Entering the Divine Flow Part 2

October 7, 2026

A dear soul once told me that whenever she sees or hears an ambulance, she prays for the person—or people—caught in that emergency. She does this when she sees the speeding ambulance or simply when she hears a siren in the distance.

She says this practice keeps her in divine flow. It reminds her that the world's suffering and emergencies are not separate from her own. Though she may not know the people involved or understand what has happened, she allows herself to feel something of the fear, danger, and uncertainty of that moment. Then she prays for healing, comfort, and safety for those involved.

There is another dear soul who, when he hears about a disaster or a terrible crime, prays for everyone affected. He knows he is not physically present and does not know the people involved. Yet he allows himself to feel something of their terror, pain, loss, and grief—and then he prays for the people. He says his heart is especially touched when he hears that children and the elderly are involved. He says, “The helpless are those who need special prayers.”

My friend does not regard such horrors as things that happen only to “other people” and have nothing to do with us. He knows that those who suffer, and even those who commit terrible acts, belong to the same human family. Their anguish is part of the human condition, and we all receive the ripple effects. I remember when, on the news, I heard of an illness in China that was making people sick and even killing some. Little did I know then that in just a few days that Covid 19 would have made its way to The United States, that over a million people in our country alone would succumb to it, and that I and everyone I know, would eventually have that same illness. The ripple effect of many things eventually can affect us all. After all, we are all connected biologically and spiritually. A prayer for someone else is also a prayer for humanity.

We are affected by what we hear. Recently, a deeply troubled young mother who, while in a psychotic state, strangled her three little children. Many of us can hardly bear to take in such horror. We may say, “I cannot imagine the desperation or derangement of someone who could kill her own children.” Then, because the thought is unbearable, we quickly change the subject of our thought.

It is likely that we do not want to imagine it. We do not want to enter such darkness because of the terrible feelings it stirs within us. Yet if we allow ourselves, we can begin to imagine a mother so overcome and altered by psychosis that she did something she would otherwise have found unthinkable. We can imagine something of the terror of those little children, the life-long devastation of their father, and the grief of their grandparents and other loved ones. Such are the darkest and most painful emotions.

Some spiritual seekers allow themselves to enter that dark place—not to indulge in its horror, but to refuse to abandon those who are suffering there. For them, entering that dark place, even for a silent moment, is a spiritual practice. It lets them feel something of the tragedy in its fullness, and then they can treat the issue with prayers for healing. They rely on the belief that the ripple effect works with prayer as well— that one prayer has power and can change our outlook and the outlook of all who we and our prayer touch.

For spiritual seekers, their prayer is for everyone concerned. They do not divide the persons involved into saints or sinners, worthy or unworthy. They do not excuse the terrible act, but they do not withhold compassion for the perpetrator, either. These spiritual seekers understand that every person involved in and touched by such a tragedy needs spiritual support.

Several years ago, my friend who is a spiritual seeker, said something to me that I have never forgotten:

“If, in even the tiniest way, my prayer can help soothe someone’s pain, I am grateful. I wish I could take them into my arms and hold them and somehow make things bearable for them. I cannot hold them, I cannot reassure them, —but God can. That is my prayer.”

I believe this is one way we enter divine flow: we refuse to turn away. We allow the suffering of strangers to touch our hearts, and we carry them—if only for a moment—into the presence of God.

Spiritual Practice

When you hear a siren or learn of a tragedy, pause. Let yourself imagine, with compassion, the human beings whose lives have suddenly been changed. What prayer emerges from your heart?

Inquiry

What causes you to believe that your prayer for those affected by a crime, disaster, or emergency would make no difference?

Prayer

Dear God, Make me more sensitive to the suffering of those whose lives do not directly touch mine. Give me the courage to enter, with compassion, the dark and frightening places of human experience.

Awaken in me a deeper empathy for those I do not know, but who are nevertheless my brothers and sisters upon this earth. When I cannot reach them with my arms, teach me to hold them in prayer—and entrust them to Your loving embrace.

Amen