Waking up I say these words: don’t forget to pray today.
When has giving thanks become an event reminder that’s typed into my calendar?


I smudged today with sage, clearing the negative build up that’s been swirling around for days. It seems that we live in a world where everyone and everything is expendable. Nothing is sacred. But we sure like to tweet about it and meddle in bindings. Nothing can be bound that you can never catch.

To be truly thankful, mindfulness should come from within and not an event reminder buzzing on my phone like Pavlov’s sounding ring. I don’t need another “to do” list. I need intention. 

The candle sits on my stove; its flame reminding me of the hearth I came from. The window to the bathroom is open, rain splattering on the sill, but I’m locked inside thinking about the thrift store Lady of Fatima who adorns my mantle for a measly $8.00 a prayer. 

My medallion collection grows heavy with the prayers that are sitting in the air. 

And the funny thing? Who will there be left to save.

Wake up and dream. 


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