This is a path of miracles. I can’t stress that enough, as both warning and invitation. Miracles can’t be hidden. They burst out, they scream out. They shape, and they direct down strange and narrow avenues. The path itself, its very existence, is miraculous.
By miraculous, I don’t simply mean ‘unlikely’.
I mean divine.
I mean supernatural.
I understand that this can be difficult to hear and to accept – and you don’t have to accept it. But I am on the path, and the miracles rage before me, as light, as colour and as sound – so I must accept them.
I can assuredly say this: you will recognise the miracles of your own journey down the path. They are the fireworks reflected in your eyes. They cannot be hidden, they will not stay silent.
I am here as a quiet voice – I don’t need to be heard, I don’t need to be agreed with. But I do wish to contribute, to whichever end, and with all the compassion I can muster.
The world doesn’t need my opinion, but it sure needs my love.