Fire the Grid

All over the world today people sat in quiet sending good energy to earth at the same time. It was called “Fire the Gird”. The time worked out here to be 7:11 this morning. It was the best and easiest time for me. I know for those in other parts of the world that it came either in the middle of the night or in the midst of the workday. But for me it was just right.
It was my usual prayer and quiet time. I have a spare room in which I have placed a small table. On it I have placed objects, an odd assortment. There is a candle, an incense burner, a striped green stone that I found one day lying by itself in a tidal pool at our cove, a statue of Therese D’Lisieux, which surprisingly arrived in the post last winter, a little trainman carrying a lamp, which must have come from an old train set, and which I found in the bottom of a Chinese vase that I purchased at an auction. It reminds me to bear the light. There is a green porcelain frog that had once come in a box of tea bags and which I found in the grass behind our house. It reminds me that I am an amphibian, half in a material world and half in a spiritual world. Perhaps the frog is my totem. There is a small needleworked prayer rug made by a dear friend. I have two photographs. One is of Mother Gavrilia and the other is the Elder Paisios. On the wall is an icon of Saint Seraphim of Sarov and above him an icon of Christ. Above hanging from the ceiling is a dream catcher that slowly moves in the updraught of the candle’s heat. I was given it by the Mennonite Central Committee at the time that we gathered to pray and hold vigil for hostages in Iraq.I sat before all this. It was a beautiful time. But then the day fell apart and I shattered, and only now, late in the evening, have I pulled myself together to write anything at all.