We can’t do it alone. If we were meant to, we’d all be living on our own, private island.
We live amongst others, we are a social creature, we form packs, bonds, families, circles, groups. We have friends, even when we don’t know it. We are surrounded by people we barely acknowledge, but really, really need.
This is the beauty of this life.
It’s the miniscule, everyday, the monotony. That’s where the miracles are, that’s where the holy instant is. It’s in that tired haze, that sweet exhaustion, when perceptions really shift. I think it takes most of us to go to extremes to get back to basics. Silly as it is, we seem stupefied by the simplicity. At least I am. But that’s all it takes: be aware. be gracious. be alive in the moment.
I have a lot of experience with this, but even I forget from time to time. As a reminder, I keep a hand-painted sign over the door in my bedroom: Expect Miracles.
I don’t read it every day, most days I forget it’s there. But some days, those really hard days, I remember and I look up, and I say a little prayer of thanks and I truly believe miracles are waiting for me when I step through the door.
It’s like walking though a weightless, beaded, hippie curtain. The kind that tinkles and chimes when you brush through it. When I break the threshold, I imagine a great and wonderous light pouring over my shoulders, encompasing my entire body, empowering me, blessing me as I step though. It’s a moment of pure conscious creation.
That’s all it takes.
I need to look up more.
I have to remember my faith. It’s paramount in this life, paramount in the process of belief and creation. Faith is the very thing that leads us back to us, back to our creator, back to our ultimate root.
This is why I’m glad I don’t have to do this alone. I’m blessed to have a relationship that renews my faith in people, in love, in life and in the power that I have in creation.
I expect miracles. They are but an eventuality of all I do, think, say and believe.
