I recently came across a Mary Oliver poem “Five A.M. in the Pinewoods”, that finished with these lines:
“I was thinking:
so this is how you swim inward,
so this is how you flow outward,
so this is how you pray”.
When reading the last line I started thinking about how I pray and the unique voice that God has given me. Her poem is about finding a space to consider the nature of our existence through an encounter with some deer. Her concluding words led me to write, “This is how I pray”.
When I wrote my poem I started with the creative voice of my imagination and the gift of a community in which I can share that gift. The light shining for a friend is that moment of connection created when an idea is shared with someone trusted enough to appreciate the gift that is brought. This sharing with another helps me better understand the essence of prayer.
Then as I considered the creative work of prayer I wondered about the best environment that allows my prayer to be expressed. It’s often in the midst of beauty, or stillness or daydreaming that possibility is given the freedom to be explored. Doing nothing is often the best way to birth and nurture creativity.
Finally I explored the creative work that came from making a space to explore the jumble of thoughts in my head. A poem grew out of enjoying my own unique expression of prayer. The poem is my creativity that came from allowing a space that permitted an idea to tramp through my head and take the form of text on a page.
I have discovered over the past year or so that prayer is not an endless list of requests that are streamed up to God. It has become a beautiful creative act that is a part of the imaginative work that God formed within me when he created me in his image. Prayer is a solitary work of finding ways to express to God my joy, surprise, hope and expectation as well as my disappointment sadness and loneliness. And, then when it’s shared and appreciated by others it becomes an even deeper expression of my connection with God’s community,
This is how I pray
An idea flashes,
Jolting my my thoughts,
With what could be!
The jumble of imagination,
Untangling itself,
Into a pattern of ideas,
And, seeing the light shine,
For a friend,
Who sees my imagination,
Wondering too what could be?
It’s not the peaceful forest,
Or, the first shaft of light,
Breaking into the morning,
But, in the middle of beauty,
I sit with possibility,
Silently,
Searching,
Lost in my thoughts,
The footsteps of an idea,
Tramping through the beauty,
That surrounds my still activity.
A poem captures,
And, releases,
What cannot be said,
This is how I pray,
There are many more verses,
That are best left to silence,
Prayer isn’t just what is spoken,
I mostly listen,
Learning to hear,
When the footsteps pound,
Or, when there is no silence,
I remember the gift,
Of learning how to pray.