Prayer

Prayer means many things for different people. Growing up, we’re used to recite prayers we know. As we mature in the relationship between God and ourselves, we become more open and spontaneous. Prayers become conversations.  A series of dialogues – the deeper it gets, the more we gain understanding of ourselves, of who we truly are and of what we truly want.

I just spent days of silent retreat, far away from what is familiar. On my last night, while I was packing my things and preparing myself to go back to the real world, for some random reasons, I was inspired to take photos of the things inside my retreat room which kept me company, in silence, for 10 days.

The armrest of my study chair where my elbow has rested while I was on deep thoughts…

The heater which provided warmth during my sleep…

My  favourite jeans where the texture and fit make me feel comfortable…

The lampshade that provided the right amount of light at night…

My pen, which, in the absence of a laptop and a cellphone, helped me write down my thoughts and reflections…

A phone in the room – which I never used and never rang the entire time I was on retreat…

My creased pillow which nestled my head for 9 nights…

My thermal socks which gave protection and comfort to my feet…

The cushion of the chair where I lay my back as I witness the sunrise each morning from my room…

The hard wood of my study table…

As I look and reflect on these photos, I realised that prayer is also a time for putting attention to the fine details of emotions within us. Recognising the texture and colour of our passions, our desires, our pains, our joys – its softness and hardness, its creases, with its smoothness and roughness, in its rawness, and staring at it closely, in silence, and then presenting it to God, asking for the grace of purification and sanctification.