Prayers in the Breeze

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In our hippie town, it's common to see Tibetan prayer flags strung across front porches.  I think I read somewhere once that the idea is, each time the wind blows, the prayer is carried up.  That feels a bit hokey to me--although, perhaps no more hokey than lighting a candle, which people commonly do--but I've always viewed the flags as more of a sign of good thoughts and wishes and hopes, flittering in the breeze and spreading good.  (Looks like Wikipedia sort of agrees with me, for what it's worth.)

Although I didn't set out to make it that way, when I finished with this summer's banner in our back yard, it reminded me a lot of a strip of prayer flags.  I was sitting outside this evening--a little sore in the spirit, if truth be told--and I began assigning some of them. 

One for me to learn to curb my salty language before the Kid starts to parrot it.

One for my nose to just un-stuff already.

One to be as good a partner to Sweet Husband as he is to me.

A few for some clients in need of judicial miracles.

Several for all of our friends who are getting married and having babies and making new homes this summer.

One for a longstanding dream that's painfully close.

Two for two newer ones that are, as yet, pipe dreams.

One in thanks for Bonnie the Buckeye's beautiful orange-yolked eggs, as well as those of her sisters.

One in thanks that Bonnie the Buckeye hasn't killed one of the Indigo Girls yet.

I went on and on like that, through the better part of the banner.

I don't know that it ultimately made me feel better--only NyQuil can do that at this point, I'm afraid--but I don't think it ever hurts to remind the universe at large, as well as yourself, of all the things you're grateful for and all the things you hope for.