Embodied Prayer

I struggle to pray with words. I recognize that this is an awkward confession for a writer, but my vocalized prayers lack the depth and eloquence I want them to have. Praying this way can feel unnatural and empty for me, like my heart isn’t in it. 

A few days ago, I found myself praying without words. I went outside to pick up sticks in my yard after a storm. Picking up sticks is a mundane and repetitive task — and a time-consuming one when you live in the woods. It was a beautiful, mild, sunny day, and I had my earbuds in so I could listen to Claudio Monteverdi’s Vespro della Beata Vergine as I worked. 

As I went about my work, I noticed the texture of the sticks I was picking up, the visible root system of a fallen tree at the edge of the woods, the moss growing in a shaded spot in my yard, the warmth of the sun on my skin. While I contemplated these miracles of nature and — to borrow a term from Catherine of Siena — the Divine Goodness who created them all, it occurred to me that I was praying. But I hadn’t spoken a word; I had just given myself fully to a simple task that had turned my thoughts to God. I knew that I was praying because of how close God felt to my heart. 

What if this is part of what Paul was getting at when he said to “present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God” (Rom. 12:1, NRSVUE)? He says this is an “act of worship,” but why can’t it also apply to a life of prayer? What would it look like to expand our idea of prayer beyond the words we say and imagine it as something that we can also do with our bodies? What if all our work was a kind of prayer — running errands, folding laundry, standing in line at the post office, writing an essay? We would see that we pray a lot more than we think we do. 

Most afternoons when my workday is over, I go for a hike or bike ride. I love this time to reconnect with my body after spending most of my day in my head at my desk. The gratitude and joy that fills me as I move is my prayer of thanksgiving to God for another day — whatever that day held, good or bad. I invite you to join me. Take a walk, draw a picture, or find a quiet place to sit and focus on your breath. There’s no wrong way to do it. Let your attention be drawn in whatever direction it wants to go and be receptive to wherever you end up. The place your embodied prayer takes you might surprise you. And wherever that is, I hope you come away reminded of and with a deeper appreciation for the divine love and wisdom that surrounds us all.

Questions for Reflection

1. Describe your relationship with prayer. When and where did you learn to pray? How has your attitude toward prayer changed over the course of your life? How has the way you pray changed?
2. When have you struggled to pray with words? What did you do? What did this experience teach you about prayer?
3. Think of a time when you embodied a prayer. What or whom were you praying for? How did you feel after offering God an embodied prayer?