Pray

"“I hate you, God.”That is a prayer, too, because it is real, it is truth, and maybe it is the first sincere thought you’ve had in months. Some of us have cavernous vibrations inside us when we communicate with God. Others are more rational and less messy in our spiritual sense of reality, in our petitions and gratitude and expressions of pain or anger or desolation or praise. Prayer means that, in some unique way, we believe we’re invited into a relationship with someone who hears us when we speak in silence.

We can pray for things (“Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes-Benz”). We can pray for people (“Please heal Martin’s cancer.”“Please help me not be such an asshole”). We may pray for things that would destroy us; as Teresa of Ávila said, “More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones.”We can pray for a shot at having a life in which we are present and awake and paying attention and being kind to ourselves. We can pray, “Hello? Is there anyone there?”We can pray, “Am I too far gone, or can you help me get out of my isolated self-obsession?”

We can say anything to God. It’s all prayer. Prayer can be motion and stillness and energy—all at the same time. It begins with stopping in our tracks, or with our backs against the wall, or when we are going under the waves, or when we are just so sick and tired of being psychically sick and tired that we surrender, or at least we finally stop running away and at long last walk or lurch or crawl toward something. Or maybe, miraculously, we just release our grip slightly." -- Anne Lamott