Quiet Reflections and Prayers
What seemed like
a subtle shift in thinking
and the ability to focus
within
became a valuable tool
to navigate in a world
in the midst of its own
healing process.
It was a lifesaver during
overwhelming times
to be able to focus feelings
and thoughts
in such a way as to allow
them to be reflected.
Anything that wasn’t aligned
with love eventually fell away.
It seemed odd there had
ever been another path.
But it was understood,
looking back,
that parts of the whole
had felt disconnected
and a sacred journey
to the remembrance of wholeness
had been carried out.
There were moments of deeply felt grief, having endured a long, intense spiritual and human journey. There were regrets and lingering physical scars and emotional wounds. And there was tenderness, something that was understood deep down to somehow be the whole point.
There was the understanding, in the brief moments of outer calm, that I had given up many things on this journey — but not this. I wouldn’t have been able to endure without this tenderness of spirit.
I wouldn’t have been able to be present in a world of challenges without having broken apart and come back together. I wouldn’t have been able to look at overwhelming challenges and destruction without knowing what is possible. I had been to the edge of destruction in my own way and had, against all odds, transformed — not with my own limited human self alone, but in cooperation with something much bigger that I didn’t quite understand.
At a certain point, it became clear that standing on the edge of destruction was only one way this thing could go. It was possible to be moved also by respect and compassion for having made it so far and the passion to prevent future suffering wherever I could. It was possible to nurture and allow the smallest spark of pure love to ignite.
All things were returned to their rightful place. Parts of self matured naturally with the unconditional presence held by those who had endured brokenness and the intimate process of putting the pieces back — having taken care to leave a tender space unfilled where it would have been easier to attempt to fill it up. What was once desperate attempts at survival became wisdom and loving self-restraint.
For the parts of me that have bravely carried on for the sake of survival, while feeling disconnected from the whole, I hold this silent prayer — knowing no words could compete with the sincerely felt presence, honor, and receptiveness held back for too long. Amen
For a time,
everything reflected back
a sense of disconnection,
but there was a faded memory
of a deeper truth
just beneath the surface —
a quiet prayer that,
when held just lightly enough,
began the gentle task
of transformation.
Life was returned
to the sacred prayer
it was meant to be.
All things were held safely
within this transformation
into tenderness.
In connection with the purest love that is my true being, I hold this silent prayer in my deepest heart with purest intent and gratitude for all that has found its way to me and all that is becoming. Amen
As I looked back
on the long journey,
the thought came
that if I had to choose
a place to start again,
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.
— Laurie, What Now
I wish to reflect
all that is soft,
to offer my love
to all that is not —
to remind us
of the sacredness
of the journey
and the beauty
in the transformation.
— Laurie, What’s Right Here
There is a love
that reaches
to the wounded place
inside.
And there is a love
that flows
because it has touched
this reaching —
needing only
to express
its unending gratitude
for its own embrace.
— Laurie, Heart Space
Laurie's Notes 