Quiet Reflections and Prayers
There was sadness
beyond words
in seeing the world
from a little deeper
place.
And there was a
tender space,
a whisper of hope
that could only have come
from the deepest kind
of love,
from my own
deepest heart —
the only thing
that could have held
all of it.
It was a delicate thing
to hold
all the pieces
of my own shattered
heart —
setting down everyting
I had gathered
again and again —
listening deeply
without knowing
exactly how –
pulling my very
sense of self
back —
waiting for words
to form
only from this place —
speaking only
to this place —
where there was
peace
and the courage
to continue on.
I learned to listen
with my heart,
to experience
what was right there
in front of me,
and to trust
the natural response
to arise
as a prayer —
somehow, mysteriously
sinking
down into all the places
I had tried so hard
to reach.
There was a kind
of relief
in realizing
I didn’t need to
fit all of the pieces
together.
I didn’t need to
force feeling better.
I didn’t need
to force anything
or be anything
other than what
was there
naturally —
underneath.
There was something precious
about getting down to
the core —
something raw —
a quieting,
a letting go
of the need to be
anything more
than life living itself
naturally —
stillness moving
on borrowed time
in no time —
releasing
and affirming itself
silently or as
a whisper.
And so I
jumped to the core
of my heart —
because there was
nowhere else
to search —
or because I sensed
the directness
of that move
and the resolve
of all the pieces
of my heart
to lead me
to the peace
I knew was there.
Thought became secondary
to the listening,
a kind of
inside out version
of how it had been —
a way of staying
within a natural flow —
reconnecting with
and exploring
my inner self
and outer world
in a gentler way.
I found I didn’t
need to wait
for everything
to come together
or fall apart —
or dance all
the little pieces
of my heart
into a corner.
In any moment,
I could return
to zero.
And I always met
just the right pieces
there.
When there are
no words
to express,
when there seems
to be no next move,
I will stand still.
I will honor
the space in our
deepest hearts.
And I will continue on —
as a prayer.
There was nothing
to compare
with the natural calm
I found
in choosing to let go
of ideas of how
exactly to do it —
vowing to become
healer of my own heart —
whatever that meant
and however long
it took —
grateful to be
in that one
honest,
continuous prayer.
Laurie's Notes 