I found it wasn’t
so much that I was
broken.
It was that I felt
disconnected
from my own true
voice —
lost in an ocean
of thoughts
and shoulds.
But there was a subtler
knowing from a little
deeper place
that never gave up
hope.
Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I found it wasn’t
so much that I was
broken.
It was that I felt
disconnected
from my own true
voice —
lost in an ocean
of thoughts
and shoulds.
But there was a subtler
knowing from a little
deeper place
that never gave up
hope.
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 began to have
a different relationship
with my experiences.
They had become
precious pieces
within a deeper flow,
a way to listen
to life
that led most gently
back to the silent
reverence
within my own
untamed heart.
In this
softened light
and standing firmly
in my heart,
I thought
just maybe being brave
meant stepping back
to peek behind
what seemed to be
so shattered.
Perhaps
we weren’t as broken,
good or bad
or disconnected
as our minds
had made us out
to be.
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 peace
in being
without words —
allowing
all that was
too much
to be —
waiting for
a more subtle message
to form —
wating for our hearts
to speak.
I found safety
in the natural way
I began to explore
myself and the world
around me.
I began to use thought
as a kind of safety net,
an intimate way
of staying grounded
and allowing myself
to be gently guided —
returning safely
again and again
to this quiet space
where I first waited
for my heart to speak
in a way I could
understand.
Without a solid sense
of a fragmented self
once held in place
by overthinking
and figuring out,
the pull was to seek out
quiet space
in which to transform
experience back into
prayer —
deeply honoring
all that was left
unresolved on the surface —
gently pointing
back to the space
within my heart
because there was
nothing left
to block the way.
I began to listen
a little more deeply —
turning down the volume
of thoughts and stories —
focusing more and more
in my heart.
I found the contrast
shocking, really.
There was a tender
kind of sadness
as a quieter view
came more into focus
and what was most real
and true
began to show through
all the clutter.
And I vowed
that however great
the contrast became,
this time —
I wouldn’t let go
of this.