This was my first conscious experience of listening to Gaia, even though I didn't call it that then or hear an actual voice... I have come to learn that there are many ways of listening. One may hear an internal or external voice, feel a body sensation, or simply just "know" with that intuitive understanding that is beyond words. However, I continue to describe this experience as "listening" because we have forgotten how to be silent and listen to ourselves, one another, and the earth.
I have an interest in the word "you" — the address that intimates use for each other, that yearning we might have, that sense of addressing self, other, Other, the void, the past, the unknown, the deeply known. That word allows me spaciousness without definition, and I like it, so I regularly repeat the word "you", in Irish, with the in and out of breath, until I've forgotten who is speaking and who is being addressed. ("The eye with which I see God / is the eye with which I see myself", my bewildering friend Meister Eckhart says.)
Is this a prayer? Sure. Is it a prayer? Why not? Is it a prayer? No. Is it? Yes. Too many years of theological study have immunized me from any interest in definitions that ask the impossible of the intellect. I'm interested in practices and signposts to the present. And breath is such a signpost, such a practice, and such an infinity.