When I was sharing my thoughts on how Mormons hate fun, commenter Mike S. asked when I was going to slam the Mormons for praying.

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE, MIKE!

Just kidding. I’m not going to slam the Mormons for praying any more than I’m going to slam Catholics or Muslims or Hindus for praying.

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with prayer. I was taught, like most Mormon children, to pray every morning and evening, over meals, and when I was in any sort of trouble. My problem was always monkey mind. I can’t pay attention when praying. My train of thought always went something like, “Heavenly Father, I thank Thee for this day…” and then twenty minutes later I’d realize that I’d been daydreaming about Ewan McGregor, or inwardly fuming over some slight, or imagining my appearance on Oprah, where I’m promoting my new book/movie/television show/line of snarky greeting cards.

When I was a kid I started keeping my eyes open during prayers, first because it actually helped me pay attention to what was being said, then later because I found it so darn interesting to look at praying people.

Seriously. Next time you have the misfortune of attending sacrament meeting, keep your eyes open during the prayer and have a gander at the people around you. It’s great fun. My favorite is when you accidentally lock eyes with another person who also keeps their eyes open, who will either give you a knowing smile or guiltily snap their head down and their eyes shut.

I was pretty faithful about my personal prayers, although I admit they sucked. I usually managed to start a prayer every night before bed, though I rarely got to “amen” without at least 2 or 3 Ewan McGregor reveries. I was a lot better at praying when I needed something. I prayed for patience, for safety, for prom dates, for bigger boobs than all my friends (I got them), for snow days, and for good grades.

At BYU, when my testimony started to erode, praying fell to the wayside. I increasingly got the feeling that I was just talking to myself. For a while I prayed to the Virgin Mary instead, since she seemed so much more sympathetic than Heavenly Father. I pretty much stopped praying (except when I needed something) when I was 19, before I lost my testimony completely.

And that was that. I haven’t been much for prayer ever since. However, I’m not ready to write it off just yet.

When I lived in Mexico, I accrued quite a collection of rosaries, some that I bought for myself, like the gold rosary bracelet I bought at the Basilica de Santa Maria de Guadalupe, or the dozens given to me by well-meaning friends, concerned for the welfare of my heathen soul.

I never really got into the rosary, but if you try praying the rosary, you soon notice how meditative it is. You touch the beads, say your prayer, meditate on the mysteries, and between those three things, your incessant mental chatter tends to die down a little.

In other words, it’s very refreshing. If you’re not feeling the Hail Marys, you can try with a mantra or affirmation.

I noticed the same thing in my attempts at various forms of Buddhist meditation (I have the same troubles meditating as I did praying). A mantra or set prayer tends to keep your monkey mind occupied with something, and you wind up having a meditative experience. I absolutely love kirtan, a kind of Hindu prayer chant or song, for the same reason.

In addition to the meditative benefits of prayer, I’m also attracted to the idea of you know, getting stuff. After all, God came through for me on the boobs. Maybe I’d get other stuff too if I just bothered asking.

Don’t worry, atheist friends, I’m not saying that I think some sort of supernatural being is going to give me things just because I asked him or her. But I do think that prayer is useful for articulating what you want, for concentrating on it… after all, if you can’t articulate what you want and never think about it, odds are pretty good you won’t get it.

So yeah. I ask “the Universe” for stuff. And I generally feel like I’m just talking to myself, but I think that’s fine. Sometimes it’s the only way to have a decent conversation.

Ba-dum ching!