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My prayers are becoming more deliberate and specific. It has occurred to me that it’s not
much use to send prayers out to the universe that are lazy. Every morning before meditation,
I kneel in the temple and talk for a few minutes to God. I found during the beginning of my
stay here at the Ashram that I was often dull-witted during those divine conversations. Tired,
confused and bored, my prayers sounded the same. I remember kneeling down one morning,
touching my forehead to the floor and muttering to my creator, “Oh, I dunno what I need...
but you must have some ideas... so just do something about it, would you?”
Similar to the way I have oftentimes spoken to my hairdresser.
And, I’m sorry, but that’s a little lame. You can imagine God regarding that prayer with an
arched eyebrow, and sending back this message: “Call me again when you decide to get seri-
ous about this.”
Of course God already knows what I need. The question is—do I know? Casting yourself
at God’s feet in helpless desperation is all well and good—heaven knows, I’ve done it myself
plenty of times—but ultimately you’re likely to get more out of the experience if you can take
some action on your end. There’s a wonderful old Italian joke about a poor man who goes to
church every day and prays before the statue of a great saint, begging, “Dear saint—please,
please, please... give me the grace to win the lottery.” This lament goes on for months. Fi-
nally the exasperated statue comes to life, looks down at the begging man and says in weary
disgust, “My son—please, please, please... buy a ticket.”
Prayer is a relationship; half the job is mine. If I want transformation, but can’t even be
bothered to articulate what, exactly, I’m aiming for, how will it ever occur? Half the benefit of
prayer is in the asking itself, in the offering of a clearly posed and well-considered intention. If
you don’t have this, all your pleas and desires are boneless, floppy, inert; they swirl at your
feet in a cold fog and never lift. So now I take the time every morning to search myself for
specificity about what I am truly asking for. I kneel there in the temple with my face on that
cold marble for as long as it takes me to formulate an authentic prayer. If I don’t feel sincere,
then I will stay there on the floor until I do. What worked yesterday doesn’t always work today.
Prayers can become stale and drone into the boring and familiar if you let your attention stag-