Quiet Reflections and Prayers
And so I stood
as the shattered pieces
of a self finding
its own heart.
There was a
quieting
in the midst
of the chaos
as it began
to sense
the different way
truth was felt
here,
the way it
flowed out
of all of its pieces —
the way it led
gently
into the place of
emptiness,
how it was moved
by the natural beauty
and delicate balance
of the very ground
of its own being —
where it was humbled
and without words
for a moment–
careful
not to impose.
I began to
listen a little
more deeply,
noticing without
forming thought
too soon.
I found myself
safely grounded
in the sacred space
of my heart.
I could feel
when truth was
spoken
and recognize
my own true
voice rising
out of the silent
spaces I had longed for
and feared.
And I knew I could
filter it out of
any amount of noise
and clutter.
For a while,
I followed
my mind
and all that it
held to be
true.
But I found
the mind rarely
spoke of truth
without the heart.
And the heart,
though gentle
and soft,
always found a way
to remind it
of what was truly
sacred.
Out of my deepest
silent prayer,
my true voice
called out
to be heard.
Its words were
clear and true
and led
safely back
to the silence
within my own
deepest heart.
I found it was
possible to find
our way back
to our hearts.
I found that,
for every single
thing I gave up
along the way,
for every broken dream
and every person
I couldn’t reach,
there was an expansion
of the tender space
I had come to know
as the source
of true peace,
connection,
and happiness.
I began to have
a different relationship
with my experiences.
They had become
precious pieces
within a deeper flow,
a way to listen
to life
that led most gently
back to the silent
reverence
within my own
untamed heart.
There was peace
in being
without words —
allowing
all that was
too much
to be —
waiting for
a more subtle message
to form —
wating for our hearts
to speak.
I found safety
in the natural way
I began to explore
myself and the world
around me.
I began to use thought
as a kind of safety net,
an intimate way
of staying grounded
and allowing myself
to be gently guided —
returning safely
again and again
to this quiet space
where I first waited
for my heart to speak
in a way I could
understand.
And so I
jumped to the core
of my heart —
because there was
nowhere else
to search —
or because I sensed
the directness
of that move
and the resolve
of all the pieces
of my heart
to lead me
to the peace
I knew was there.
I found myself
listening to life
in a way I could only
discover through direct
experience,
an exploration of how
this worked for me —
aided by my observations
of others,
my willingness
and innate ability
to listen with my heart
and trust what it revealed.
Laurie's Notes 