Wonders, miracles, unicorns and seahorses

Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles

...But of all God’s miracles, large and small,

The most miraculous of all

Is that out of a worthless lump of clay,

God has made man today.

(An excerpt of 'Wonder of Wonders' from the greatest musical 'Fiddler on the Roof')

I almost didn’t write this post. Halfway through the Muse just stopped smiling and though I boast that I don’t need that bitch her, when it’s barely 15°C I can use all the inspiration I can get.  But I figured that it would be unfair if this truth went untold... and if I don’t tell it, then who will? Since I am writing this on a very cold Monday night and you will be reading it at an equally cold time, I will try to be as bearable as possible. Life is dull enough as it is.

I witnessed a miracle yesterday morning.  Not a full blown rise-up-and-walk miracle (those I treat just as cautiously as belief in Santa Claus or the tooth fairy. One wrong word and you may just have broken a poor child’s heart) but a miracle all the same.

I was on my way to Nyeri and it was really cold. The cold in Nyeri just sought of sucks the life out of you, consumes you and gets into your bones... leaving an empty shell that just wants to curl into a foetal position and sip hot chocolate. No, I am not exaggerating. A power blackout will do the same to you too... and make you suicidal as well. I was curled up and focusing my mind on happy thoughts; thoughts of warm days, sundresses and melting ice cream. So absorbed was I that I almost missed it.

In the distance, at the bottom of a steep slope, past a grove of trees, was a car... a car that had just veered off the road. I could see the skid marks from where I stood, but further down slope there were none. From where I stood it looked as if after a while the car just... just flew. It left no trail in its wake. There was a small wooden house that would have been crushed had the car rolled down the slope but it stood firm as ever. The clothes on the hanging lines were still in place. The car had practically ‘flown’ down a slope and landed right on the front yard! What was even more amazing was the fact that the driver was unhurt. He got out of the car and straightened his pants, easy as Sunday Morning. 

I know how surreal it sounds... but it really happened. And I suppose I needed that, that little miracle to remind me that despite its sham and drudgery and decadence, the world is still a beautiful place. Your small miracle might not be a flying car. It might be that beautiful sunrise (oh, if only I would wake up to one tomorrow), that spectacular full moon, your baby brother’s undying trust in you, a friend dropping in with chicken just when you thought you would starve to death because it was too cold to get out... Whatever your small miracle is, don’t hold back. Bask in its glory and be cheerful. As I said, life is dull enough as it is.