"If you want to see a miracle, just open your eyes, your heart, and your soul to the possibility of it all"

Miracles are less about suspending the laws of nature and more about suspending the habits of indifference. To see one, perception must be widened: the eyes trained to notice, the heart willing to feel, the soul ready to receive. Vision alone registers shapes and colors; open eyes perceive pattern and coincidence, timing and tenderness, the quiet choreography that turns ordinary moments luminous. An open heart softens cynicism, allowing compassion to interpret events not as random noise but as meaningful encounter. An open soul invites mystery, reframing the unknown from threat to horizon.

Possibility is the hinge. When the mind pre-decides what reality may contain, it narrows the aperture of attention; countless small wonders slip by unacknowledged. When possibility is given room, the same world grows porous to grace: a stranger’s kindness arrives like perfect punctuation; a discouraging detour becomes the path that introduces you to your future friend; a diagnosis awakens courage you never suspected. These are not violations of physics; they are revelations of context.

Skepticism is useful, but it becomes sterile when it calcifies into certainty. Curiosity keeps skepticism honest. Opening the eyes is a practice of presence; opening the heart is a practice of gratitude; opening the soul is a practice of surrender. Together they cultivate a readiness, a posture that lets meaning meet you halfway.

Children practice this naturally. They do not demand a spectacle to be astonished; a puddle is an ocean, a cardboard box a spacecraft. Adults can recover that faculty without abandoning reason by training attention: pausing before conclusions, blessing what is good, asking what unseen threads connect events. Do this often enough and the miraculous ceases to be rare. It becomes the name we give to reality when we meet it with full awareness and unguarded love. The world has always been waiting to be noticed.