Living in a culture that values the head over everything else, as I enter events and rituals that are heart-spaces, I always meet a wave of sadness in me as I acknowledge what a process it is, to transition… to move from a cerebral gadget-riddled ADD culture of disembodiment and disengagement, of spreading oneself thinly, to the spaciousness and presence required to journey layer by layer into the depth of the heart.
How sorely we need these communal heart spaces…whether rituals, plant ceremonies, sweat lodges, prayer circles, or heart-themed workshops and events… so that our little hearts can become big again and we can practise what it is to pray… to thaw into feeling once again, to deep connection, to listening within us so that those messages of what is truly burning at the core of our being can be expressed…whispered and bellowed into the belly of the great mystery. Humbly and shamelessly.
Prayer has no rules. Prayer is not always polite or proper. Let it be awkward and tentative, as we fumble through our words, but when we get through those layers and meet that surge of what’s really burning – not what we think we should prayer about – there is such power in that pureness. In a world obsessed with superficiality and appearance, in containing, sterilising and manicuring, let our prayer not be polished, let it be messy and wild. Let it be audacious. Let it wake us up out of our slumbering and numbness so we can remember what is truly important in life ♥