The greatest truth about miracles is that they happen, that they wouldn't be miracles if they did not happen.
We don't see miralces as miracles becasue some wise man or the other has imposed an explanation on them. And for us, unfortunately, a miracle ceases to be a miracle for us if it can be explained. Nowhere is the perversity of human mind more manifest than it is in the belief that a miracle is a miracle only if it cannot happen or, having happened, it cannot be explained. A prophet is a person who sees a miracle in what we take for granted. To a child, as to a prophet, the opening of a bud into a flower, a seed breaking forth into a bunyan tree are miracles most fascinating. As is the flying of an aeroplane with its burden of hundreds of passengers, borne aloft by nothing more than thin air, . To a child, as to a prophet, a rainbow is a miralce most exquisite. So is the prism of life, its interplay of colours. And so is life itself . So also is this universe. O God! Where did all this infinite empty space come from in which this vast universe is housed and into which it is expanding every second at speeds that even light can not achieve. A prophet offers no explanations for miracles because for him everything that happens in life becomes a miracle by the very act of its happening. Since everything in nature is a miralce, there is nothing unnatural about miralces. Divine melodies flowing out a piece of bamboo wood merely through an arrangment of stops on it; a man willingly casting away for a woman the very life for which he wants her; a mother falling fatally in love with a complete stranger the moment he is born to her. All nature is a miracle and therefor all miracles are natural. Strangely, miracles are miracles only for those who do not believe in them. And to one who does, almost nothing is . Miracles are the poetry of nature. A prophet is a poet who has come to believe in the truth of his own poetry. A poet is a prophet who distrusts his own prophecy.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
A prophet is a poet who has come to believe in the truth of his own poetry. A poet is a prophet who distrusts his own prophecy.
God! Where did all this infinite empty space come from in which this vast universe is housed and into which it is expanding every second at speeds that even light can not achieve !!
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The workings of nature and the universe set aside, human emotions and what they are capable of, are the biggest miracles we can experience, yet we easily overlook them.
A few years ago I read this in the journals of my favourite author, Albert Camus:
"When I was young , I asked more of people than they could give: everlasting friendship, endless feeling.
Now I know to ask less of them than they can give: a straightforward companionship. And their feelings, their friendship, their generous actions seem in my eyes to be wholly miraculous: a consequence of grace alone."
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