6. Nursery Rhymes and Prayers
“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, God bless . . .”
Almost every night Mum would listen to me say the prayer she had taught me after dropping, “If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” It was too macabre and unnecessary, she believed, for a child to be praying about dying.
The words made little difference to me, for they seemed not much more than a rather forced nursery rhyme; and I wasn't so sure that the same God who supposedly “listened” to this verse was also the feeling inside me and (I presumed) everything else. After the lights were out, I would say a different sort of prayer – one that originated more in intuitive knowledge than in belief, although belief (I believe) helped to give it structure and awareness[1].
Relaxing completely until I was as limp as sleep, I would summons a feeling of warm appreciation for life[2] or of awe for some aspect of the day: a smile, a good deed given or received, the sunshine, or even just the colour of dark rain clouds. Sometimes I would focus on one question or hope, and then let my thoughts dissipate until no words, or pictures distracted my mind. Silent and still, this seemed to me to be the closest physical equivalent of a kind of non-physical commingling I had once known totally and still could clearly recall.
Quiet and as motionless and blank-minded as I could be, I'd remain, occasionally half-wondering later what it meant to be answered by God. If it were possible, would I recognize such communication? How could I be sure it was not just me – failing to take ownership of my own thoughts?
A broad streak of pure and innocent scepticism ran through me aimed at those who said that God had spoken to them. I didn’t actually know anyone who made such a claim, but every once in a while out of curiosity, the television channel would land on some fire and brimstone preacher who declared that God had spoken to him.
[1] Though meditation is helpful and healthful even without attaching the idea of prayer to it, I believe that when we connect the two, we breathe reverence into our actions and consequently deepen the experience and broaden the benefits. The more often we experience the feeling, attitude, and thoughts of reverence, the easier it becomes to put our mind and body into a more synchronous mode.
[2] My choices of meditation were not original. My family had taught me to enjoy my experiences. Appreciation was to be expressed and savoured. At an early age, I learned how good it feels to appreciate.
posted by Winter Child @ 8:00 a.m.
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