I am nearing the completion of my 30-day trek, and thought it would be wise to actually address the purpose of this blog, this process, this commitment I’ve made to myself, and to whoever is reading.
What is a miracle?
A miracle is a shift in perception. It is a shift in our awareness from fear-based thinking to love. It is an expression of love that momentarily erases all sense of fear, doubt, worry, anger or misery. It is a gift both to the giver and the receiver. Its power is infinite and beyond all reasoning.
(based on A Course In Miracles)
The funny thing about miracles is that most of us need them. But they require our participation, our willingness. If we’re not willing, nothing on earth or in heaven can stop us from lying to ourselves. Anyone can drink themselves to death. The most belligerent will be the last to admit, “hey, I think I might need a hand”. But who hasn’t asked for a miracle, even the most skeptical, fearful, or bitter of us?
Recently I came across a situation that I deem to be a miracle. I encountered a man who I found quite belligerent, or obnoxious, and aroused in me all of my petty judgements. I immediately sparred with him (playfully) and told him what I thought. Until one moment when I really let him have it, and he looked quite surprised and said quite seriously:
“Wow, you make a lot of assumptions.”
That stopped me. “You know, you’re right. I do.” I asked him to tell me something about himself that I don’t know. He proceeded to tell me about a recent tragedy. It aroused pity in me (which might have been brilliant on his part, but I don’t think so – he didn’t get anything out of it – and he didn’t expect anything either; as he said, he was just enjoying himself and our company).
I saw the perfect opportunity to change my mind. I apologized and we began an interesting dialogue. It made me feel more connected, more accountable. And it was fun!
He was teaching me as much as I thought I was teaching him.
So what is a miracle?
The moment I saw him and he saw me. The moment he held me accountable. The moment I recognized my mistake and responded differently. And the moment he got to see the real me: vulnerable, powerful, honest (to a fault sometimes), and humble.
What I got from him was a piece of myself calling for attention; and what he got from me was a piece of himself he hadn’t heard from in years.
Now, that’s a miracle. It doesn’t mean everything’s all soft and mushy inside. Or that some angel has come dropped from the sky to make everything right (though I have bloody-well tried to demand it at times!). It just means, for a moment, we got it. And if we didn’t get it, we will.
Come hell or high water.
I prefer to ride the high-wave!