I throw my thoughts up in the air. I do this regularly now, like a seed sower.
I’m either a fool, or a confident investor. Fools say there is no god. Confidence comes from knowing: knowing that He listens, that He adjusts, that He does answer in some kind of time. I do this because things are falling apart, “the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity” as W.B. Yeats said in his poem The Second Coming. That was so last century. It was rough then when he penned this. I do sense it is soon to be worse now. Thomas Cahill writes that artists see ahead so often, better than others somehow. I believe that may be true, though we are all so fallible. Mark Rothko feared that “one day the dark will swallow the red”. I am not afraid. Maybe it is because I know who is really at work.
It’s said that prayer is mystery, and surely that be true. But this I know, I’m moved to do it, so this is what I do.