I heard this second hand from some (brilliant) authoress, who said that the most honest, gutteral, instinctual prayer happens when you step out in front of a moving car, or your are deathly afraid, or you whimper as I often do, the following small phrase:
"Help, help..."
And then today I heard this, which is also so true: If you know how to worry, you know how to meditate. It's just the constant churning.
Oh boy, do I have a lot to tell...and I promised to, and I will, but I need to unlock my lips and my fingers and my heart just a small piece at a time. But there is a lot to say.
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