Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I found there were
places along the
winding path
of my heart
that remained
unsorted.
It was these unresolved
pieces of my own story
that I came to honor
as doorways
into the mysterious —
the place where words
couldn’t go
and only the purest love
was felt
in their place.
There was a quieting,
a gentle shift
from pure survival
to an aliveness
that flowed out of
the willingness to embrace
carefully hidden emotion
in a way that was
both safe
and strong enough
to hold
the most painful experiences —
transforming them,
through this holding,
into something beautiful.
And so I followed
the words —
each time a little further
back into the silence
I had come to love.
I had acquired the taste
for the gentle transformation
into the subtle knowing,
the quiet prayer
I once tried
to understand
and grasp.
I found both loneliness
and freedom
in the many small choices
not to mold the words
that flowed from my heart
into any particular
form or practice.
And so they remained
as they were written,
as my own heart —
untamed and free.
Because of
the most challenging
of circumstances,
I was drawn directly
into the center of
my deepest heart.
From this position,
from this blessing
in disguise,
I was able to
walk through anything.
Looking back,
I wouldn’t have chosen
anything at all
over the peace
I found in that moment —
when there was
no other choice.
I began to notice
a natural softening
in myself and others
as I aligned to my own
true essence —
a subtle shifting
that bypassed
the need to sort out
every personal flaw
and pattern.
There was a sense
of relief
after having struggled
and identified ourselves
with the parts
that were evolving —
an embracing —
a relaxing into
our own inherent wholeness.
I began to filter life
in a gentler way,
holding and honoring
moments as they unfolded,
shifted and transformed
into the next.
This motion
of deep reverence
and unconditional love
became my unspoken,
continuous prayer —
sure footing
in a world in the midst
of its own deepest healing.
I found peace
in the letting go
of the need
to hold each detail
of my own life
so tightly.
Somehow,
because all attempts
at solving the puzzle
of my own struggles
in the usual ways
completely failed,
I was left
holding the remnants
of a deeper story.
This was the story
I wanted to share
because it belonged
to a deeper me.
There was tenderness
in the persistent way
pieces of my own heart
longed for understanding
and in the gentle way
they became willing
to surrender
the need to grasp —
to step outside
neatly sorted
concepts and ideas
and every place
that was comfortable
and guaranteed —
to toss it all up
again and again
because it was
the most loving thing.
Let me be
a quiet prayer,
not always quiet
on the surface,
but a little deeper down.
Let my words and actions
resonate with
the space within
my deepest heart
and yours.
Amen
Laurie's Notes 