Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I learned, out of necessity,
the skill of holding an intention
while letting go at the same time.
It was this delicate balance
of holding and letting go
that gave me the stamina
to do what felt absolutely impossible —
to love my way straight through
all that was painful
and turn it into the most tender
experience.
It was difficult to hold
many things.
It was difficult to comprehend
that the world wasn’t
how it appeared on the surface.
I had known that at an early age
and had continued on.
It was disheartening to know
and be unable to be heard —
as so many times before.
Yet I remained thankful for strength
to hold it all anyway —
and to remain connected
to God and to my heart
this time
and to welcome new friends
and new experiences
as I learned to notice
and nurture the smallest
bit of hope and pure joy
again.
Just when I thought
there was no hope,
just when darkness seemed
to have won,
I learned something surprising.
I learned this was the perfect
set up for an equal and opposite
surge of light
that would outshine every last
bit of darkness.
And once lit,
nothing could put it out
What was seen could never be
unseen.
I found it was possible
to navigate through
the process of awakening into
our own true being.
I understood the courage to face fear
and pain
this required,
while at the same time
navigating through extreme challenges
in the physical world.
It wasn’t easy,
but it was possible.
It was possible to hold my ground
and find a way through.
It was possible to observe and understand
what was indeed happening
in darkness,
to resolve to hold a place of light,
to stand up or speak out when necessary,
and to offer love and forgiveness
where it seemed impossible to do so.
The necessary steps seemed
unclear at times —
only to become clearer
as they appeared.
It required trust, creativity
and the courage to try one more
one more time.
I found myself within
a natural flow,
a constant creative process —
a subtle, prayerful transformation
set in motion by one quiet prayer.
I learned to keep going
whenever things didn’t look at all
like what I held in my heart.
I learned to hold my ground
just a little longer —
trusting somehow, one more last time,
in the transformation into tenderness.
I began to practice allowing.
It no longer occured to me
to try to force anything.
Instead I began to find
quiet joy in being
the space
for pieces come together
and in being in
a world in constant transition
into tenderness.
I found journies of the heart
can be difficult.
It was easy to become
discouraged and a little more
difficult to feel my way forward
and through leftover debris from
early challenges
and to become willing to stand
alone with God.
Each time I felt I couldn’t take
another step,
life somehow showed
just enough tenderness
to inspire one more.
Each time I seemed
to fall back down,
I wondered how I would ever
find the strength to rise again.
There were times
of integration when I would
somehow lose my footing
and in a little bit of panic
seem to lose my way
and cry out,
which never went particularly well —
to put it mildly.
There was, in these times,
a quiet, wordless prayer
inside my heart.
Often it was the only thing
left to hold on to.
No matter how great the
contrast between what I felt
in my heart
and what appeared in front of me
and in my cluttered mind,
I continued on —
declaring once more,
perhaps with more conviction,
If the only reprieve to be found
is in my heart space
with this one continuous
quiet prayer,
then I will hold
only this.
It was a little risky to dare to understand tenderness. It meant first knowing the opposite. It meant knowing bitter coldness and disconnect, the only way out being back through painful layers of healing as each healed layer began to let in a little more light of hope and courage to continue on. Aiming to get to a future place or remaining stuck in past stories became courage to drop more deeply into the present. It was an extreme path — the result being the capacity to hold and love the most traumatized parts of the human experience. There was accumulated trauma from painful attempts to heal the original trauma, and there was a love and compassion nothing could ever touch or take away.
What seemed like
a subtle shift in thinking
and the ability to focus
within
became a valuable tool
to navigate in a world
in the midst of its own
healing process.
It was a lifesaver during
overwhelming times
to be able to focus feelings
and thoughts
in such a way as to allow
them to be reflected.
Laurie's Notes 