Quiet Reflections and Prayers
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.
After a while,
life was less
about trying so hard
or forcing
pieces to come together.
It was more about
gently reconnecting
with my own heart,
including those pieces
that were uncomfortable
to hold
at first.
It was about reaching
for a higher self
and back.
It was about holding
and letting go
at the same time —
again and again.
I couldn’t see
how all those
pieces could ever
come together.
But I had decided
it was worth the risk
to continue on —
in trust.
And so I tossed
all that I thought
I knew
and opened my arms
to catch
whatever truth,
whatever pieces
came back down —
knowing there was
room for my own
reaching —
knowing I didn’t
reach alone.
I honor
all parts and pieces
of a heart
that showed itself
to be strong
and vulnerable,
suffering
and whole —
all at once.
I honor them all
because they refused
to sink quietly
into the back corners
of a heart that was
rightly their own.
I honor them because
the journey
was too much
for any one part
alone —
because turning back
or becoming stuck
would have been
easier.
Still they continued on
through the unknown —
refusing to give up
hope
that their seemingly small
bodies and actions
could reach
and lead each other
to the truth —
however entangled
it had become.
There was a kind
of strength
that came out
of my deepest pain
and mixed with the
tenderness
shattered pieces of
my own heart had
worked so hard
to push down —
because they sensed
the amount of truth
they would cry out
was too much
for any one piece
to hold —
but they were never
seperate, really.
This strength found
a way
to reach up
just once more
when it had been
pushed down
too many times
to count.
This strength stood
and looked
at all that was
painful and terrible —
straight in the face.
And it vowed
to feel its own part
in it.
It agreed to keep reaching
because it had felt
the reaching back
of a hand
holding that same fear
that shook
in its own —
if only for
an instant.
I found
the more I looked
and anchored myself
just below the surface
and practiced filtering
all things
through my heart,
the more I was able
to filter out
pieces of truth.
I trusted in my ability
to know
when to pull back
and integrate,
taking care to
push just enough —
avoiding extreme
ups and downs.
I began to listen
and trust in my own
attention
and the gentle thoughts
that formed
out of emptiness,
through my willingness
to let go
of all of it
and my persistence
to wait patiently
for the slightest bit
of truth
that would carry me
safely to the next
needed step.
And so I stood
as the shattered pieces
of a self finding
its own heart.
There was a
quieting
in the midst
of the chaos
as it began
to sense
the different way
truth was felt
here,
the way it
flowed out
of all of its pieces —
the way it led
gently
into the place of
emptiness,
how it was moved
by the natural beauty
and delicate balance
of the very ground
of its own being —
where it was humbled
and without words
for a moment–
careful
not to impose.
When I really
got down to it,
the healer
in me
desired the same thing
as the part of me
hidden beneath
layers of distraction.
Parts of me
had gotten lost
in trying so hard
to protect
and process
as best they could,
while believing they were
separate.
The further away
they got,
the more attention
they demanded —
leading to a never-ending
struggle.
Relief came
in each moment
as I stood,
not as those fractured
pieces,
but as the whole —
reaching back
and embracing
that hidden part
that knew her own
voice —
welcoming
and releasing
all that stood
in-between.
I began to
listen a little
more deeply,
noticing without
forming thought
too soon.
I found myself
safely grounded
in the sacred space
of my heart.
I could feel
when truth was
spoken
and recognize
my own true
voice rising
out of the silent
spaces I had longed for
and feared.
And I knew I could
filter it out of
any amount of noise
and clutter.
The way forward
and through
was both painful
and tender.
It meant shedding
old ways
in exchange
for refinement
of spirit
and wholeness.
It meant stepping out
into places
and following a path
my mind couldn’t
yet imagine.
Laurie's Notes 