Miracle Field
It feels important to remind us all right now what it looks like when you are about to experience a miracle.
I don't care about where or what you assign as the source of the miracle—this is what it looks like before one lands.
It looks like destruction. It looks like breakage. It looks like total obliteration. It feels like emptiness, like having no idea whatsoever how you will get out of this mess/void/messy void.
It feels like everything, or it feels like nothing, or it feels like reminiscence for feelings you are SURE you used to feel, capacities you KNOW you had at one time.
You will wonder where to turn, what it will look like even one step away from this place.
You will wonder how to go on, and sometimes whether or not you can.
This happens to your resources the way the ocean recedes to give an eerie, ill-timed, and most alarming warning before a tidal wave hits.
With the full force and unthinkable volume of that wave, the resources which are about to land will qualify as a miracle in your experience.
They will be miraculous to you *because* they were unimaginable, *because* they were unforeseen, *because* they were unprecedented in all your life experience.
If you do not know what is going to happen next...
If you do not know how to get from A to B,
if there is no B in sight.
Breathe deeply into your belly and rest in the stillness.
This is an alarm sounding the arrival of a miracle.
Who do you want to be as it arrives, and how do you want to spend the sweet time it takes arriving?
I've been reading your posts for most of this year. This one touched me to tears, and prompts me to engage with you. It's been an uneasy year, and your invitation to perspective-shift (and breathe!) enables me to view this present moment as a receding tide that will inevitably return with the energy of the universe. Thank you.
Love this so much. A portrait of me just last night, yikes. Sometimes all we need is a decent night's sleep. Or, like you said, a moment of stillness. Thanks Hannah. <3