Let peace and centering come to you, out from where it’s hiding behind the sofa and under the bed. You have done enough for now. You have all done enough. Let summer surround you. Let everything rest. I will say another service and call on the big guns. — Karen Maezen Miller
Who calls on the big guns on your behalf? It really does work, that prayer thing. It doesn’t matter if you are an atheist, a Jew, a Muslim, or a Tree Spirit, if you call on Ganesh or saw the Buddha in your toast this morning. Just make sure someone is saying your name with reverence and light, every day.
Placebo effect or studies show–no matter, really. Just knowing you’re not in this alone goes some invisible distance to shoring up your reserves when you’re trembling with fatigue or thinking you’re at the end of your rope.
There’s always more where that came from. Love is infinite fuel, the one renewable resource, even greater than the sun that will someday burn itself out along with so many long-gone stars.
It is the air we’re both breathing, the spaces between syllables, the unspeakable, the unknowable, and the obvious. It has no agenda. It is the multiplier of mystery and the sum of its parts. It is safe border-crossing and doesn’t require a signature if you’re not home.
It is a lucid late-night list and an early-morning mark on your perfect brow. It is ink and it is ribbon, full spectrum and spectacular show. It is there when you least expect it, most need it, and forgot how to ask. It is free. It is already yours. It is moss on a rock and regrets in a shredder.
There are no deadlines, expiration dates, return policies, amendments, or forms to fill out. No hoops to jump through or loopholes to navigate. It never manipulates or maneuvers, and you don’t have to manage a thing, least of all well.
Know this: Someone is saying your name. Someone is praying for you. And you are loved.