Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Prayer

Concerts are spiritual experiences, U2, Beethoven's 9th, Brandi carlile.
I read and listen to music because I can't put myself into words.
I sing along, I scream, I dance - I have to be a part of it - It's better if I can touch someone who feels it too - connecting, Sometimes I just stop and put my head back, close my eyes and let it flow through me. It's kind of like chelation - the music flows through my mental veins attracting all the bad shit and carrying it out. The next day, my feet hurt, my legs hurt, I'm shaking, I'm exhausted... but I feel clean and renewed.

I pray best when smoking.
I know that sounds like a smoker's excuse. I don't want to smoke. Everytime I smoke lately, I get a sore throat and get sick, but really, it helps me pray.
When I was in college, I used to go out in the back 40 where there was dim yellow light and no one could see me. I would find a stump to sit on and smoke and pray. The smoke was like Old Testament incense, carrying my prayers to God. The yellow light was enough to keep me safe, leaving enough darkness to hide me. The wind in the trees tells me that the Holy Spirit is real, present, listening, comforting, moving, making music, a soft chime.

Even now, I stand on my steps in sight of the soft yellow light, listen to the wind, slowly inhale and exhale my prayers to God. The Holy Spirit carries them away and leaves me peaceful, relaxed, comforted. The Comforter. A Happy Place, much like the others - muted light, breath, warmth, comfort.

Even in high school, the night, in sight of the light, held peace, hushed conversations about important things that would fade in the daylight.

Daylight is for being strong, fighting the good fight. Nighttime is when God moves, things too important to be spoken in the daylight expose themselves in hushed tones, quiet tears and my prayers float to God as smoke in the wind.

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