November 29th, 2006


From the LGSP Journal last night

I came home on Tuesday night and went straight to my altar. Something wasn't adding up, primarily centering around a discussion on ADF-Liturgists.

Sometimes, I find myself drawn into a discussion, and on occasion, my sense of play overwhelms my sense of reason. I don't think I'd want it any other way, but I found myself that night channeling the play into an arena with rules that didn't mesh with the game I was playing.

So I turned it into prayer.

Distancing myself from a conversation that quickly became weirdly emotional and strangely irrational allowed me to see that the rules I was following (have fun, don't be overly serious, back things up with evidence, and don't feel attacked) were not the rules of the game I was in.

So I took my game to my altar. I entered a reality where opinions didn't matter, where no one got upset, and where people could find humour. That's the world I always pray in.

Part of the issue, of course, is that I want to show the world how things are from my eyes. I like my eyes, they're great and they view things in a unique manner.

"Your argument isn't important," I want to say. "You are." This is because when I pray, "My prayer isn't important; I am. Your hearing my prayer isn't important; you are."

Sometimes, we get so caught up in what others are doing, we forget that we ought to just pray about it.

So I stood in front of my altar, and I prayed. I prayed for myself, my friends, and my family. I prayed for ADF and for its members. I prayed to and for the Kindred.

The prayers weren't elegant, or even really well spoken. But I realized as I stood there that all the arguing I do in my life, all the silly positions I take, and all the dumb things I say: none will matter.

But this prayer. . . it matters.

And I prayed longer.