What is grace? It is said to be the kindness of God and the laughter of God, sustaining and freeing. When we pray, we are generally asking for something, but true prayer is an innocent opening of being—and, inevitably, that is an opening to what is called grace.
Grace must fill the universe. It must be extremely energetic, more so even than the neutrinos that race so quickly and at such a high energy level that, from their perception, reality is almost entirely invisible. As they can pass through almost anything, they can react with almost nothing.
Grace is the same, passing us with the paradoxical speed of God, and thus hard to grasp. But we need grace. It is the food of the soul and—as energetic as it is—also a foundation. This racing energy is the foundation of joy.
The Daoists used to make things called soul catchers. Because it was thought that the soul must be very fine, since it is always unseen, they were constructed of the very finest materials. Silk, though, is not going to catch the soul, no matter how fine the strands. Prayer, however, might catch grace.
One can pray for money or a cure or another help, and sometimes to good effect, but prayer that touches grace is surrendered prayer. It is prayer for prayer, expecting nothing, just its own self, its vibrancy.
And herein likes the key. This special kind of prayer is like the vibrating string of a musical instrument. When it vibrates fast enough, passing grace adheres to it. That is to say, the greater consciousness in which the physical world is embedded notices it.
This is an innocent enjoyment, to pray like this. Repetitive prayer is good for this, not heartfelt, not hopeful, simply there. Open. Open prayer.