Prayer as Satellite Transmission?

“But prayer can also be an opportunity to contemplate your presence within the divine All. God is the One through whom everyone and everything is joined to every one and every thing.” Kabbalah: A Love Story by Rabbi Lawrence Kushner (125).

I flew to Boston last Thursday and as I sat waiting for takeoff, I felt the adrenaline spike and sweaty palms that usually accompany my departure. Familiar refrains formed in my mind, “God, please help me be safe, please be with the children (the children aren’t ready to be without me).” I prepared to send the words into the ether, out and up in the childhood direction of heaven, as to a satellite dish that would magically beam them back onto the plane as it attained 37,000 feet.

Mid-satellite transmission, I stopped. I’ve been reading about several mystical and Eastern religions which have no room for this “God – as – dial-up” imagery. In these religions God, or the Tao, or the Spirit, or the Atman, is a creative current of life that runs through each individual, which we can only attain by going inward. So I halted my prayer, took a few deep breaths and tried to go deep (difficult in a crowded three- seat row with large neighbors). I remembered that I had said “I love you” to each of my children and to my husband, had left notes for all and baked banana bread as my last act before departure. I had really done all I could to leave a loving presence behind. I felt a peace that I was OK in this moment, and that if a crisis occurred I would hopefully rise to the occasion, as would many others on the plane who had the spirit within them. It was a lovely thought, and it got me through take-off, at least.

During my trip I was surrounded by love. I renewed wonderful relationships with old friends, immediate family, and new family – one of whom my dearest new nephew, only seven weeks old. That sweet baby had me immediately wrapped around every finger and a few toes. We sat in awe, six or seven adults at a time, watching baby sleep, or yawn, or – most joyous of all – practice a few tentative smiles. A baby seems a manifestation of inner prayer; after all, he is born new and agenda-free from his mother’s body, fresh from creation and lacking both ego and desire for control. So baby nephew was my prayer for the weekend; just holding him and watching my brother hold him filled my cup to the brimful.

I’m home again now, distracted by the needs of children who missed their mother and by routine demands of the household. Early morning wake-ups and homework, piano practice and playdates already threaten my inner balance. As I swing from one responsibility to the other I am tempted to turn upward in my prayer and requests for help, seeking my strength from someplace out and up – as a tire swing whirls from a fixed point on a solid branch. The memory of my airplane epiphany pulls me back to my reality, though, and reminds me that my fixed place is inside, a place where the dear faces and loving feelings from last weekend and all good weekends reside.