Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I couldn’t see
how all those
pieces could ever
come together.
But I had decided
it was worth the risk
to continue on —
in trust.
And so I tossed
all that I thought
I knew
and opened my arms
to catch
whatever truth,
whatever pieces
came back down —
knowing there was
room for my own
reaching —
knowing I didn’t
reach alone.
I honor
all parts and pieces
of a heart
that showed itself
to be strong
and vulnerable,
suffering
and whole —
all at once.
I honor them all
because they refused
to sink quietly
into the back corners
of a heart that was
rightly their own.
I honor them because
the journey
was too much
for any one part
alone —
because turning back
or becoming stuck
would have been
easier.
Still they continued on
through the unknown —
refusing to give up
hope
that their seemingly small
bodies and actions
could reach
and lead each other
to the truth —
however entangled
it had become.
My deepest posture
became one
of reverence.
I found my deepest
self could endure
much shaking
on the surface.
It could honor all
parts of the whole,
without clinging
to a set of ideas
I had thought
myself to be
for a while.
It was no longer
about winning.
It was about
finding a way through
a natural process,
where I had the
chance to participate
in my own evolution —
reaching for a hand —
encouraging others
through my willingness
to face
my own hidden pain
that was entangled
with theirs —
setting down
a false
sense of self
and bits of pride
in exchange for
natural beauty
and connection.
It was the hardest
and most simple thing.
The way forward
and through
was both painful
and tender.
It meant shedding
old ways
in exchange
for refinement
of spirit
and wholeness.
It meant stepping out
into places
and following a path
my mind couldn’t
yet imagine.
Let me honor
the parts of me
that cry out.
Let me be
the place of calm
that knows
the deepest kind
of silence,
includes all emotion
and holds
all of it.
Amen
There was a quieting
that came out of
my willingness
to look a little deeper,
not further into mind,
but further into
the heart.
And from there,
I could see
more clearly.
There was relief
I hadn’t found
in other ways
and a tenderness for life
in all of its forms
that held me securely
in my deepest heart
and moved me
to continue on.
I held on
to a tiny whisper
from my heart
and the smallest bit
of silent space.
I had tried
all other ways
and sensed the time
had come to risk
all that was left
and let go of my mind’s
idea of how
this thing should go.
Anyway, that tiny whisper
couldn’t be ignored
much longer.
The way
to a new place
was through
all I didn’t know —
the most tender place,
this place of
in-between.
It became clear
that all that had
gone before
had prepared me
perfectly for each
unfolding moment
as I continued on
a little more naturally —
holding, letting go —
listening
as thought
became one continuous,
ever-deepening silent
prayer.
I found I could
hold and honor
whatever was in front
of me —
pushing on
and remembering
just enough
in each moment.
Letting go of everything
often
allowed for deeper honoring
and natural shifting —
leaving space
for healing thoughts
to form —
leading naturally
to sacred space
and lasting calm,
even in the middle
of great transformation.
I began to listen
to the world around me
and to my own heart,
simultaneously.
And though the words
seemed slow
to describe this
natural process,
I found myself
trusting in its power
and moving
a little more gracefully
from this place.
Laurie's Notes 