Sunday, July 9, 2017

Prayer and meditation.

And I'm a toddler.

This is sad but true. It takes me probably three times as long to do a rosary as any other Catholic you will ever meet, because I have to estimate how many beads I missed while planning the menu for the week, wondering if you can pray for the Mets, wondering when that big Visa bill is due, wondering why there's a perception of weakness in men who pray considering how difficult it can be, wondering if even divine intervention can help the Mets... I am the king of distraction, in that I don't even need anything outside my own stupid head to distract me. I can do it myself. 

Also, meditation puts me to sleep. I actually used to go to a meditation group on Mondays and fully expected to be awakened one day and sent back to the office with a cup of coffee paid for by the pitying members of the group. I don't go there anymore. 

People complain about formal, memorized prayers, but to tell you the truth I don't do much better with casual prayer. I'll be thinking about the people I want to pray for (like those who read this blog) and I'll be wondering how bad the Giants will be this fall, whether I can work out the plot of the mystery I'm trying to write, whether God will mind if I ask Him to smite the rulers of North Korea, whether I can get the grass cut before it's too long for my lawn mower...

Toddler time.

So I'll just meditate instead. Wake me in an hour, okay?
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