Quiet Reflections and Prayers
There was something
beautiful
in allowing life
to fall
quiet for a moment —
allowing the surface
to not be
as my mind
would have it.
I understood
most deeply,
in the quiet times,
the value in following
my heart —
even if it whispered
subtly,
without words —
even if it was
my only connection
on earth —
even if it led
to just one meaningful
thought.
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 wish to reflect
all that is soft,
to offer my love
to all that is not —
to remind us
of the sacredness
of the journey
and the beauty
in the transformation.
— Laurie, What’s Right Here
I found things seemed
most tangled up
when there was
shifting going on
a little
deeper down.
And moving through
meant holding on
while letting go —
the most delicate
of moves.
As if by candlelight
and following
a whispered prayer,
I set out
to find my heart again.
Determined as I was
to mark the path,
I held that light
a little higher
somewhere along the way.
And in that instant,
it seemed it wasn’t
that we had strayed
so far,
but that we had forgotten
we could change
the lighting
of this place.
It happened subtly
at first.
Thoughts and ideas
and all those many
images and words
about how
we should be
and how
things had been
began to fade —
just enough
to let in
something unexpected —
an original thought,
a genuine expression,
a little breathing space —
a tender interaction
almost missed —
the serenity we felt
as we didn’t grasp.
Maybe it was us
who dared to
turn away
in search of
something real.
There was sadness
beyond words
in seeing the world
from a little deeper
place.
And there was a
tender space,
a whisper of hope
that could only have come
from the deepest kind
of love,
from my own
deepest heart —
the only thing
that could have held
all of it.
In-between struggling
and peace,
there was a delicate hand,
the me
that could lead
the rest of me safely
though this place.
It wasn’t each little
part alone
as it had seemed.
It wasn’t the good
and the bad.
It took each one
who had felt
separate
and tried so hard.
It took the trust
of each precious one
who dared
to show up.
And it was
this delicate
turning around
by the healer
within us all.
I held on
to a tiny whisper
from my heart
and the smallest bit
of silent space.
I had tried
all other ways
and sensed the time
had come to risk
all that was left
and let go of my mind’s
idea of how
this thing should go.
Anyway, that tiny whisper
couldn’t be ignored
much longer.
The way
to a new place
was through
all I didn’t know —
the most tender place,
this place of
in-between.
I honor each part
of me
and of you
that dared
to find the way
back to our hearts.
Having been led
by a whisper
of a love
from which we felt
disconnected,
we began
and we continued on.
We spoke gently because
the delicate nature
of healing hearts
was sensed.
We found strength
in the authentic
connection
with each other
and in our ability
to trust
in our highest calling
and deepest truth
when there was
no guarantee of
how this life
would unfold.
We were healers.
What else could
we do?
Laurie's Notes 