Tag Archives: prayer

Today is November 7, 2014. I am alive and well.

I pray. Not at an alter, but at my bedside, in my car, in the restaurant restroom, in the employee bathroom. All good places for prayer. The one place I can think of that I don’t pray is underwater in the pool. Prayer is breath for me. To run out of breath as I pray doesn’t appeal to me. I confess, though, as a kid underwater, I use to pray to become a mermaid. I would have full breath underwater.

Prayer to me is like an open envelope. I can fill it with glitter and then seal it. When I need the creative spark of glitter, I can open the envelope, throw it into the air, and marvel at the sight. Of course, I am then responsible  for vacuuming the carpet.

Prayer is an action word. Simple prayer, “God please help me.” Then I get up from my knees, and do what God would have me do. How do I know if I’m aligned with God? By how I feel. By the ease with which I participate in the day. I am a crayon coloring between the lines. I am a blank piece of paper allowing colors to splash me awake. I am a little beetle surfing the neighborhood on a green leaf.

The possibilities for prayer are endless. It is best when I pray for someone else; someone who’s ailing, someone who I am upset with, wishing for her to receive all the good things that come from a life well lived. And my favorite prayer is “God please rid me of self.” When offered this, I have vision. I can see the cacti from my bedroom window and know they cannot hurt me as long as I don’t touch them. I can listen to a person in pain and have compassion, with no need to tell her it will get better because both of us know it won’t; different yes, better no. I can smell life; it is buttered toast and a cup of coffee. I can taste life; it is shampoo I use in my hair. Prayers quiet my mind. It is good to put on my glasses.


Today is October 24, 2014. I am alive and well.

Excerpt from my work in progress. I have not come up with a title yet.

I believe I experience meditation when I write or make art. These two things take me out of myself, which is a good place to be to meditate. I refer to it as active meditation, as getting into the zone. When writing, all that exists are letters weaved to gather to create something that wasn’t there five minutes ago. Words become the wings of God, paragraphs, the feet, the page the mind, and the chapter the heart. I have given God a human persona. I believe God can take any form. God can be a mass of electrons at rest. God can exist in a handshake.

The soul of God shows up if I write authentically. I feel like a vessel of something I don’t understand, but care to know.

“I pray for knowledge of His will for me and the power to carry it out.” I know when I’m on track because there is a certain peace that washes through me. A calm that I can’t manifest on my own.

Today is May 12, 2014. I am alive and well.

A few of us go on Oprah, say God is Love, and make millions. Than there are those of us who are fiercely convinced God is Love without a dime. I work in a library. I can’t tell you how many books there are spouting spiritual beliefs. And usually, it all comes down to the same thing, God is Love.

It baffles me that one person’s beliefs make the New York Times Best Seller List, whereas another person’s beliefs remain at the side of the bed where she just got up from praying. Some of us write. Some of us don’t. I guess it’s just in the way you type God that makes all the difference. Is God more powerful in Times New Roman than in the font Arial Black?

I do believe that things are as they’re supposed to be. Those who make millions on writing about God, are suppose to be making those millions. Those who say “I love you God” from the side of their bed are suppose to be given ease and comfort and a fiercely peaceful heart.

It is good to know that loving God for a dime is equally as powerful as loving God for a million. And I do believe that those who make a million loving God, would give up their millions if they could only find ease and comfort and a fiercely peaceful heart in loving God for a dime.

A little girl loses control of her red wagon in which she’s seated and says “help.” God hears this regardless of her age, race, class, gender, and makes certain she lands in the grass rather than slamming into the brick wall. The little girl may not know God yet, but she will remember that saying “help” helped.

There is a power out there. I hope you find yours even if you believe the power is internal. Atheists have might, also. Atheists can be in awe of the world just as the priest bending to light a candle.