"People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth.
Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize:
a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes.
All is a miracle."
--Thich Nhat Hanh
A few days ago a thirteen year old was having fun at a family summer camp with her entire family and some cousins and friends...within a few hours she was dead, in her father's arms...from a peanut allergy.
Honestly, it just doesn't get any more heartbreaking than that.
I've been thinking about her.
I've been looking at my children differently since I heard that story.
I've been noticing the tiny details of this day and recording in my mind its precious presence.
How many days do we have??
None of us know.
So we go around pretending that we have an infinite supply.
Or we freak out and hover and can barely breathe through the thought that someone we love will die.
***
Let me tell you a side story right here...when I was newly married, I had the summer off so I wasn't working but John was. Off he would go in the early morning and when he would leave and I could feel his absence I would just cry and cry. Why? Because I was scared, really scared. I suddenly knew, without any doubt, that if something were to happen to John I would be devastated. I couldn't be distant from that vulnerability. It stared me in the face every day he went off to work.
I felt the same intense vulnerability when Jack was born. There was no shrugging off this connection -- what was I going to do??
I had to find a way to accept the gift of marriage and motherhood without drowning in the vulnerability of it. The only way I found to do that was to really pay attention to the moment I was in. Trying to outwit the future was impossible.
***
Is there an in between...a happy medium?
Can we find a way to cherish today and not get overwhelmed by the mundane and the monotonous?
Without a doubt.
We have to notice it.
We have to abandon the to-do list and let the day flow.
We need to find a space for silence.
We need to experience the moment and then cherish it.
We need to listen...to music, to others, to the people we love...really listen.
We need to notice the light, the leaves, the sigh of the dog, the blossom on a tree or
the tiniest snail making its way.
All of it is there for us to notice...just waiting for us to accidentally stumble over its beauty.
And I do mean stumble...over the legos, the Barbie shoe, the random marker cap, a grape, a blob of sunscreen...it's all there.
But in that "there" is the good stuff.
The proof of family, of people to love or work that means something to us.
It's connections and seeing things a new way.
It's learning and growing and finding that moment of peace.
It's there. Today. Right now.
The scent of roses or coffee or your husband.
It's in the juicy bite of a peach, the salt and pepper deliciousness of a ripe tomato, the incredible poetry of fresh basil.
It's in the satisfaction of a newly swept kitchen floor.
Or a stack of folded clothes.
Or a plant that finally decided to take root.
It's all around us...just waiting for us to acknowledge the gift.
Just waiting for us to open it.
Let's not bank on the extra days ahead.
Let's make this a day to remember.
Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize:
a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes.
All is a miracle."
--Thich Nhat Hanh
A few days ago a thirteen year old was having fun at a family summer camp with her entire family and some cousins and friends...within a few hours she was dead, in her father's arms...from a peanut allergy.
Honestly, it just doesn't get any more heartbreaking than that.
I've been thinking about her.
I've been looking at my children differently since I heard that story.
I've been noticing the tiny details of this day and recording in my mind its precious presence.
How many days do we have??
None of us know.
So we go around pretending that we have an infinite supply.
Or we freak out and hover and can barely breathe through the thought that someone we love will die.
***
Let me tell you a side story right here...when I was newly married, I had the summer off so I wasn't working but John was. Off he would go in the early morning and when he would leave and I could feel his absence I would just cry and cry. Why? Because I was scared, really scared. I suddenly knew, without any doubt, that if something were to happen to John I would be devastated. I couldn't be distant from that vulnerability. It stared me in the face every day he went off to work.
I felt the same intense vulnerability when Jack was born. There was no shrugging off this connection -- what was I going to do??
I had to find a way to accept the gift of marriage and motherhood without drowning in the vulnerability of it. The only way I found to do that was to really pay attention to the moment I was in. Trying to outwit the future was impossible.
***
Is there an in between...a happy medium?
Can we find a way to cherish today and not get overwhelmed by the mundane and the monotonous?
Without a doubt.
We have to notice it.
We have to abandon the to-do list and let the day flow.
We need to find a space for silence.
We need to experience the moment and then cherish it.
We need to listen...to music, to others, to the people we love...really listen.
We need to notice the light, the leaves, the sigh of the dog, the blossom on a tree or
the tiniest snail making its way.
 |
| Those iridescent snail trails are one of the most magical things just littering our daily life! |
And I do mean stumble...over the legos, the Barbie shoe, the random marker cap, a grape, a blob of sunscreen...it's all there.
But in that "there" is the good stuff.
The proof of family, of people to love or work that means something to us.
It's connections and seeing things a new way.
It's learning and growing and finding that moment of peace.
It's there. Today. Right now.
The scent of roses or coffee or your husband.
It's in the juicy bite of a peach, the salt and pepper deliciousness of a ripe tomato, the incredible poetry of fresh basil.
It's in the satisfaction of a newly swept kitchen floor.
Or a stack of folded clothes.
Or a plant that finally decided to take root.
It's all around us...just waiting for us to acknowledge the gift.
Just waiting for us to open it.
 |
| My latest reminder...waiting by my front door. |
Let's not bank on the extra days ahead.
Let's make this a day to remember.
 |
| Found this sign in a bathroom (of all places!) of an awesome restaurant, Mama D's in Newport Beach, CA. and if you go, order the pink sauce! What do you do to make the most of this day? Please tell me how you find the magic in each day? |
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