Today, I am thankful for daily miracles.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy. ~Kahlil Gibran
I am rereading Joan Didion's memoir, The Year of Magical Thinking.
Because I am trying to understand grief. My grief.
Not the prolonged grief one endures after a dear one has died. But grief that results from the realization that a part of my essential self has died. And I want it to come back, just as it was, knowing full well, of course, that it will not return to life, just as just was. At best, I can hope for a reincarnation. But, even that feels like a remote possibility.
So, I am thinking. Not of magic and transformation that come with the flick of a wand or incantation of special words. Too simple. Besides, where would I put my suffering?
Rather, I am thinking of Gibran's miracles because I am trying to understand my pain, my joy. And because I desperately need one. Just one miracle, please.
For this blessing, I am grateful.