miracle

i have a friend who believes that everything can be explained scientifically. that all is chemistry, math, physics. one doesn't fall in love, one's chemicals interact. one is not inspired, one's neurons fire ganglions that spark synapses which translate 'i will paint the library red'. there is no New Age or old age other dimension, after life or ESP. spirituality is soft brain. Tarot cards are a gypsy mirage. astrology, meditation, prayer, religion - a fool's fabrication. miracles do not exist. all has an objective, rational fingerprint understood and languaged by the mighty mind. i'm in the other camp. a hard core ex-hippie who believes that whatever you imagine is 'real'. other dimensionality via drug spoon, deja vu or a dream-triggered song is evidence sufficient and who can 'explain' love anyway? Keats, Auden, Bishop - it takes a poet, not an ivory tower. why clutter up a pretty mind with dirty facts? i defer to a Van Gogh landscape which was how he 'saw' the fields of southern France, or the dazzling whirl of stars. i take the inexplicable as an 'of course'. of course there are previous as well as follow-up lifetimes. of course there is karma in love, in difficulty, in the dharma bum path of each snowflake being. of course there is a soul. of course there are miracles. case in point: healing a burn on my hand. two weeks ago in a frantic rush to yank a pizza out of the hopper at work, the hot edge of the oven door nicked the skin behind my thumb. it curled up like a window shade snap-exposing a pulpy pink spot the size of a nickel. it made me gag just to look at it. i had a waitress tape a band-aid over it so as to not infect or gross me out. back home i slathered disinfectant only to learn that it's best to do nothing. to not cover up. to let the burn air out, dry and heal. my fabulous t-cells went to work collecting around the wound like circled wagons, ant busy and tireless to clean, repair and rebuild new skin. it took 15 days and itched as i waited. the sting of the work done was a reminder that something amazing was going on. like ET healing Elliott with a god-creates-Adam touch of forefinger-to-forefinger. the Hollywood miracle became true blue 'reality' on my hand. i appreciate the happy rehab. i know, it's all science. any idiot with half a brain could explain what was up, but not me. it was, for this stubborn old bird, a miracle.