Friday, December 01, 2006
PRAYER FOR YOU This is a perfect moment. It's a perfect moment because I have been inspired to say a gigantic prayer. I've been roused to unleash a divinely greedy, apocalyptically healing prayer for each and every one of you— even those of you who don't believe in the power of prayer. And so I am starting to pray right now to the God of Gods ... the God beyond all Gods ... the Girlfriend of God ... the Teacher of God ... the goddess who invented God. DEAR GODDESS, you who never kill but only change: I pray that my exuberant, suave, and accidental words will move you to shower ferocious blessings down on everyone who reads this benediction. I pray that you will give them what they don't even know they need—not just the boons they think they want but everything they've always been afraid to even imagine or ask for. DEAR GODDESS, you wealthy anarchist burning heaven to the ground: Many of the divine chameleons out there don't even know that their souls will live forever. So please use your brash magic to help them see that they are all wildly creative geniuses too big for their own personalities. Guide them to realize that they are all completely different from what they've been led to believe about themselves, and more exciting than they can possibly imagine. Make it illegal, immoral, irrelevant, unpatriotic, and totally tasteless for them to be in love with anyone or anything that's no good for them. O GODDESS, you who give us so much love and pain mixed together that our morality is always on the verge of collapsing: I beg you to cast a boisterous love spell that will nullify all the dumb ideas, bad decisions, and nasty conditioning that have ever cursed the wise and sexy virtuosos out there. Remove, banish, annihilate, and laugh into oblivion any jinx that has clung to them, no matter how long they've suffered from it, and even if they have become accustomed or addicted to its ugly companionship. Please conjure an aura of protection around them so that they will receive an early warning if they are ever about to act in such a way as to bring another hex or plague into their lives in the future. DEAR GODDESS, sweet Goddess, you sly universal virus with no freaking opinion: Please help all the personal growth addicts out there to become disciplined enough to go crazy in the name of creation, not destruction. Teach them the difference between oppressive self-control and liberating self-control. Awaken in them the power to do the half-right thing when it is impossible to do the totally right thing. Arouse the Wild Woman within them—even if they're men. DEAR GODDESS, you pregnant slut who scorns all mediocre longing: I pray that you will inspire all the compassionate rascals communing with this prayer to kick their own asses and wash their own brains. Provoke them to throw away or give away all the things they own that encourage them to believe that they are better than anyone else. Show them how much fun it is to brag about what they cannot do and do not have. Give them bigger, better, more original sins and wilder, wetter, more interesting problems. Most of all, Goddess, brainwash them with your freedom so that they never love their own pain more than anyone else's pain. O GODDESS, you wildly disciplined, radically curious, shockingly friendly, fanatically balanced, mysteriously truthful, teasingly healing, lyrically logical master of rowdy bliss: Cultivate in yourself a fervent yearning for the intimate companionship of these budding messiahs. Play with them every day. Answer their questions. Listen to their stories. Inspire them to love you so much they lose all their hatred forever. DEAR GODDESS, you psychedelic mushroom cloud at the center of all our brains: Bless the insanely poised creators out there with lucid dreams while they are wide awake. Provide them with their own spin doctors, and vacuum cleaners for their magic carpets, and solar-powered sex toys that work even in the dark. Give them a knack for avoiding other people's hells, and a thousand masks that all represent their true feelings, and secret admirers who are not psychotic stalkers. Arrange for a racehorse to be named after them, or an underground river, or a thousand-year-old storm on Saturn. Teach them to be their own prophets and pray to themselves and right their own wrongs and sing their own songs and be their own wives and save their own lives. DEAR GODDESS, you riotously tender, hauntingly reassuring, orgiastically sacred feeling that is even now running through all of our soft, warm animal bodies: I pray that you provide all the original sinners out there with a license to bend and even break all rules, laws, and traditions that keep them apart from the things they love. Show them how to purge the wishy-washy wishes that distract them from their daring, dramatic, divine desires. And teach them that they can have anything they want if they'll only ask for it in an unselfish way. And now dear God of Gods, God beyond all Gods, Girlfriend of God, Teacher of God, Goddess who invented God, I bring this prayer to a close, trusting that in these mysterious moments you have begun to change everyone out there in the exact way they've needed to change in order to become the gorgeous geniuses they were born to be. Amen. Awomen. P.S. Goddess: And please also give them each an emerald green parachute, ruby slippers, a canoe covered with jewels, a black-market orchid and a bouquet of organic broccoli, a donkey clown piñata full of crickets, a protective gargoyle lifted from the Chartres Cathedral, a guitar string actually played by Jimi Hendrix, a strawberry chocolate cake baked in the shape of a question mark, a human DNA map drawn up by the Human Genome Project, fistfuls of sparklers, a bottle of holy water from the River Jordan, photos of lightning on a giant poster, a refrigerator magnet cast in the likeness of the Dalai Lama, and the key of life accidentally placed inside a box of Cracker Jack.
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