In order to truly celebrate what’s right with the world, I find I first have to celebrate that the world even exists. In order to celebrate what I see, I have to celebrate that I see. I have to step back from my tiny myopic view to recognize just how special this small speck of earth is, upon which I walk and love and yearn and cry. I have to recognize that being alive within it is remarkable, even inexplicable. Mere existence is a miracle, even when it’s painful!
In awakening to this day—every day—I do my best to open my eyes as if for the first time. In awakening that way, I see that we are all a miracle. I see that we are children of sun and stone, children of the soft earth too, of moss and lichen and the smallest drops of water that feed us all. From these graceful elements, our tiny faces form, insistent and beautiful.
When we’ve become truly aware of the miracle, we can see it in each other’s eyes. We merge that beauty into something even more miraculous, even more worth celebrating. No matter the troubles of these lands, we can walk these places and make them home. We can celebrate their better sides and hold each other through the darkness. We can deepen our gratitude for the mystery and the miracle, and through that gratitude, the miracle we experience becomes deeper still.