I’ve been discussing prayer with two friends who “get” prayer more than I do. Sometimes they struggle, but sometimes as they pray, often traditionally with others in a house of worship, they will rise beyond the words and feel a sense of holiness. A feeling separated from other times by a closeness to what most would call god.
I think that it's impossible to capture that elevated feeling of which you spoke every time we experience a moment in which we have the intellectual awareness that we are grateful - for tennis with friends, for lunch when we're especially hungry, for our kids coming to visit, etc. Perhaps, one of the functions of "pre-packaged" prayer (say "this" prayer under "these" circumstances) is to transform that intellectual awareness into something more than just an intellectual experience. Maybe at times, for some people, the act of prayer itself can elevate intellectual awareness to that moment you describe as "holy", for others maybe the act of prayer is a rubber band on our wrist that we snap to remind us to experience the moment with humility, and maybe for yet others it's the satisfaction of an obligation and satisfying that obligation, in and of itself, is somehow elevating. Prayer is different for everyone. Maybe the same for too. As it has been said to me, it is a tool - though at times, it is one of those tools that you stare at trying to figure out what it does, how it works, and when exactly to use it.
One, the experience of the two girls at the bear statue, that feeling, albeit maybe God was with you, is what I call a "best ever". And the thing about best ever moments/experiences etc, is when you try to top them, you can't. They arise from unexpected moments/experiences that arise organically from being.
Second, I am new to organized religion again (hiatus since childhood, now I am almost 50). And for me prayer is sometimes just being, listening, observing, maybe in church, maybe not. I take what comes into my being, no needing to get anywhere, go anywhere, feeling any one thing.
Lastly, I will share a best ever moment that won't be yours (like the hotel thing!) because a best ever is hardly ever the best ever for anyone but you. I heard this prayer, I read and feel into it when I feel "alone" and need God's care to feel more evident.
Lord,
it is night.
The night is for stillness.
Let us be still in the presence of God.
It is night after a long day.
What has been done has been done;
what has not been done has not been done;
let it be.
The night is dark.
Let our fears of the darkness of the world and of our own lives
That about describes how I come upon the “prayerful” feeling too: almost always outside, usually while moving. Maybe that’s why I push myself out on walks all the time! Nice piece; I enjoyed it.
As an atheist, I neither pray nor seek a sense of holiness. Gratitude and wonder, on the other hand, is something I look to often. During the doomscrolling days of elections, the fear and agencylessness of those early pandemic months, and worry that my job and industry might permanently downsize and put me out of a career and income, the routine of writing down daily gratitudes actually helped me refocus my attention from the (many) horrors that I could do nothing about, to the good things--albeit small things--that were going right in my life, and that were making an immediate positive impact in my days. I know the "practice" of gratitude feels hokey, but it's not more so than meditating on your breath in order to prevent your mind from getting stuck in negative loops, or taking a walk in the sunshine when you're feeling down. It's a mental muscle - of which there are many! So it's ok if this particular practice is not for you. On your hotel hack: good for you! I would not have thought of that. I totally get wanting to check in early and know you can relax in the room at any time. The pandemic has taught me that having agency, in what little ways we can, makes a big difference in my overall happiness.
Gratitude can be powerful. In what I refer to my Dark Days, a period of personal difficulty on many simultaneous fronts, it occurred to me to think about what there was in my life for which I should be and was grateful. It was a very conscious act but I started putting a list together, in my head, and I kept adding to it. I went through this process nightly and it brought me peace. I often fell asleep as I recited the list. Understanding that, in spite of great loss and great pain on many fronts, I had much for which to be grateful helped me find peace. I'm not saying the pain went away, but I was reminded that there was more to my life, much more, than all that pain. Not only was there more, but by consciously thinking about all there was for which to be grateful, I multiplied it and this process helped me through a very dark time. It was not what you describe, which in Hebrew is called kavana, if I recall correctly, but it need not be all that to be extremely valuable and help us find peace. Now, 20 years later and in a much better frame of mind, I continue the nightly ritual and reminding myself that I have much for which to be grateful and gratitude is a wonderful and healing state of mind and grace.
