It’s been a very up-and-down start to the new year for me. I’ve cried every day thus far, which is not my MO. I have a friend who jokes that it’s a good day when she only cries once but that’s not me. I’m more of a “cry as needed” type and I guess right now it’s needed because all this grief is coming up about my friend who died, yes, but about other things too. Grief is a gateway and once the door is open, grief about a variety of things waltzes through.
Amid this grief though, there have been sweet things, miraculous things. Because of negativity bias, I could focus on all the things going wrong in my life but I’d rather not so I want to tell you about a small miracle I experienced. It’s my way of noticing the presence of the Divine Beloved in my life.
About three weeks ago, I listed my friend’s guitar for sale on Craigslist and Facebook marketplace. (She lives in Europe and thus can’t handle the logistics herself.) I don’t know the metrics for Craigslist but the Facebook ad had 611 clicks and about 25 people messaged me, every one of them saying, “Is this still available?” When I replied, “Yes,” they disappeared. After a few weeks of this, one man reached out to me and said, “Will you accept $100 less than your asking price?” No, I would not.
Not the guitar in question, in case you were wondering. Photo by Jefferson Santos on Unsplash
That same man messaged me multiple days in a row while I kept holding out for a buyer willing to pay the full price. After not getting any traction, I caved and agreed to $50 less than the asking price with that dude. What follows is our actual exchange:
Me: “Meet me at ____ elementary school.”
Him: “I’m honestly I don’t have a car. Is it possible to meet at my house?” And he proceeded to drop a pin of where he lives.
Me: “I don’t have a car either. Let’s meet at a bus stop that’s in between the both of us.”
“I don’t know how take buss.”
“Then I’m sorry it won’t work. Taking the bus is easy. You can also take a Lyft or Uber.”
“Try if can bring me here that will be great. Thank you.”
“No.”
I’m half convinced that if I’d gone to this random man’s house I would have been robbed and/or murdered. It was crushing to have this option, even a terrible one, off the table and to be left with nothing. I prayed fervently, asking for help, the guitar feeling like an albatross around my neck. Literally the next day a woman messaged me, “Is this still available?” I anticipated the same song and dance of no response after my initial “yes” but she said, “I’m interested and I can come by today.” So that’s how I got rid of the guitar for the asking price and in a public location.
Some people might not think that’s a miracle but I do because it arrived when I was at the end of my rope. Yes, I could have sold the guitar to a shop but my physical capacity at the moment is low. There’s a circular light bulb sitting on my ottoman that I’ve meant to recycle for three months but haven’t because I can’t find the energy or motivation to do so. Schlepping a guitar across town? Even more impossible.
The miracle is I didn’t have to “push through” or go through a hassle because Higher Power came through for me. I perpetually think HP won’t, that this time will be different, but so far, the universe’s track record is 100%. The solution never arrives when I want it to but that’s a different story. When I think about this small miracle, my breathing deepens and my body relaxes because I remember the universe loves and supports me. And I hope you feel the same.
I dream of a world where we recognize there’s a power greater than ourselves at work in our lives. A world where we witness moments of ease, sweetness, and grace. A world where we know the universe will come through for us even though sometimes it’s at the last possible second. A world where we savor the small miracles.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
After a long day of staring at my computer screen, I walked outside to my apartment complex’s terrace where something caught my eye. Leaning against the far wall beneath an overhang is a bag of detritus. It’s filled with dirt and pine needles and everything workmen scooped out of our gutters from at least eight months ago, if not longer. Do you know what was spilling out of that bag?
A well-developed nasturtium vine. There are so many things about this that are astounding. Number one, I’m on that terrace every few days watering my plants. How did I not notice it before? And number two, it hasn’t rained here in MONTHS. How did that nasturtium vine survive?!? It’s not like any of my neighbors were watering a bag of soil in an attempt to keep a plant alive. And yet, not only did it survive, it thrived as you can see in the picture.
The vine in question. Look at how big it is!
When I saw this plant, I literally laughed out loud because it was so unexpected and also miraculous. It reminded me that miracles are everywhere if we look for them. Miracles often have the connotation of being something big and obvious, but they can also be small and discreet, like this nasturtium vine.
