Every thought is a prayer. Every action is a meditation.

Photograph by Jonathan Aspensen.

I used to beat myself up a lot for not praying the way I thought I should. Of course the way I thought I should was the way someone or another had taught was the "right" way to pray. Some teach that you have to do it at a certain time of day; some that you have to say it a certain way; others that you must pray in a language that even you don't understand, and that if you don't then that's evidence you haven't been "anointed by the Holy Spirit," and therefore haven't been "saved."

What I finally figured out was that Jesus already dealt with all of that in his teachings, and made it really, really simple:

5 And when you pray, don't be like the hypocrites: for they love to stand and pray in churches and on the street corners, so everyone will see them. But I'm telling you, the attention they get while they're putting on such a spectacle is their reward. 6 But when you pray, do it privately and where no one can see you, praying to God who meets you in the solitude of your secret place, and receive your reward accordingly. 7 And don't just say the same old tired prayers over and over again, because it's not a contest to see who can say a memorized prayer the most times. 8 So don't be like them: God knows what you need before you even ask. (Matthew 6:5-8, BHTL version)

A few weeks ago, one of my colleagues gave a Japanese Sumi-e painting demonstration for my Art Club students. He explained to them that Sumi-e painting isn't just a watercolor painting technique, but a meditation; and each step in the process of Sumi-e painting is a meditation in itself. Grinding the pigment. Mixing the paint. Visualizing the finished painting. Loading the brush with paint. Making the brush strokes.

I had put on some traditional Japanese Koto and Shakuhachi music to get us all in the mood, and the students were nothing less than enraptured. When it was their turn to try the painting, it struck me that they all looked like they were praying. They didn't have their eyes closed, but they were very still and focused, pictures of intense concentration.

Photograph by Jonathan Aspensen

This past Thursday my husband and I went to Washington, D.C. to see the Cherry Blossoms on the peak day. This is the third year in a row that we have done this. As we walked around the tidal basin (which takes about an hour and a half), we saw some Buddhist monks who were there enjoying the blossoms as well. On any given day in D.C. you will see many people from many countries taking in the sites. Somehow seeing the monks brought to my mind the reality that enjoying the beauty of the Cherry Blossoms, the sunshine, the mild breeze and pleasant temperature--all of these things were a kind of prayer. The monks were praying. I was praying. Everyone was praying.

In the same way that the grinding of the pigment for Sumi-e painting is a meditation, every step I took around the tidal basin was a meditation. Every breath was a prayer, breathing in (thank you), breathing out (thank you). I was immersed in the beauty of creation, grateful to God and the Japanese Mayor Yukio Ozaki of Tokyo who gave us the trees, and grateful to the trees themselves for persevering through the 3 feet of snow that was on the ground just a month and a half ago (many of them had lost low-hanging limbs to the weight of the snow, which had to be cut off, but the trees were as beautiful and hearty as ever).

Even in the public place of the tidal basin, I was able to meet God in the solitude of my secret place, that place inside of me where the "still small voice" resides when I am quiet enough to hear it. Every silent, internal "thank you" was rewarded with yet more beautiful blossoms to enjoy, more soothing breezes, more sunshine, still more beauty. I most definitely received my reward, and it was so worth it.

You may not be able to enjoy the Cherry Blossoms, but there is beauty all around us. A bird on the windowsill in the grayest of concrete cities. A dandelion growing through the crack in a sidewalk. A smile on the face of a friend. The kindness of a stranger. These are all ways that our great Creator whispers "I love you" to us, and when we take notice of the beauty and say "thank you" back from the solitude of our secret place, we are praying. When we breathe in the beauty around us, and exhale our gratitude, we are meditating on the greatness of God.

Life is good. Be grateful, and be happy.