Quiet Reflections and Prayers
Life, with all its challenges
and miracles, had a way of leading
my heart back to the quiet space within
and the setting down of all of the tangled up,
unresolved thoughts —
the difficult step of tossing everything else
up to God.
Time and time again I found myself
in a place of too much —
the only clear option being
to return again humbly
to my deepest heart
and begin again from there.
After a while I learned
to let go a little more deeply
into the mystery.
I had allowed myself to feel
the quiet prayer of my heart.
And so there was no turning back —
not really.
it didn’t matter how many challenges
appeared in front of me
or how many times I found myself
straining to regain my footing in a world
I had tried so hard to understand —
grasping for any small sign
of something meaningful or true.
I became willing to set down
everything else in exchange
for one more small memory
of my soul.
The tenderness found
in that first moment of surrender
initiated me into the delicate process
of walking through the most
difficult times.
It taught me to hold
and let go of all that is
unhealed and unresolved
in me and in the world.
It offered a glimpse into our creative,
resilient human nature
that finds a way to look
a little deeper
for beauty and hope
and a gentler path.
I learned to find my way
back to the space within
my heart.
I learned to be okay
with a quiet prayer
and a tiny spark of hope.
And I remembered
to never again let go
of my soul.
And so the essence
of every experience became
a prayer —
a continuous flow of love within
the gentle whisper of truth
that had breathed me
back to life.
The quiet prayer in my heart
continued on
no matter how many times I seemed
to forget to listen.
It was there in the quiet moments
when I dared to gather up all
of the confusion and anxieties
and frustration and ongoing traumas
playing out all around me.
It was there in the aha moments
when I became quiet enough to remember
all I had forgotten to gather up —
all the little bits of hope and the pure
miraculous way they still existed
after everything.
It was there when I remembered
just one small, sweet memory
of the journey —
a time when I seemed to be
completely alone but realized I was not.
In a sea of traumatic memories
and the long list of things lost,
what stood out, if I looked
and listened a little deeper,
was tenderness.
And so I continued to write —
not so much for the words anymore
but to feel the connection
with my soul
at a time when real connection
was precious and rare
and words seemed to fall short.
If I couldn’t be heard
then I would listen.
I would turn frustration into
dedication.
I would take the deep sadness,
and I would hold it —
forever if necessary.
And if this tender ache could be
deepened, I would find a way.
Maybe it would lead to a new outer
reflection,
something a little more sacred
and beautiful.
Most likely, but maybe not.
It was my best shot.
It was one more last try —
one more time
There came a time
when it didn’t matter
how many lies were spoken
or if they were repeated
by every single person around me.
My love of truth had grown so great
and my determination to
move in the direction of truth
and to never again be disconnected
from my own true Self had become
just what I do.
I had learned to respond to my own
inner reality and to create
from there.
Of course the darkness was
difficult to walk through.
And I admit I wasn’t always graceful.
But I reminded myself in the darkest
of times that without fail, every single time
I faced the path ahead and walked it
all the way,
all I remembered was the incredible light
and magic I had experienced.
It was disheartening to surrender
to the idea that love of truth
and the desire to see and protect
one’s own true spirit
and that within others had gotten a bit
scrambled.
Sometimes sacred things got mixed up
on the road to tenderness.
Sometimes darkness found its way in
where there was wounding,
And it took a while to let go of the idea
that moving further away from
true unity based on united sovereign souls
could ever lead anywhere good.
No, in the end, darkness and separation
had to be seen for what it was–
looked straight in the face
and released.
Parts of Self desperately hated,
disconnected,
and previously entwined with the dark
had to be embraced.
Just when I thought
there was no hope,
just when darkness seemed
to have won,
I learned something surprising.
I learned this was the perfect
set up for an equal and opposite
surge of light
that would outshine every last
bit of darkness.
And once lit,
nothing could put it out
What was seen could never be
unseen.
Laurie's Notes 