But now the whole world knows to call a hotel and ask for something! Your secret hack has been revealed!!!
I think that it's impossible to capture that elevated feeling of which you spoke every time we experience a moment in which we have the intellectual awareness that we are grateful - for tennis with friends, for lunch when we're especially hungry, for our kids coming to visit, etc. Perhaps, one of the functions of "pre-packaged" prayer (say "this" prayer under "these" circumstances) is to transform that intellectual awareness into something more than just an intellectual experience. Maybe at times, for some people, the act of prayer itself can elevate intellectual awareness to that moment you describe as "holy", for others maybe the act of prayer is a rubber band on our wrist that we snap to remind us to experience the moment with humility, and maybe for yet others it's the satisfaction of an obligation and satisfying that obligation, in and of itself, is somehow elevating. Prayer is different for everyone. Maybe the same for too. As it has been said to me, it is a tool - though at times, it is one of those tools that you stare at trying to figure out what it does, how it works, and when exactly to use it.
Two things come to me.
One, the experience of the two girls at the bear statue, that feeling, albeit maybe God was with you, is what I call a "best ever". And the thing about best ever moments/experiences etc, is when you try to top them, you can't. They arise from unexpected moments/experiences that arise organically from being.
Second, I am new to organized religion again (hiatus since childhood, now I am almost 50). And for me prayer is sometimes just being, listening, observing, maybe in church, maybe not. I take what comes into my being, no needing to get anywhere, go anywhere, feeling any one thing.
Lastly, I will share a best ever moment that won't be yours (like the hotel thing!) because a best ever is hardly ever the best ever for anyone but you. I heard this prayer, I read and feel into it when I feel "alone" and need God's care to feel more evident.
Lord,
it is night.
The night is for stillness.
Let us be still in the presence of God.
It is night after a long day.
What has been done has been done;
what has not been done has not been done;
let it be.
The night is dark.
Let our fears of the darkness of the world and of our own lives
rest in you.
The night is quiet.
Let the quietness of your peace enfold us,
all dear to us,
and all who have no peace.
The night heralds the dawn.
Let us look expectantly to a new day,
new joys,
new possibilities.
In your name we pray.
Amen.
That about describes how I come upon the “prayerful” feeling too: almost always outside, usually while moving. Maybe that’s why I push myself out on walks all the time! Nice piece; I enjoyed it.
As an atheist, I neither pray nor seek a sense of holiness. Gratitude and wonder, on the other hand, is something I look to often. During the doomscrolling days of elections, the fear and agencylessness of those early pandemic months, and worry that my job and industry might permanently downsize and put me out of a career and income, the routine of writing down daily gratitudes actually helped me refocus my attention from the (many) horrors that I could do nothing about, to the good things--albeit small things--that were going right in my life, and that were making an immediate positive impact in my days. I know the "practice" of gratitude feels hokey, but it's not more so than meditating on your breath in order to prevent your mind from getting stuck in negative loops, or taking a walk in the sunshine when you're feeling down. It's a mental muscle - of which there are many! So it's ok if this particular practice is not for you. On your hotel hack: good for you! I would not have thought of that. I totally get wanting to check in early and know you can relax in the room at any time. The pandemic has taught me that having agency, in what little ways we can, makes a big difference in my overall happiness.
Gratitude can be powerful. In what I refer to my Dark Days, a period of personal difficulty on many simultaneous fronts, it occurred to me to think about what there was in my life for which I should be and was grateful. It was a very conscious act but I started putting a list together, in my head, and I kept adding to it. I went through this process nightly and it brought me peace. I often fell asleep as I recited the list. Understanding that, in spite of great loss and great pain on many fronts, I had much for which to be grateful helped me find peace. I'm not saying the pain went away, but I was reminded that there was more to my life, much more, than all that pain. Not only was there more, but by consciously thinking about all there was for which to be grateful, I multiplied it and this process helped me through a very dark time. It was not what you describe, which in Hebrew is called kavana, if I recall correctly, but it need not be all that to be extremely valuable and help us find peace. Now, 20 years later and in a much better frame of mind, I continue the nightly ritual and reminding myself that I have much for which to be grateful and gratitude is a wonderful and healing state of mind and grace.