Ain’t life grand?

We are self-healing creatures. And isn’t that kind of a miracle?

I am speaking about everyday miracles: Watching a cut I gave myself last week knit itself together, new skin created, a thin scar appearing, soon to disappear leaving no trace. Watching the bruise on my daughter’s arm turn from red to blue to purple, then fade to green, to yellow, then gone, no trace.

I am speaking about the clichéd but consistently amazing time-heals-all-wounds miracle. I marvel that I once thought I would never ever recover from being dumped by my first fierce love, that the heartache would never ever end. And then it did. Or how I never imagined I would ever awake up without the memory of illness. Until the morning I did.

I am speaking about how we heal from difficult childhoods, bad marriages, toxic relationships, scary diagnoses, financial adversities, creative calamities, assorted disasters and all manner of I-didn’t-see-that-coming, slap-upside-the-head vicissitudes of life that could do us in.

But don’t.

Because we are self-healing creatures. Sometimes the miracle comes unbidden. Sometimes we work very very hard for it. Either way, I’m just taking a moment here to say: Wow.

Or, in the words of Van (the Man) Morrison:

When you hear the music ringin’ in your soul
And you feel it in your heart and it grows and grows
And it comes from the backstreet rock & roll and the healing has begun