WHAT IF I LOOK AT PRAYER AS AN ACTION WORD?

The breeze blows through and for the first time this morning, my prayer soars away, set free of my will and in motion toward the fullness of Love.

If full Love exists inside of me, as I believe, then aren’t I, in effect, praying to my sovereign self? Praying that I might put my prayers into action instead of setting them free out there in the ether somewhere under the impression and with certainty that they’ll be answered requiring no action from me?

(Silence…)

What if I look at prayer as an action word? If I am bent upon knees, wailing at the wall, singing Love’s praises, bowed in reverence, or some other ritual in worship, am I not idle in my prayer? Am I not then, from my idleness, unable to discern if my howling has brought Love’s countenance upon the eartH of Creation’s needs as well as upon humankind, unable to see if it has sputtered and flailed in its firm demise...?

I sometimes forget where I am. I sometimes imagine there’s this fearful plot standing next to me and I fail to recognize its significance to the story unfolding before me. It is most important that I see all actions by others as those of a loving child of Creation guiding me toward Love…

(Anyone’s actions? Good and bad?)

Yes. Am I not able to learn as much or more from the bad as I am from the good?

The birds and their song bring me to realize again where I am.

(How on eartH could you ever forget?)

You’d be surprised what the mind is capable of forgetting.

(Are you kidding me? Everyone sees the machinations that humankind has wrought!)

We may see it, but we’re still not doing enough about it…

Can’t Love bring her fullness to my rescue? I don’t know, which leaves me no alternative but to speak of this. I am not afraid of Love. I welcome its return to its proper place in my thinking…


I don’t know anything, my friends. I know nothing. The only thing I’m able to know is that I’ve chosen the eartH as a paradise like no other in my line of sight, in my thinking, in this spirited belief…

(Why don’t you just call it “your” belief and stop hem-n-hawing about this and that belief, spirited or otherwise?)

It is not just mine. I do not own even the truth in what I imagine to be the one Exactness, how can I? If it is unknowable it is unknown, and, if it is unknown, it is not mine.

(Convoluted a bit, Nimrod, but made sense…)

I am urgently trying to find a reason to give my belief over to Love that she might shape it as she sees fit. Problem is I don’t know if that is what is required of me in order for it to be acceptable? I don’t know if giving my belief over to Love is the sure way of having Creation accept it or if I will be seen as a coward, an idle steward who’s hesitation left more suffering than Love the chance to rise up with her remedy.

(That’d be a glorious day!)

Speaking of glorious- it’s nice to hear your reassuring voice this morning, Curmudgeon.

(Oh shut up!)

Silence…

*~*

The eartH is Home.

(When you realize where you are, within the Heart(H) of Creation, will you clank your teeth in rage and walk about like a zombie marching toward your tragic demise, or will you react, take action that she might change her mind about you?)

I pray she senses my regret! Pray she sees my sorrow, but I mostly pray that she senses my joy at finally having recognized Home…

(The certainty found in belief is either strangely elusive or strangely convinced of itself.)

The truth, though unknown and unknowable in the flesh, seems to have me in its grasp, or so I believe. Yet in its unknowable state doesn’t it stand to reason that the only alternative, at this phase of my existence, is that I believe it to be true? And in that isn’t there the possibility that I’m wrong and therefore I should not, cannot end my belief for fear that I’ll end it too soon and sacrifice Love’s say in the outcome of her truth?

(Quite the conundrum.)

*~*

The youth are vastly important to the eartH, the child is most precious to Love, to The Mother and to the (H)eartH of Creation.

(Thought you said you believed everyone was a child of Creation?)

Yes. To the Mother, to the Father, and to the eartH of Life. I believe within the significance of the fresh and pliable mind of the young child is found a simple question- Do I raise them up to be like me, virulent consumers of fear and sorrow, or do I raise them up as proud stewards/angels of Love and joy?

(Are you afraid that you might be on to something? That if you do finally grasp such an obvious answer, you’ll become zombies with regard to your summoned failure within the question itself?)

Quite the conundrum.

(Silence…)

© 2012 by the spirits dancing with mark richard prime