.
But I would always keep going.
Each time another challenge arose,
I was reminded of how
it could have been —
had I not allowed the process
of expanding to happen
so freely.
There was frustration as old
patterns and emotions were
brought to the surface,
and I was tempted to retreat–
just a little.
I learned to turn
inward and hold my ground —
refusing to quit before
the next tender place
was reached.
Sometimes my prayer sounded
more like a tired scream through
swallowed tears
than a comforting whisper.
But there was always
tenderness close by —
as I dared to keep going.
When I looked back, after a while, the story I had carried had faded. It was the subtler, sometimes painfully subtle story beyond the surface that kept my attention.
It was the faint memory of all the times I had managed to allow a quieting, just enough to hear the quiet prayer spoken from my own heart — somewhere long ago.
It was each moment I had allowed my heart to remain open, even though I was sure I didn’t know how to continue on, that had woven a more beautiful story — somehow.
And so I learned to reach a little further into my own heart. I learned to reach for a little hidden magic and a quiet prayer to hold for as long as it took — until the softness I felt there began to spill over.
I learned to reach for healing words reflecting silent spaces in hearts that knew the sacredness of the journey back whenever old wounds showed up again.
I learned to soften my path a little more with each step as I continued on.
And so the decision was made
to continue on.
There was no room
in that moment
for regret or any other
cluttering thought.
There was silent understanding
in each open heart
that the time had come
to listen a little more deeply
and speak a little more
intently from here.
During times
of great shifting,
when emotions were
intense
and bodies
and minds tired
most easily
with each added thought
and moment of
learning,
I found it was
possible to return
my focus
to the stillness
within
and count every
single piece of
wisdom gained as valuable —
while being willing
to hold it
lightly —
remaining unafraid
to release all
into the creative space
I learned to
embrace again
and again,
each time a little more
completely,
as I continued on.
I found peace
in each moment
of choice.
I found it
each time I dared
to look things
straight in the face
and reach
for the most healed
part of me
and others
and for the
divine.
It was a choice.
The option was
always there
to close my eyes
and stop reaching.
But I understood where
that led —
after a while.
I found there is
a power in us
that rises up
in challenging times.
When there seems
to be little hope,
it shows itself.
And then it softens
all that it touches.
And it shows us
how to create
beauty out of pain
and tenderness
where there was
chaos.
At a certain point,
letting go
of everything
became the only real
option.
There was a
gentle surrender,
a resetting of parts
ready to work
together
in new ways —
a release of the
continuous
dialogue of mind
that would have
held me back.
Laurie's Notes 