Quiet Reflections and Prayers
It was the feeling
of being connected
with all of my own
fractured pieces
I had longed
to reclaim.
It was this longing
for this sacred
reconnection
I had sensed
returning
to all of my
experiences
that calmed me
whenever I reached
in the direction
of my own
heart.
Out of this
quiet prayer came
the strength
to listen to my own
inner knowing
above all else.
It resonated with
the resolve
of the mother in me
who dared to trust
her own body
over every single voice
on earth
and every bit
of conditioning
and advice —
however well meaning
or loud the chorus
of voices calling for
her to follow
or believe in
something else over her
own heart
became.
It wasn’t that she
always walked calmly.
There were times when
she just knew
to dig in her heels
and speak
(or scream) her heart —
even though there was
only a slight chance
of being heard.
It hadn’t really been
about being heard
anyway —
but the courage
to be
the peaceful, fiercely
creative and resourceful
being she came here
to be.
It hadn’t been about
being right
or beautiful
or accepted
or honored —
at least not in the way
it once seemed.
I found,
in each moment,
connection with my own
higher self —
the most gentle,
quiet prayer
just beneath the surface,
no matter what
was appearing.
Even when the world
seemed too noisy,
I found comfort
in knowing it was
still there.
Let us be quieted
just enough —
that we may
hear our own
silent prayers.
And when we
feel small,
quiet our hearts
just a little more.
Amen
I hold this
silent prayer —
for somehow prayers
just know
when to go
a different way.
Instead of going out,
they turn around
and gather in —
where speaking
becomes listening —
like praying in reverse.
I found it was
possible to reclaim
and transform
parts of my heart
the world described as
broken.
I found it was possible
to turn my attention
toward the parts
of me
that were most
healed —
while scooping up
all that was unhealed
and all that was
becoming.
It took a bit of
courage
to sneak below
my usual thinking
mind
which saw only
the surface
and mismatched
pieces.
Oh, but just below
was where I found
the sweetest treasures.
I searched
until I found
a gentle way
that included
all parts of me
I had so tenderly
healed,
all that remained
unhealed,
and all that
was born
because I had merged
two paths.
And so there was
a new story
born out of my
determination
not to reject
any piece of Self
or deny the transformation
to continue
and my dedication
to my own
quiet prayer.
It was not a choice
between two stories,
but an honoring
of both —
a delicate move
toward inclusion
I had practiced
before.
The tricky part
was standing my ground
and allowing
what was already
to come together
in my heart
and all of its
reflections.
It was possible
to amplify tenderness —
to hold
and heal
pieces of Self
grown tired
from all the pushing
against
old wounds
needing to be
honored,
not exploited,
and all the back-and-forth
originally intended
to turn us back
toward our hearts.
There was risk,
of course.
But continuing
in the direction of
separation
had become too painful.
We had been healing
at the root.
And so we held our
ground
and found our way —
through my willingness
and yours.
I release
these pieces
having held
and honored
and transformed
each one
into a prayer
in my heart.
I know they belong
not only to me,
but to all of us.
And so I send
this message in a bottle
back
to where I found it —
knowing whatever returns
will come freely,
as a gift from
a deeper me.
Laurie's Notes 