Quiet Reflections and Prayers
There were times
when I didn’t know
whether to form words
or not,
when I knew
crying out
wouldn’t lead
to any more
understanding.
And so I vowed
to honor the sadness
beneath the frustration
in my own heart
and reach
past my own
temptation to lesson
the discomfort I felt
by holding a false sense
of security
in a made up story
of separateness.
And so I let go
of all of it,
trusting whatever was
true
to find its way back.
And I wrote
through my tears.
And so there was
a quieting,
an understanding
beyond words —
a reconnecting
with my own heart
that continued to
deepen.
There was still
pain.
But the desire to
push it down
or project it
outside of me
was replaced
with the move to
honor and
transform it back
into tenderness.
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 began to have
a different relationship
with my experiences.
They had become
precious pieces
within a deeper flow,
a way to listen
to life
that led most gently
back to the silent
reverence
within my own
untamed heart.
I found things seemed
most tangled up
when there was
shifting going on
a little
deeper down.
And moving through
meant holding on
while letting go —
the most delicate
of moves.
As if by candlelight
and following
a whispered prayer,
I set out
to find my heart again.
Determined as I was
to mark the path,
I held that light
a little higher
somewhere along the way.
And in that instant,
it seemed it wasn’t
that we had strayed
so far,
but that we had forgotten
we could change
the lighting
of this place.
I found wholeness
to be a continuous,
embracing prayer
to and from
the tender place
within my deepest heart.
It included
all parts,
all emotions,
and all struggles.
It included the most
challenging parts
to love
and showed itself
in each moment —
when I was brave enough
to listen
and when I was
afraid.
As I looked back
on the long journey,
the thought came
that if I had to choose
a place to start again,
I would choose
emptiness.
I would go back
to the first time
I was moved
to trust
my own heart —
when there was nothing
left to try
except to drop everything
and find out
what was left.
I would start again
from there.
I hold this space
in my heart
for healing.
I vow to stand
in my fear —
to follow in the steps
of my own heart —
to love
beyond hope
simply because it is
my nature to love —
to offer my deepest
silent prayer
to us all —
to be this living prayer
beyond words
in this moment
and the next —
to remember
and repeat the words
How could I not?
Amen
I found safety
in the natural way
I began to explore
myself and the world
around me.
I began to use thought
as a kind of safety net,
an intimate way
of staying grounded
and allowing myself
to be gently guided —
returning safely
again and again
to this quiet space
where I first waited
for my heart to speak
in a way I could
understand.
Laurie's Notes 