Whether you realize it or not, you are constantly praying through the power and gift of divine imagination. Every desire, whim, visualization, petition,

praise, supplication, lamentation, or thanksgiving is an act of prayer. And our actions are the manifestation of that prayer — a fulfillment, a harvest of the fruits of our minds. It is the birth of our beliefs, thoughts, ideas, feelings, and emotions coming into reality.

I believe this is the meaning of: “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

This is not a directive to spend your life on your hands and knees in worship. It is a direction toward a beautiful life, as Yeshua set the most perfect example available to us as the son of man. It is a call to keep your mind on what is good, to do good works as he did, to love your neighbor as yourself, and to love your God above all else. When you truly understand this message, you recognize the Father of Christ as the I Am — the I Am that animates each of us, the divine that each of us is and is a part of. For nothing can exist outside of God.

Our prayer, then, is ultimately our life. How we live is the message we are channeling. This is why Jesus provided so much direction on how to live — because how we act is our prayer, and what we pray for we will ultimately collect. This applies in both the negative and positive direction. Matthew 12:33: “Make a tree good and its fruit will be good, or make a tree bad and its fruit will be bad, for a tree is recognized by its fruit.”

All beings have dreams and desires. We have all petitioned God for one thing or another at some point in our human experience. Some have even turned away from God because those petitions seemed to go unanswered. This is one of the key misunderstandings so many human beings carry: they come to God as a beggar. They bring their lack, their scarcity, and fail to imagine the possibility — the feeling — of what reality could look like if that desire were fulfilled.

Mark 11:22-24: “Have faith in God. Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”

The direction is clear: you must believe it is so, and it will be done.

So how do we cultivate belief? The first step is imagining the possibility. This is not a one-time visualization. It is an embodied act — a repeated process of cultivating the belief that you already are the person of your heart’s deepest desire. It means taking action: learning a new skill, acquiring education, leaving a job or a relationship, altering a behavior. You must begin sacrificing what you are no longer in alignment with on the altar of the divine becoming you wish to manifest.

“Cut out begging from your prayer! Change your old attitude of supplication. You should pray to God intimately, as His child, which you are. … As sons of God, we must believe that we have everything the Father has. This is our birthright. … We do not have to beg, but to reclaim and demand from our Father that which we, through our human imagination, thought to be lost.” — Paramahansa Yogananda

Imagination is the hammer we use with our focus, and belief is the lumber upon which we build. This teaching is ancient, and humanity is constantly playing a game of hide and seek — of remembering and forgetting who and what we are. So come to God as his worthy son or daughter. Cultivate the garden of your belief on the insistence and imagination of your desire, repeatedly, daily.

I recommend building a consistent meditation practice to tend that garden. A simple vipassana meditation — following the breath — is one of the easiest ways to shift into a theta brainwave frequency. In normal waking states, the brain operates primarily in beta waves (12–30+ Hz), where logical thinking, external focus, and the inner critic dominate. As you relax into meditation, passing through alpha (8–12 Hz), brainwaves slow further into theta.

This slowdown reduces activity in the prefrontal cortex — the seat of judgment and willpower — lowering your mental barriers and filters. The subconscious, which stores memories, emotions, beliefs, habits, and automatic patterns, becomes far more accessible because the conscious mind is no longer dominating or blocking it. In theta, the brain is more open to change, more suggestible, and more capable of genuinely believing in new realities.

If you find meditation challenging, know that this is true for every beginner. The real fruit of the practice isn’t often tasted until you’ve consistently worked through the noise of your own mind. That said, another popular way to access a theta state is simply when you’re tired — before bed, or before a midday nap. Lie down and begin to imagine what you desire. See it in as much detail as possible. Activate all your senses: smell the fresh paint in your new home, see the river running through your backyard, feel the joy of raising your family within its walls. Most importantly, believe it is real. Believe it is true. Believe it is yours — and be grateful for the gift God has provided you.

Gratitude, I have found, is one of the most accessible ways to cultivate a true feeling in the heart, to give substance to your prayer and your imaginative power.

Matthew 15:28: “O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire.” And her daughter was healed.

Why does evil exist? Perhaps it is one of the most ancient questions man has ever asked. It takes honest reflection, sincere seeking, and contemplation. If you are reading this, then you are one of the seekers of truth. In my own observations, the question can be explored through several lenses, each unfolding a different perception or model of reality to help us find meaning through our suffering.

