It’s been a very up-and-down start to the new year for me. I’ve cried every day thus far, which is not my MO. I have a friend who jokes that it’s a good day when she only cries once but that’s not me. I’m more of a “cry as needed” type and I guess right now it’s needed because all this grief is coming up about my friend who died, yes, but about other things too. Grief is a gateway and once the door is open, grief about a variety of things waltzes through.
Amid this grief though, there have been sweet things, miraculous things. Because of negativity bias, I could focus on all the things going wrong in my life but I’d rather not so I want to tell you about a small miracle I experienced. It’s my way of noticing the presence of the Divine Beloved in my life.
About three weeks ago, I listed my friend’s guitar for sale on Craigslist and Facebook marketplace. (She lives in Europe and thus can’t handle the logistics herself.) I don’t know the metrics for Craigslist but the Facebook ad had 611 clicks and about 25 people messaged me, every one of them saying, “Is this still available?” When I replied, “Yes,” they disappeared. After a few weeks of this, one man reached out to me and said, “Will you accept $100 less than your asking price?” No, I would not.
Not the guitar in question, in case you were wondering. Photo by Jefferson Santos on Unsplash
That same man messaged me multiple days in a row while I kept holding out for a buyer willing to pay the full price. After not getting any traction, I caved and agreed to $50 less than the asking price with that dude. What follows is our actual exchange:
Me: “Meet me at ____ elementary school.”
Him: “I’m honestly I don’t have a car. Is it possible to meet at my house?” And he proceeded to drop a pin of where he lives.
Me: “I don’t have a car either. Let’s meet at a bus stop that’s in between the both of us.”
“I don’t know how take buss.”
“Then I’m sorry it won’t work. Taking the bus is easy. You can also take a Lyft or Uber.”
“Try if can bring me here that will be great. Thank you.”
“No.”
I’m half convinced that if I’d gone to this random man’s house I would have been robbed and/or murdered. It was crushing to have this option, even a terrible one, off the table and to be left with nothing. I prayed fervently, asking for help, the guitar feeling like an albatross around my neck. Literally the next day a woman messaged me, “Is this still available?” I anticipated the same song and dance of no response after my initial “yes” but she said, “I’m interested and I can come by today.” So that’s how I got rid of the guitar for the asking price and in a public location.
Some people might not think that’s a miracle but I do because it arrived when I was at the end of my rope. Yes, I could have sold the guitar to a shop but my physical capacity at the moment is low. There’s a circular light bulb sitting on my ottoman that I’ve meant to recycle for three months but haven’t because I can’t find the energy or motivation to do so. Schlepping a guitar across town? Even more impossible.
The miracle is I didn’t have to “push through” or go through a hassle because Higher Power came through for me. I perpetually think HP won’t, that this time will be different, but so far, the universe’s track record is 100%. The solution never arrives when I want it to but that’s a different story. When I think about this small miracle, my breathing deepens and my body relaxes because I remember the universe loves and supports me. And I hope you feel the same.
I dream of a world where we recognize there’s a power greater than ourselves at work in our lives. A world where we witness moments of ease, sweetness, and grace. A world where we know the universe will come through for us even though sometimes it’s at the last possible second. A world where we savor the small miracles.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Something miraculous happened in my life recently. Not an Old Testament kind of miracle – no parting of the Red Sea or a burning bush. Nor have I received the modern-day version of a miracle where after one visit to one doctor I walked away cured. No, my miracles all arose after slow and steady progress. My miracles are of the incremental variety, but no less astounding.
For the past seven years almost to the day, I’ve struggled with sleep. Every day I woke up with brain fog, feeling like a zombie. I tried all of the things – diet, exercise, acupuncture, EFT, reiki, shamanic healing, ozone therapy, sleeping pills. Nothing made a huge difference. I still woke up every morning with what felt like cotton in my brain. I went through many, many cycles of hope and despair. I spent thousands of dollars searching for a cure. The sleep deprivation became so unbearable I took time off from work and slept in every day for weeks. It made no difference.
