No less than life herself

I thought hard, before writing this. I tried to isolate a single topic moment, unexpected and marvellous, unveiling new worlds, or gifting a luminous pearl for me, me only.

But despite my attempts, I wasn't able to choose. I may say of the moment when, I was two years old, my dad told me I had a little brother. Or when, after years of life, I discovered the colors of life in a landscape I had seen already many hundreds times. Or the incredible wisdom in the first understandable words of the child of a friend...

They are too many, however, and all of them stand out, their own way, so I feel really impossible to name one "the" miracle.

But, let me stop for a moment thinking hard, and let's contemplate.

All these miracles have one thing in common, life itself.

Life, uniting all of us in a single plot.

Life, so accidental and mysterious.

We perceive its ebb and flow over and over, month after month, until a new phase discloses. It's life red of blood and flesh.
And it seems to us so inevitable, so powerfully strong.

But look down, in the little. Let's step, if we can, to the minuscule germs of life in any cell, in its mysterious organelles. Down, down more, until the complex texture of molecules.

Then, after you imagine having all dissected, you astonish in front of a phenomenon which, physically, "should not exist". Life propagates along the deep time of Earth evolution, every moment changing, and so close to itself.

Life is a wonderful absurdity. It's the only process in the Universe which is able to create more and more order, against the path traced by the Second Principle of Thermodynamic.

Every nanosecond in our life cycles not less complex than the whole dance with the Moon deploy silently and... My goodness, they work! I'm still alive, while imagining so. I shouldn't be, according to the tendency of matter to evolve towards a dumb, cold, meaningless chaos.

But stones themselves, their calm way, participate to life. They too move in circles, deep in the mantle, then up in the crust, until exhumed, crushed and displaced by erosion. To mold other rocks, somewhere else. And to return, once more, to the safe, chtonic deep somewhere. Over and over. Unimaginably so.

How not to deeply love this all?

And how not to admire, in awe, this enormous, tiny, eternal, instantaneous miracle?

Yours,
Mauri