So I woke up early this morning. I don’t mean I woke up at those peculiar hours like I have sporadically for a long while, those two in the morning wake up calls which leave me wide awake during the deepest night. No, I woke up early, for what is an acceptable start for the real day. Five or so I believe.

I poked around a bit, wondering why a squirrel on the roof was so particularly interested in doing a jig, and wondering what it is about July that caused the spiders of the world to unite in an attempt at complete domination of the neighborhood. I thought I should get to praying, and after a half hour of poking about I finally did. I went outside, where dawn was likely happening if I had a view of the eastern horizon, but was still building for its jump over the hills that block such a view.

Chipmunks chirped and chased each other around trees, before standing and pondering in that curious way that our chipmunks seem to love, tails swishing and with thoughtful gazes. The acorn woodpecker crowd down the hill a bit had some kind of going on, for there was a burst of their voices in various pitches. Coyote? Maybe.

I prayed as I sat on the top of the steps.

It was a peaceful morning with a lovely soft breeze and little human noise. For whatever reason praying got me depressed. I don’t know what happened, and I hate when that happens. It can either be a good sign or a bad sign, a sign that I’m being frustrated in my attempts to pray or a sign that somewhere along the line I’ve taken a misstep and so praying highlights that discerning drive back to peace.

The problem is I don’t know. And really there is only to keep at praying, except for the fact that I was getting more depressed as I kept at it. So I came inside, which is likely not the best reaction, as perseverance is the best goal no matter the cause.

I write this now because I want to sort out what’s going on in my soul, and writing tends to do this better than just about anything else, or at least it unclogs the stopped up thought processes.

I woke up feeling grand and then I prayed. Now I feel distinctively less than grand, and know that there still is only to pray and keep at it.

Delving into the spiritual world through prayer and consideration is often fraught with more difficulties than one might expect. I suppose that’s why folks talk about prayer more than praying… sort of what I’m doing right now as a matter of fact.

Any insight, will, of course, be posted, unless, of course the topic is currently off limits. In that case I’ll note it but not expound on it, unless I feel like it at the moment.

I fear, however, that this day got away from me within a half hour of its all too early start.

I can either participate in this growing frenzy of a spiritual river gone to rapids, or I can engage myself in pursuing a radical stillness no matter the flurry and roar. How this day ends up will be determined by this choice, and it is mine to make.