Sightless Among Miracles

We celebrate adult education at our Spiritual Center. On the last night of class, we often invoke a tradition.   The students and teachers form a tight group, and Norm, a dedicated photographer, takes a picture.

Norm sent me a picture of recent class and quoted: we walk(ed) sightless among miracles.

I looked at the picture. I read the quote. And I think I cried a little; because I remember…

I remember the days when we used to hug each other. In our Center, hugs were not only reserved for close friends. We hugged randomly and unabashedly. Everyone who wanted a hug was embraced by love. I’m not even much of a hugger; but I miss it.

I remember gathering in Annette’s office for the pre-church prayer with volunteers. Like a pile of unruly puppies, we laughed, nudged, held hands, and told jokes too rowdy for church.   We could stop the silliness on a dime and move into a prayer of exquisite grace – the contrast of profane and sacred leading to a deeper holiness.

I remember kneeling with my forehead on the floor, a prostration, minutes before I enter the sanctuary to facilitate the Sunday service. It’s a practice I learned in India. Get your heart above your head. Offer your life to the Divine. Bow to the congregation. It’s not about you Bonnie, it’s about service,” I say to myself. I can’t do that now without risking exposure.

I made so many assumptions about permanence, thinking that these mundane activities would belong to me forever.  I assumed that these cherished activities were mundane.   I walked “sightless among miracles,” not realizing that the commonplace homespun of our days is as sacred as a silk vestment.

I look back without whining or bitterness. I just see how wealthy we were. I know the days of hugs, and touch, and bowing will return. But in the meantime, I hope to remember all that I used to take for granted. I will remember simple things with reverence. I will exclaim “how wonderful is this place called existence; then and now, and we get to see it.”

What do you remember? What do you miss from pre-pandemic times?


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14 Responses to Sightless Among Miracles

  1. Anne Kohut says:

    I so miss visiting my 93 year old sister in law Tua in a long term care facility just 5 minutes walking distance from us. We would sit with her on their patio for lunch, Bill and her would reminisce about their youth in Minneapolis with their 4 siblings during the depression when flour was ample available (not like now) and people did lot’s of baking. Still we can call her which makes Tua very very happy.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Janet van Duinwyk says:

    I miss human contact and especially with VCSL
    Now human contact is a voice over a teleconference
    Or a reflection of people through Zoom Time and other programs.
    Living in virtual reality is functional but virtual hugs don’t do it for me❤️

    Liked by 2 people

  3. pujakins says:

    I miss going out for a meal with my beloved. Takeout is not the same. He does too. Yours was a nice post. I look forward to more. Do have a look at my site: Wishing you every joy, Tasha

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Melissa Honig says:

    Thank you, Bonnie. This is so true, and so beautiful. I miss hugging.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Styke says:

    Oh dear Bonnie,
    Wealthy you all were?
    You are wealthier now at this moment just from the wisdom you gained as you penned this story.
    So I think we all have a duty to take this wealth with us and share it anyway one is capable at the very moment.

    With much love Bonnie,


  6. 😡Lanene says:

    I too miss the hugging a lot, also being of service and being connected to people I love and feeling that energy of love.💖

    Liked by 2 people

  7. I can’t seem to get the LIKE button to stick.
    But I too LOVE those things more than ever.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Gardener says:

    I miss getting together and laughing and acting silly like carefree little kids. I miss the days when ‘pandemic’ was not a familiar word used in everyday conversation.


  9. Cheryl Ostrander says:

    Thank you for your sweet sharing, Dear Bonnie. …and thank you for reminding us that this too shall pass. I miss letting strangers pet my dog. You see, Molly has no interest in bringing us slippers, and we don’t subscribe to a newspaper. Her most important role is making people smile. In the past, many folks we met on the street would ask to pet her and the answer was always yes. Molly would respond to their touch; I could feel hearts opening…my own included. But now, the answer would be, “Not today.” But THIS too shall pass.


  10. Karen Collins says:

    I miss hugs. I miss the intimacy of our gatherings. I miss the heart felt love pouring over me at VCSL. I to know this will pass and leave me with a deeper feeling of gratitude for all I experience daily. Thank you Bonnie. Love to all of you.


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