unfinished thoughts about Prayer.

fear is out.

Some words by Mary Oliver on prayer:

“I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.”

This is a slice from her poem “The Summer Day” and it got me thinking about how and where and what is prayer to me these days. I am many years distant from Big Church (read: Catholic school, youth groups, conferences, summer camps, bodies in pews) at this point, yet I am still finding connection with people because of it, in the same way that when someone mentions Windsor I need them to know I grew up there. Inescapable and defining, and I’m okay with that. Anyway, back to Oliver’s poem, I like it.

Trying to define prayer (as I’ve known it):

A period of time or a state of being wherein one makes/takes intentional space to focus in on needs, desires, gratitudes; for oneself and/or for others.

Usually you’re asking (for help), or giving (thanks) or releasing (worry, control)

Speaking kindly (can prayer be angry?)

Prayer can be fast, but I learned somehow that it has more validity if it is slow.

It doesn’t count if you don’t mean it, but also be careful what you pray for, especially if you mean it. Careful!

It’s a practice. What motivates that practice is a separate conversation.

When the kids play with their toys in the pews, are they praying? Underscoring, what is a prayer? Does it have to be quiet in order to pray? Why do we shush children at church? Thinking about play and prayer coexisting.

It is Ramadan, I see devotion, intention, community, invitation, discipline, celebration, prayer. I want that.

Mary Oliver might also notice when a grape is perfectly crisp.

Can you pray unintentionally? Do you have to say thank you when you pray? Is thank you a prayer in itself?

If I run over 3km, the high kicks in while I am still out there and I end gratefully. Optimistic and rich. That has got to count.

I used to think that having a God was a prerequisite to Praying, and now I suppose I do not. Maybe secular amens are in for me right now. I know that I don’t believe in a punishing patriarchal overlord anymore, but within the last year I have realized that I definitely live a lot of my life in fear of something–this fear I can only attribute to years and years of cautionary warnings to be Good, or else. I still believe I am Good. Working on the fear, and trying to act from a warmer, softer, more genuine place these days. Defining divine is a thought to chew on for another day, this is just about prayer for now.

—

Cross legged, open palms, half a clementine in each, is that not divine?

The peel in the sunshine, thank you.

The emails cannot reach me today. I’ve finished a journal, a clementine, and being angry, all before noon.