In 1993, I signed up for a "Women's Spiritual Empowerment" workshop. The teacher, Charlotte Starfire, had studied with Native American shamans. She'd been on vision quests and sweat lodges. She conducted moon ceremonies where women stood around a fire and offered prayers to the goddess. For someone raised Catholic in the fifties, this sounded strange and exciting. And I sure needed some empowerment. I'd been slaving away as a headhunter, making good money, but feeling weak and vulnerable in my own skin. Whatever spiritual empowerment was, I wanted it.

The first night, Charlotte opened with a prayer unlike any I'd ever heard. She turned to the East and called on the spirit of the new day to teach us to welcome new gifts. She turned to the South, and called upon the spirit of the South to show us how to grow. To the West, she called upon the spirit of hibernating bear to lead us to be still and know, and finally, she called upon the spirit of the North to teach us to accept and embrace all stages in the circle of life — even death, because from death comes renewal. We were all intrigued by this new form of prayer.

Charlotte sent us home with instructions on how to pray. "Go outside," she said, "and look at the moon. The moon represents the feminine energy of God." Well, the nuns never said anything about the feminine energy of God, and they certainly never said pray outside. Prayer took place in a church pew, or beside your bed, or around the table saying grace — not outside.

Outside I went. Every night I stood face to face with the moon. For the first time, I began to notice her waxings and wanings. Initially, I prayed as I always had: Please. Please. Please. After a few weeks of begging, I realized I was still praying the same way, just in a different place. I wanted something more, and I wanted different results.

So, one day I said to God, "Listen, here's the deal. I don't know what to do. You do. I don't know what's going to happen. You do. I don't even know what to ask for. You do. So, instead of complaining or begging, I'm just going to say, 'You shine the light and I will follow.'"

That felt good. That felt right. That felt like prayer. From that night forward, I stared at the moon and said, "You shine the light and I will follow."

At the time, I had no idea what I was doing.

I can look back at that prayer now and see that I was letting go, really letting go. I was relinquishing all control. I was letting God do the heavy lifting — the decision making. All I asked was that my path be illumined, preferably with a spotlight. In turn, I was promising — promising! — to go where the light directed. "I will follow." Not: I'll consider the options and get back to you. Not: show me the choices and let's discuss it. No. I was committing.

Look at what I was really saying in those three little words, "I will follow": I (no one else is responsible here, just me) will (I promise to do this. You, God, can consider it done) follow (I will move, make changes, do things. I will lift my feet and go).

In other words, I was saying: I promise to change.

Maybe I should have had someone translate this prayer before I launched into saying it twice a day! Three years later, when I told Charlotte my world was blowing up, and I'd be getting a divorce, she said, "Of course. Everyone who takes that class experiences major upheaval."

"Huh?" I said, "Everyone? Why?"

"Because," she said, "you asked for it, you asked for change."

"I did not." I said, "I did not ask to have my husband have an affair. I did not ask to get a divorce."

"Yes, you did," she said, "maybe not in those words, but you committed to grow. Spirit simply accepted the invitation to help you."

So, Pilgrim, now that you understand how dangerous prayer can be, do you want to invite God to take over? Or do you want to stick with "safe" prayer — prayer that tells God what you want, and what you think best?

Warning: If you're going to opt for dangerous prayer, keep reading. If not, stop here.

Dangerous prayer is short and sweet. It has two parts: God's part and your part. How do you want to say those two parts? You can use my words: Shine the light and I will follow. Or write your own: "God will (fill in the blank) and I will (fill in the blank)."

Would you like some help? Many have prayed dangerous prayers before you. Consider these dangerous prayers for inspiration:

Solomon (Grant me an understanding heart); David (The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want); Samuel (Speak, Lord. I am listening); St. Francis of Assisi ( Make me an instrument of thy peace); the Apache Nation (It is a good day to die); Jesus (Thy will be done) You can't get more dangerous than that last one.

Go ahead, Pilgrim, write your dangerous prayer. Say it. Say it often. Then...watch out!

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Janet Conner, S.E. (Spiritual Explorer), is an expert on the power of practical spirituality to heal your broken heart and transform your world. She is the cartographer of the map of spiritual healing and author of the seven travel guides in the Spiritual Geography series. In addition to divine dialogue, she welcomes human conversation at {email janetconner@tampabay.rr.com}janetconner@tampabay.rr.com{/email}. © copyright 2006 by Janet Conner.

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