To whom do we pray?

One of the things that has frustrated me about Eat, pray, love is that I have got nearly halfway through the book before there has been any mention of which religion Liz Gilbert is following.  She talks about yoga, ashrams and gurus, but a quick Google search tells me that these are not restricted to Hinduism.  I wonder whether the fact that there is no mention early on is the answer to my question; Gilbert, like many westerners exploring spirituality, does not feel the need to categorise her spiritual search in this way.  She is not subscribing to a religion but exploring spiritual practices.  She explains that, at the ashram in India which she visits for several weeks, there are Hindus, Buddhists, Jews, Christians and Muslims.  She would probably agree with the sentiment expressed by George Harrison, who embraced the Hare Krishna tradition: "It does not matter what you call Him, just as long as you call."

I am finding Gilbert's descriptions of meditation quite bizarre and, at times, disturbing.  She writes of strong energies coursing through her; of one memorable occasion when she felt the urge to press her head 'almost painfully' to one side for a long time.  Gilbert argues that what she is experiencing is simply what Christians would call the Holy Spirit.  The thing is, when Christians pray, they call on a person they know: Jesus Christ, a person who lived in history and whose life, death and resurrection are recorded.  If I call on the name of Jesus in prayer I am calling on one whom I trust implicitly.  I'm not clear who Gilbert is calling on when she prays.

One experience she has is very interesting to me, however: she writes about her struggles with negative thoughts about herself, which she is trying to get go of through meditation.  She is battling with these negative thoughts when something amazing happens:

But suddenly it was like a lion was roaring from within my chest, drowning all this claptrap out.  A voice bellowed in me like nothing I had ever heard before.  It was so internally, eternally loud that I actually clamped my hand over my mouth because I was afraid that if I opened my mouth and let this sound out, it would shake the foundations of buildings as far away as Detroit. 

And this is what it roared:

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW STRONG MY LOVE IS!

I don't know if it was the voice of God she heard, but it does sound like the kind of thing he might say.