Quiet Reflections and Prayers
Living out of
my heart
is a little different
than living out of
the continuous stories
of the mind.
It’s quieter here,
the kind of quiet
that takes a little
readjusting.
But I continue to find
great treasures
as I remember
more and more
of how to navigate again
in this space.
I found there is
a natural rhythm
of life,
one we lose touch with
when we find ourselves
living in our thoughts
or trying to create
just the right
circumstances
or feeling state —
trying to figure out
or find
something to make
this life
more predictable
so that it all makes
some kind of sense.
But I found the deepest
kind of peace
in returning to this
most natural rhythm
of life.
And so I allow
my words
to find their own way —
that they might
reflect this natural rhythm
and remind us
what it feels like
to be alive and free.
Since I was a little girl,
I saw there was
more to life
than what we could see
on the surface.
And so I found myself
looking for the deeper story
in everything.
I wasn’t interested so much
in memorizing lines
and verses.
I wanted to feel
where the story
was coming from.
And so I did.
And then I experienced
what it was like
to be unable to feel
this deeper story
for a while
and struggled to find
my way back again —
so that I could share
my own story
in my own way.
Underneath
all of the noise,
past the misunderstandings
and old wounds
and even older traumas,
there is pure longing,
not to be fixed,
but to be loved.
And so I take hold
of this place in me.
And if I must
reassure it
in every
moment
forever,
I will.
— Laurie, Healer of My Own Heart
Sometimes it’s nice
to show up
as I am —
to meet others
as they are —
to toss my thoughts
and wait
for them to come
back down
a little more gently —
to hold a space
for just the kind
of love
that doesn’t need
a continuous narration
or specific way
to be.
At times,
the surface life
appeared unsettled.
Often there was
much to sort through.
But if I dared to sink
just a little below,
thoughts began to appear
a little slower —
offering themselves
as quiet prayers
and fading gracefully
back into stillness —
where whatever reappeared
was always just enough.
Writing calms me
like medicine.
It quiets me.
I don’t try to understand
with my mind.
I just let it flow out
and sink in
to my heart.
Sometimes one word
shows up in a piece
and reaches where I couldn’t
reach in other ways.
Maybe it is that
I have to become
so still inside
to listen
with my whole being.
Maybe it is this listening
that calms the little parts
of me so profoundly.
— Laurie, Heart Space
And so the words
written carefully
on my heart
began to reflect
the gentle way
I had taken in
subtle messages
from inner and outer
experiences —
reflecting the soft,
repetitive motion
of holding and letting go,
listening and settling —
the one thing
strong enough
to heal my own heart —
this gentle way —
this most natural movement
of life.
There was less
of a need
to form solid conclusions
and interpret meaning
in each experience.
Instead, there was
a sense of being
part of life,
naturally contributing
my part —
quieting my own heart
a little more with
each unnarrated moment
and carrying on.
It became increasingly helpful
to meet life
from a gentler place.
And so I held
my ground within
my heart —
remembering how
I had so delicately
held and let go
of all that crossed
my path
as I found my way
to this position —
letting go of all
I couldn’t sort out
all at once —
noticing as
pieces came together —
a little at a time —
naturally —
without my
over-thinking
and doing.
And with this same
natural motion,
I continued on.
Laurie's Notes 