I could use more miracles in my life. It’s easy for me to become disheartened by the ever-present pessimism in the news. Fires leveling towns. Floods. Famines. It’s a lot. And yet, if I look around, I also see evidence of miracles. Back in November, scientists captured footage of the black-naped pheasant-pigeon, which hadn’t been seen since 1882! In Brazil, the Golden Lion Tamarin used to be on the brink of extinction with about 200 animals in the wild, but the population has rebounded to around 4,800, according to a recent study.
Miracles happen every day with people surviving deathly car crashes, or getting pregnant when they thought they were infertile, or walking again when they were told it was impossible. It’s easy to think, “Well, that wouldn’t happen to me,” but what if it could? What if you could also receive a miracle? And like me with the nasturtium plant, what if miracles are all around and we’re just not noticing them?
Given the choice between a world where we’re all doomed and one where miracles take place, I vote for the latter. It reminds me of a concept we have in my spiritual tradition called madhuvidyá, which literally means “honey knowledge.” It requires seeing everything as an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, also known as Brahma. My spiritual teacher says, “This madhuvidyá will pervade your exterior and interior with … [ecstasy] and will permanently alleviate all your afflictions. Then the ferocious jaws of [degeneration] cannot come and devour you. The glory of one and only one benign entity will shine forth to you from one and all objects.”
That may not seem relevant but for me, practicing madhuvidyá means remembering God is here, there, and everywhere. And because everything is Brahma, everything is a manifestation of that infinite loving consciousness, then OF COURSE miracles are everywhere. How could they not be?
I dream of a world where we recognize the strange and the unlikely occurs all the time. A world where we make room for magic and mystery. A world where we understand this entire universe is composed of an infinite loving consciousness and from that place, we recognize miracles are everywhere.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Something miraculous happened in my life recently. Not an Old Testament kind of miracle – no parting of the Red Sea or a burning bush. Nor have I received the modern-day version of a miracle where after one visit to one doctor I walked away cured. No, my miracles all arose after slow and steady progress. My miracles are of the incremental variety, but no less astounding.
For the past seven years almost to the day, I’ve struggled with sleep. Every day I woke up with brain fog, feeling like a zombie. I tried all of the things – diet, exercise, acupuncture, EFT, reiki, shamanic healing, ozone therapy, sleeping pills. Nothing made a huge difference. I still woke up every morning with what felt like cotton in my brain. I went through many, many cycles of hope and despair. I spent thousands of dollars searching for a cure. The sleep deprivation became so unbearable I took time off from work and slept in every day for weeks. It made no difference.
In July I did a sleep study, not expecting much. It felt like grasping at straws, another chance to try one more thing and at the very least see what was happening with my sleep. At first glance, the sleep study didn’t reveal much. In fact, the sleep clinic sent me a form letter advising I cut out alcohol, which is laughable because I don’t drink, ever. The sleep clinic professionals shrugged their shoulders and sent me on my merry way. I couldn’t accept that answer. Didn’t accept that answer. Even though the sleep study revealed I have mild sleep apnea, not enough for a CPAP machine, obviously something wasn’t right. How could it be if I couldn’t remember the last time I slept well?
I called a few sleep specialists and booked an appointment. I want to be clear here no intuitive voice urged me to call a certain doctor. I didn’t receive a nudge from the universe about any of this. I struck out in desperation. The sleep specialist diagnosed me with upper airway resistance syndrome, which is a close cousin of sleep apnea. Whereas in apnea breathing stops, with upper airway resistance syndrome, breathing is impaired. I’ve been wearing the device pictured below for more than two weeks and for the first time in seven years, when I wake up, I don’t feel like I have cotton in the brain.
The yellow arrow points to the “wing” that keeps my jaw pushed forward, opening my airway.
I want to be clear here that I’m still tired. I still take a nap every day. I didn’t wake up after one night of using the device full of energy. It will be a slow build but I’m feeling different and that’s a miracle. Why am I telling you all this? For a couple of reasons. The first is if you or someone you know is tired all the time and has trouble sleeping, get a sleep study. The second reason I’m sharing all this is to say keep slogging away. You never know when change will happen.
