A few weeks ago, a friend asked for prayers for the safe recovery of her seriously ill father. My knee jerk reaction was to pass the request along to my more religious friends. I don't do prayers, being an agnostic. I don't believe I have a direct line to a spiritual boon-granting entity, and I'm not even sure that I believe in the power of positive thinking. I treat these matters in a very pragmatic way: if events seem dire, and I am unable to do anything concrete to assist, I send good thoughts out to the Universe and hope there is something that can use them. And, I contact people who seem to have that direct line that I lack.
It's sad to be adrift in a dangerous and painful world. I want to believe that there is more to my life than a carbon footprint and fleeting connections to beings as ephemeral as myself. My therapist says that every day is a gift, and that people enter into my life to provide an opportunity to learn and grow. It's hard for me to believe that, despite the collective wisdom of the world's spiritualists, who all say similar things. I wish I had the comfort of KNOWING that there is a purpose to my being here, and that my task was clear and worthy of the gift.
So, I think about prayer. Why do people ask for prayers? Why do we offer them? My sister, whom I contacted in the emergency described above, does not believe in prayer as an answer to a petition. She will pray if asked, because she does believe in the power of caring. But to her, prayer is a communication with God, and her prayers are those of intent and focus. She believes in St. Paul's concept of "praying without ceasing," which means, do your work with integrity, as a response to God's gifts. In other words, have a clear intent and connection with the higher power as you complete your daily tasks. The humblest actions can be imbued with the spiritual, if your focus is there. Or, as Gustav Uyterhoeven says (in The Chess Garden), God is not hidden from us, He is very obvious, He's just waiting for you to pay attention.
Pay attention. Be Here Now. Live with intent. It's all the same thing, and it's so very difficult to do. I analyze and question and kvetch. If I am in a quiet space, I start thinking of things I could or should be doing. I want a product, and the product has to be measurable. That is, it must have mass, an appeal to the senses, or an obvious effect. It can be as subtle as an improved mood or as obvious as a photograph of the sunset. But, it has to be something tangible in order for me to validate its worth.
My therapist asked me to find a practice that could silence the over-analyzing, because it leads to negativity which I embrace so hard it becomes real. Thus, I'm lonely and rejected because there's something wrong with me. I'm unproductive because there's something wrong with me. I can't move back to Portland because there's something wrong with me. She suggests that I question the premises: am I really being rejected, am I really unproductive, is moving back to Portland really not an option? But above all, she suggests that I stop with the kvetching, stop giving power to the negative self-talk, and live in the moment that is the gift to me.
I remember my sister telling me that she believes my prayers are those of joy and thanksgiving. When I rejoice in the New Mexico skies or dance on the beach, I am praying. And it is true, at those moments, I am not analyzing, not asking for anything: I am joyful. But those moments don't happen often enough, and when I am faced with a rejection, I revert to my default negative self-talk. I stop praying.
S once told me that what first attracted him was that I was clear about my needs. Now, it turns out that this clarity is also what has repelled him. I need friendship, I ask for it, and I don't get it. So, perhaps this is another reason that prayer should not just be a statement of wants and needs. While being clear about your needs is good when communicating with business partners, the more intimate relationships (with lovers, with friends and family, with God) require something else. The connection needs to be more about joy in the gift, in this case the gift of friendship. And one cannot petition for it. One can only rejoice when one has it.
On the other hand, my friend's father is much better, and she thinks it's because of the prayers. Perhaps knowing that people cared was a source of thanksgiving, which in turn was a source of strength and ultimate recovery. Perhaps it was just the way things were supposed to be, the way they were always going to be. Or perhaps prayers of petition do work.
Whatever is the truth, I'm sending up prayers of thanksgiving for the well-being of those I love.
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