I write a lot about my commute to the south end of Seattle. Not only do I travel there daily for livelihood, but I also travel there for morning dates at the gym. I have found my groove in waking up at 6:30am, packing up, and traveling south to get my ass kicked, and then heading to my building for shower, coffee, and work. It's been a good thing. Exercise is not something I do for weight loss or body image reasons. I exercise for my brain and sanity.
Today was a special day because as I pulled up to the main intersection where the light rail passes through and watched a woman in a headscarf cross the street. I could see her mouth moving and she was obviously making words. My windows were down. She was alone. My gaze shifted to her hands and I saw her prayer beads. She was praying and walking.
I was flooded with memories of India and Nepal, where prayer was so integrated into daily life. It's different here in the states. Prayer seems to happen behind closed doors and at certain times. I grew up Catholic and when I was little, I used to verbally pray before bedtime. Say my prayers. "I wish for my family and friends to be safe. I wish for the entire world to be happy. I wish I will get lots of time to read and play outside." That was the extent of it. Of course, now, I laugh about it, but a lot of it remains quite relevant and true.
I don't know the whole reason I decided to write about this, but it was a compelling experience. To see prayer right in front of me served me in the way that seeing somebody floss reminds you, "Oh yes, that. I need to do that more."
Thank you prayer lady for saying your prayers. You have inspired me to pray more.