Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I learned to listen
with my heart —
navigating my way
gently through
all that had been
too much.
I found I could
back up a little
when part of me
needed picking up.
I found relief
in letting go
of everything,
refocusing
in my heart
and waiting for
words to form
as a prayer —
reaching deep down
to where I couldn’t
reach before —
always just enough.
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.
I vowed
to take all that was
not beautiful in my
own heart
and transform it —
gently.
I vowed to hold
each wounded part
in me,
including those that were
most difficult
to hold.
And when it was
not possible,
I held the empty space
of their absence.
I showed up
for each life experience.
I held it all
until it was possible
to set it all down.
And I found
that wherever
I placed myself
within this sacred journey,
I was held
safely within
my true,
whole self.
I hold this space
for a new way
of being.
I honor the
sacred journey
in me
and in you.
Amen
I honor each
heart that has
shown up
to find its own
true voice
at a time
when so much
is being
transformed.
I honor the sacred
journey each one
must travel
alone
in order
to come together
in a new way.
I honor those
who hold a space
for me
to sort through
all that is in need
of sorting.
I honor
this journey
in my own heart.
And I hold this space
for those
just beginning.
Amen
Healing became
less of something
to figure out
after a while.
It began to feel
more like a sacred
journey
as I began to place
my focus
more and more
in my heart.
Instead of trying
so hard to create,
I began to notice
the natural way
I was pulled to
notice life
around me
and inside.
I found myself
holding and letting go
of all that crossed
my path —
as the two became one
delicate movement.
Quiet prayers
were whispered
and symptoms disappeared.
But by that time,
it didn’t really
matter so much
exactly what happened
on the surface
because there was
something tender
in meeting life
exactly as it was.
I return to silence,
to truth.
And out of THIS silence
comes a new voice,
the voice of my soul
and the courage to speak
from THIS place —
no longer held captive
by the thoughts
that are not quite me.
Let them be
there.
Let it all
be there.
I will be
in a different place —
in reverence
of what is true.
It wasn’t about
trying so hard
to create,
really.
Healing my own
shattered heart
was an art,
not a formula.
It took the strength
of each piece
risking to trust
when it would have
made more sense
to turn away.
It took the strength
to reach
and to hold
with open hands —
without grasping
or needing to avoid
being left
alone
in my reaching
while praying
to God that
wouldn’t happen.
It was a risk
that at a certain point
had become
my greatest hope.
There was
a sense of connection
that couldn’t come
out of finally being
fully understood
on the surface.
It didn’t come out
of finally finding
all the answers
to endless questions.
It didn’t even really
come out
of anything
I had gathered
in my attempts
to find it.
This sense of connection
came out of
the whole journey —
through the pain of
rejection
and the willingness
to walk through
the unknown
in search of
whatever it was
I thought I was
reaching for.
But that was the strength
of the pure desire
to reach
and to know my own
true voice —
no matter what.
I began to listen
with my heart
to words
reflecting my own
inner knowing.
There was a calling forth
and allowing of
my own true voice
to flow out
though my own
unique experiences
and join
with others
in such a way
as to form
a symphony
of clear sound
and the accompanying
pauses.
I began to
see my own small part
and those around me
as connected
and important —
leading us safely
through all that was
unclear.
Laurie's Notes 