Looking Beyond the Surface

I live in New York, NY, a city wrongly depicted as cold, hard and in a hurry. It seems that that's really only true of the people who have come here from somewhere else, already hard and thoughtless, expecting to fit in, trampling all over the New York that was here long before they ever heard of it. I see a different New York. I had to travel all over the country, awed by snow-capped mountains, scraggly deserts, lush lakes, and seemingly alien wildlife to see it, but it's clear to me now.

Every one of the eight million or so people in this city is the same as me. We all eat, drink, breathe, and love, or at least, try to love. The squirrels in Madison Square Park are as breathtaking as any antelope. The blooms in the little tree boxes on the sidewalk are just as unbelievable as the tropical flowers of Maui. The soaring luxury condos and squat storefronts all reflect man's drive to create, a trait that in turn reflects our very source. And sometimes, two or three of those eight million or so people will really see each other, and our divinity is once again affirmed.

These are my everyday miracles.