Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I found there had always been a quiet prayer within my heart. It had been covered up for a while by the noise of the world and the noise within.
It was there each time I dared not to listen to the endless chatter of mind and allowed my attention to land on the space beyond objects and subtle energies within. It appeared gently, as a whisper — like a subtle breeze I might have easily missed.
I found peace in the deep knowing that all things could be viewed as being in a state of continuous transformation into tenderness.
Every single creative project I entered as well as every life challenge reflected the serenity to be found as I surrendered ever more deeply into this organic movement. Instead of trying so hard to struggle against this natural process, I learned to return to the quiet prayer within and allow outer movement to follow.
Again and again, I chose to find my way back to the silent spaces my mind once tried to escape. It was a gentle turning away from the constant inner chatter and outer struggles of mind — a sinking down into my heart — where mind, joined with heart, was able to reflect the quiet prayer of a love hidden safely within.
There were times
when the most pressing work
to be done
was to retrace my steps,
to return to
a place of reprieve —
to soothe
my own heart
a little more.
After a while,
I learned to listen
to the quiet prayer within.
It began as a whisper
without words,
but its presence was enough
to light my path
when I felt most challenged.
It reminded me of
the all that was miraculous
and led to a place
of compassion for myself
and others here at this time
as souls in human form.
Quiet our hearts, just enough —
that we may know the love
beneath all things.
Give us courage to choose,
in each moment,
where to go from here. Amen
For a while,
I looked to the
outer world for
something that would
offer an answer
or mend the whole
in my heart.
But this journey
had a way of
softening the healer
in me,
little by little —
until the purity
of her love
could no longer be
denied —
until there were
no more holes
in my heart
to be filled.
And life began
to reflect a truer,
gentler me.
At a certain point,
the only path
I could see
as holding any
possibility for anything
real
wasn’t a path I could
see at all.
It was the one
that unfolded as I
stepped.
I learned to listen
to life,
not as a distant,
separate being,
but as a gentle
interpreter
of messages to
deeper parts of
me.
I loved
the tender way
the messages softened
as I found courage
to soften
my own heart
a little more.
After all of the holding
and letting go,
more than I ever thought
possible,
what is left
is a silence,
a reverence —
a trace of lingering sadness,
a treasured tenderness
surrounded by the
purest love.
—What’s Right Here
Laurie's Notes 