There was a longing for some missed step along the way, some kind of orientation to life or honoring of the intensity of the spiritual journey that didn’t happen soon enough. And so finding my way back to where I could sense a loving higher self had been a long, tedious journey.
The process of gathering up fractured parts of self came with its own kind of heartache. Somehow, thankfully, it also came with added tenderness. That’s what kept me in the game. It was the awe at how I kept finding just the right piece just before I really needed it and the resolve to stick with myself no matter what. It was the determination to learn to trust life and to turn what looked like a complete mess into something beautiful — again and again.
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.
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.
When time seemed to
and the challenges were
too big for a fractured part
it became necessary to
There was a willingness
to keep my heart open to
the remembrance of
what I had come here
Life became a continuous,
delicate and sacred transformation
Words formed out of silence — from a higher place. Somehow, in a not so mysterious kind of way, gently whispered prayers connected an expanded sense of self.
A new kind of thought was born
out of a willingness to reach back —
offering comforting words,
while remaining open
to the same gently whispered prayers
from somewhere beyond this time.
At a certain point,
the decision was made
to keep going —
through all that needed attention
so that 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.
I found all things eventually reached the point where there was no real option but to let go and trust in a higher wisdom. Trying to hold on too tightly never really worked out.
Again and again, I was faced with increasingly complex experiences where my only hope was to trust I would be met and guided by my healer self with each step. In those moments, I wasn’t depending on my own limited sense of self in a separate body. I was in a state of listening prayer.I was deeply present and receptive to higher inspiration, wherever it came from.
I let go of all forms of thought that didn’t feel like higher inspiration. All stories in my mind that reinforced separateness had to be set down — if only for a moment.
There was pain in returning to wholeness. It was painful to reach back to parts of myself stuck in the past. And it was painful to begin to feel the pain of others as my own pain.
But there was no turning back. There was a tenderness in tapping into truth that I was unwilling to let go of again. And so I continued to meet each unfolding moment from a state of prayer — trusting in life to meet me. It felt like a huge risk, but I had been in that place before.