Small Miracles

I watched a flower open the other evening in our garden, a clematis.

It must have popped open and caught the corner of my eye, because I had just looked at it a few minutes before, still a bud. But there it was, deep velvety purple petals with ivory backing, center part yellow and green, all of it quivering and expanding. The top petal was a little crunched down and as I stood there holding my breath, I saw it straighten up. I saw the colors shift a bit. The stamens were straightening themselves out, wobbly as new lambs. The whole thing just blew me away.

In talking to my friends and colleagues, it seems that many of them don’t really think we have time for things to get better on earth now. We’re on a collision course with a fate we’ve helped speed up, and perhaps make worse, as well as the hugeness of the cosmos, which appears to have its own agenda and designs. Perhaps, in addition to just trying to do no harm, the experience of these small moments of timeless grandeur are messages. Messages that say all will be well in spite of how it appears now. The incredible reality of how a coyote blends in with its surroundings, how every grain of sand and every snowflake are different, how spring comes and things are reborn: This reality may shift but there is an undying element in it. This is what we have to remember, maybe.

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