“I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer.”  ― Martin Luther King

I wanted to drop reflections into the ether on prayer. 

When doing and attempting to control has come to the end of its road and becomes futile, there is prayer.

We may assume prayer is a servant of religious institutions or outer figures, yet prayer, at its center, is a remembrance of the interconnected and endless play of the form and formless.

Prayer is a conduit between our smaller human self and our larger self. It is a reminder that our mind is the world, the world is mind. That you are always heard, as you are also the one listening. 

Prayer is an unbound expression, a surrendering to what is in the highest good for all. An offering of our deepest heart’s longing. An offering of our confusion, letting space, wonderment and the impeccable attention of consciousness dance with us, guide us and support us. 

A simple prayer, a dropping into the “breath below the breath,” a looking out beyond name and recognizing relations with our lineage and body of earth and sky, an invitation to our struggle rather than a rejection of our discomfort, are some ways we come out of isolation into homecoming. 

Prayer takes us out of a need to become perfect into the perfection that is all that is arising.

Even the tenderness, the bravery it takes to be here, the ways we may not always show up ideally, there is perfection in all of this, if we are willing to be aware, and willing to learn. If we are willing to laugh to ourselves about the mischief that is this world. If we are willing to be open to a more wakeful pathway forward.

What does the voice in the center of you want to speak to all of space? What wants to be heard? What do you want to hear? 

Once you offer out these prayers, let go and rest. Look around you and receive what enters your eyes and senses, until the next moment you feel called to weave.