Lastly, I share this story because it doesn’t fit in with any sort of mythology. I didn’t find what I was looking for when I stopped looking. Change didn’t happen when I accepted my situation. I didn’t hear any intuitive guidance steering me in a certain direction. Surrender didn’t help me with my diagnosis. What helped me, what brought me peace of mind, is thinking perhaps everything has a lifecycle. That my health condition had to play itself out and there was no amount of wishing, praying, fighting, or accepting that was going to change the situation. Like I wrote about in June, regarding my poppies, we can water flowers and give them sunshine, but when they bloom is not up to us. Maybe a lot of things in life are like that. Maybe there’s no formula to follow and instead we have to wait for whatever it is to play out.
I know it can be disheartening for some to contemplate how little control we have over certain situations, but I’m also writing to demonstrate change can happen and does happen. That a miracle can come at anytime. It could be seven years, or it could be seven minutes, but please, please keep going. I’m starting to cry because I struggled for so long, I honestly gave up hope that I would ever be able to feel well-rested ever again and now here we are. Well-rested is something quite likely in my future and that is a miracle.
I dream of a world where we realize miracles can happen at any time. A world where we keep going and then stop and then keep going again. A world where we recognize sometimes we just have to wait for things to change and not beat ourselves up about it. A world where we celebrate miracles, even when they’re small.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I notice there’s a tendency in me and in society to avoid the deep and dark places. We are uncomfortable with displays of depression and despair.
The other day, a friend posted on facebook that she felt depressed and the majority of her friends said, “Are you getting help? Are you taking medication?” I’m not saying people shouldn’t take meds and shouldn’t seek help, but it’s interesting to notice their reactions. How quickly people turned to solutions instead of saying, “I hear you,” or “Me too.”
I understand the rush toward solutions. I know in myself, the minute I feel depressed or hopeless, I want to leave those states as quickly as possible. I don’t want to sit with the feelings, I don’t want to acknowledge them, I don’t want to give them air time. If I could bypass all the uncomfortable feelings, that would be great, thanks.
Even small acts of love can have great effects.
As my therapist reminds me, it doesn’t work that way. I can’t pretend certain feelings don’t exist just because I’d rather they didn’t. The only way to move through the feelings is to first have awareness of them, and second to feel them. In thinking of my spiritual practices, I’d like to add a third step.
I am reminded of the work crafted by a monk I knew. He used to say every cell of our body is longing for liberation, is longing for oneness with something greater than ourselves. Not only the parts we acknowledge, but the parts we push away as well. He went to graduate school for psychology and developed a mantra therapy technique combining what he learned there with the principles of our yoga and meditation group. In these heart circles, as he called them, people would sit in a circle. One person would sit in the center of the circle and think about an emotion or belief they wanted release from. Then everyone on the perimeter sang to the person in the center. They verbally bathed the person with a Sanskrit mantra, sending them love. They imagined love coming through them and directed it to the person in the center of the circle.
I’ve been in many a circle, and people often weep or their expression softens or they start beaming. Something happens. Something happens because all parts of us want love. All parts want acknowledgment. All parts want us to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I love you.”
This week as I’ve sat with my own hard feelings, I’ve directed love their way. Not to drown them out, but in an act of tenderness and care. As Doreen Virtue says, “Love is the miracle that heals all things,” and that includes me. Instead of hating certain emotions, instead of pushing them away, instead of pretending they don’t exist, instead of skipping over them, I’m sending them love. I’m going to the deepest, darkest places within me and saying, “I’m here and I love you,” because that’s ultimately what I want. And what we all want.
I dream of a world where we give all parts of ourselves air time. A world where we embrace all parts of ourselves and say, “I’m here and I love you.” A world where we recognize love is the miracle that heals all things and it’s a miracle we can give to ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Christmas Eve, I sat around the table with my parents and learned more about where I come from. Not just about their childhoods, but my grandparents’ too. I heard about great-uncles I didn’t know I had, twins I didn’t know existed. The more I heard, the more my eyes started to bug out and a wave of immense gratitude washed over me.
