This is my prayer.

It's not dramatic and this is how it's so easily missed.

It’s so quick, and small, and so terribly quiet.

It takes place in a place within that so many of us have never visited much less venerated.

It’s so crucial and essential but we only know this once we’ve found it – once we’ve given up the search to find it in someone else.

A well, a chalice, an eternal flame, the holy of holies, the pot of gold, the diamond, the miracle, the elixir of life, the philosopher’s stone, all these begin to convey but fail to fully contain just how much is found there.



What if within you there’s a hand reaching out – not insisting – just offering. And what if once held, you remember.

You are beloved. You are elemental to the structure of everything, to the placement of the stars, to the orchestration of the celestial realms, to the gravitational pull of all things in orbit, to the sacred geometry that makes each and every living being here make sense.

You are needed. You are blessed. You are connected to all the magic that has ever come to pass. You are counted among the constellations. You are the electric white script the night illuminates. You are just by blinking, by breathing, the proof that true love exists.

What if your only obligation is to secure your five small fingers, your fragile human hand around the grip of this inner force that is unseen and yet far more certain, far more lasting. This force of love that is the most ordinary and divine energy in all existence.

What if this is all you ask of yourself – even if for only one moment – that you reach in for this love that reaches out to you everyday.

It is the most uncelebrated act. Because it’s so insular, so unassuming, so unverifiable. And yet it’s the most true. And it’s the most accessible. You could be anywhere, with anyone and doing anything. And suddenly, all at once, you enter the temple inside you.

And suddenly it’s that same electric white light the stars are made of that looks out through your eyes. Suddenly there is nowhere to go, and nothing to do or prove. Suddenly, your solar plexus is the most coveted planetary system you have ever seen. Suddenly, your very every-day, over-used words leave your mouth covered in gold. Suddenly, every thing the light in your eyes touches is drenched with pure meaning.

Suddenly you’re just you. You’re nothing but everything.

This is my prayer. That you remember.

Emily Bohannon