Noun, from Latin mirari: "to wonder at, marvel, be astonished." Earlier *smeiros, from Indo-European root *smei: "to smile, laugh," which is also the source of Sanskrit smerah "smiling."
A miracle, then, is the root of your smile, as you marvel at any ordinary object. To truly pay attention, and be astonished at the quiddity of a pebble, a mushroom sprung up from moss at midnight, the cry of a flicker breaking the silence of morning mist, transmutes common ore into miraculous gold. Miracles are the irreducible currency of wonder. To clothe the simplest object in the sacred transparency of pure attention, is to dissolve all separation between your Self and the world. In that instant, you touch the seed of bliss. Your awareness effortlessly expands beyond the circumference of the galaxy, yet focuses like a laser on the bindhu of the smallest thing. Then the curve of eternity breaks out all around and within you as a smile. You see clearly, without having to believe in anything, that a ladybug on a leaf-tip is a miracle, the whir of hummingbird wings is a miracle, the sad gaze of a collarless stray in the rain is a miracle. Miracles are not supernatural events, to be awaited in the mythic future, or celebrated in the mythic past. Miracles are the common places where our attention marvels at the world, just as it is, in the present moment.
Photo by our great Northwest photographer, Neil Dickie
No comments:
Post a Comment