Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I found I could
hold and honor
whatever was in front
of me —
pushing on
and remembering
just enough
in each moment.
Letting go of everything
often
allowed for deeper honoring
and natural shifting —
leaving space
for healing thoughts
to form —
leading naturally
to sacred space
and lasting calm,
even in the middle
of great transformation.
I began to listen
to the world around me
and to my own heart,
simultaneously.
And though the words
seemed slow
to describe this
natural process,
I found myself
trusting in its power
and moving
a little more gracefully
from this place.
There was a kind
of relief
in realizing
I didn’t need to
fit all of the pieces
together.
I didn’t need to
force feeling better.
I didn’t need
to force anything
or be anything
other than what
was there
naturally —
underneath.
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.
And so I
jumped to the core
of my heart —
because there was
nowhere else
to search —
or because I sensed
the directness
of that move
and the resolve
of all the pieces
of my heart
to lead me
to the peace
I knew was there.
Thank you
for the ability
to be gentle and loving
and the strength
to go against
what we must —
to follow
our own hearts.
Remind us of the beauty
that comes out of
living from a place
of true compassion.
Give us courage
to find our own
inner space
and to honor
this space in others —
to keep returning
and living
from here —
that we may
truly love.
Amen
Thought became secondary
to the listening,
a kind of
inside out version
of how it had been —
a way of staying
within a natural flow —
reconnecting with
and exploring
my inner self
and outer world
in a gentler way.
I found myself
listening to life
in a way I could only
discover through direct
experience,
an exploration of how
this worked for me —
aided by my observations
of others,
my willingness
and innate ability
to listen with my heart
and trust what it revealed.
I found I didn’t
need to wait
for everything
to come together
or fall apart —
or dance all
the little pieces
of my heart
into a corner.
In any moment,
I could return
to zero.
And I always met
just the right pieces
there.
Out of necessity,
I found myself
starting from zero.
And to my surprise,
it was most beautiful place.
And though I wanted
to find my way back,
I always returned
to zero.
And I never felt the need
to find a label
for everything
In fact, I searched
everything for zero.
Laurie's Notes 