"When I Pray"

What the trees continue to teach me...

When I Pray

Now, when I pray
for you, for what breaks
your heart, the heaviness
of grief, blessings as well,
I write your name
on a piece of paper
and bury it beneath the maple.

I need the earth to teach me
how to hold holy things.

The trees know the truth
of life, where we come from
and where we go, their roots
hold memories too sacred
to ever write down.

“Pray for me” is a phrase I hear a lot in the waters I swim in. It means such different things to different ones of us, that sometimes I’m not sure we are even speaking the same language. What do we think we are doing when we pray for someone else?

My own understanding of prayer has expanded enormously from my earlier days—one would hope so. I used to see prayer almost as tossing pebbles on some scale, hoping to tip it whatever direction I wanted. There was an effort to get as many people praying as possible, because there was a critical mass to reach.

I also struggled with the image that we had to pray because God might somehow not be aware of what was happening in someone’s life. God might have blind spots at best or be disinterested at worst. Prayer was sending up a flare to get attention while someone was tossed about. Such a poor image of God, I think.

Now, I see prayer, experience prayer, as an energy. Prayer is intention, not to convince God to act, but to become more aware of the connection of things, the connection between things. Prayer is a return to the center of life where I become aware, again, that we are all one, that we are all held in the same web of life. The Spirit flows between and within us all in a great mutual indwelling.

When I ask someone if I can pray for them, I want to be able to substitute, “how can I be present to you right now?” How can I support you in your humanity with my own humanity, with the humanity we share? How can we remind one another that we are not alone? How can our awareness of our union bring us hope and calm our fears?

So, yes, I truly believe “prayer works,” as that old saying goes. In fact, it is some of the deepest work we can do. And, the trees are some of my greatest teachers right now.

Blessings,

Stuart