See Only Miracles

To create its effect, every cause must pass through the realm of the miraculous. The miraculous realm is the space between two thoughts.

That a galaxy or a single seed both sprout from this space is a miracle. That breath or dawn or Spring arise from this space, is a miracle. Feel your heart beat. It beats from this space.

Quantum discontinuity evaporates the gossamer threads of necessity that bind action to reaction, melting the karmic mirage into waveless waking transparency. The dew of causation dissolves, revealing the radiance of the ordinary in exquisite particulars. Matter arises from nothing as the leisure of pure mathematical intelligence at play, instantaneous fractals effervescing in the space of the Self. Holy, Holy, Holy, miracle of chaos, the motionless explosion of a rose!

No more proof of God is required than to behold the snowflake disappearing on my hand, the dust mote passing through a sunbeam, the indelicate smudge of any fleeting singularity. The finite perception awakens the infinite perceiver. We are God's feelers, fingers, nostrils, antennae: not fallen creatures but sacred events, occasions for divine awareness to awaken, again and again.

To see this creation as a miracle is the secret of our own creativity. And to see our seeing is the miracle from which all others spring.

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