I Pray as an Animist

As I swing outside in my big fenced back yard facing the porch, I swing as high as I can, tilt my head towards the clouds and pray.

I prayed to God to give me a voice.

I prayed to God for beauty.

I prayed to God for happiness.

I prayed for sanity.

I gained spirituality.

A note:

At times like these I guess they were bad days, I was probably about 7 years old. I would walk outside because I was banned from going any further from the house, sometimes not even allowed to be in my own back yard by myself. But it was my get away.

As a child I was bullied and had a temper. I was teased for my big teeth, my deep voice at such a young age, tormented myself at times at how tomboyish I was, but that didn’t really matter then. I was actually proud of running faster, hitting farther, throwing farther, and juking everyone better in flag football in the 5th grade. One day, I sat and reflected on those prayers. I went through them one by one, physically checking them off the list, and I was amazed. Either way, as an animist, myself, or someone else had made my hopes come true. And I was forever grateful and became more spiritual. I was thankful and became the biggest believer I knew.


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