Prayers That Are Made Out of Grass

Oh, good scholar, I say to myself,

how can you help but grow wise

with such teachings as these -

the untrimmable light of the world,

the ocean’s shine,

the prayers that are made out of grass?*

......

It is a cold and misty December morning. My friend Katy waits just inside her front door and her face brightens as she sees me drive up. "You get back in the car!" she exclaims as I hasten to take her arm and assist her along the sidewalk and into my idling car. I grin at her protests. Katy is eighty-something, she is wearing a bright red tam cap, and I am glad to spend a few moments walking through the drizzle with the soft, damp leaves underfoot to guide her safely down the path. She tells me that she has had the red cap since she was a girl. The trees alongside the street are gray in the mist. "Oh, how I love this rainy, misty weather!" Katy exults. I know what she means. "It makes one feel poetic, doesn't it?" I ask her. That is exactly the word she is looking for, she tells me. Katy's voice becomes thoughtful and melodic:

When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep...

.....

It is a beautiful poem by William Butler Yeats**, and I ask Katy if she knows the whole poem. She does indeed and proceeds to recite for me the entire piece, and suddenly this day seems very precious and golden. I wish that the sacredness of this moment would go on forever. And maybe it does go on forever...the veil is pulled back and we catch a glimpse, but always, always that sacred, golden light is here just beyond the veil. The sacred exists all around us for those who have ears to hear and eyes to see: prayers made out of grass, holiness growing in a flower pot, love falling softly from the gray clouds.... Come and see.

*from "Mindful" by Mary Oliver

**"When You Are Old"