Quiet Reflections and Prayers
Life, with all its challenges
and miracles, had a way of leading
my heart back to the quiet space within
and the setting down of all of the tangled up,
unresolved thoughts —
the difficult step of tossing everything else
up to God.
Time and time again I found myself
in a place of too much —
the only clear option being
to return again humbly
to my deepest heart
and begin again from there.
The transition into tenderness
required delicate footing.
I learned to look a little
more deeply into my surroundings.
Nothing was at it seemed,
but that meant
something beautiful must be
hidden beneath what appeared.
I learned to look a little more deeply
into what was there,
intuitively drawn to remain
in each moment —
no matter what —
determined to find just one
small sign of beauty
when at first glance,
all was dark —
holding each faint whisper of hope —
becoming more determined with each step
to help it to grow.
I learned to focus
and remain centered within
my heart.
I found respite in the sacredness
when the world around me seemed
unreachable,
and I couldn’t seem
to bridge the gap between my inner
experience and the outer chaos.
The harder I tried,
the bigger it became.
I remembered back to times before
when the only solution I could see
was to let go of my heart
in order to survive and somehow
manage to fit in.
But this time I had traveled too far
and learned too much.
And so the only thing to do,
having reached the end of the path,
was to stand still right there in my heart,
in the middle of the chaos,
and hope for the best.
The tenderness found
in that first moment of surrender
initiated me into the delicate process
of walking through the most
difficult times.
It taught me to hold
and let go of all that is
unhealed and unresolved
in me and in the world.
It offered a glimpse into our creative,
resilient human nature
that finds a way to look
a little deeper
for beauty and hope
and a gentler path.
I learned to find my way
back to the space within
my heart.
I learned to be okay
with a quiet prayer
and a tiny spark of hope.
And I remembered
to never again let go
of my soul.
And so the essence
of every experience became
a prayer —
a continuous flow of love within
the gentle whisper of truth
that had breathed me
back to life.
The quiet prayer in my heart
continued on
no matter how many times I seemed
to forget to listen.
It was there in the quiet moments
when I dared to gather up all
of the confusion and anxieties
and frustration and ongoing traumas
playing out all around me.
It was there in the aha moments
when I became quiet enough to remember
all I had forgotten to gather up —
all the little bits of hope and the pure
miraculous way they still existed
after everything.
It was there when I remembered
just one small, sweet memory
of the journey —
a time when I seemed to be
completely alone but realized I was not.
In a sea of traumatic memories
and the long list of things lost,
what stood out, if I looked
and listened a little deeper,
was tenderness.
At times I forgot
the pure connection with
my heart and the unshakeable
hope that remained always,
even in the darkest, most treacherous
parts of the journey.
It took only a moment —
a seemingly accidental whisper,
a quiet prayer of desperation crying out
to the light or a gentle note
from an old friend
triggering into clarity
the remembrance of all that is
most true and all of the beauty
and unconditional love
that couldn’t be broken
no matter what.
Perhaps the most painful lesson
on the journey
was allowing things to be
unresolved —
unsorted.
It was a little different than
giving in. It was definitely not
giving up., but I had to learn
to hold a place for all that was unsettled —
trusting in previous lessons learned
about truth and love and the fluidity
of all states —
knowing beyond all doubt that
there was tenderness in this place.
There were so many moments
of decision,
so many chances to take one more step
and to trust it was indeed safe to hold
out for truth
just one more last time.
I learned the art of turning inward,
healing deeply
all the parts of me that were
frightened and exhausted from years
of being disconnected from each other
and from God.
I learned there was a powerful
spirit of pure, real love —
not the imitation or false light
I had strived for.
No, not that.
This unexpected rising up of pure
Spirit was what had brought me
through trials and encouraged me
when I didn’t think I could endure.
And it was this very rising up
that, each time I glanced at the road
behind me, made the whole journey
worth living.
Laurie's Notes 