Inbox

Have you ever experienced a miracle? I imagine it sounds forced and empty when I say, “I have,” and invite you to do the same.

I don't invite you out loud, but some of you hear me every time I send an email. I sent them with my laptop, but also with my heart. I don't understand it, but this is how it goes:

You’re going through that inbox email by email, just in case there’s something good: delete delete, open, scan, delete delete, 20% off!, delete delete.

I see you open mine, just one more after all the others: emails about skin care products, your membership at the gym, an amazing this and a one-time-only that that you won’t want to miss.

I picture one of you. You stop on mine. You close your eyes and take a breath. Your heart softens and you know, as I do, that a miracle just occurred as we connected across the ethers. Namaste. Good morning! Suddenly you remember that you live among miracles. That your own heart is a miracle. So are your kids and your mother, whether you get along with her or not.

Every blade of grass you flatten as you cross the lawn is its own private miracle. So are pink roses, and those animals close to the ocean floor with their handy little lightbulbs attached to something like a tentacle.

You vow to see miracles today because what’s the other choice? Another onslaught of ads and complaining.

Imagine that, complaining about this life.