Chapter 58

           

           Myprayersarebecomingmoredeliberateandspecific.Ithasoccurredtomethatit’snotmuchusetosendprayersouttotheuniversethatarelazy.Everymorningbeforemeditation,IkneelinthetempleandtalkforafewminutestoGod.IfoundduringthebeginningofmystayhereattheAshramthatIwasoftendull-wittedduringthosedivineconversations.Tired,confusedandbored,myprayerssoundedthesame.Irememberkneelingdownonemorning,touchingmyforeheadtothefloorandmutteringtomycreator,"Oh,IdunnowhatIneed…butyoumusthavesomeideas…sojustdosomethingaboutit,wouldyou?"

           SimilartothewayIhaveoftentimesspokentomyhairdresser.

           And,I’msorry,butthat’salittlelame.YoucanimagineGodregardingthatprayerwithanarchedeyebrow,andsendingbackthismessage:"Callmeagainwhenyoudecidetogetseriousaboutthis."

           OfcourseGodalreadyknowswhatIneed.Thequestionis-doIknow?CastingyourselfatGod’sfeetinhelplessdesperationisallwellandgood-heavenknows,I’vedoneitmyselfplentyoftimes-butultimatelyyou’relikelytogetmoreoutoftheexperienceifyoucantakesomeactiononyourend.There’sawonderfuloldItalianjokeaboutapoormanwhogoestochurcheverydayandpraysbeforethestatueofagreatsaint,begging,"Dearsaint-please,please,please…givemethegracetowinthelottery."Thislamentgoesonformonths.Finallytheexasperatedstatuecomestolife,looksdownatthebeggingmanandsaysinwearydisgust,"Myson-please,please,please…buyaticket."

           Prayerisarelationship;halfthejobismine.

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