miraclesIt seems to me that we spend most of our lives waiting. For some mystical alignment of the stars to create the life we’ve always imagined for ourselves. For someone to come into our lives and make us unimaginably happy.

We imagine into existence a certain future we deem ourselves worthy of experiencing but we never do anything to actually create it.

Something has to happen.

Fate. Destiny.

And thus we wait. And we simply exist. We put our lives on fast forward. Filled up with this strange nostalgia for a future we played inside our minds over and over again, we are reduced to nothing more than the observers of our own lives.

At a certain point, as we build an intricate web of routines to make us forget what we want, it even stops feeling like our lives.

We wait for miracles. We want what we want and we want it now.

We want to win the lottery, and it seems suited that we work just enough so we can afford a ticket.

But guess what. Life’s not a lottery.

It’s neither fair nor unfair.

It just is.

And things happen. And people do what they have to.

And miracles never happen to those who do nothing but wait.

Because of some strange paradox even those who win the lottery are those who never even expected to win in the first place.

You want it? Go out there and get it.

If you wait, nothing’s really going to happen.

Of course, there’s no guarantee. No certainty that if you spend what’s left of your life, you’ll actually end up with the life you’ve always dreamed about.

But what certainties do we have?

We take an awful lot of things for granted, and we tend to live so cautiously, simply because we are afraid.

There are no certainties in life.

Nothing to be absolutely certain of.

Every single day is a gift, because you never know when your time’s up.

Life’s not cruel. It’s just chaotic.

The only miracles that happen are the ones you make happen. Are the ones you imagine into existence and then work your ass off to make come true.

That is all, I’m afraid.

And it’s not easy, and it’s not that exciting. It’s not a wonderful adventure. You just describe it as such to those who still ask themselves whether some ancient deity will rub two fingers together and give them the life they’ve always wanted.

It’s only after you’ve climbed a lot of stairs that you realize the beauty of it all. It’s not about reaching the top, it’s about the climb. It’s about conquering your fear of heights, your fear of falls. It’s about who you become during the journey.

Good things and bad things happen for a reason. To change you. To test you. To make you ask yourself what is it that you really want and who is it that you want to be.

That is all.


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