When do I feel like praying? Usually, after I pray.

I don’t wake up in the morning with birds above my head, feeling the sun on my face and singing to my Creator.

Instead, I wake up unsure if I would rather return to an unconscious state or if I am ready to re-enter the world of consciousness. After a pre-scheduled snooze or two, I bravely tip-toe into “reality” … or at least my version of it.

I then stare at this thing called my siddur. Do I want to go there? Do I want to enter into this supra-conscious state of prayer? A place where I am not just aware of my need for caffeine, food and comfort, but the love story of creation.

Prayer is where I reconnect with the reason my soul chose to come into a body, the rhythm that called my soul down into this world. The mission that was even more appealing, exciting and awe-inspiring than being in the bliss of G‑d’s endless light. The delight of renovating this world into a loving home for us and G‑d to live in together

To be honest, at this point I’m usually more interested in my creature comforts. I am not just sleepy; I am spiritually weary.

I am on the fence about a new day. I am still determining if I really agreed with this whole thing called life.

And yet, there is my siddur calling to me. It is asking me to choose life. To choose consciousness. To choose to open it before my inbox. To hear my soul’s song and be reminded of the dance it wants to teach me and the world.

Maybe first I should check my Instagram feed? Maybe something there will inspire me?

But my siddur says no. I want you to inspire. I want your light in the world.

I don’t want to pray. I don’t want to wake up. But I don’t have to. I just need to open the prayer book and say the words. And soon enough, they open me. They awaken me from my spiritual fog.

I am dancing to my own tune—the joy and intention I pour into each word. These words are not my own; they were compiled thousands of years ago by prophets, by leaders, by those who cared. By those who knew that my heart does not wake up open.

And so, the siddur provides the key, the words, the motions. Once they are on my lips, my heart unlocks. They become my words.

I finish praying. It is time to close my prayer book and enter the day. Ironically, now I feel like praying. My soul is revved up. And so now I can pray. Now I can allow this vision, this inner connection to my soul’s song, to resonate through me and guide me.

Now I can pray as I say good morning to my husband. Now I can pray as I walk down the street and see the broken glass sparkling in the sun. Now I can pray as I answer that nerve-racking call.

Now I can make my day a state of prayer. Now I can be a messenger through which G‑d answers prayers.

Now I can enter into this state of consciousness where prayer is our energy. It is our morning matcha. It is our pick-me-up. It is our lifeline and our way of being.

It is my choice to not just be up, but to be awake.