I began to notice moments
of unfolding tenderness.
It was okay if there were
challenging moments.
I had learned that experiences
were always transforming
and, like the wind,
could change course
in an instant.
And it was enough to know
I could, in any moment,
hold or allow myself to be carried
by the sweet, gentle breeze
of my deepest heart.
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.
I chose to listen
to the quiet prayer
of my heart.
I learned to
feel into subtle
experiences and
knowings beyond thought
I searched for
peace and fell in
love with gentleness.
I allowed
my life to flow into
more gentleness —
for that was
what I had come
to do.
There was
a settling back in
to what had been
carefully hidden.
The longing
to be some place
other than
that moment
was transformed into
a delicate embrace
and remembrance
of my own true
essence.
There was a knowing
that shifting
would continue
and that it would
have to come
out of this
space.
It didn’t matter
how cold
the world got
because I always
remembered the day
I found
I wasn’t here
all alone —
when without a sound
I began to sense
a love that
could never
not be.
I began to offer
my own hands —
to listen
and whisper
the silent prayers
of our inner heart
into the world
in hope
that we might
remember.
Being healer
meant reaching in
for that last bit
of courage
to reach out
just one more time.
It meant taking
the pieces of
my heart
to safe places
and remembering how
to hold them.
It meant using
my flexibility
to continue on
as I was guided
to new places.
It meant using
my ability
to listen
a little more deeply
and to finally
understand that
the place I had
searched so hard
to find
was the sacred space
within my own
heart.
After a while,
it was most natural
to be the space
beyond words,
that strangely familiar place
where thought formed
out of nothingness
as quiet prayers
once known only
as far-away whispers
triggering some long-forgotten
memory of a time
when I was not
separate from the space
within my heart.
Perhaps the most
beautiful part
of transformation
is knowing
the place of
in-between —
that first intimate,
still moment
of remembrance
that these are
tender times —
right here,
when no thought
of some distant goal
appears sweeter
and all past memories
take on the taste
of that one moment
of purity
forever.
When we have searched,
gathered and dropped
every word
we had thought
to carry back,
when all that
is left
upon our return
is the silence
in our hearts
because we have
both given up
and found our Love,
I will gather
the words again
for you.
Laurie's Notes 