conjectural navel gazing; jesus in lint form

May the Spirit satisfy you
With the water of grace.

I have this little pocket-sized prayer book I keep with me. It's a very abridged version of Alexander Carmichael's classic tome, Celtic Prayers. Divided into sections such as Prayers and Thanksgiving, Peace, and Creation, I find it a comforting resource to keep with me. This morning I opened up to the "Blessings" section and it occurred to me that this is where I spend the least of my time. It's just that blessings can feel so...selfish.

May God make safe to you each step,
May God make open to you each pass,
May God make clear to you each road,
And may God take you in the clasp of his own two hands.

It's not that I don't want a blessing or to "feel" blessed, but there's somthing odd about asking for a blessing for oneself. It's like asking for money without doing anything for it. That, of course, is a telling statement. Blessings aren't transactions. Grace is only a gift. So I have to ask myself: Am I hardwired to think of everything, even blessings, as a transaction of some kind? Apparently so.

May Brigit and Mary and Michael
Shield you on sea and on land,
Each step and each path you travel.

I also don't like to impose...or have anyone in my business without my expressed permission and control. A transaction affords a certain control. Maybe not a lot, but it establishes a sufficient illusion of control. There are limits to a transaction. A blessing is limitless even if momentary.

So, this morning I arise and wonder about control, transactions, imposition, and life with God running wild. Not domesticated. Not transactional, but the free-flowing water of blessing. 

The shape of Christ be towards me,
The shape of Christ be to me,
The shape of Christ be before me,
The shape of Christ be behind me,
The shape of Christ be over me,
The shape of Christ be under me,
The shape of Christ be with me,
The shape of Christ be around me
On Monday and on Sunday;
The shape of Christ be around me
On Monday and on Sunday.