Sometimes your prayer is a photograph, a snapshot-- through the true eyes or through the mind's eye. To me, my prayers are words, and I feel them forming as I gaze around me. The ground I kneel on is cold and wet but I don't feel it; instead I am looking up, up and the snow is falling down, down. I can feel that there's something happening here, something that's more real than the snowflakes melting into raindrops on my cheeks.
I light a candle and I light it for what is real. This, here right now, is real. This sight I see before me is something we can't create: we must wait for it to happen. And when it does, it happens whether you expect it or want it, and it is stunning in its unpredictability. I can see my breath billow out before me and it mingles with the glow of the candles. I could have chosen to be anywhere, but I filled my space here in the snow, and the snow filled its space with me.
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