Prayer and Meditation Blog

Perfect Prayer vs Conscious Prayer

As a child I was taught like many of us “how” to pray.  The Our Father, The Hail Mary, the Act of Contrition to name a few.  My, I had a difficult time memorizing them.  And of course you had to know them word for word, or…..well apparently God would not understand your request!
How insulting this would be to God, if God were into being insulted. Obviously, He’s bigger than that.
But, really, does this not make the statement clearly, that we make God in our image and not the other way around?
I have been a praying soul ever since I can remember. My first prayers were for my family of course.  I believed that if I prayed for them, God would help them, even if I could not see it.  It seems to me that I was always talking to Him about my family.  They were unhappy and scared and I wanted them to be happy, to feel loved.  I also needed them to be an example of what God could do.  But alas, I did not see this in my lifetime with them.  What I did gain through prayer was a relationship with the Spirit that I would tell everything to.  Sometimes, I would talk to Mother Mary, it seemed to me She was a bit more available.  And She became the Mother I had lost to alcoholism.  I felt close to God the Father even more than Jesus for a long time.  God the Father was my protector and Mother Mary my provider of comfort.
There came a very painful time in my life in my late teens after Graduating from High School that I told God off.  I no longer wanted anything to do with Him.  If this was the best He could do, I was done.
My loneliness grew, my despair tore me apart emotionally.  Now I had no one to turn to.  My pride would not allow me to turn to the God I felt as a youth.
Then, a friend came into the hospital I was in for a visit.  I was on a psychiatric unit for severe depression, suicidal attempts, and an apparent drinking problem!  Jim handed me a little book called Metaphysical Meditations, by Paramhansa Yogananda.  In this little book were short “thoughts” on God.
I could read one and at least try to focus on its meaning because they were short and to the point.  They weren’t called prayers, but I felt that as I read these “thoughts” on God, Life, the Universe, I began to have a peek at hope.
After a time, I was released and I found this friend and his friend who were learning how to meditate.
This was a whole new concept.  Talking to God was one thing but listening for an answer….well that was something that I did not know was part of the Praying process.
After many years now, decades really, my prayers have changed, as has my concept of what God is.
But after returning to a relationship with God as I understand Him/Her, the element that has not changed is the childlike faith that was in me came alive again and has expanded into an unconditional love for God.
There is no such thing as a Perfect Prayer, unless you count simply speaking with that Presence honestly.
There is something we can call Conscious Prayer.  This is when we sit, or kneel or lay down and consciously draw on the child like faith within us and then stop and listen to what He/She might be wanting to say in response to our pain, or joy, or question.
Oh how God longs to hear us…..He has everything…..except our love!  This we must give freely.  He waits with undying patience, for eternity……for our voice to call upon Him/Her.
“Oh how I have missed you”  this will be the first words you will hear.
I know…..because they were the first words He said to me………………Nayaswami brindey

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Prayer-from Whispers from Eternity

I wandered through forests of incessant searchings, and arrived at the mystery door of Thy presence. On the doors of silence I knocked loudly with my persistent blows of faith, and the doors of space opened. There, on the alter of glorious visions, I beheld Thee, resting.

I stood with restless eyes, waiting for Thee to speak. I heard not Thy creation-making voice. At last the spell of stillness stole upon me, and in whispers taught me the language of angels. With the lisping voice of new-born freedom, I tried to speak, and the lights of Thy temple assumed sudden brilliancy and wrote letters of light.

In my little chamber of quietness, I am always resting: I never speak but with the voice of my silence. Through my silence, eloquently converse with me.

Paramhansa Yogananda