The Miracle in Practice

In my previous two blogs, I shared what a miracle means to me and what is actually needed for one to happen: the willingness to see differently, and space—the willingness to pause the song that keeps playing over and over in your mind.

But how do you actually do that in everyday life?

It is surprisingly simple.

When something happens that touches you deeply, causes pain, or creates tension, simply let it be for a moment. Do nothing. You don't have to solve it immediately. You don't have to understand why it is happening.

A miracle needs, above all, stillness and space.

That space can arise during a walk, while riding your bicycle, leaning against a tree, gazing across a landscape, or quietly reading a book.

You don't have to search for an answer.

Simply look around as if you had arrived in this world for the very first time.

Where do your eyes naturally go?

What do you notice that you hadn't seen before?

Perhaps your attention is drawn to a plant, a photograph, or a particular place in your home. Perhaps you notice that your body begins to feel different. A smile may appear on your face. Or a sadness you've been carrying for a while may slowly begin to thaw.

Sometimes it helps to bring a question with you.

For example, I have been struggling with back pain. So I look around and ask myself, What is ready to be released?

Then I notice a broken branch lying on the ground beside a tree.

Suddenly I see that the tree has let something go.

Immediately another question arises:

Could I let something go as well?

I don't even know exactly what.

But I choose to let go of something.

I sigh.

Somewhere I can feel the pain in my back begin to soften. And so does the headache I had been carrying.

You can ask for a miracle about something very specific.

A particular situation.

A conflict.

A fear.

A doubt.

The only thing you don't need to concern yourself with is how the answer will come.

Simply notice where your eyes are drawn.

Remain open to a thought that suddenly appears.

To someone you unexpectedly meet.

To something another person says.

Or to a tiny detail that quietly touches your heart.

Sometimes a miracle is hidden in something you would almost overlook.

Recently I was walking through the supermarket.

A woman was walking there wearing a pink jumpsuit with bright red boots, carrying a doll in her arms.

She said,

"Come on, sweetheart, let's go do some shopping."

My heart melted.

I couldn't help but smile.

As I write this, I'm also preparing for my workshop, The Boy Within the Man, which I will be leading for the first time tomorrow.

I notice tension.

Doubt.

Fear.

Can I really do this?

Won't I try far too hard? Won't I force things?

Sigh...

How familiar that feeling is.

Miracle, please come.

And then something shifts.

An insight appears.

I'm probably not the only one who will arrive tomorrow carrying doubt and the habit of trying too hard.

The men who are coming know that feeling too.

They are tired of it.

They long for something different.

And as I realize this, I suddenly feel connected to the people who will be there tomorrow.

In a way, we are already meeting.

Then another insight arises.

The most essential part of the workshop isn't everything we're going to do.

The most important thing is that we are allowed to relax.

And enjoy ourselves.

Then another image appears.

I see myself working in my garden.

I'm pulling weeds from the ground.

And I wonder:

Could I treat my doubts the same way?

Not by fighting them.

Simply making a little more space, one small handful at a time.

And just realizing that I'm not the only one...

Wow.

What a sense of relief.

What support that brings.

Even from you, the reader.

When I experience time as something linear, you are there and I am here.

But when I experience time as space, we are already connected.

We are meeting right now.

Is that a miracle?

Yes.

Because it is a completely different way of seeing.

I can picture you.

Your eyes.

Your whole being.

And in your eyes, I see myself.

All that I am.

One word quietly appears:

Welcome.

A miracle is the doorway.

The doorway through which we can return to Heaven.

Not there yet?

No problemo.

Ask for a miracle.

Remain open to whatever reveals itself.

You don't have to figure out how it will happen.

Simply notice where your eyes are drawn.

And allow yourself to be filled with wonder.

Yuri