In July I did a sleep study, not expecting much. It felt like grasping at straws, another chance to try one more thing and at the very least see what was happening with my sleep. At first glance, the sleep study didn’t reveal much. In fact, the sleep clinic sent me a form letter advising I cut out alcohol, which is laughable because I don’t drink, ever. The sleep clinic professionals shrugged their shoulders and sent me on my merry way. I couldn’t accept that answer. Didn’t accept that answer. Even though the sleep study revealed I have mild sleep apnea, not enough for a CPAP machine, obviously something wasn’t right. How could it be if I couldn’t remember the last time I slept well?
I called a few sleep specialists and booked an appointment. I want to be clear here no intuitive voice urged me to call a certain doctor. I didn’t receive a nudge from the universe about any of this. I struck out in desperation. The sleep specialist diagnosed me with upper airway resistance syndrome, which is a close cousin of sleep apnea. Whereas in apnea breathing stops, with upper airway resistance syndrome, breathing is impaired. I’ve been wearing the device pictured below for more than two weeks and for the first time in seven years, when I wake up, I don’t feel like I have cotton in the brain.
The yellow arrow points to the “wing” that keeps my jaw pushed forward, opening my airway.
I want to be clear here that I’m still tired. I still take a nap every day. I didn’t wake up after one night of using the device full of energy. It will be a slow build but I’m feeling different and that’s a miracle. Why am I telling you all this? For a couple of reasons. The first is if you or someone you know is tired all the time and has trouble sleeping, get a sleep study. The second reason I’m sharing all this is to say keep slogging away. You never know when change will happen.
Lastly, I share this story because it doesn’t fit in with any sort of mythology. I didn’t find what I was looking for when I stopped looking. Change didn’t happen when I accepted my situation. I didn’t hear any intuitive guidance steering me in a certain direction. Surrender didn’t help me with my diagnosis. What helped me, what brought me peace of mind, is thinking perhaps everything has a lifecycle. That my health condition had to play itself out and there was no amount of wishing, praying, fighting, or accepting that was going to change the situation. Like I wrote about in June, regarding my poppies, we can water flowers and give them sunshine, but when they bloom is not up to us. Maybe a lot of things in life are like that. Maybe there’s no formula to follow and instead we have to wait for whatever it is to play out.
I know it can be disheartening for some to contemplate how little control we have over certain situations, but I’m also writing to demonstrate change can happen and does happen. That a miracle can come at anytime. It could be seven years, or it could be seven minutes, but please, please keep going. I’m starting to cry because I struggled for so long, I honestly gave up hope that I would ever be able to feel well-rested ever again and now here we are. Well-rested is something quite likely in my future and that is a miracle.
I dream of a world where we realize miracles can happen at any time. A world where we keep going and then stop and then keep going again. A world where we recognize sometimes we just have to wait for things to change and not beat ourselves up about it. A world where we celebrate miracles, even when they’re small.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
On Christmas Eve, I sat around the table with my parents and learned more about where I come from. Not just about their childhoods, but my grandparents’ too. I heard about great-uncles I didn’t know I had, twins I didn’t know existed. The more I heard, the more my eyes started to bug out and a wave of immense gratitude washed over me.
One of the most important things I learned that night is addiction runs deep in my family. Generation after generation, relative after relative. Stories of an alcoholic relation dying after falling down the stairs drunk; a morbidly obese great-grandparent. I couldn’t believe it when I heard about the common thread running through my family’s past. Holy guacamole. It’s a big deal that I’m in recovery for addiction. I’m turning the tide of addiction and dysfunction despite the weight of history pulling me in a different direction. I am a walking miracle.
I’m going to pretend these are sea anemones.
My friend and neighbor told me a few weeks ago there is often one person in the family who helps heal everyone else. I knew that was me, but didn’t understand how to fulfill that role. After hearing about my family’s history, I understand I’m leading the family in a new direction just by being me. By having the willingness to do something new, to sail uncharted waters. Here I was thinking I got into recovery programs and therapy just so I could live happier and more sanely, and that’s true, but recovery is also so much bigger than me. As soon as one person stops the cycle of addiction and dysfunction by working on themselves in a concerted way, addiction and dysfunction stops. I’m doing something for my family that others could not and that makes me a miracle.
