What is prayer?
Posted on Dec 15th, 2008
by
Naumadd
This is in Response to the Questions and Reflections for December 15, 2008:
Prayer is often a very hotbed issue because there are so many with rather adamant ideas of what is and is not prayer and insist that their definition of such is and can be the only one. I disagree. As I believe, prayer is simply a turning of all that one is inward or outward or both at once in reflection regarding what has been, what is and what one would like or hopes will be. To be prayer, and in spite of what the more adamant among us believe, it need not necessarily be aimed toward an imagined deity or deities. It can merely be aimed at the self or have no aim at all. A prayer can simply be a hope of a thing without being a hope for answer FROM something or someone in particular. When I pray, more often than not, I naturally pray to myself because I acknowledge the fact those aspects of nature out of my control care nothing of my hopes and, thus, I must pray and answer my own hopes regarding those things I am able to influence. Truly, that I CAN and DO hope means that there IS hope. Within the hope, within the conscious or subconscious prayer, is the answer to it.
The simple hope for sunshine or, in my case, the continuing hope of rain and moody skies counts as a prayer. Voting for a presidential candidate is a prayer - an expression of one's hope for one political direction over another. Looking forward to one's birthday or to turkey at Thanksgiving or to snow at Yule or on Christmas day are all prayers. The hope for pregnancy and the hope one isn't pregnant are prayers. Crossing one's fingers is a prayer. A knock on wood, closing a window against the wind, the planting of a flower or vegetable, the giving of a gift - all prayer. Indeed, prayer is as often a subconscious wish or hope as it is a conscious one. Prayer need not be deliberate. Subconscious prayers are no less legitimate than conscious ones. We have conscious hopes and unconsious hopes. They all matter and they are all prayer, whether with ceremony or without. That they are each hopes means necessarily they each have answers, each answer rooted in the question - Why do you hope for ... ? The answer to why you hope is the answer to the hope itself.
I often think of my writing as prayer. I must achieve what can only be described as a deeply reflective and meditative state to do it the way I wish in order to achieve the outcome I desire. It is only in deep reflection that is, ironically, as intensely focused on my internal world as it is intensely focused on the external world, that I satisfy my hopes of finding and/or creating some bits of human gold in order to translate them into words to preserve. It is like the gathering of all that I have been and am into one intensely-focused and perfect moment. It is like one incredible inhalation from all directions inward and outward to be held in one place, in one time. I live there and only there. I do not speak until I have listened to what that intense moment has to say but, paradoxically, the moment sometimes does not speak except through my own voice. I often do not know what needs to be said or is worth saying until I say it. There is wisdom everywhere one looks, however, one indeed has to look to see it and, if it does not come readily, continue looking until one sees it. One has to listen and continue listening to hear it. One has to reach out and continue reaching out to feel it. I do not believe in spirits or deities. I believe in myself and my own power to find the meaning I seek even if I'm not actively seeking it or not even consciously aware of the wisdom I need. Wisdom seems to come to us nearly as often when we have not asked for it as when we do. Inspiration is mine sometimes inexplicably and seemingly out of nowhere and sometimes through excruciating effort to coax it into view or into my conscious awareness that I can then put it into some meaningful form. All I must ensure is that my spirit does not fall into apathy. Apathy is a closed-off spirit that cannot willingly take breath or receive it serendipitously. Apathy is lack of hope. Apathy is lack of prayer. Apathy is lack of answers because it isn't consciously or subconsciously asking questions.
I believe a prayer is always its own answer. All one must do is find and keep the will and ability to open to it. You will sometimes have to work for an answer, sometimes the answer will come of its own accord. Perhaps among the greatest of prayers is the hope for knowledge of when to work for answers and when to wait for them. Of course, the source of all prayer, of all hope, is the willingness to go an asking. That is passion. Without it, there is no prayer, there is no hope, there are no answers.
The simple hope for sunshine or, in my case, the continuing hope of rain and moody skies counts as a prayer. Voting for a presidential candidate is a prayer - an expression of one's hope for one political direction over another. Looking forward to one's birthday or to turkey at Thanksgiving or to snow at Yule or on Christmas day are all prayers. The hope for pregnancy and the hope one isn't pregnant are prayers. Crossing one's fingers is a prayer. A knock on wood, closing a window against the wind, the planting of a flower or vegetable, the giving of a gift - all prayer. Indeed, prayer is as often a subconscious wish or hope as it is a conscious one. Prayer need not be deliberate. Subconscious prayers are no less legitimate than conscious ones. We have conscious hopes and unconsious hopes. They all matter and they are all prayer, whether with ceremony or without. That they are each hopes means necessarily they each have answers, each answer rooted in the question - Why do you hope for ... ? The answer to why you hope is the answer to the hope itself.
I often think of my writing as prayer. I must achieve what can only be described as a deeply reflective and meditative state to do it the way I wish in order to achieve the outcome I desire. It is only in deep reflection that is, ironically, as intensely focused on my internal world as it is intensely focused on the external world, that I satisfy my hopes of finding and/or creating some bits of human gold in order to translate them into words to preserve. It is like the gathering of all that I have been and am into one intensely-focused and perfect moment. It is like one incredible inhalation from all directions inward and outward to be held in one place, in one time. I live there and only there. I do not speak until I have listened to what that intense moment has to say but, paradoxically, the moment sometimes does not speak except through my own voice. I often do not know what needs to be said or is worth saying until I say it. There is wisdom everywhere one looks, however, one indeed has to look to see it and, if it does not come readily, continue looking until one sees it. One has to listen and continue listening to hear it. One has to reach out and continue reaching out to feel it. I do not believe in spirits or deities. I believe in myself and my own power to find the meaning I seek even if I'm not actively seeking it or not even consciously aware of the wisdom I need. Wisdom seems to come to us nearly as often when we have not asked for it as when we do. Inspiration is mine sometimes inexplicably and seemingly out of nowhere and sometimes through excruciating effort to coax it into view or into my conscious awareness that I can then put it into some meaningful form. All I must ensure is that my spirit does not fall into apathy. Apathy is a closed-off spirit that cannot willingly take breath or receive it serendipitously. Apathy is lack of hope. Apathy is lack of prayer. Apathy is lack of answers because it isn't consciously or subconsciously asking questions.
I believe a prayer is always its own answer. All one must do is find and keep the will and ability to open to it. You will sometimes have to work for an answer, sometimes the answer will come of its own accord. Perhaps among the greatest of prayers is the hope for knowledge of when to work for answers and when to wait for them. Of course, the source of all prayer, of all hope, is the willingness to go an asking. That is passion. Without it, there is no prayer, there is no hope, there are no answers.

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