I'm on the lookout for small miracles and find there are plenty around, just waiting to be found. Take this tiny white flower; it's no more than 6mm across in any direction
and these haloed grass heads, flowering in their gazillions down near the harbour's edge.
These Katherine Wheel seed heads belong to what I think is a Virginia creeper sprawling exuberantly across the sidewalk just below my house
and these micro-magnets arrived in yesterday's mail. . . magnets are a miracle any day of the week, but these are exquisite! A kind-sounding man named Gordon from dangerousmagnets.co.nz sent them to me to trial with my boats. I have to find an invisible way to mount the flotilla to the gallery wall and thought magnets might do the trick. These are much tinier than I'd imagined, despite being given the diameter measurements over the phone. Would you believe there are 23 magnets in this tiny wee stack?!
They're remarkably strong (they'd think nothing of taking possession of my hefty bunch of keys were I to inch them a tiny bit closer). Separating the key head from the magnets with a match calms the energy field down a bit. . .
This afternoon I recalled another small miracle that happened a little while ago and that still makes me smile. I was in Tasmania at the time. Apparently cowries are a rare-if-at-all find on Tasmanian beaches. I was reminiscing about my childhood in Africa where I'd spent hours and hours searching for baby cowries on the South Coast beaches. I had just spoken the last few lines of my Give Me Thunder poem out loud to my friend Rupert - 'give me white-ribbed cowries, an amber ball to roll beneath my feet, down to sand and salt water's edge. . . '- when I looked down and there one was sitting between my feet; on a coastline almost entirely barren of shells. But that isn't all. Unbeknown to me, a friend on the other side of the world had spotted a lone cowrie on the ocean floor in Florida, USA. We had not spoken to each other for over a year; a plain manilla envelope arrived in the mail a week or so after I returned home; inside, a small cowrie sellotaped to a piece of white card.
Look out for small miracles. . . and may they find you, if you don't find them first.
I cannot lay claim to any miracles today, but I shall be on the lookout. Thanks for this miraculous reminder.
ReplyDeleteclaire, your posts are the *best*! (but dont tell the other kids i said that....)
ReplyDeletei am now on the look out for miracles; altho, i must say, considering the grubbiness of my soul, i do see more than my fair share of them....
xo
Yes indeed. When I wrote about the measuring cups on my blog I thought about writing about some teaspoons I had seen at Anthropologie (a store I'm not allowed to even step into) years ago. I wrote about the spoons in that blog post then deleted that part and this week someone from out of the blue sent me those very teaspoons the Anthropologie spoons I saw years ago. Oh my heaven.
ReplyDeletelove,
Rebecca
I found a red bracelet I feared was lost. It was a gift from Mexico from my boyfriend, my favorite bracelet. I couldn't find it for a week or so. And the other night we had a really long talk one of those talks about our relationship that needed to happen, the hard parts of love where you're unsure sometimes if it will hang on or how it will hang on. And that night I thought "I wish I could find that bracelet." And then I did. I found it in a place I had already looked and a place it should have been anyway. Made me feel like maybe we can find the lost parts of us. It made me feel some hope.
ReplyDeletexo
Rachel
Dear Elisabeth, the fact we all find each other out here is nothing short of miraculous, I reckon? I'm certain plenty of small miracles are right where you are, ready to be picked up and enjoyed ; )
ReplyDeleteMy soul's pretty tarnished and dented, too, dear Susan! Could this be why we notice the things we do? The things that shine? You're so much more than lovely! Please come back and tell us about the miracles you find? Or blog about them on Twisted Knickers (the name says it for so many of us, Susan). . . ? Thanks - L, C x
ReplyDeleteOh my heaven, Rebecca - how thrilling! Do we ponder the whys and wherefores of these things, or do we throw our heads back, our chests out and our hands up and say 'THANK YOU thank you thAnk You'. The latter, I reckon. I'm so happy your wished-for spoons found you, Rebecca. I bet they make fine music when you tap them on the edges of bowls, glasses, fine bone china tea cups. L, C xo
ReplyDeleteDear Rachel - hooray for your precious found bracelet!
ReplyDeleteSometimes we have to lose things in order to retrieve them and see them and know them for what they really are. More often than not, what they are worth goes some way beyond the object/the form itself. I wonder what else you found when your bracelet returned? Riches, I'm sure.
L, C x
Argh I meant to write measuring spoons. But yes I said thank you to that which connects whatever it may be and things that appear and disappear then reappear when we most need them.
ReplyDeleteAnd thankful for your delicate really beautiful art on this post.
xo
Rebecca, the unexpected arrival of 'measuring' spoons is every bit as much a miracle. I bet they, too, make music.
ReplyDeleteAlways happy to see you've been here, thanks xo
In an attempt to manifest a state somewhere close to peace, I say thank you frequently, to what I believe is the source of gladness. My joy is multiplied by Rebecca's magically appearing spoons, Rachel's vanished and restored bracelet, your fragile, fairy flowers. Small miracles - blessings - from the wheels NOT falling off the wagon to anxiety simply evaporating before devouring me one bite at a time have become the cornerstones of my life. Perhaps they only reveal themselves to the dented, the frayed. xoxo
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