Quiet Reflections and Prayers
There was a quieting
that came out of
my willingness
to look a little deeper,
not further into mind,
but further into
the heart.
And from there,
I could see
more clearly.
There was relief
I hadn’t found
in other ways
and a tenderness for life
in all of its forms
that held me securely
in my deepest heart
and moved me
to continue on.
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.
There was sadness
beyond words
in seeing the world
from a little deeper
place.
And there was a
tender space,
a whisper of hope
that could only have come
from the deepest kind
of love,
from my own
deepest heart —
the only thing
that could have held
all of it.
As I looked back
on the long journey,
the thought came
that if I had to choose
a place to start again,
I would choose
emptiness.
I would go back
to the first time
I was moved
to trust
my own heart —
when there was nothing
left to try
except to drop everything
and find out
what was left.
I would start again
from there.
There was something precious
about getting down to
the core —
something raw —
a quieting,
a letting go
of the need to be
anything more
than life living itself
naturally —
stillness moving
on borrowed time
in no time —
releasing
and affirming itself
silently or as
a whisper.
Thank you
for each subtle reflection
of truth
and each quiet space
of in-between —
for each heart that whispers
and listens
through its own wounding
and understands
beyond thinking.
Amen.
I found life
continued to unfold —
each of us
doing our best
to listen
to our own quiet prayer,
getting lost
and returning
again and again
to silence.
I found it a bit
humorous
after a while —
all the trying
to understand and
interpret.
And so I continued on
as a part of
the mystery —
a little lighter —
participating without ever
leaving the space
within my deepest heart
and just below
the surface.
Having been led
by this quiet prayer,
there was an even
deeper quieting
as I began to see
more clearly
from this place.
The change was so
beautiful and subtle
as everything that no longer
resonated
simply dissolved
into quiet awe —
a million words and none —
all at once.
This listening prayer
began to feel
less like doing
and more like
falling —
a trading in
of tightly held ideas
of what this life
should be —
an ever so slight
clinging
to only the empty
space in my heart
where there was
calm.
This quiet prayer
of my heart
guided me
ever so gently
into silent spaces —
past thought —
through and past
pain and tenderness —
always safely back
to right where I started —
each time
a little more sweetly.
Laurie's Notes 