spirituality Archives ~ Page 2 of 2 ~ Jude Mills

It’s nearly 3 am on Christmas Eve, and for reasons known only to my hormones and neurology, I am wide awake and listening to the sound of decidedly un-Christmassy wind and rain, and scuffling rodents under the floor. The whole ‘not a creature is stirring…’ thing is not a thing in this house. We live in the countryside – in a situation that could be described as glorified camping – and rodents are ubiquitous. My mother couldn’t stay here for more than five minutes without booking herself into a Travelodge. My mother need not worry about rodents under my floor; she is 434 miles away, we’re all on lockdown, and, anyway, I am working. I need to get up in three hours, except I am already up.

A ‘frontline worker.’ I feel like a fraud. My NHS badge says otherwise, I suppose. But I am not saving lives. One might argue I am saving souls, but I don’t save anyone (or at least I am not the one doing the saving) I hold hands, stroke foreheads, speak quiet prayers, give gentle assurances, witness tears. Lots of tears. Mostly, I sit and breathe. A presence. Bearing witness to… human frailty, and human strength. The power of the body and the will to sustain that most miraculous of intangibles – the life-force. And oh, it is such a privilege, to be at this most intimate transition. Often when loved ones can’t be there. Often when they have just stepped out of the room for their first coffee in seven hours. Often when there is nobody.

And of course at Christmas, and especially this locked-down Christmas, it seems more poignant. Loved ones separated by gowns and masks and gloves, by care-home windows. Or by geography, as I am from mine. Our family Christmas will be via Zoom, as it will be for many. And my mind turns – as minds do at Christmas – to friends and loved ones I haven’t seen, whom I miss, even if we haven’t spoken for a while, for months. Maybe years…is it really that long? All the other humans I could have reached out to, and didn’t. All the conversations I would like to have. All the warm bodies I would like to hug. And I think of those I didn’t get a chance to see again.

It is all lapping around in my sensitive – wee hours of Christmas Eve morning – heart. A warm, amniotic sea… of Love. This is what cannot separate us. It is utterly tangible to me; here, at my kitchen table at 3 am, at those precious moments of dying, at the times of rawness and transition when I am perhaps most sensitive and attuned. And at all the other times too. It connects us all. Even – and perhaps especially – when we feel at our most separate.

So, I suppose this is the message I would send to all of you. I love you. You are loved. Have a blessed Christmas.

In my last post I spoke about prayer, and what it is and what it means and what it might look like. I wanted to follow this up with some more thoughts on ways of praying.

I mean, you can get on your knees and place your hands together, if you really want to. Sometimes that feels like – and is – exactly the right thing to do. In some traditions, that is the way to pray.

But there are other ways into prayer that for some of us, can be more direct, more accessible, less constraining, less… like praying.

Pray With Your body

Prayer can be a dance, a whole body, moving gift of thanks, or praise of wonder, of delight in creation.

Prayer can be tears – of joy, rage, anger, despair. (Indeed, in the Orthodox tradition of Christianity, human tears are considered sacramental).

Prayer can be spending time outside. In nature. In the urban landscape. Among the trees. By water. Wherever it is, there are opportunities to notice, to wonder, to be delighted, to give thanks.

Pray With Your Voice

Prayer can be singing. Hymns or hip-hop, choral, or gospel. The human voice brings with it the gift of prayer and praise, joy and longing, heartbreak and loneliness and everything else. What could be more like prayer?

Prayer can be talking to God. I often ask people what they would like to say to God. And if they don’t believe in God, I ask them – what would you say if you did?

Prayer can simply be telling others what your hopes are. (See talking to God)

Pray With Small Rituals

Prayer can be lighting a candle. Go into a church or a religious building if you wish. Or just light a candle. Light symbolises hope. Light illuminates the darkness.

Prayer can involve the elements. Drop stones or shells into water, tie pieces of cloth to a tree in the wind, plant seeds in the earth, burn pine cones in a fire. Let the intention of your prayers be carried with the gesture.

Prayer can be planting vegetables, or trees, tending the earth, feeding animals, weeding, pruning, mowing, recycling, composting…

Pray With Your Presence or Skill

Prayer can be listening – really listening – to another. A friend, a relative, a stranger. Let your presence be a prayer.

Prayer can be creativity – making art, writing, music, poetry, knitting, origami, cooking. Making things is a beautiful way to offer your gifts as a prayer.

Prayer can be doing something for others – Being of service, to a cause, to your community, neighborhood, town, even in your own home.

And…

Prayer can be anything else that you do with awareness of gratitude, hope, compassion, or in the stillness of contemplation.

Praying – by Mary Oliver

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

Oliver, Mary. 2017. Devotions : The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver (New York: Penguin Press, An Imprint Of Penguin Random House Llc)
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How To Pray (if you don’t pray) #2