If I Could Read While I Was

Prayer Is A Relationship; Half The Job Is Mine. If I Want Transformation, But Can't Even Be Bothered To Articulate What, Exactly, I'm Aiming For, How Will It Ever Occur? Half The Benefit Of Prayer Is In The Asking Itself, In The Offering Of A Clearly Posed And Well-considered Intention. If You Don't Have This, All Your Pleas And Desires Are Boneless, Floppy, Inert; They Swirl At Your Feet In A Cold Fog And Never Lift.

You Know, I Think That Allowing Somebody, One Mere Person To Believe That He Or She Is Like, The Vessel You Know, Like The Font And The Essence And The Source Of All Divine, Creative, Unknowable, Eternal Mystery Is Just A Smidge Too Much Responsibility To Put On One Fragile, Human Psyche. It's Like Asking Somebody To Swallow The Sun.

I Wonder If I Am Capable Of Being Somebody’s Sun, Somebody’s Everything. Am I Centered Enough Now To Be The Center Of Somebody Else’s Life?

It Was Like Time Would Stop, And The Dancer Would Sort Of Step Through Some Kind Of Portal And He Wasn't Doing Anything Different Than He Had Ever Done, 1,000 Nights Before, But Everything Would Align. And All Of A Sudden, He Would No Longer Appear To Be Merely Human. He Would Be Lit From Within, And Lit From Below And All Lit Up On Fire With Divinity. And When This Happened, Back Then, People Knew It For What It Was, You Know, They Called It By It's Name. They Would Put Their Hands Together And They Would Start To Chant, "allah, Allah, Allah, God God, God." That's God, You Know.

But Is It Such A Bad Thing To Live Like This For Just A Little While? Just For A Few Months Of One's Life, Is It So Awful To Travel Through Time With No Greater Ambition Than To Find The Next Lovely Meal? Or To Learn How To Speak A Language For No Higher Purpose Than That It Pleases Your Ear To Hear It? Or To Nap In A Garden, In A Patch Of Sunlight, In The Middle Of The Day, Right Next To Your Favourite Fountain? And Then To Do It Again The Next Day?