LIVIN G & LE ARNING
“OH MY.” This is often my response to witnessing a breathtakingly beautiful event – a blood orange sunset or a hawk suddenly appearing atop my backyard fence. The wheels of thought lock and my jaw muscles loosen. About all I have left rattling around in my brain are the words, “Oh, my.” They trickle out of me like the last drops from a teapot. I am an empty vessel, drinking in the beauty around me. But are such beautiful moments so
rare? Only if I am asleep to the endless wonders bidding for my attention… the rash of dandelions crowning a distant hill, the sweet jibber jabber of birds, the soft scent of lavender, the tart taste of lime, a wisp of a cloud hanging like a footnote in an otherwise empty sky, ants partying on peonies, a cooling breeze, the noonday sun spilling broken glass shadows on city streets, the trill of a piano in the distance, a candelabra of stars lighting up the night sky. Miracles, everywhere I turn – but only
when I am there to catch them. Only when I am paying attention. The same gently drooping daisy that
zipped in and out of my field of attention yesterday has captured my attention today and its quiet beauty staggers me, even though I have seen a million daisies before. When I give it my full attention it is as if I am seeing it for the first time. I become deliriously lost in it. A ho-hum moment bursts into an oh-my experience through the simple act of noticing.
Perhaps this is the greatest miracle of all, this power to notice, to awaken a mind fatigued by repetitive thinking and flood it with a child’s sense of wonder. Perhaps the miracle is in the seeing, rather than in the seen. It took me a long time to witness
my first miracle. I had been imagining them as supernatural events, apparitions or mystifying episodes of good fortune. But nothing is supernatural. Natural is all there is, from the dirt on my shoes to the
infinity of space. And isn’t it stunning, every stick and stone of it, every feather and bone of it? The more of it I see, the more I run out of words to describe it, except to say, “Oh my”, with whatever breath I have left in my lungs. n
John Ptacek’s essays explore the unquestioned assumptions that limit our capacity for happiness. He is a writer based in Wisconsin, USA.
TRIPPING OVER MIRACLES
Miracles are not about wishing. They are about seeing, and they’re all around you. Just pause for a moment and see for yourself.
by John Ptacek
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