Praying
by: Mary Oliver
It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
There's lots of ways to pray. For Oliver, it's all about being present to the present--the blue iris or weeds or stones in front of your face. There's no formula for right or wrong, just a doorway or passage to a space of gratitude, filled with silence and anticipation. Because, praying is not just about speaking what's in your heart. That's only half of the process. The other half is listening for the answer.
For Oliver, prayer is all about thankfulness. The main message of the majority of her poems is to pay attention to all the wonders of creation and be grateful. Of course, not all prayers end with the words "thank you." Nope. There are sad prayers. Angry prayers. Prayers of longing and prayers of ecstasy. If you don't believe me, check out the the Book of Psalms. David runs the whole gamut of emotions, from gratitude to confusion to despair.
I get pissed at God. When my sister was diagnosed with lymphoma of the brain, I had quite a few heated arguments with the Big Guy, most of them ending with variations of "Fuck You, amen." Some people might think that's blasphemous. I don't. I think that any healthy relationship has it's ups and downs, whether it's with another human being or the Almighty.
Today has been one of the quietest days I've experienced in a long, long time. I played one church service this morning, went grocery shopping, and folded laundry. That was the extent of my obligations. Aside from that, I took a nap and had dinner with my wife and kids. After I'm done typing this post, I may read or watch a movie or do . . . absolutely nothing.
I don't have much to complain about. Sure, I live paycheck to paycheck, but I have food in my fridge, a car that starts, and a few jobs that almost pay all my bills. For that, I send up a prayer of thanks. Yes, I have health struggles with my diabetes, but I have decent medical insurance. For that, I send up another prayer of thanks. My wife has bipolar, but she takes her meds and has been stable for quite some time. Thanks, God. I have a daughter who wants to be a doctor and is currently studying for the MCAT. Thanks, God.
When I truly stop and assess my life, I realize that I'm blessed abundantly. That's what Oliver means when she says to look at the weeds in a vacant lot and pay attention. Most of the fear and despair and anger in life comes from looking backward or forward. I can brood about past slights and hurts. I can stress about potential catastrophes. Here's the thing: I can't change the past, and the future hasn't happened. So, the energy I invest in anything but the present moment is a waste of time.
I'm not angry tonight. The sadness that has been my constant companion over the last year or so isn't overwhelming me tonight. I had a wonderful visit with my kids this evening, and they are both happy and healthy. I just took my puppy for a walk, and she's recovering well from her surgery. It's cool tonight, but I have a warm house and clothing and blankets. A meteor isn't hurtling through space on a collision course with Earth. And Donald Trump isn't President of the United States.
That is my present moment--the blue iris in front of my face, the few small stones in my palm. The sunlight in the pine trees.
Saint Marty is paying attention, patching these words together, and walking through the doorway into thanks tonight.
