The Age of Miracles (14 page)

Read The Age of Miracles Online

Authors: Marianne Williamson

Dear God,

As I age,

make me ever more

the person You would have me be.

For I would know the joy of life

before my days are done.

Amen

I
INTERVIEWED A WOMAN ON MY RADIO SHOW
who’d had lupus for two decades; had been married to a man for many years who told her on Christmas Eve, while she was wrapping her small children’s presents, that he didn’t want to be married anymore; had lost one of her children suddenly in a violent accident; and is now married to a practicing alcoholic. I felt such admiration for her that she simply wakes up each morning to face another day. Any one of those things might have knocked me out for years.

I don’t know what it is that keeps us coming back up. When I think of what people have experienced—from Auschwitz to Rwanda to Iraq to everyday Americans just trying to survive—I can hardly stand it. Sometimes I think that the oceans are a material manifestation of humanity’s tears. Clearly there is some tenacity, some deeper longing to keep keeping on, that lies at the heart of the human experience. I don’t think we cleave to life for no other reason than that we’re afraid of death. I think we cleave to life out of a deeper knowing that there is something about it that has not happened yet. Like salmon rushing upstream, we instinctively know that we are here to continue the process of life. That we
are
the process of life. And as such, we’re here to contribute to a larger drama than our individual selves could ever fathom, much less describe.

At the end of Stanley Kubrick’s movie masterpiece
2001: A Space Odyssey,
an infant is seen floating through outer space. Surely that is the ultimate goal here: the birth of a new humanity. Yet if that child is to be born, someone needs to parent it—and that means you and me. Conceived in our minds and hearts, it will be breast-fed by our compassionate action. And this new delightful and delighted being is gestating inside us all. Wars and rumors of war abound, that is true. But people continue to fall in love. People continue to atone for their mistakes. People continue to forgive and to ask for forgiveness. And people continue to hope and pray. The point, when staring death in the face, is to proclaim more life. And we are doing that.

I believe in a compassionate God, for Whom it takes only one moment’s epiphany, one moment’s prayer, one moment’s genuine and humble desire to do right by love to inspire His intervention in the irresponsible drama of a reckless humanity. As we look not back nor forward, but deep within, we see a light that is greater than the darkness of the world, a hope that surpasses the understanding of the world, and a love that is greater than the hatred in the world.

Seeing that light, we shall follow that light through the birth canal toward humanity’s rebirth. While our labor is long and in some ways hard, we are being born to something huge and precious. We are being born to our own true selves. And we will never settle, ever again, for being less than we truly are.

Dear God,

May love prevail.

Amen

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

There’s usually only one name on the cover, but most every book is in some way a collective effort. Never was that more true for me than in writing this one.

My deepest thanks to:

Maya Labos, for starting the ball rolling that would bring me to Hay House. While not a literal homecoming, it’s a homecoming nevertheless.

Reid Tracy, for offering me a home.

Louise Hay, for being so hot and happening at 80.

Shannon Littrell, for generous and insightful help with the manuscript.

Jill Kramer, Amy Rose Grigoriou, Courtney Pavone, Jacqui Clark, Margarete Nielsen, and Jeannie Liberati at Hay House—for a profound blend of excellence and kindness.

Wendy Carlton, for the wonderful, tough editing that both teaches and inspires me.

Andrew Harvey and Andrea Cagan, my “literary midwives”—for getting me on literary track, making me feel I belong there, and insisting that I stay the ride.

Tammy Vogsland, for keeping the earth steady beneath me while I wrote.

Wendy Zahler, for wonderful support and really good vegetables.

Richard Cooper, Diane Simon, Alana Stewart, Alyse Martinelli, Carolyn Samuell, Matthew Allbracht, Stacie Maier, David Kessler, David Perozzi, Victoria Pearman, Suzannah Galland, Lila Cherri, and Gina Otto, for the comforts of friendship. And Mary Ann Check, for the comforts of home.

My mother, for everything. And Ella Gregoire, for an extraordinary blessing.

Oprah Winfrey, for endless opportunities both in the world and in my soul.

Wayne Dyer, for the warmth I feel around me even when I can’t reach you.

Bob Barnett, for wise counsel.

India, for crack editorial assistance and a million other things.

The many people around the world who have supported my work and been so kind to me, with more gratitude than you can imagine.

And a few others, of course—you know who you are… .

A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR

Marianne Williamson
is an internationally acclaimed lecturer and the best-selling author of
A Return to Love, The Healing of America, A Woman’s Worth,
and
Illuminata,
among other works. Williamson has done extensive charitable organizing throughout the country in service to people with life-challenging illnesses (she founded Project Angel Food in Los Angeles); and is the founder of The Peace Alliance, a nonprofit grassroots organization dedicated to fostering a culture of peace.

Website:
www.marianne.com

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