When in the slough of despond, I know a miracle is possible any moment. I am not ascribing “divine agency” to miracle but rather the act of being completely present. For me, it is the only way through dark moments.
Miracle is not a warm, fuzzy moment and voila! All is right with the world. That is escape, and a hefty boomerang it is, ever returning me to the place I am. Every. Single. Time.
Gabrielle Bernstein says just acknowledging a “gentler, more peaceful way” is “the moment we welcome a miracle.” We find the universal in the specific, such as a sea oat bending to the breeze, every breeze.
Does the sea oat ever hesitate, consider not bending?
Openness is like the wind.
If you open your doors and windows,
it is bound to come in.
It is true the air in my life has grown stale…
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