Just kidding. Magic rituals are fun but I reserve that stuff for dealing with what we still quaintly call "customer service". For assembling IKEA, I resort to animal familiars and the mole of a leper dipped in a double caramel macchiato. But for prayer, I do that thing what Jesus said to:
Matthew 6:6: "But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly."
God, I'm told, can work wonders. Oh, I'd tell ye that too, but most people generally dislike it when I testify. They snatch their holy idol off their mantle as soon and as discretely polite as they can before I taint it with my unwashed fingerprints.
It's been that way since I was 16 and first walked into a closet with God like a trusting child entering an unmarked white van with a kindly stranger, and asked Him what's up. I mean, what's scarier than *really* opening yourself up to God? First thing you have to do is be honest with yourself, and that's terrifying.
It went a bit like this (O Lucky man scene):
"Just because," God said.
"Because WHAT?!?" I challenged.
"Just because."
"Because WHAT?!?" I challenged.
"Just because."
"...cuz WHAT?!?!?!?"
He didn't smack me the third time. He smiled, and said, "Because you want to be happy, right?"
And so, via prayer, did I become enlightened:
Having made the world safe again for happy puppies in online videos, I rest my case here:
Happiness really is a groove
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