Does heaven have a point system for those who pray?
Full heart no drama
Prayers & pickled mangoes
A scoop of butter & a taste of home
Nothing beats my dadi’s homemade butter. It makes EVERYTHING taste as if it's lords' divine dish prepared specially for you. Godsent. I wish you fly down here into my kitchen & have one just one daal ka parantha with pickled mangoes & mint chutney on the side. I promise a fat belly & no disappointments.
Oh by the way, I snuck 2 strawberries from the refrigerator this morning. Took one bite from each, saved the halves for you. Spiritually saved, I mean. I dug my teeth in oxblood skin. The berries burst. Lips laced in strawberry seed fiber & juice. I wanted you to taste them. But you're not here. So I smacked my lips before they got sticky.
This simple joy of savoring dadi’s butter and the stolen strawberries is reason enough for why I write these essays. Sharing everyday moments of love, spirituality, and delicious food, connecting with you even when we’re miles apart. Each story, each flavor is a piece of my world that I’m offering to you. Thank you for being a part of this journey, for reading and supporting Mo's Magazine. Your presence, even from afar, means everything to me.
I’m about to share a poem that instantly reminded me of my dadi. She prays like clockwork & means it every single time. Full heart no drama. I’m in awe of that because I think I have no clue about the logistics of praying. Probably because I feel there is one method to praying. One right, perfect, holy way to impress the lords. I know there isn’t haha, but then how does one do it?
Just shut your eyes & think about things you want? Get on a knee (or two if you’re in need of urgent divine intervention) & simply present your proposition to the team in heaven? Do you pitch for yourself? Tell them why you’re the best candidate that needs 3 vacations a year with the family, all cushy & filled with activities? Or why you need a raise? or why your grandfather needs to get better asap otherwise your grandmother will fall sick from sadness too?
Praying is simple for most people. But I complicate it by analysing it. Maybe because I want to pray and have my prayers heard right away. I want what I want and I’m working towards it IRL but if I pray for it, maybe I’ll have a fast-tag entry to my desires? Most days I prop myself on a yoga block, sit crossed legged & just thank. Thank myself for being honest, thank my body for being so strong, I express gratitude for my family, friends, help, all the strangers I meet & befriend. I thank my life experiences for shaping me into this being of vibrating energy. I rarely ask. If I do, it’s rarely for me. I ask for my grandfather to heal. For farmers to get rain. For all stray cats to find healthy homes.
How do you pray? What do you pray for?
Anyway, when I read this poem from
I instantly felt relief & heard & somewhat at peace with not knowing how to pray the right way—if there is oneI haven’t prayed in years by
I haven’t prayed in years
but if I did start
I would never say the word please
because if you’re praying
then, well, that’s implied.
And I would never say the word
dear because that is too formal
like a thank-you card to your grandmother
that your mother made you write
after you got the ugly ornament
that one Christmas when you were ten
and you still have it because throwing
it away now somehow feels like cheating.
I would never swear in a prayer
because that seems risky and if
you are praying, you generally aren’t
feeling ballsy. You are all out of balls
and that’s why you are praying.
I’d never write down a prayer either
because written prayers are sort of like flags
in that you can’t burn or rip them
up so you bury them and then
are secretly disappointed when
nothing grows out of the ground.
I think if I started praying
I’d put bees inside
that prayer so it buzzed in my mouth
and fell off my tongue and into the air thick and swarming, a hot cloud
that could sting and sweat and swab like honey.
I’d put a matchbox in my prayer
so I could make a fire and if
God didn’t hear the prayer
at least he’d see the smoke.
As you move on with your day, can I ask you for a quick favor? Could you take a second to share this post with your friends? Sharing helps more people discover my work and supports what I do. Thank you!🧡
Something worth reading this week!
A Fractured Mind Is Not A Fractured Faith by
. “It hadn’t even crossed my mind to pray for healing. It didn’t seem serious enough to bother Jesus about that." WHAT ARE THESE WORDS - I'm touched. SO moved. We definitely don't have to live in the extremes of all or nothing.
I love you!
Nature is brimming with poetry, if you just take the time to listen. This 9-page guide offers everything you need to dive into the beauty of nature with a poet’s eye. From choosing the right location to engaging all five senses, this guide will help you unlock the writing potential hidden in leaves, birdsongs, and morning dew. Bonus resources included for even more inspiration!
Another way to show your love for my work is to share my posts, buy me a coffee to help me travel to America, & leaving sweet comments under my posts🧡
Other than asking for healing safety and happiness for my loved ones and beind thankful for my life and gifts, i mostly listen in Silence.
I used to pray! I used to have faith! But lately my faith is as big or small as a mustard seed! I would pray through my poems! Perhaps I could pray through my poems again!