A Week of Drifting · Day 1 of 7
The story. In 891, three Irishmen came ashore in Cornwall in a little boat of hide stretched over a wooden frame. They had set out without oars. Brought before King Alfred and asked why, they said they wished to be pilgrims for the love of God, and they cared not where. Someone thought it strange enough to write down, and so it survives in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.
The reflection. Count the oars in your week. The calendar. The to-do list. The map on your phone. Even our rest has become something we steer: timed, measured, made useful. None of these are bad. But a life that never puts them down has quietly settled who is in charge.
The Drifting Prayer is a small way of putting them down. It does not ask you to close your eyes or quiet your mind or find a chapel. It asks only that, for a set stretch of ordinary time, you stop steering and let yourself be led. The three men in the boat gave it its words. Six of them are enough to begin: Lead me; I care not where.
Today’s invitation. Take your lunch break, or any half hour you can claim, as your little boat. Before you begin, say the six words. Then leave the phone behind and go out, with nowhere to get to and nothing to bring back. Walk, or don’t. If something finds you, let it. When the time is up, come back.
A question to carry. What would it feel like to let someone else steer for thirty minutes?
All seven days · Day 2: Choosing Your Coracle →
Reflection Copyright 2026 Michael J. Cunningham OFS