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Maybe it’s because The Real Housewives of Orange County all but devolved into a terrifying trip to a haunted church camp this past week and my mind is still trying to recover from being thrust soul-first into choruses of Amazing Grace that were harmonized by scummy women who clearly value liposuction more than they value the Lord, but I can’t seem to get prayer out of my head.  

I can’t quite qualify myself as someone who prays regularly, but that’s been changing a bit.  I do pray – though it’s more to the universe at large than to a particular God – and I seem to be partaking in those very personal moments more than usual these days.  Obviously, some of what I bandy about late in my bed at night to the powers that cannot be seen is rather personal, but since I get to fully control what it is I share here, allow me to tell you about some of the conversations I’ve been having lately with a universe that I dearly hope is not hard of hearing.  Sure, some of my prayers might strike you as superficial and perhaps others might strike you as though they were generated inside the mind of someone who is mildly psychotic, but since one of the things I pray for consistently is the continued ability not to give a shit about what other people think about me, I’m gonna forge ahead:  

Dear Universe,

Please allow me to believe that there is no bottom to the reservoir of compassion, talent, forgiveness, and drive that I rely upon more often than I do air.  Do not ever allow me to embrace the idea that I have been depleted of goodness or of the capacity to generate the levels of energy I need to secure for myself all it is that I desire.