When I ask why evil is allowed to exist, my mind comes to the gift of free will. As we all know, freedom still has a cost. Yet it also points us toward the Divine, for God’s truths are held in the mystery of paradox, pointing us toward the true nature of the Creator. He is beyond recognition, ineffable, and boundless. Paradox fits this, because the human mind can’t grasp exactly what it means; it contains contradictory aspects and is nonetheless true.

The cost of free will is the existence of evil. Without the shadow, we could have no comprehension of the light. If you have ever painted or drawn, then you can easily understand how the shadow within an image is an essential quality that brings any work of art to life. The analogies are abundant when we look at life for examples to explore the mind of God within the nature of our reality. We all inherently understand the necessity of the duality that allows for the digestible understanding of experience we call wisdom. One cannot love without the freedom of choice. Without the choice to choose, life would be meaningless. There would be no wonder, beauty, change, or suffering. Without change, life would be quite painful. In reality, the suffering of man is honestly the lesser pain; changelessness, nothingness, would be far greater.

It is an objective truth that all things change, that all life dies, and that all phenomena have no independent existence, meaning that everything is connected and that no thing is outside the mind of God. These are the rules that constrain the game of humanity. Though painful, these are gifts no less great than that of free will. Change allows us to choose new paths, to fail, to love, to explore, and to realize and know the truth. This cannot be obtained in the human condition by any other means than lived experience. We can see in this example the interbeing of free will and change. They cannot exist separately, as no phenomena can. Thich Nhat Hanh illustrated this point beautifully by providing us with this meditation:

If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper. Without a cloud, there will be no rain; without rain, the trees cannot grow; and without trees, we cannot make paper. The cloud is essential for the paper to exist. If the cloud is not here, the sheet of paper cannot be here either. So we can say that the cloud and the paper inter-are. “Interbeing” is a word that is not in the dictionary yet, but if we combine the prefix “inter-” with the verb “to be,” we have a new verb, inter-be. Without a cloud, we cannot have paper, so we can say that the cloud and the sheet of paper inter-are.

He continues the meditation by looking even more deeply:

If we look into this sheet of paper even more deeply, we can see the sunshine in it. Without sunshine, the forest cannot grow. In fact, nothing can grow. Even we cannot grow without sunshine. And so, we know that the sunshine is also in this sheet of paper. The paper and the sunshine inter-are. And if we continue to look, we can see the logger who cut the tree and brought it to the mill to be transformed into paper. And we see the wheat that became his bread. We see the logger’s father and mother. We see everything in this sheet of paper.

When I reflect on free will, my mind catches onto the parable of the prodigal son. Jesus said:

There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, “Father, give me my share of the estate.” So he divided his property between them. Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. When he came to his senses, he said, “How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.” So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. The son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” But the father said to his servants, “Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” So they began to celebrate. Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. “Your brother has come,” he replied, “and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.” The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, “Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!” “My son,” the father said, “you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”

This illustrates the theme of repentance, the father’s mercy and forgiveness. The father loved the son who wandered and returned possibly more than the obedient son, because the younger son made a choice to return, to admit his mistakes, and to ask for forgiveness. Jesus tells us that God is like this, that he celebrates your return to him and is willing to forgive your mistakes. This is truly good news for humanity, who is flawed, knowing that we are expected to wander, to sin, to make mistakes, and to fail. Redemption, however, can only happen through the mercy of God; a choice must be sincerely made. To choose Jesus, and the gospel he preached. To love thy neighbor as thyself, and to love God above all else. These are the most important commandments he left with us.

