Grateful: Day 31 - Sparky

I'll start already with something from yesterday, a monologue which ended the piece, read by a young girl and interspersed with saxophone and piano, bass, drums and something stringed and choirs and singing out single voices.

And in the book it said there was different ways you can pray - there is like when you get up and you sit and say things - that is one way of praying - and then there is this different way what was invented by these people in Poland quite a while ago - this is when everything you do is a prayer - and you have to do everything you do the best you can because it is not just normal in fact it is a prayer straight to god - when you smile that is a prayer - when you talk that is a prayer - and when you walk that is a prayer - and when you brush your teeth and when you give someone a kiss - and Mams and Dads when they go to bed that is a prayer - and when you pray that is a prayer - and when you sit, when you suck, when you laugh, when you dance, when you snore - everything you do is a prayer because when the world was made God made it out of magic sparks - everything that ther eis was all made of magic sparks - and all the magic sparks went into things - deep down and everytihng has a spark - and the whole point of being alive - the whole pointy of living is to find the spark - and the sparks were put there ofr each other cos God wanted people to find them in each other - and doing this making sparks - this was to pray - and the old people a long time ago they saw the sparks and people met and the sparks jumped right into the iar from the place that they were hiding and they leaped up through the firmament and through the clouds and past the sun and they shone over the whole universe and when people kissed there were sparks and when people held each other ther were sparks and when they waved as they were going away there would be sparks - and they would all be prayers.

It's from Spoonface Steinberg, by Lee Hall (who also wrote Billy Eliot) and I like it very much. It makes me cry (shut up, Sandison).

I still don't believe in "God" but whatever this substance is that catches us when we try to fall and listens to our thoughts and makes them bigger, this elastic energy, love-like and buzzing that supports us like water and resists to make us safe when we fight against it, and carries us wherever we want to go when we relax and lie back, I believe in that, for me. Whether I'm right or wrong about that, I'm grateful for what I perceive to be there because it makes me happy and for the first time ever, safe to do whatever I love.

And I love the idea of everything you do being in honour of it. Just like the word 'God' scratches me in the throat, the word 'prayer' does too, but what else is a prayer but a blessing and an outpouring of gratitude or yearning, or an expression of something intense enough to feel divine and connected.

And what if everything you do IS a prayer, or an expression of your flavour of the energy we're floating part of, what if your whole life was that, and every little thing you do, given that it's part of your life, was full of that spark looking for other sparks and was a celebration of it all - how nice would that be?

And I say again, right or wrong, true or totally fabricated, if that feeling and that intention makes you happy, and other people happy, well, how wonderful!

Of course, when we grumble that someone stepped on our foot or spoke badly of us, or opened a noisy can of pop too near us, that doesn't fit with the concept. Or maybe it does. It's just a less joyful prayer. It just makes more of that in the world. And it's not wrong or bad, it just is. It just happens. It just makes some more of itself.

And if I remembered, when I was doing it (which I do more and more since starting this blog), that whatever I do, this is my 'prayer' to the world, this is my version of what goes out there and multiplies, maybe I'd take an extra breath and laugh and wonder, if it was all going to be over soon, whether I'd care so much about that footstomp, that ugly talk, that irritating pop can, or whether I'd just wish I'd had more fun and made up better swearwords to please Amanda Birkinshaw and made more people laugh and forget themselves, and loved people more overtly and with more courage.

I know this is veering close to Chicken Soup for the Soul territory, but I mean every word, so turtle-faced fuckbags to the lot of you and take your pop somewhere else, can't you see I'm trying to concentrate?

Today, I had an enthralling skype call for over half an hour that was mostly not talking, or really doing anything, just having a look. I loved it. And I had the pleasure of seeing Anna Levy just before she ran a brilliant ideas evening and just after, when she was all glowing and it had gone really, really well. So happy to see that buzz of someone doing what they love and doing it really well.

I was spaced when that happened, having just done my second yoga class. It was great, and bendy and calming and a little bit upside down. I'm enchanted by the teacher, whose flashes of joy are a pleasure to watch. It's not that he's not happy the rest of the time - it's just that he's got one of those faces that looks glum when it's relaxed and transcendent when he smiles.

Being upside-down, apparently, is very good for your energies, in pretty much every way, from what I could gather. I shall endeavour to spend a lot more time fully inverted. It's quite a nice feeling too and the list of benefits are matched-up remedies to things that have bothered me. Maybe that's always been my problem. Not enough time upside-down. I wish I'd known that sooner.

Being in naturally cold water every day is good for you too, according to my yoga teacher. That's handy, really, isn't it, for me. I had the pond to myself for a whole lap this morning after a f*ck-brained train fiasco that was entirely of my misdoing.

Thank you for my computer and for things being how they need to be; for the cheese I'm about to put in my face before bed; for all the lovely people I've spoken to or been spoken to by, for all the people I saw smiling today. Oh, and for the man on the tube with a hare-headed walking stick, dazzling false teeth and a very foreign accent. Otherwise the picture makes no sense at all, and that won't do.