If Dogen is right then that means that the very atmosphere of our world is atomically awash in the molecular happenstance of the miraculous.
It means that every arising breath is found writhing upon the wings of something wondrous.
It means that every smile that we unexpectedly receive, and every one that we find the strength to return, every glint we see in the eyes of the other that lets us see that we are more than enough, is nothing short of a miracle.
More often than not, despite our daily saturation with the miraculous we almost never recognize them. It’s so easy for all these tiny instances of mundanity to go unnoticed as the miracles that they are.
And yet, Dogen writes that “Even if you do not know that miracles happen three thousand times in the morning and eight hundred times in the evening, miracles are actualized”.
We can look for the exceptional in the trembling of the earth as paradigms shift but, we’ll miss it. We can look for the extraordinary in the flicker and flame of grand ideas igniting but, we won’t see it. We can try to find the incredible in being blown away by the formidable winds of epic change but, it won’t be there. Instead, if we have ears to hear, we’ll find it in the softness of an ordinary whisper; an ordinary whisper that breathes a miracle in the quiet spaces between utterances, a miracle telling us that we are loved, we are home, we are welcome, we are here, we are alive, we are still breathing, we are ok, and that we will be alright.
It may not feel like a miracle, I know. But, perhaps one of the most miraculous things about miracles is that they don’t stop being miracles just because they don’t feel miraculous.
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