What looks like prayer

I was listening to Rachel Martin's podcast, Wild Card, last night. Her interviewee was Harrison Ford (listen here). The basic premise of the show is that guests pick a card with a question on it. They can skip one, and turn one back on the interviewer. Ford flipped this question back at Martin: "Is there anything in your life that feels like praying?"

What does prayer feel like to me?

Prayer is redolent of incense, of a milk-drunk baby, of a piece of toast caught just in time.  It can taste bitter and hot and bracing all at once, like that first cup of tea on a cold morning. It feels like cold salt water on my feet after a long walk, like my husband's hand reaching out in the night to brush away my bad dream.

What does prayer feel like to you?