I felt the triple whammy of sad events yesterday morning: A funeral for a young man on a rainy Monday that happened to be the anniversary of September 11, 2001. The brother of a friend and neighbor died unexpectedly last week, and I went to the church funeral on Monday morning. “Organized religion” has a bad rap among some of my friends, but how can you condemn it when it can provide such comfort at a time like this? The church was full of mourners lending their support to the bereaved family. A loss like that needs recognition, and the rituals surrounding funeral services feel so necessary at such a time. The space rebounded with grief and love and prayers, and I hope it provided some small balm for the family left behind.
I’ve noticed recently that I seem to be aging in reverse in some ways, getting less and less cynical as I grow up. Whereas in my youth I thought prayer was just wishful thinking, I’m daily more convinced that prayers have real power. I add prayer to the close of my yoga and meditation practice every day now. When I first began doing it I felt more than a little foolish and naïve, but it quickly became so natural and right I wouldn’t dream of stopping. My yoga teacher teaches the chant for peace: Lokaha samastha sukhino bhavantu, which means “may all beings in the world be happy”. Who wouldn’t pray for that?
