What Came Through: Hold Happy in Our Hearts

• 

An Imperfect Practice of Spiritual Listening

This guidance came through during meditation as I was wondering how to gently introduce spiritual practice to my child. This wasn’t automatic writing, but a quiet, clear knowing that arose while I was sitting. I had been thinking about meditation—how to share it in a way that would feel natural, not forced or overly structured. Something simple. Something accessible.

What came through was this:

What came through

Start by asking what brings them happiness. What makes them feel love. Invite them to think about that—something they enjoy, something that feels good. Then ask them to hold that feeling in their heart. Sit together. Hold the feeling together. Keep it simple. Just a few moments at first. Afterward, talk about it. How did it feel to hold that feeling inside?

There was also a gentle nudge to begin talking about dreams—creating space to share and listen, without needing to interpret or explain.

Since then, we’ve started a small nightly practice. We sit together and “hold happy in our hearts,” just as it came through. We began with only a short time, and have slowly worked up to about three minutes. It has become something my child looks forward to.

The other day, they told me, “This is my like ever,”—their way of saying favorite.

And just this morning, they interrupted my own meditation to remind me that we hadn’t talked about our dreams yet. They asked me to share mine.

I wasn’t expecting that kind of response. But something about this feels… right. Simple, but meaningful.

I’m sharing this not as a method or instruction, but as a moment from my own practice—one that has quietly extended into daily life. Sometimes the guidance isn’t abstract. Sometimes it’s this small. This human.

Closing Invitation

You’re welcome to carry this with you for a while, or to set it down completely. If journaling is part of your spiritual practice, you might let a few unstructured reflections find their way onto the page—without trying to interpret, resolve, or explain. Sometimes the practice is simply noticing what remains.