I resonate with the story of the prodigal son. I have been a seeker of God since I had a samadhi experience at the age of 21. I was in Indiana in a religious studies course and visited a local Buddhist monastery. My perception shifted that day. I saw God in everything and everyone. Because of this experience, Buddhist philosophy has shaped my heart, mind, and models of reality. For any seeker, Buddhism is a wealth of wisdom that can be utilized by any individual across any faith, including Christianity, to more deeply understand and work with the human condition, easing the suffering of all sentient beings. This message resonates with the teachings of Jesus, but it ultimately falls short, because it doesn’t take us to the heart of God, to Jesus, who claimed to be the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

As a seeker, I explored Buddhism, Hinduism, Hedonism, the occult, and various other magical traditions of thinking. My line of logic was that if God is all, then nothing I do can be outside of God; that everything that exists is One, including evil, Satan, war, murder, and all the atrocities that man is capable of; that the existence of these was a means of teaching humanity the way of love through the choices of sin or even evil. I wrestled with this problem for years. Recently, I believe, Jesus provided me with the answer to my troubled mind and prayers: that evil is not part of God. It is, in fact, the separation from him that allows evil to unfold. It is the paradoxical nature of God at work again. The creation of separation is the creation of free will, and therefore the creation of evil. For years I lived in this incorrect view of reality. I thought the practice was to accept the world and love the world, and therefore God, as it is. I believe this is still true, but the caveat is that I now have a clearer picture of the true nature of reality, one that provides a guiding light: the Dharma of Jesus Christ. Principally, that means I only want to be in union with God, with the Spirit of Yeshua the Christ.

In my life, that means living in accordance with his teachings. As a seeker on the path, I feel in my heart, in my body, and in my mind that his way is the best way available to us as human beings. Ram Dass is often quoted as saying, “even when you are off the path you are on the path.” This brings me back to the story of the prodigal son, to Adam and Eve eating from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Sometimes our souls choose the path of separation from God to know him more deeply in our return. This is ultimately the human condition: a separation, or the illusion of one, that allows us to gain wisdom through our experience. This is the entire story. “Whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.” (Matthew 16:25, KJV)

Every era has its struggles. Ours has left us facing one great obstacle. Purpose.

Our ancestors fought many battles. Some continue to this day, though most have changed form.

250 years ago, physical survival was what consumed most of our lives. Hunting, farming, and, if you were in the United States, religious freedom and taxation without representation, a problem that follows us to this day.

A problem our ancestors did not, or likely did not, struggle with is purpose. It was inherent. You fit into your family, your community, providing services that were crucial to survival.

The question only arises when all scarcity is met with abundance. What becomes of man when all needs and resources are provided for? Since Adam ate of the fruit, man has defined himself by his toil, his work, his survival, his struggle to subdue nature. Now man is quickly approaching a point where the ground we’ve derived ourselves from may be pulled out from under us.

The Buddha taught us a noble truth: that all things change, and that our attachment to the way things were, or to dreams of what they might have been, is largely the source of all our suffering. This teaching is more vital than ever as we move into an age of unprecedented change. Our ability to let go, to embrace the next era of humanity, rests upon this truth.

Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche once said, “The bad news is you’re falling through the air, nothing to hang on to, no parachute. The good news is there’s no ground.”

Now, this is absurd, and yet, to some degree, this hyperbole is true. Change is constant. We all die, and we don’t know when, so we are left with something the Buddhists call emptiness. A funny word to describe the fullness and web of oneness that fills reality.

They use it to describe the infinite complexity in which all is connected, and how no thing has independent existence.

To me, this is another beautifully logical conclusion to what most of humanity calls God.

God is the hand that pushes you into life, the fall into beingness and unknown depths in which we all are afloat. An expression of a fractal of being made in His image. God is also the one who shows you the way, how to fly when you’re falling through infinity. Jesus was born to show us the way, the truth, and the life.

Now more than ever, we must not despair, something we are continually told throughout the Gospels. We are told to trust that essential message of Jesus: that God is for us and with us.

What if our collective belief is what shapes the outcomes of probable realities? What if our faith holds the keys to the Kingdom, and to humanity’s ability to create a heaven on Earth?

Whatever you believe or think of Jesus Christ, one thing cannot be disputed: a human being’s belief is possibly the greatest power we wield. It shapes reality. Who we think we are, our friends, our relationships, our habits, our behavior, our politics, our self-image.

If you do not believe in God, your belief still crowns a god, whatever you treasure most.

I believe this is where Jesus gave us a clear warning against idolatry. Matthew 6:24:

“No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.”

(Mammon/materialism.)

A clear warning against the temptation to live for yourself, and against the self-serving, hedonistic culture around us.

This warning applies to atheists too: you will make whatever you value most your master. You have no choice in the matter. The power of belief must funnel into some source: God, or a god, or an idol.