Prayer Prompt

An Absolute Must Read

BJ, you were right. I could not put The Shack down. I began reading it yesterday afternoon, reluctantly put it aside during a 2 hour meeting, stayed up reading until my eyes fell shut and the book fell to the floor. I skipped work today to finish it.

Is it good? Yes.
Is it powerful? More than it is good.
Does it make sense? Explicitly.
Did it make me laugh? Lots.
Did it make me cry? As much.
Did it make me thankful? Infinitely.

Paul Young tells a wonderful story of a man's encountering his faith in the aftermath of tragic loss. He tells it in an exquisite way. The magic of The Shack is the blend of the story and its message.

No small matter that Young mingles an absolutely normal man with God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit as the main characters.

The story's drama matters to each of us. The message's universal spark matters to all of us.

You Don't Have to Know What It Means

If the Art of Living Course has a core, a crux, a center, it is the sudarshan kriya. This breathing technique takes a greater step (or several steps!) than any of the many stress-relief conscious breathing techniques I've studied.

It brings home clearly the point that everything begins, returns to, and ends with our breath. It's both the first and the last acts we perform in this life. Sudarshan kriya allows us to make our awareness, knowledge, and use of our breath all the more powerful.

And you don't have to know what it means. You only need to know how to do it. And you learn how to do it from the Art of Living course.

And then you learn it better and better as you practice it more and more. Every day is best. And if you allow yourself to enjoy the "at home" version of sudarshan kriya,  every day immediately after your Art of Living Course, you will come to love it.

30 minutes and benefits such as....

• Greater creativity and clarity of mind

• Reduced stress and tension

• More ease and joy in personal relationships

There is a little more to read at the Art of Living website.

There is a lot more to learn from the Art of Living course.

Downhill Praying

I set out for my hills run Saturday morning. Down a long hill, across a valley, up a longer hill. Turn around and come back: down, across, up. As I began, I remembered advice from when I began running 25 years ago:

You're not running too fast if you can carry on a conversation.

I chuckled. I normally run alone. Then I heard myself ask aloud, "Why not talk with God?"

I headed down the hill into the canyon--hardly Grand--and began to say the prayers I've said just about every morning for almost as long as I've been running.

I said them aloud. Not shouting but surely not whispering. Sometimes the words fell in rhythm with my stride. Sometimes my breath measured the words.

Prayers are personal. They are also wonderful gifts to share. I love learning how others voice thanks and thoughts, wants and wishes, celebrations and sorrows. I share the basic prayers I said running down that hill:

• Thank you, God, for life and life's blessings.
• Thank you. God, for the joys in my life.
• Thank you. God, for the successes in my life.
• Thank you, God, for the love in my life.
• Thank you, God, for the people in my life.
• Thank you, God, for my physical strength, for my mental energy, and for my spiritual growth.
• Thank you, God, for blessing this moment and for this moment's blessings.

Each of those is just an opener. Each often gets expanded by what I've recently enjoyed and am grateful for. At the bottom of the hill, I'd only prayed this much. I looked up the hill ahead and decided I'd need my breath. I would finish praying on the way back down.

So I ran the 20 minutes uphill silently. Yet the prayers I'd already said rang and sang in my mind. The uphill run was easier, even a little faster, than usual.

I got to the top. I turned started back down the hill, to cross the valley and run up the other side. I began the rest of my prayers.

• Thank you, God, for all that I have, all that I enjoy, all that I am, and all that I am becoming.
• Thank you, God, that who I am is the possibility that creativity, energy, and humor make a difference to others.

• Thank you, God, for blessing me indeed. Thank you that your hand is with me and that you keep me from evil, that I may not cause pain. (Prayer of Jabez)

• May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my friend and my protector. (Psalm 19)

I finished those prayers--with their special additions for the day--just as I reached the bottom.

As I started to climb the hill I'd run down 30 minutes before, I decided to add a prayer...

• Thank you, God, for helping me pray the next time I run up your hills.

Prayer for the Walking Woman

During Monday's morning walk, Alex and I encountered Walking Woman. We've passed seen and spoken with Walking Woman many mornings.

Walking Woman takes a measured stride. She wears a wide brimmed hat, long sleeve tee shirts and loose-fitting pants. She's a study in shade.

Monday morning I asked, "How are you?" Alex sat down. For Alex not to pull his leash and strive to buddy up to the nearest telephone pole or fire hydrant is most unusual.

