‘Sometimes a Miracle Moves Through Us’
Have you ever witnessed something you could only call a miracle?
I want to share this gently, and with great care, because it involves someone I will never identify. Her privacy matters deeply to me. What I can share is what moved through a therapy room one day.
A client had recently come into my care, and in our first session, as she talked about her life, something came over me. I found myself answering things with words that poured through me from somewhere internally. It amazed her, and it stunned me just as much.
Near the end of the session, she told me something that stopped me cold. The night before, she had decided that if she did not find the answers she was searching for, she was going to end her life. Somehow, without ever knowing her questions, I had answered all of them. Then I asked her how she could turn her life around from now on.
The next session, I witnessed a miracle. She had taken her power back, and in one week, doing what she needed to do, she turned her whole life around. I want to be clear; the answers were already within her. I simply got out of the way long enough for something greater to move through, and the courage was hers.
This was not the first time. In my book, Where the F*ck Do Our Minds Go? I share a moment with a mate in the building Industry, Frank, who reached out for advice while wrestling with something heavy. The year was 1988. And without planning a word, I said exactly what he needed to hear, and it surprised us both. The same quiet place.
I drove home trying to understand it. I believe these moments happen to many of us when we quieten our own noise and let something larger move through. Call it intuition, grace, the deeper knowing we all carry, our guides, angels and our higher self. It is truly a miracle.
And if you are sitting where she was, please hear this. You matter, and the answers are often closer than they feel. Please reach out. You do not have to carry it alone.
‘Where in your life might a miracle be quietly waiting, if you got still enough to let it in?’
‘Love Rarely Announces Itself When It Walks Into a Room.’
Love rarely announces itself when it walks into a room.
We expect love to be loud. The grand gesture, the big surprise, the expensive gift held up for everyone to see. And yet the truest love is usually the quietest thing in the room.
Someone can hand you something shiny and still leave you feeling unseen. Someone else does the smallest thing, and you feel known right to your bones. A person who truly loves you doesn’t always reach for the flashiest gift. They give you what you actually need, the thing that quietly says, ‘I’ve been paying attention.’ It might cost next to nothing. The worth is in the care behind it.
My father barely said a word, and his love was everywhere. ‘We are family, and we help each other,’ was about as much as he would say. My mother loved strawberries and cream and would never buy them for herself, always giving outward, rarely to herself. She left me with a line I will never forget. ‘If you truly love me, show me while I have my eyes open. The day my eyes are shut, it’s too late.’ (Dimitra Malacos, 1930 to 2009).
And this is not a judgement, we have all given the rushed gift and missed the quiet chance. It is simply an invitation to notice the subtle ways love already moves around us, and to add a few of our own.
‘How Is the Law of Unintended Consequences Real in Our Lives?’
Is the law of unintended consequences real in our lives?
Think about the best things in your life right now. The people, the turns, the moments that changed everything. How many of them did you actually plan? If you are like me, almost none.
We like to believe we are in control, mapping it all out. The truth is softer and stranger than that. Every choice we make sends out ripples we can never see the end of. A small yes. A kind word. A door we almost did not open.
Years ago, my mother watched me solving work problems on the phone at her kitchen table, shook her head and said, ‘How haven’t you gone mad listening to this every day?’ She had no idea those few passing words would start my whole healing journey. One small comment, ripples still spreading today.
It works the other way too. A harsh word thrown in a fiery moment sends out ripples we never meant, and often cannot take back.
Here is the gift in it. You cannot govern where the ripples land. You can tend the stone you throw. Act from a calm and open place rather than a cluttered one, and leave people and places a little better than you found them. The rest you release.
What small thing could you do today whose ripples you may never fully see?
‘Um. The Atomic symbol for confusion.’
Um. The atomic symbol for confusion.
We have all been there. That foggy, stuck, “I don’t even know what I’m feeling or what to do next” place. And most of us treat confusion like a dead end, a sign something has gone wrong with us.
Here is a gentler way to see it. Confusion is not the end of the road. It is the step right before clarity.
Think about it. You only feel confused when your old way of seeing something no longer fits. The fog is not a wall, it is a sign you have outgrown the old map and a clearer one is forming. Confusion is clarity, still getting dressed.
The mistake we make is running from the fog, numbing it, scrolling past it, staying busy, anything to not sit in the not-knowing. And whatever we run from, waits for us. The way out of confusion was never around it. It is through it.
So when the fog rolls in, and this is not a judgement, we all get lost in it, try not to panic. Get still. Ask one honest question. Clarity is closer than it feels.
What are you confused about right now that might simply be clarity on its way?
‘Are you carrying more baggage Than luggage?’
'Carrying more baggage than luggage.'
At times we travel through life with more baggage than luggage.
Not the suitcases. The invisible kind. Old hurts, grudges, regrets, fears, the "you're not enough" voices we packed years ago and never set down. Carry it long enough and you stop noticing the weight.
There's a Zen story of two monks who came to a river, where a woman stood unable to cross. Monks had vowed never to touch a woman, yet one of them simply lifted her, carried her through the water, and set her down on the far riverbank. Hours later, his companion was still stewing on it, and finally asked how he could have broken the vow. The monk replied "I set her down at the riverbank hours ago, why are you still carrying her?"
‘What are you still carrying that you could set down today?’