Quiet Reflections and Prayers
Lead me gently
as I continue on.
Help me to show up
in each moment
with an open heart —
to experience what is
here —
knowing the connection
with my own
inner healer
in each moment —
trusting the ultimate
care of others
to their own —
remembering
the tenderness
and honor
in being a part
of this continuing
mystery
and of this great
love.
Amen
I found my deepest
peace
in turning
down the volume
around me
and within
just enough
so that I could
feel
my own quiet
prayer.
And so I always
returned to
this.
Lead me
gently back
to the tenderness
within my
heart.
Soothe my scattered
mind.
Hold my weary
soul.
Love me
when I have
forgotten
how to love
my Self.
Amen
I found,
in each moment,
connection with my own
higher self —
the most gentle,
quiet prayer
just beneath the surface,
no matter what
was appearing.
Even when the world
seemed too noisy,
I found comfort
in knowing it was
still there.
I hold this
silent prayer —
for somehow prayers
just know
when to go
a different way.
Instead of going out,
they turn around
and gather in —
where speaking
becomes listening —
like praying in reverse.
At times
when contrast
and noise
seemed to get
louder,
I found it most
comforting to focus
on the quiet prayer
that never left
my heart.
I had stood
on the edge.
I had looked darkness
in the face.
I had searched
my own soul
down to the core
and held the tiniest
point of light.
And I had grown
tired.
I had screamed
and cried.
And I had
given up —
for a while.
I had found comfort
and regathered
my heart
in pieces
and yes,
prayed —
to whoever could hear —
again.
I had listened
to whoever dared
to share
anything that resembled
what I had known
and let go of
and knew again
in that moment —
without a doubt.
I found
that no matter what,
I was a flexible,
creative,
evolving being.
I could let go
of thoughts
and stories,
while honoring
all that had
brought me to each
new moment.
No matter what,
I was connected
with the part of me
that was
most whole.
No matter what,
I could easily follow
my attention
until my most natural
position was
within the quiet prayer
of my heart.
I found I could
feel my way
through this life
as I let go
a little more
of cluttered thoughts
and ideas
of how it should
look.
I found comfort
in the subtle insights
I once tried
to sort out.
There was a natural
reverence for my own
journey
and for others.
Prayers became
more wordless
as I began to trust
the one continuous
quiet prayer
I once
turned away
because the contrast
had seemed too vast.
At a certain point,
I found
that projecting myself
any further into
the future
than that very moment
was not something
I could afford to do
any longer.
And so I prepared
as best I could
for the unknown.
And as I had done
before,
in a moment
of absolute truth,
I vowed to show up
in that moment
and the next
and trust
that my willingness
to risk
would be met.
And I knew
I would never
leave the prayer
that began
in that moment
of truth.
Laurie's Notes 