“'Help' is a prayer that is always answered. It doesn’t matter how you pray—with your head bowed in silence, or crying out in grief, or dancing. Churches are good for prayer, but so are garages and cars and mountains and showers and dance floors. Years ago I wrote an essay that began, 'Some people think that God is in the details, but I have come to believe that God is in the bathroom.' Prayer usually means praise, or surrender, acknowledging that you have run out of bullets. But there are no firm rules. As Rumi wrote,'“there are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.' I just talk to God. I pray when people I love are sick, and I prayed when I didn’t know whether I should have a baby. I pray when my work is horrible, or suddenly, miraculously better. I cried out silently every few hours during the last two years of my mother’s life. I even asked for help in coping with George W. Bush …
When I am in my right mind, which is about twice a month, I pray kindly."
--Anne Lamott; fellow feminist, fellow dog-lover, fellow soul-searcher, spirit-seeker, comfort-requester, fellow child of mother nature, and, of course, fellow octopus head.