One of the most important things I learned that night is addiction runs deep in my family. Generation after generation, relative after relative. Stories of an alcoholic relation dying after falling down the stairs drunk; a morbidly obese great-grandparent. I couldn’t believe it when I heard about the common thread running through my family’s past. Holy guacamole. It’s a big deal that I’m in recovery for addiction. I’m turning the tide of addiction and dysfunction despite the weight of history pulling me in a different direction. I am a walking miracle.
I’m going to pretend these are sea anemones.
My friend and neighbor told me a few weeks ago there is often one person in the family who helps heal everyone else. I knew that was me, but didn’t understand how to fulfill that role. After hearing about my family’s history, I understand I’m leading the family in a new direction just by being me. By having the willingness to do something new, to sail uncharted waters. Here I was thinking I got into recovery programs and therapy just so I could live happier and more sanely, and that’s true, but recovery is also so much bigger than me. As soon as one person stops the cycle of addiction and dysfunction by working on themselves in a concerted way, addiction and dysfunction stops. I’m doing something for my family that others could not and that makes me a miracle.
I know this post is about me personally, and my family, but I want to emphasize I am not the only miracle. Everyone is a miracle.
My spiritual teacher says repeatedly that human life is rare and precious. I’ve never understood that. How can human life be rare and precious when there are 7 billion of us? How rare and precious can it be? When I discussed this with my dear friend, he reminded me when we take into account all the other lives — the plants, the animals, the bacteria even — human life really is rare and precious. I think of human life as being expendable much of the time, but when I contemplate there are probably 7 billion bacteria on my pinky finger alone, whoa, being a human really is a miracle.
I think of miracles as walking on water, turning water into wine, or somehow accomplishing the impossible, but really, miracles are so much smaller than that. It’s a miracle that I’m in recovery. It’s a miracle that we’re alive today. It’s a miracle that the impossible can became probable.
I dream of a world where we recognize we are miracles. A world where we practice gratitude for the changes we’re undergoing. A world where we understand miracles aren’t necessarily huge feats, they are also small triumphs.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
The title for this post comes from my dear friend Alok Joddha Hernandez. It really resonated with me because as I reflected on his comment, “Miracles happen outside of your comfort zone,” I realized he was right. All of the miraculous, wonderful things in my life have happened after I took a risk or did something that made me uncomfortable. The most obvious/biggest example is chronicled in my book, Just a Girl from Kansas but I’ve also found it to be true with smaller experiences.
I can say unequivocally this has been the worst year of my life. That’s not to say good things haven’t happened, because they have, but this has absolutely been the most trying year to date. I’ve always had a sensitivity to noise, which I’ve mitigated with earplugs and a white noise machine, but lately my sensitivity has developed into a full-blown disorder. I startle at loud noises. I jump when doors slam. I am so on edge you’d think I was about to pull off a diamond heist.
This picture makes me think of miracles.
I had no intention of ever doing something about my sensitivity until it developed into this huge challenge. And since it cropped up I’ve been trying my usual bag of tricks: acupuncture, affirmations, homeopathy, prayer, meditation, naturopathy, surrender, etc. If it worked for me before, I figured it would work again. Except it hasn’t. I posted a very emo facebook status the other day that asked, “When you’re desperate is that when the true healing begins?” Because people, I am desperate. I am so desperate I am willing to go outside my comfort zone.
A friend mentioned to me biofeedback and I’ve been reluctant to try it because I’m unfamiliar with it, I don’t have much money, and well, new things scare me. However, I found a place in Arizona (because I’ll be there for the month of October) and I e-mailed them, mentioning I don’t have insurance so how much would this cost me? (I should mention here in case those of you reading get concerned I have Healthy SF which is like insurance just for within the city of San Francisco so it doesn’t apply in places like Arizona.) The very next day the biofeedback place called me and said, “We’ll waive the initial $100 fee, plus we’ll charge you half price, and if it takes seven sessions we’ll only charge you for five.” Da-yum.
I can’t say for sure whether this is a miracle because I haven’t done the treatment yet, but it sure feels like the beginnings of one. And all because I stepped out of my comfort zone.
I dream of a world where we all experience miracles. A world where we push ourselves outside our comfort zones because we’re ready for something different. A world where we experience love in the form of a miracle and where we keep growing and keep allowing the miracles to happen.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.