Thank You

It was a Monday night, and I was teaching a restorative yoga class.  I was sitting cross-legged in the dimly lit yoga studio gazing at the sun mural.  My students were resting in savasana, corpse pose, the last pose in any yoga class.  The room was quiet, and I was trying to stay present while my students rested. I was running my thumbs over each finger over and over while I focused on my breath.  I listened to the ticking of the clock.  I tried to be still.

It was mid-breathe when my mind started to wander.  And then a thought emerged:  Crysta, you are living the life that you have dreamed.  You’re a teacher (I’ve wanted to be one since 4th grade), and you’re a yoga instructor (I’ve wanted to do this since I was in my thirties).  Even on the hardest of days, you are doing what you always intended on doing.  All of my being began to feel and hear these words:  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  These words became my unspoken prayer to whatever higher power there might be.

That being said, I don’t really pray anymore.  There are several reasons for this.  First of all, I don’t believe in prayers of petition.  I don’t think that prayer works in that way.  I also don’t believe in praying for things like a new car, a job, or a relationship to work out.  I don’t pray for these things because I don’t believe this is how the universe works.  I believe in a higher power.  I am constantly questioning what this higher power is, but I do think that he/she/it is filled with love.  This higher power doesn’t grant wishes like a fairy godmother; instead, I think that he/she/it is with us always, giving us strength.  I think that this higher power knows our deepest longings and our deepest worries.  This power is always with us, even when we feel the most alone.  I don’t need to pray, because my prayers are already known.

I do believe in gratitude.  Expressing appreciation for the many beautiful things in my life is a form of prayer.  My life has been far from perfect.  I have regrets.  I’ve made mistakes.  I have experienced deep loss.  But I believe with all my being that there is always something to be grateful for.  My daily prayer practice is to write in my gratitude journal, to document the experiences and the people who make my life better.  I am grateful for beautiful sunsets, books that I don’t want to put down, friends who keep me going, my family who supports me, a steamy cup of mint tea, an afternoon at my favorite coffee shop, memories of my children, a job that sustains me, a hug from a student.   Gratitude is a prayer to the universe, a prayer to the higher power, a prayer of thanksgiving for all of life’s small blessings.

As I sat in my yoga class contemplating my life, I felt fully aware that life, despite its difficulties, is good.  Life is also challenging, complicated and unfair.  Yet my life feels fuller — richer —  when I acknowledge the small, daily things that bring me joy.

Dearly beloved

We are gathered here today

To get through this thing called “life…”

Prince

My Thoughts on Prayer

grayscale photography of praying hands

I read a friend’s post on Facebook the other night, and I was immediately compelled to respond.  He wrote:  “Can you pray for someone without being religious?”  This got me thinking about the nature of prayer and where I stand on this issue.    

The concept of prayer is troubling to me.  I grew up (mostly) in the church, and I grew up praying.  I knew how to recite The Lord’s Prayer when I was five or six.  Back then, my understanding was that you pray to God for forgiveness, or share your sins when you pray. Prayer was like a conversation between you and God, and sometimes God was like your parent more than a friend.

  Many people I know today really, truly believe in the power of prayer — the power, that is, to change the outcome of a difficult situation.  I am not mocking this position.  I wish I could believe this.  I’ve recently gone through a pretty tough life event, thus my thoughts on prayer have changed.  Today, I feel that expecting prayer to magically solve a problem is negating the true power of prayer.

Lately, when I do pray, I don’t talk of sins or forgiveness or any of that.  I figure if there’s a higher power out there, he/she/it knows what I’ve been up to.  He/she/it knows I’m trying to be a decent human and that I also make mistakes.  Instead, I just talk.  I express gratitude.  I ask for help or strength or compassion.  I never ask for things.

I don’t like to throw around the term “I’m praying for you” because it seems insincere — at least when I say it.  I may not “pray” for you in the traditional sense, but I will send you all the love and good vibes I have.  I will come visit you in the hospital.  I’ll text you and see how you’re doing or take you out for coffee.  I’ll bring over a meal.  This is because I think prayer without action is worthless.  Mindless prayers to a God who can’t control the outcome anyway seems pointless.  People who offer “prayers” but can’t even bother to text you to check on your welfare seem inauthentic.   I know that for many Christians or spiritual folks, this seems harsh.  But let me explain.

On May 3, I lost my favorite little person.  I lost my fifteen year old daughter.  I had hundreds of people across the country, people I knew as well as strangers, praying for her.  I prayed.  My church prayed.  Her friends prayed.  But still, cancer would not desist.  Prayers didn’t work — at least not in sparing her life.

During this challenging time, I didn’t always pray in the way that I did as a child.  I didn’t ask for tangible things. But I did pray for strength.  I prayed for her to know she was loved.  I told God or the Universe or the Divine —  whoever is out there — that I was grateful for the love and kindness of people who were supporting us through this challenging time.  I prayed for peace — for my daughter and for our family.  During this time, instead of just praying, people brought food.  They sat with us.  My neighbors walked with me every day for several months.  Friends called and texted and emailed and sent cards.  These kindnesses were all forms of “prayers,” even if these prayers aren’t what we were taught about in Sunday School. 

Prayers are more than just words: prayers are actions.  Prayers are acts of solidarity, support, and empathy — love sent out into the universe on a person’s behalf.  So back to the initial question:  Can you pray and not be religious?  Here’s what I think:  Yes. Absolutely.  Because sometimes even the smallest gesture is a prayer, letting you know that you are loved and you are not alone.