I know this post is about me personally, and my family, but I want to emphasize I am not the only miracle. Everyone is a miracle.
My spiritual teacher says repeatedly that human life is rare and precious. I’ve never understood that. How can human life be rare and precious when there are 7 billion of us? How rare and precious can it be? When I discussed this with my dear friend, he reminded me when we take into account all the other lives — the plants, the animals, the bacteria even — human life really is rare and precious. I think of human life as being expendable much of the time, but when I contemplate there are probably 7 billion bacteria on my pinky finger alone, whoa, being a human really is a miracle.
I think of miracles as walking on water, turning water into wine, or somehow accomplishing the impossible, but really, miracles are so much smaller than that. It’s a miracle that I’m in recovery. It’s a miracle that we’re alive today. It’s a miracle that the impossible can became probable.
I dream of a world where we recognize we are miracles. A world where we practice gratitude for the changes we’re undergoing. A world where we understand miracles aren’t necessarily huge feats, they are also small triumphs.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
About six years ago a friend found a bookmark stashed between some pages and gave it to me. “Make the impossible possible,” it says. It’s been taped to my computer ever since. I love the idea of making the impossible possible (obviously), and this week there was evidence of just that.
As you know, I’ve been looking for a place to call my own for the millionth, billionth time. Since I came back to the Bay Area on New Year’s, I’ve been staying with various friends and in a little cottage I found through airbnb.com. A pretty miraculous thing that I mentioned is I’ve been easygoing about the whole “finding a place to live” situation. I haven’t been too worried about it because I just wasn’t, plus I pulled a petulant-child tantrum and said, “Universe, if you want me to live here, you have to find me a place to live!”
I get to live here! And by “here” I mean several miles away.
What unfolded was incredible. Every day I scoured craigslist multiple times waiting for something to show up. It never did. Everything in my price range was either a.) in a bad neighborhood b.) too small or c.) both. Yet I maintained my optimism that if I was supposed to look further afield, I would receive that guidance. Little did I know apartments would come to me and not the other way around.
A friend called me up and said he knew someone with a studio apartment in El Cerrito. She was currently listing it on airbnb.com, but he convinced her that she’d be better off renting it to me. I looked at the place . . . and it was too small. But still! How awesome that a friend thought of me and that I didn’t have to compete with 100 other people for it, something that seriously happens in the Bay Area?
Then on Wednesday, a friend posted on facebook that her neighbor was moving out of his one-bedroom apartment and was anyone interested in subletting from him? I’m not comfortable with subletting, but I think it’s important to follow through on opportunities when they present themselves. I walked up to the apartment – in Oakland, a place I didn’t want to live again – to find a quiet complex pulled back from the street, situated in such a way that there would be no neighbors above or below me because the ground floor is parking and there is no third floor, well-insulated, etc. I told my friend that I was interested but to check and see how much the landlords would raise the rent for a new tenant.
The landlords wanted to raise the rent by $200 a month, but because I’m a friend of their current tenant, they agreed to $100 instead, which is the max I can pay. I filled out an application and the first time I met the landlords was when I was SIGNING THE LEASE. No advertising on craigslist, no meeting me, and just like that, I have an apartment that while not perfect, seems like it will meet my needs. It even has laundry onsite, which for the rent I’m paying is practically unheard of in this market. Oh and I have my own garage, which is even more unheard of.
It may not sound like all of this is impossible, but that’s kind of the point. How many things do we think are impossible that are actually plausible? How many times are we certain something won’t happen to us when it might, or it does? I won’t say that I “made” the impossible possible, but I will say the universe is infinite and creative and perhaps there are more things existing in the realm of reason than we think.
I dream of a world where we realize impossible things are happening every day. A world where we realize there are more potentials than we give the universe credit for. A world where we allow for more magic and mystery in our lives.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.