Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I returned many times
to the the place of no words.
Each time I learned to trust
and to let go
just a little more completely.
I learned to honor the times
when it became clear
that it was safe enough
to allow whatever remained
unsorted to be set down.
I hold what is here
with love –
the natural unfolding –
this clear space,
all of this,
including all that is
painful and confusing.
I accept and love
all of it,
as it is.
I found comfort
in the small moments of surrender
when I dared to let go
of everything
and stand in the empty space.
There was tenderness
in the gentle way life began
to flow from there.
And so I returned again
to this place –
trading it all for a quiet prayer
and the chance to follow
to where my heart was tuned.
Life had a way of leading
back to the quiet space within –
to the setting down of all
of the tangled up,
unresolved thoughts –
to the difficult step of tossing everything
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 a state of prayer –
to begin again
from there.
I began to notice moments
of unfolding tenderness.
It was okay if there were
challenging moments.
I had learned that experiences
were always transforming
and, like the wind,
could change course
in an instant.
And it was enough to know
I could, in any moment,
hold or allow myself to be carried
by the sweet, gentle breeze
of my deepest heart.
After a while
a gentler way through the winding
roads of this human journey
became a little clearer
as the pieces of my own
shattered heart began to appear
a little less broken
and a little more like unpolished
treasures entrusted to my care.
I was never without
connection with a deeper space
within the greater whole,
though it seemed
to dance around a bit
through different forms
and natural things —
reaching back again —
softly touching the tender,
hidden spaces I once tried
to resolve.
Words became a gentle
path back into the willingness
to feel and to be a little more
present.
After a while, they began
to echo the silence of
my deepest heart —
winding their way through
old wounds —
soothing whatever appeared
along the way.
It took a little bit of courage
allowing softer thoughts to form —
landing on a surprisingly comforting
background of emptiness —
flowing effortlessly,
drifting a little more deeply
into my deepest heart.
Maybe it was the gentle rhythm
I had allowed myself to feel
once again,
for just a moment,
or a word formed of this
same emptiness
allowed to echo even more —
somehow, gently,
against all odds,
from this deeper space
within.
After a little while,
I caught on that this
human experience was in fact
a sacred journey.
And so I began to take notes —
connecting the person
to a more expanded,
formless self —
comforting and guiding —
lighting my path
as it unfolded —
navigating through contrast —
following what felt most true —
listening and feeling my way
into my deepest heart.
Life began to soften
ever so slightly.
It was risky to hold
the love I had found
in my heart.
There were body memories
of the times when the contrast
between my heart and the world
had been too much to hold —
or so I thought.
Little by little I had somehow
learned how to hold whatever
needed holding —
for however long it needed
to be held —
even if it was forever.
Laurie's Notes 