To pray is not to use special language; it is the sound of a cry or a laugh rising from ordinary days. Formal or official words can often be lifeless. To pray we need to return like children to an elemental language of soul, to something close to song, to chant, to playground singing.
Summer Greetings, dear Friends! It is the season of vacation trips, bright summer colors, gardens in full growth preparing for a bountiful harvest, blue skies, sunshine, swimming and picnicking. In short, a busy, outward-oriented time of year. Where is there time for prayer in all this activity? We tend to think of prayer as a quiet, inward-looking pursuit, and it feels more natural to focus on it during deep winter months when nature herself draws inward into silence. But there are many ways to pray. As we eagerly look for new flowers in bloom, as we are stilled for a moment before a blazing sunset over the ocean, as we are humbled by the miracles of growth all around us . . . are these not prayers of gratitude?
Prayer is not sending in an order and expecting it to be fulfilled. Prayer is attuning yourself to the life of the world, to love, the force that moves the sun and the moon and the stars.
I believe that God prays in us and through us, whether we are praying or not (and whether we believe in God or not). So, any prayer on my part is a conscious response to what God is already doing in my life.
Prayer is not a solo art form:
for, we never pray alone;
all prayers offered to the Beloved
by whatever Name, whatever form,
Meet in the Holy Tabernacle on high,
lifting the hearts, needs, and hopes
of myriad souls. . . .
United in prayer and purpose, individuals
from every nation
sowing sacred seeds of peace,
truth and love,
Create the power to usher in the New Dawn.
Let us move inexorably onward toward
the divinization of planet Earth.
You pray in your distress and in your need; would that you might pray also in the fullness of your joy and in your days of abundance.
Prayer is like lying awake at night, afraid, with your head under the cover, hearing only the beating of your own heart. It is like a bird that has blundered down the flue and is caught indoors and flutters at the window panes. . . . But sometimes a prayer comes that you have not thought to pray, yet suddenly there it is and you pray it. . . . Sometimes the bird finds that what looks like an opening is an opening, and it flies away.
Prayer is the art of presence. Where there is no wonder there is little depth of presence.
My son opened my eyes to the unceasing nature of prayer in joyfulmoments which sometimes lie dormant in our hearts. I learn from him eachday that God is in the little things — the things that can be found inthe ordinary, here and now of life. Look in the minutiae of daily lifein your everyday places, where Presence can be felt and where you can besubmerged in unceasing prayer.
There is a way of beholding which is a form or prayer.