|"Canadian Sunset", oil, by Carol Keene|
-- Walt Whitman
If a miracle can be defined as a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws, then each moment of my life is definitely a miracle. My days -- my moments -- are made of miracles. Each second is a complete surprise to me, and each one is welcome. I may not personally like what happens in each moment, but I welcome it the way I welcome winter after autumn, or the sunset after all-day sunshine. Each moment is made from the most mysterious materials, created by the unaccountable comings and goings of the imposing universe I am part of, and all I can do is drop to my knees, figuratively speaking, and respectfully receive whatever it has to offer. Again, I may not love what a moment looks like, or what a moment makes me feel or do, but the miracle of each moment is that it’s always a surprise, always something sent to stir and rouse me and spur me on, always a brightly packaged bonus. I should bring a gift to each moment as a way of thanking it. I should stand silently before a moment -- any moment -- and make a salute of some sort, offer a toast to a total miracle.