When I’m struggling religiously (usually because of my assorted chronic ailments) I think of an anecdote related by Arrian of Nicomedia in his Anabasis of Alexander.
Arrian writes that Alexander the Great, after receiving a terrible wound on the battlefield, became so ill that he was forced to remain bed-ridden. However, “he was carried out on a couch to perform the sacrifices custom prescribed for each day; after making the offerings he lay down in the men’s apartments till dark.” (VII.25.2)
And I think, fuck. If this man – mortally wounded, inconceivably far from home, and engaged in leading probably one of the greatest military campaigns known to history – could find time in his day to honor his Gods, why, there’s no reason I can’t too.
And I get up and make my prayers and offerings.