Today at Everyday Asceticism, I examine the virtues of impure prayer:
I do not know how to explain even the lightly mystical experience of the presence of the Holy Spirit in prayer. Some days I kick myself at night, wondering (often, upon reflection, unfoundedly) whether my evening prayer is the first time I’ve prayed all day since my morning prayer. Whether justly or not, thoughts and ideas can circle about, planting doubts as to my piety and tainting the purity of my mind and heart. But yet, I pray anyway, and he’s there. He’s always there.
Read the rest here.