My prayers are becoming more deliberate and specific. It has occurred to me that it's not much use to send prayers out to the universe that are lazy. Every morning before meditation, I kneel in the temple and talk for a few minutes to God. I found during the beginning of my stay here at the Ashram that I was often dull-witted during those divine conversations. Tired, confused and bored, my prayers sounded the same. I remember kneeling down one morning, touching my forehead to the floor and muttering to my creator, "Oh, I dunno what I need . . . but you must have some ideas . . . so just do something about it, would you?"

我的祷告愈来愈慎重而具体。我意识到，送出怠惰的祷告给宇宙，发挥不了什么作用。每天清晨禅坐前，我跪在寺院里，对神说几分钟的话。我发现初来道场之时，在这些神圣交流时刻，我经常脑袋迟钝。对疲倦、疑惑、厌烦的我来说，祷告词听起来总是一成不变。我记得某天早上跪在地上，额头碰地，向造物主喃喃地说：“喔，我不晓得自己需要什么……但你肯定有些想法吧……请你看着办，好吗？”

Similar to the way I have oftentimes spoken to my hairdresser.

类似我对美发师的说话方式。

And, I'm sorry, but that's a little lame. You can imagine God regarding that prayer with an arched eyebrow, and sending back this message: "Call me again when you decide to get serious about this."

但是很抱歉，这不太有说服力。你能想象，神对这段祷辞抬了抬眉毛，送回这则讯息：“你决定当回事的时候再来找我吧。”

Of course God already knows what I need. The question is—do I know? Casting yourself at God's feet in helpless desperation is all well and good—heaven knows, I've done it myself plenty of times—but ultimately you're likely to get more out of the experience if you can take some action on your end. There's a wonderful old Italian joke about a poor man who goes to church every day and prays before the statue of a great saint, begging, "Dear saint—please, please, please . . . give me the grace to win the lottery." This lament goes on for months. Finally the exasperated statue comes to life, looks down at the begging man and says in weary disgust, "My son—please, please, please . . . buy a ticket."

当然，神已知道我需要什么。问题是——我自己知不知道？在走投无路的情况下，跪倒在神面前，是无可厚非的事——天知道我已经做了多少次——可是如果你这边能够采取行动，则可能从经验中获得更多。有一则古老的意大利笑话：一名穷人每天去教堂，在圣像前祈祷，请求：“亲爱的圣人——拜托、拜托、拜托……请赐予我赢得乐透彩的恩宠。”他的哀求持续了数个月。最后，被惹恼的圣像活了起来，低头看着乞怜的人，轻蔑地说：“孩子啊——拜托、拜托、拜托……去买彩票吧！”

Prayer is a relationship; half the job is mine. If I want transformation, but can't even be bothered to articulate what, exactly, I'm aiming for, how will it ever occur? Half the benefit of prayer is in the asking itself, in the offering of a clearly posed and well-considered intention. If you don't have this, all your pleas and desires are boneless, floppy, inert; they swirl at your feet in a cold fog and never lift. So now I take the time every morning to search myself for specificity about what I am truly asking for. I kneel there in the temple with my face on that cold marble for as long as it takes me to formulate an authentic prayer. If I don't feel sincere, then I will stay there on the floor until I do. What worked yesterday doesn't always work today. Prayers can become stale and drone into the boring and familiar if you let your attention stagnate. In making an effort to stay alert, I am assuming custodial responsibility for the maintenance of my own soul.

祷告是一种关系；我负有一半责任。我如想转变，却懒得表达自己确切想要的东西，那将如何发生？祷告有一半的好处是在于请求本身，在于提供一个姿态清晰、思虑成熟的意向。若不具备这些，你的请求和欲望都将软弱无力；其只会在阴冷的雾中在你脚边打转，永远无法升空。因此我现在每天早晨都抽空找寻自己真正想请求的特定东西。我跪在寺院里，脸久久地贴在冰冷的大理石上，制定道道地地的祷词。假使觉得不真诚，就待在原地，直到想出来为止。昨天奏效的东西，今天可不见得行得通。如果让自己的注意力变得迟钝，祷词可能失去新意，变得枯燥乏味。我努力保持警醒，承担维护自身灵魂的责任。