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 Advertisements
The shifts toward greater alignment with my heart were painfully subtle at times, but I learned that movement is movement. I found any amount of flexibility in my mind and body could be held and carried into more movement and more gentle guiding of unaligned fragments of Self back to the center of my deepest heart — in each moment.
It took a little practice, but I learned to remain in my heart. I learned to honor all that was painful while holding space for tenderness. I began to sink into my heart a little more each time I remembered I had the option to remain there. Experiences that seemed unhealable at first glance began to reflect the softening in my own heart.
One day I realized the peace I felt had come out of the quiet moments, the insights that came that couldn’t be shared or explained. It had come out of whatever remained of the grief of being within a separate self and the grace of having found my way back to my whole heart. It was the non-verbal kind of feeling my way through life that had saved me. It was the wisdom beyond stories […]
It was sobering to find tenderness in unlikely places — to be willing to listen to life — tossing up thoughts and stories gathered and held so carefully in exchange for a new kind of emptiness and the courage to regather pieces of my heart again and again — each time a little more sweetly. It was a relief not to need to fit the many pieces of my heart together all at once.
There was a settling down into my heart that continued to deepen. I began to understand beyond thinking and listen beyond words. I learned to hold my own shadows and light — letting go of ideas held too tightly in exchange for the lightness of compassion for myself and others and the renewed strength to continue on as a clearer reflection of my own quiet prayer.
At a certain point, the only path I could see as holding any possibility for anything real wasn’t a path I could see at all. It was the one that unfolded as I stepped.
It was always tender to reach the point where words couldn’t go — where my own questions, directed outward, became added noise. And I knew it was up to me to interpret the unspoken wisdom of my heart once more — as best I could — without knowing exactly how.
At a certain point, I looked back and realized it had been a sacred journey into my heart all along. It had seemed painfully subtle at times. But it was always sacred.
Words began to flow out from within. But it was the surrender in each moment and connection with my own inner healer that helped me to become the continuous quiet prayer I had heard so clearly in my heart.