Walking Woman's expression saddened. She told me her 73 year-old mother had experienced sudden pain while on a bicycle tour. The ultimate, surprising diagnosis was liver cancer.

Alex lay down on the sidewalk, depicting only patience.

I wanted to ask if she would like us to say a prayer together. I didn't. I guess I was afraid of seeming pushy.

I wished her a successful trip to visit her mother. Alex stood up and watched our conversation end.

As Alex and I walked on, I felt I could independently say a prayer for Walking Woman and her mother. A prayer that I neither asked permission to say nor said aloud.

I prayed as Alex and I walked. When finished, I was grateful to discover freedom: freedom to pray for anyone, freedom to pray at anytime.

Proof that Living Is a Work of Art

Wednesday, August 20
Tuesday of last week, I began a six session experience that continues to thrill me.

The Art of Living course offers the most effective integration of physical, mental, emotional and spiritual discoveries I've ever experienced. (And I've taken more than my share of such workshops).

Referring to the Art of Living course as a workshop is a mistake and a misnomer. It is an experience, and even someone as left-brained as I am realizes quickly that he'll do fine without manual, handout, notebook or pen. And remembering the wealth of discoveries is no problem at all. They fit perfectly into one's gray matter...and one's heart.

The concepts are basic and astounding at the same time. Put into everyday words they are nothing new. However, the blend of body, mind, and spirit in exploring these points makes them startling and refreshing and profound, all at once.

The six sessions--4 3-hour evenings,  5 hours Saturday and again Sunday--glide by. There is an almost magical amount of interaction and reflection, of listening and reviewing.

I know, I am offering precious few details. To do so would detract from the true value of The Art of Living, a 27 year old creation of Sri Sri Ravi Shankar. In 1981 he formed the Art of Living Foundation, an international nonprofit educational and humanitarian organization that works in consultative status with the Economic and Social Council of the United Nations.

The Art of Living course is one manifestation of the Foundation's efforts, working on a very individual basis. And that individual focus is all the more meaningful when you consider that some 30 million people in 152 countries have experienced it.

More than One Twofer

Warning: after ample self-criticism, I'm going to boast about my discovery.

I was in a hurry to get to the parking lot
so I could begin my afternoon run
so I could get my dog-walking done
so I could cool off in the pool
so I could take a shower
so I could make a big salad
so I could sit and watch the sunset.

But I was behind a Big-Wheeled Pickup Truck that was moseying only 18 mph in a 35 zone. From about two feet behind his tailgate, I could not see any reason the young man was driving so slow. He was young but not a new driver. He was not on his cell phone. He did not even seem to be talking to his passenger buddy. He was just creeping along a not-busy street.

As he approached his turn, he slowed down even more, almost to a standstill. I was almost to the parking lot. It was just the other side of his intended turn.

I gave in to my impatience. I hit my horn. No gentle beep, I gave him three strident honks. He looked in his rear view mirror and the cock of his head told me he was not happy at my honks.

He turned right. I pulled into the parking lot on the left. I checked my rear view mirror and saw his brake lights as he started his U turn. I stayed in my car. An exchange of words was in the making.

His big truck pulls up beside my car. We push-button our windows down.

He asked why I honked.
I told him.
He told me what I to do.
I told him I preferred to run right now, thank you.
He pulled away. He yelled over his shoulder, "Slow down, old bastard."

That was a twofer insult: old and bastard!

I got out of my car, stretched a bit, and began to run. I concentrated on relaxing. I tried to forgive him his temper, his words, his need to confront.

But my mind worked against forgiving. My thoughts stayed on his need to turn around, to insult me, to show he wasn't afraid of me. My feet struck the pavement harder than usual.

Over all that I heard my heart remind me of the dozen times I've read or been told or seen that forgiveness has to start with me. Before I can effectively forgive anyone else, I must first forgive myself. 

That shortened my stride and slowed my pace. I began to say aloud the prayer, "I forgive myself my past mistakes and present shortcomings..."

I quickly added, "And right now, God, I forgive myself my own impatience. I let go of my feeling superior and being sarcastic as I spoke to the other driver. I release these to You, God, with my thanks."

At once, it was easy to forgive that other driver. The simple acts I'd held against him were suddenly just that: simple. So simple I felt them drift away from me.

My second twofer: two forgivenesses that made the whole much stronger.

I noticed I was running smoothly again. My pace was faster, my stride was longer than it had been before.

Twofer number three!