A Map for Finding Miracles
To live simply is to unlock the riches of riches.
To live simply is to unlock the riches of riches.
To spend each moment drinking in the beauty.
To notice the peculiar shade of blue the sky is in this moment.
To see the ever-shifting shapes of clouds.
To not only hear the bird song, but feel it’s joy within that song.
To feel the silent pride of a blade of grass, for it has pushed through the earth with its improbable, yet determined, strength and stands here, in the sunshine, triumphant.
To understand the dedication of a bee stepping carefully through a flower’s center, honouring and giving thanks for this pollen.
To feel the healing of a rain.
To let your heart break open even wider at a sunset.
These are the things all around.
These are the things that bless and remind you of the ordinariness of miracles.
These are the things that bless and remind you of your extraordinariness to be witness to such miracles.
I love how quiet and, dare I say, ordinary?, this Dear Heart letter is. And yet, it isn’t. For within it is the secret to what, I believe, we all are searching for. If it is not the magic, the mystery, the beauty, and wonder of this life that we truly crave, then what is it? And it is hidden all around us, in plain view. But it can only be seen by those with open, innocent hearts. By those like you. What a blessing to me that you are here. What a blessing to know that others can see the world that I see, and most magical of all, can also see the Light-filled world that is emerging. May the world be filled with magic and miracles for you today and always.
Blessings and Love,
P.S. Some pictures from the magical place where I live (including me visiting with my favourite tree - she’s 800 years old!). Just some of the ordinary miracles that I live amongst on Vancouver Island, Canada.















Oh wow! I love the beauty in this letter and in the photographs you’ve shared. They are perfect for this message. And the quote at the start drew me in. Thank you, Lori! 🌟✨
This felt like a soft exhale that never needed to become a sentence. I didn’t read your words, I rested in them. There’s a kind of magic that doesn’t raise its voice. Yours hums gently through the roots, through the sky, through the golden silence between bee and bloom.
Thank you for reminding me that witnessing is enough.
And that miracles never ask to be seen, only met 🌿✨