Prayer = WORK!

Prayer = WORK!

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Prayer = WORK?

Prayer work? I have been praying for work every single day since I started breathing. I have been meditating and praying for all my family and friends. I  pray for their health, then I pray for peace on their Earth. Still, this life hasn’t felt as peaceful as heaven could.

Heaven sent yesterday, I could see that my friend Frank was hurting. I wanted to feel compassion for him, but I couldn’t even look him in the eye. Doing so reminded me too much of when his words cut to my core like a knife to my own heart.

The story? A few weeks ago, Frank knew exactly what to say to take my breath away. He told me I was a terrible influence, a horrible facilitator and a rotten leader. He said I don’t have what it takes to survive and thrive, then he spat on my grave when he asked me to leave “his place”.

A break up of friends. A death of a legacy story. That’s how it felt back then anyway.

But, all that wasn’t true?…

Not a lick of it seemed true yesterday when Frank walked up to take his P.C. (which ironically, wasn’t PC). All that wasn’t true when I could feel his apprehension and fear at my very presence. We sat down on a park bench, then he told me a personal story about the trauma he felt when his neighbor shot his other neighbor over shrubs.

Confirming again to him that I only have two weakly loaded muscles for guns did nothing, it was clear that neighborly trauma never left him. He’s still scared of angry people, and his body was literally shaking for fear of death.

Understandably so, we have hurt one another deeply with our words. We cut each other’s stories up and fed the ashes to the sky. We even publicly humiliated one another, which is demeaning and perhaps a leading cause of immortality.

This immortal heavenly body inside me? I want to believe in losing a fear of a spiritual death. I have to pray that “I” will go on after “I” go off. If it’s not, I am sick to death of believing in the Justice that doesn’t exist and each man’s unique version of right and wrong. Sick of waiting for that WRITE day to come when Justice will be served.

Facing fear, yesterday needed to be the write day to lay down any arms Frank felt that I carried. It needed to be my honest day when I told Frank that I’m sorry too, and I need a friend too. Frank and I are still friends, I hope.

Today though? I need to drink water, eat food, exercise, mail my grandpa a package for his birthday, then write and color again about these fears and traumas.

“Love = Fear” is what keeps me writing these posts about fear. Fear is my BFF for life, it whispers secrets in my ear and holds my hand at night. It’s everything beautiful and perfect and lovely and angelic about this world I have chosen to embrace.

Fear = Love.

Am I always so Dead to the world? I’ve never felt so 100% alive. Alive is the way I have felt for a while now, perhaps since death has come and gone so many times in my own life. The door is open to all those laughable fears (and life is nothing to be super stressed about).

Speaking of stress, want to go for a walk with me to go play? at the park? I feel like I need a swing today..

~Steph Bird

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