A Return to Love, by Marianne Williamson

Things were falling apart.

At least, my heart was.

It was the morning after last month's attacks on Paris, and I had woken up with a knot of sobs in my throat. My heart was so heavy with sadness for Paris, sadness for the world.

Even more, I felt helpless. I felt useless to do anything of value to repair the situation. The #prayforpeace hashtag that was floating around the internet seemed like a beauty pageant answer: trite, hollow, and impossible. I wanted something big. I wanted something immediately promising, something to completely obliterate the last 24 hours, something to ensure and end to all suffering.

I wanted a miracle. 

I tried to meditate, but couldn't quiet my heart. So instead I just let myself cry.

And I prayed.

"How can I help? How can I help? How can I help?"

No answer came, but my crying subsided, so I made some tea and sat down at my kitchen table to begin my morning study. I opened Marianne Williamson's A Return to Love to the book-marked page I had left off at, and this is what I read:

I set the book down, and let out a deep exhale.

"A miracle worker is not geared toward fighting the world that is, but toward creating the world that could be." 

This was the answer to my question. This is how I can help. I can't single-handedly fight the political, economic, and religious battles of the world.

But I can cultivate love. I can hold space for healing, compassion, understanding, and community in my daily life. I can do my best. I can let shit go. I can choose my words kindly. I can play my part in creating the world that could be. 

In this way, I can make miracles.