A Prayer For Giving

As we explore GIVING, we here at Searching Sophia’s Pockets offer this prayer for all of us who are working, living, and feeling the spirit of GIVING. This prayer is just a template everyone is welcome to modify it, customize it, and re-create to better fit their own journey and beliefs. If you would like to share you re-creations, we welcome you to do so in the comment section, or to submit your own prayer.   


Let our gifts be blessings to others.

Help us to give from places of compassion and love, not recognition and guilt.

Let our giving be a gift of its own.

To give freely, from the best parts of our being.


What the Universe Asks Us to Give

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By: Jenni Taylor, Co-founder

“I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go.” Life of Pi


Carl Sagan once said,

“The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.”


I imagine a star, born in a nursery, it’s purpose a complete mystery to us as it grows older throughout eons. It eventually collapses in an explosion of light, giving back its nitrogen, its calcium, its iron and carbon. It gives these pieces of life back to the universe, to create more life.

Madeline L’Engle explored the idea of a star as a conscious being in her book A Wrinkle in Time. A star gives up her life in the fight against evil, taking away a bit of the darkness with her gift of life.

A book, too, can be a star, explosive material, capable of stirring up fresh life endlessly, a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe

 Madeleine L’Engle says.

A star. A book. A person. Explosive. Capable of stirring up fresh life. A living fire to lighten the darkness.

If all of life is giving, an act of letting go as the author of Life of Pi suggests, then I decide to take a piece of spiritual wisdom from these giving stars, whose DNA is now my DNA. We are made of star stuff, stuff that was given to us freely to create life, stuff that will be given back to the universe when we die. Even the very air we breathe echoes this lesson, filling our lungs without question and flowing back out without hesitation.

If this is a spiritual truth, what is the universe asking us to give? What is it asking us to let go?

I think of the things I claim as My own- my time. My love. My money. My health. My body. My life. Mine, mine, mine.

Do I recognize these as gifts? Am I thankful for these gifts? Am I willing to give these gifts to others?

So I breathe, feeling the gift of life fill my lungs and just as quickly feel it leave again, and I imagine myself as a star. My life is a gift. Let my star stuff, the eternal pieces of me, flow out in love. The law of the universe says it will come back to me someday.

Seeking Submissions: GIVING


This month at Searching Sophia’s Pockets, we are focusing on the theme of GIVING. Giving is something that can change the way we feel about our lives, and something that can shape our spiritual journeys. We invite you to look deeply at your own spiritual journey and tell us how giving has shaped it, then send us your submissions. If you are lacking inspiration for your submission, here are a few questions to get you started:

  1. What were you given that had the largest effect on your spiritual journey?
  2. Do you feel called to give because of your religious or spiritual or personal beliefs?
  3. What is the most valuable thing you have given away? How did that act of giving affect you?
  4. What is the best thing you have ever been given?
  5. Who/what has given you the most along your spiritual journey?

With Wisdom, Love …and Lint,

The Searching Sophia’s Pockets Team

Holding on to Safety

Today’s post is our last post on Safety, and comes from a regular contributor Esraa Mohamed. Esraa is an Egyptian Muslim and physical therapy student with strong passion for the universe and its mysteries. Today Esraa ponders upon memories and friendships and whether holding on tightly to them, or letting them go make us feel safe.
Generally, I can’t really put down the things that make me feel safe, but I could rather elaborate on the things that give me hard time feeling secure. The 10-year-old me found safety in the materialistic existence of things and people. As a child, I never feared darkness or sleeping alone in my room. But I can vividly recall when my mum came to sleep over and how I used to embrace her belly with my little arm, checking every now and then on her breath in and out. It was as if death wouldn’t dare clench its fist through the dark while my arm is around her. As I grew older, I came to terms with the idea of death and it doesn’t freak me out anymore when people disappear in a blink.

A couple of months ago, I met a woman, a very dear soul to my heart at the hospital. We had been having physical therapy sessions twice a day for three months now, so I’m profoundly attached to her. And one day while telling her ‘good morning’, she shocked me with the question “Who are you?”. I couldn’t grasp it instantly and it took me quite some time to figure out what was going on. My eyes squinted with tears, thinking how could she possibly forget me? How things went blank out of the blue and later on I learned that she suffers from Alzheimer’s disease. Being the person who holds tightly on everything, taking photographs everywhere I go, writing diaries to archive each moment. This was total insecurity for me. How could one possibly live without memories? Who are we without memories after all?

Taking things for granted was the typical me, until one day I woke up to my passed away friend as blurred pixels. I sat at the edge of the bed trying to remember the way she looked like, trying to cling to any memory, any moment but I couldn’t. I squeezed my eyes, pressing hardly on my eyelids, trying to reconnect to anything but in vain. It was all gone and I was blank. I instantly rushed to the first piece of paper on my desk and wrote “2010: morning, feeling blank.” And since then, I’ve been obsessed with archiving every moment, every feeling. 

Losing a friend that I had taken for granted left a hole inside my soul and thus friendships became on top of the things that make me feel either secure or insecure and recently I came to the conclusion that there are two types of friends: those whom you blindly trust their leave. You feel safe because you know by heart that no matter how much life would shred you apart; you’d return back to the same point life drifted you together, smoothly as it has been before. You trust them with your place in their life, knowing that they can’t replace you by any other, so you don’t seek creating common grounds, asking about them daily and sticking to them much. Yet, the other type of friends scares the hell out of me. They give you a hard time by trusting everything. How could you possibly get more attached while their existence is a mirage? What if the common grounds came to a dead end? This love is consuming and reckless.  

For me a best friend is not necessarily the one we keep in touch with or the one who’s updated by our life second by second, but he can be the one we seldom meet yet when we meet we feel no blocks between us. A best friend is the far yet so close one.

Despite all that, I felt that there could be safety in Alzheimer’s from another perspective. I started to wonder why am I holding way too much? There is safety in oblivion, in letting go, in the non-lingering momentary things, living each day with no traumatic past, in being a neutron. And now I’m just trying to find safety by letting go of the things that scare me.