Quiet Reflections and Prayers
I learned there is nothing
comparable to the strength
of the human spirit
when aligned with its creator
and wililling, win or lose,
to protect all that is innocent,
sacred and true.
I learned there is no greater joy
or frightening responsibility
than the vow to preserve
something sacred,
no matter what —
or to hold and honor what had
once been threatened,
knowing nothing could ever
divide what is and has always been
forever, divinely
connected and united.
I intuitively understood
that if I was going to reconnect
with my heart,
I would need to risk setting down
old ways of coping
and moving through
a whole lot of fears.
What I had found was subtle
and tender, and i just knew
if I was to return to any form
of numbing or distraction,
I would miss something I wasn’t
willing to let go of again.
I had come too far.
And so the decision was made,
and that first step into
what I later called a prayer break
was taken.
The respite found immediately
was a vast contrast
to all of the striving and searching
and disconnect I had experienced.
I never turned back.
After a while my life existed within
an expanded prayer break,
a gentle reconnection
with a deeper part of me
and a return to the natural flow
of life, which I experienced as
a continuous transformation into
tenderness.
And so I learned
to soothe frightened parts
of me
through my willingness
to face each moment
as it came,
knowing at any point
I could stop and gather words
out of emptiness
to soothe what couldn’t be
reached in any other way.
There was a continuous movement within the stillness of my true Self. It was the softening of all parts of me that had felt separate and lost in repetitive cycles of emotional pain.
I had reached the place of enough is enough and decided to find my way to tenderness. Tenderness came out of the realization I was reliving the exact same old pain I had vowed to never feel again. It came out of the last bit of gathered strength to try one more time to hold and honor it instead.
And so a quiet prayer
was whispered
and felt
beyond words.
And it was known
instantly,
without doubt —
by each piece
of self
in every last place
where it had been
forgotten
that it is
loved, heard,
nurtured, included
and cherished
in every new
moment
of now —
forever.
Amen
Life happened
within its own
unfolding.
It happened
within the search
for wholeness,
in the endless reaching
outward,
and in the
surrender to
the delicate balance
of meeting my own
whole Self in each
moment and holding
the pure love
of the sacred space
into which it
always returned.
The more I began
to focus
on what was
appearing
right in front
of me,
the more I felt
the presence
of my own
wholeness.
There was a holding
and letting go
of what appeared
on the surface
and a sense of
connection
I knew couldn’t be
lost.
After all of the holding
and letting go,
more than I ever thought
possible,
what is left
is a silence,
a reverence —
a trace of lingering sadness,
a treasured tenderness
surrounded by the
purest love.
—What’s Right Here
I hold
what is here
with love —
the natural unfolding,
this clear space,
the reverence —
all of this,
including all that is
painful and confusing.
Even as I feel
the shifting ground
beneath me,
I accept and love
all of it
as it is —
right here.
I know these arms
have held
the indescribable pain
of separateness,
reaching inward
and through —
daring to hold
ALL of the pieces
of their own
shattered heart
even before it was
clear they were
not broken —
because somewhere,
underneath the confusion,
a quiet prayer was
whispered.
It seemed risky
at first.
But I never regretted
my decision
to continue on
toward my heart
at all costs.
Somewhere,
subtly, deep down
I knew
it was reconnecting
with my own
deepest heart
I longed for
most of all.
Laurie's Notes 