Quiet Reflections and Prayers
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
And so the decision was made
to continue on
through all that needed attention
and healing
until my experience in the world
more clearly reflected
the peace I held
in my deepest heart.
It was an unshakable
determination to hold my ground
no matter what.
The more I dared
to hold a space of love,
the closer I seemed to be
to a deeper part of me.
At a certain point it was
most natural to be this space
in my heart
and in the world.
This is where I found
my deepest comfort and peace.
Sometimes the only thing
I knew to do
was to keep going,
which undoubtedly meant
surrendering to the creative flow
of life.
And so there was the
painful dropping of pieces
I had held so carefully
and an understanding
I seemed to have with God
that I would sometimes
hold on a little longer,
push ahead,
lose my center,
and struggle to find any
resemblance of grace.
But I would always keep going.
Each time another challenge arose,
I was reminded of how
it could have been —
had I not allowed the process
of expanding to happen
so freely.
There was frustration as old
patterns and emotions were
brought to the surface,
and I was tempted to retreat–
just a little.
I learned to turn
inward and hold my ground —
refusing to quit before
the next tender place
was reached.
Sometimes my prayer sounded
more like a tired scream through
swallowed tears
than a comforting whisper.
But there was always
tenderness close by —
as I dared to keep going.
It was the small miracles,
the quiet inspirations, that kept my heart
pressing on long enough
to find a path that didn’t lead
further away from itself.
It was the gentle, comforting way
words formed out of nothingness
and courage was found
to look challenges in the face —
knowing the transformative power
of surrender first hand.
It was the remembrance of the
turning away from my own heart
and that first step
taken to find a way back.
It was the subtle release into a gentle flow that taught me how to soften. Relief came each time I found just enough courage to listen and to soften my own heart a little more.
It came in the quiet pauses just before words of comfort began to form and lingered sweetly — forever.
When I looked back, after a while, the story I had carried had faded. It was the subtler, sometimes painfully subtle story beyond the surface that kept my attention.
It was the faint memory of all the times I had managed to allow a quieting, just enough to hear the quiet prayer spoken from my own heart — somewhere long ago.
It was each moment I had allowed my heart to remain open, even though I was sure I didn’t know how to continue on, that had woven a more beautiful story — somehow.
I let go,
trusting that wherever
the pieces fall will
be okay —
possibly even more
beautiful than if
I had tried to fit
them together
on my own.
— Laurie, What’s Right Here
Laurie's Notes 