There was a quieting,
a surrender into
the truest me,
a letting go
of the need
to arrange all of
the pieces
of a heart I believed
to be broken —
the most natural
kind of peace —
just a little deeper
down.
Quiet Reflections and Prayers
There was a quieting,
a surrender into
the truest me,
a letting go
of the need
to arrange all of
the pieces
of a heart I believed
to be broken —
the most natural
kind of peace —
just a little deeper
down.
Thank you
for each step
of the mysterious
unfolding of life.
Help me to honor
the tender places,
my greatest challenges —
all unsorted pieces
that led me
to this moment
of reprieve.
Amen
Because I had tired
of old ways
or because I sensed
the time had come
to forge
a different path,
I settled in
just below the surface —
daring to stand still
in chaos,
becoming willing
to listen with my heart —
letting go of the need
to be neatly sorted —
rediscovering the subtle,
natural beauty
in the return to
a gentler way of being.
I hold this space
in my heart,
this once forgotten place,
in honor of all that is
mysterious and unloved —
knowing that,
in this place,
nothing else is needed.
— Laurie, What’s Right Here
Note: My first book, What’s Right Here, will be ready soon with its new, softer look. Thanks to Renee and Michelle. Much love and gratitude for all who visit here.
Love,
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I immersed myself
in subtle healing thoughts,
gently guiding all parts
of me
into the quiet,
wordless space within
and safely back
to where we were one.
And so there was
a lightening,
a stepping back
and continuing on,
a fork in the road,
a line drawn in the sand,
the quiet knowing
deep down
that it was possible
to be in the world
and also in my heart.
Life became
a series of
small surrenders
to a gentler way
of being
in my heart
and in the world —
trusting in what appeared
and faded —
knowing both the space behind
and the unfolding story
at once
and having the courage
and inner strength
to hold it all.
And so my heart
grew weary of the search
for some kind of
relief
from the story
being told on the surface
through the eyes
of the wounded places
in me.
And so its quiet,
wordless whispers
and its ability
to sink in a little deeper
became louder.
And my willingness
to listen
a little more intently
became my greatest strength.
For a while,
I searched for
a way out
of suffering.
And then,
by grace,
I learned
the way out
was always
straight through
and a little deeper
down.
I found
my deepest comfort
in the sinking down
into the places
I had tried so hard
to heal.
I found peace
in the willingness
to look a little past
what was appearing
on the surface
and in the subtle shift
from the desire
to heal
into the desire to hold
with honor.