Being Alive Is Enough

I woke up today with a deeper knowing that I haven’t felt before.  It’s come to mind before, but this was different.

It’s 4:00 in the morning as I write these words: Being Alive is Enough.  You are the Miracle. Miracles are everywhere.

I’m thinking, what does that even mean?  My mind goes to miracles I’ve experienced before that we’re almost shocking  – no they really were.

The first that comes to mind is the 1995 Grateful Dead Show where the 18 year old me headed off to Chicago with a group of friends, mainly boys.  The entire experience was heightened, not just by the massive amount of people on hallucinogens, but mostly because I felt all lit up from the inside.  And as the old car my friend was driving got closer to Soldiers Field, you could hear music from the side of the highway playing and all types of people shouting and smiling everywhere, as these complete strangers were calling us into the show.  

The miracle I remember experiencing was right before the show began.  I went to use the disgusting toilet with the only other girl on the trip with me.  I’m not even sure you could even call it a toilet, it looked like something straight out of a Tarantino flick. I didn’t really know her, and after we went back to our seats separately since she met some boys and I was more interested in the show and most importantly, finding my seat.

I started to panic.  I was alone. I was lost.

How in the world am I going to find my seat? Where was my seat? Everything started to kick in as I could hear the band start to play.

I walked over to the stands and just stood there, feeling my heart beating like the drums outside my chest when suddenly I looked down at two guys just sitting there as they looked up at me from their seats.  

They asked if I was lost.  I told them that my friends were across the way but there was no way to see them and I’ll just have to keep looking.  This was when one of the guys pointed ALL THE WAY across Soldier Field and said to me, “Are those your friends?”

I looked and could actually see them.  I looked into his eyes and thanked him with such a strong feeling of connection. He said, “You’re welcome.”

It was in this moment that I walked all the way over to where “I thought” I really saw my friends.

That’s when the song “Sugar Magnolia” started and everyone was on the feet, singing and dancing to the music.

It took some time, but when I finally reached my friends (I just couldn’t believe that I actually could see them) I was so happy.  And I knew I was okay. I tried to tell them the story, but they wouldn’t listen. It didn’t matter if anyone believes me. I was safe.

I could tell you more about his trip, but I’ll just leave it here for now…

Not many days after we returned home, Jerry Garcia died. This show was the very last time the Grateful Dead all played together.  Me getting to experience that felt like a miracle too.

There are more than a few handfuls of other experiences in my life that stand out as miracles.  Giving birth to my children, after all, we call babies little miracles right?

I never realized it until now, but what if miracles are also made of thought?  We interpret them as we notice the experience and make it big or small. What if the everyday, ordinary moments were just as special, just as important and also miracles?

What if our disappointments are miracles too?

And what if the beautiful ordinary-ness of a connection or a smile or a tear or watching a bird or lighting a candle or buying peanut butter was all the same?

The more and more we relax into our aliveness, our true nature the more we see how life is happening for us in our favor ALL OF THE TIME.

And You.  

You are the Miracle.  

After all, right now together, we’re spinning and traveling through the Universe.  

What’s your dream? Live your life.

Love,
Molly


Molly Downs