Quiet Reflections and Prayers
And so I remembered how to listen
to a different voice.
It was in that moment I knew
for sure that I could trust again
in the mysterious unfolding
of life.
I had, for a while, turned my back
on the quiet prayer within my heart —
my very essence,
the one thing that connected me with
all that was true and real,
only to return stronger
and with greater reverence
for all that was human
and all that was Divine.
The delicate process of holding on,
letting go, and reaching without grasping
led to a gentler path.
There I learned the value of
tenderness and became willing to
set down many things in exchange for
a deeper connection with life.
I knew without a doubt that
whatever appeared would eventually lead
back to a tender place in my own heart.
And so I became willing to bear the ache
of leftover traces of unhealed and
unresolved experiences —
willing to be in this place where there are
no guarantees —
willing to show up in each moment
with a quiet prayer and renewed reverence
for the sacred journey,
however it unfolded.
With one more last sliver of courage,
hoping for the best
and being willing to face whatever appeared,
I vowed to continue on —
settling in a little more deeply —
holding what was right there
in front of me,
as best I could —
embracing each new moment
as a prayer.
I found a little magic
in the reclaimed ability to transform
all that was painful
into something tender.
It was each momentary remembrance
of the first time
I dared to turn down the noise
around me and inside
that carried me gently back
to my heart again
and again.
It was the courage to stand
in the quiet space within
just a little longer,
allowing all that was unsorted
and unhealed
to be held without condition
just a little more deeply
that attuned me
to the continuous quiet prayer
in my heart
and reconnected me
to my soul.
I learned to find my way
back to the space within
my heart.
I learned to be okay
with a quiet prayer
and a tiny spark of hope.
And I remembered
to never again let go
of my soul.
And so the essence
of every experience became
a prayer —
a continuous flow of love within
the gentle whisper of truth
that had breathed me
back to life.
At times I forgot
the pure connection with
my heart and the unshakeable
hope that remained always,
even in the darkest, most treacherous
parts of the journey.
It took only a moment —
a seemingly accidental whisper,
a quiet prayer of desperation crying out
to the light or a gentle note
from an old friend
triggering into clarity
the remembrance of all that is
most true and all of the beauty
and unconditional love
that couldn’t be broken
no matter what.
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.
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 intuitively understood
that if I was going to reconnect
with my heart,
I would need to risk setting down
old ways of coping
and moving through
a whole lot of fears.
What I had found was subtle
and tender, and i just knew
if I was to return to any form
of numbing or distraction,
I would miss something I wasn’t
willing to let go of again.
I had come too far.
And so the decision was made,
and that first step into
what I later called a prayer break
was taken.
The respite found immediately
was a vast contrast
to all of the striving and searching
and disconnect I had experienced.
I never turned back.
After a while my life existed within
an expanded prayer break,
a gentle reconnection
with a deeper part of me
and a return to the natural flow
of life, which I experienced as
a continuous transformation into
tenderness.
Laurie's Notes 