makes miracles happen in
our everyday lives
I live my life in a state of perpetual gratitude. I believe in magic. I believe in miracles. Not just the ethereal, other-worldly stuff. But the everyday stuff too. The stuff we all too often take for granted. Like our breath. What a miracle – the way our bodies breathe for us each and every moment of our lives. And what about other functions our bodies perform, like sight, mobility, hearing, touch, taste, smell, and so many other wonders.
Sometimes I am aware of divine intervention during the course of my daily routines. I find my car keys just in the nick of time, pay a bill and revel in the realization that I have the money to pay it, or consider the fact that I am one of five siblings and we are all friends. Indeed. My family, my friends, my comfortable lifestyle – all miracles. And this precious gift of writing – another miracle that I am humbled to perceive. I’ve shared my artist’s statement many times before and I’ll repeat it again: “Each and every poem I write, I consider a gift from God. A turn of a phrase. Emotions that surface. An experience distilled into verse. Each offering is a present from the Creator. All praises, I say. Thank you for choosing me as the vessel.”
My writing has spun me all over this world, from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific. From all across these so-called United States, to Mexico, South America, the Caribbean and Europe. At this writing, ports in Asia and Africa beckon and trust me, I fully intend to heed their call.
Just imagine. Me. Pheralyn. That same little girl who started out on Clifford Street in North Philadelphia. Reciting poems and Bible verses at Morris Brown AME Church. Writing letters to my grandmother who lived 500 miles away in South Carolina. Just imagine. That little girl is now a woman being paid to write about whatever the muse whispers in my ear. Just imagine. That little girl grew up to be a professional poet, paid to join the bandstand with some of the world’s most awesome musicians, offering my spoken words to the beats and riffs and melodies and harmonies that float off their instruments. Yeah. Just imagine. Is it any wonder I believe in magic? Any wonder I believe in miracles?
I took the photo above in Paris of the Arc de Triomphe at the end of the Avenue des Champs Elysees. I was in the City of Lights to cover the 2008 Richard Wright Centennial Conference for the Philadelphia Tribune. Now you have to believe me. That was quite a magical moment to find myself in the middle of traffic in Paris, on assignment to write about one of my favorite authors. First of all, I’m not even a staff writer for the Tribune. I’m a freelancer. And secondly, the Tribune, which is the nation’s oldest African American newspaper, does not have the kind of budget required to send freelancers across the Atlantic to cover a story. But thanks to magic, it happened for me.
Upon the recommendations of poets Lamont Steptoe and Aziza Kenteh, the cultural community in Philadelphia came together to raise the funds for my air fare and lodging, making sure there was no excuse for me not being there. I’ll never forget it. Once the word was out, Aziza circulated a letter of support on the Internet. Then on one of her famous “First Fridays on the Vine” open mic sessions, she announced my trip, asked for donations, and dropped a crisp $100 dollar bill in the basket before passing it around. The miracle manifested right before my eyes.
I feel so blessed to be on this path of finding my way through the brush and the thickets, all the while following my passions, lifting up my gifts to spread throughout the world. My wish, my prayer is that you too are ready to embark on a magical path of self-discovery, service, and gratitude. I hope that you too exist in a wonderland where the angels and the ancestors, the Creator and the muses all align to make your dreams come true. Where magical thinking makes miracles happen in your everyday life.
Here. Let me sprinkle some of this fairy dust on you too. Yes, yes indeed. I believe in magic. I believe in miracles. I believe in love.
*This post first appeared on my former blog: “Sacred Journey to Self Love.”