More on how to pray

And in the process become who you are

These days I have been praying more than I have in years. I have mostly been doing this in private, with a candle and some sacred objects, a few words and some silence each morning. Everyday, along with asking for divine help, I invoke the presence and companionship of seven archetypal figures which, to me, represent qualities of my own being. 

These archetypes are qualities of being that are already true. But what’s beautiful about this prayer practice is this: The archetypes that I invoke each have their own gravity that tugs on me as I strive to demonstrate the truth of them in my relationships, and in all the ways that I move through the world.

They are noteworthy rings of an integrated whole. They are who I am. And, at the same time, they are who I may become.

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INVOCATION (a poem I’m writing)

I stutter through the fog of prayer.

I am always learning to pray,

Striving to get it right.

I call out for echoes.

Grace shimmers elusive on the other shore.

I know that I effort too much.

I try on different tongues, to embrace the mystery:

Il y'a en moi quelque chose plus moi que moi meme.

There is something in me more me than myself.

I try on different skins, to play with multiplicity:

I am king and fool.

I am warrior and lover.

I am mage and maker and scribe.

I try on different winds.

I pull out my charts.

I do my best to navigate the archipelago of my heart.

I call out for echoes.

I spot the shimmer,

And don’t mind the fog.

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I learned to pray when I was four years old. My sister taught me how. She modeled for me the way we can bow our heads, fold our hands, open our hearts, and ask for the presence and strength of something outside of us to become a part of us.

Growing up as a person of faith implanted in me the idea and experience that some sort of relationship with prayer is important. My prayer practice was consistent for a couple of decades after my first lessons, then it dwindled and shifted.

I needed space as a young man. Space to differentiate myself in the world in the context of my relationships, to work out my understanding of divine energy, and to seek my calling. I needed the space to invoke less and explore more.

Yet that presence of something-outside-of-self that I invoked when I was a child—it’s almost as if that presence remained part of me, into and on through the spaciousness.

I’m still figuring out how to pray, which I think is good indication that I am doing it right. I wonder if prayer is the sort of thing that, if we think we know what we’re doing, we’ve kind of missed the point.

My prayer practice today isn’t actually that far off from what my sister taught me in the little house in Sussex, New Brunswick, in the shadow of the bible college where our father and our grandfather worked. When I pray today I am still opening my heart, and drawing on sources of presence and strength, to help me become more and more who I want to be.

I used to mostly pray with words. These days, along with some words, I mostly use objects and images and actions.

It used to be a one-way affair, asking the stuff outside of me to come be a part of me. These days my prayers are more of a dance between immanence and transcendence. Invoking the help that I need to become who I already am.

How about you? How do you pray?

And do you mind if I share more with you (i.e. explore more out loud) about the archetypes and qualities that are ever tugging on my heart?