Quiet Reflections and Prayers
When time seemed to
speed up
and the challenges were
too big for a fractured part
of self,
it became necessary to
evolve.
There was a willingness
to keep my heart open to
the remembrance of
what I had come here
to share.
Life became a continuous,
delicate and sacred transformation
into tenderness.
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.
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.
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.
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 and questions and answers I found in the silent spaces within that nothing else could reach.
It came out of the willingness to wait forever for words to form and outer forms to match the love I knew in my heart.
There were times when the stories around me were complex. I knew the only hope was a miracle — often more than one. And so I vowed to clear my own mind and heart and become one with the quiet prayer that had carried me that far.
I vowed to hold the remaining bits of trauma in my heart — knowing they would be transforned into healing words. And I held each new moment as it unfolded.
Words pointed back to miracles past, comforting pieces of my heart and connecting me in each moment to a timeless, unshakeable higher me. But my prayer had no words.
And so the decision was made
to continue on.
There was no room
in that moment
for regret or any other
cluttering thought.
There was silent understanding
in each open heart
that the time had come
to listen a little more deeply
and speak a little more
intently from here.
Following a prayer from
a deeper part of me
felt more like listening than
creating plans of action.
It meant turning down
the volume on old patterns
of thought and trusting my own
inner resonance in deciding
where to place my feet.
It was comforting to feel
the familiarity as I moved
a little closer to my own
quiet prayer.
Laurie's Notes 