By Jan (*Somewhere between Groningen and God knows where*)
So.
You read the line: “Miracles are seen in the light.”
And you think:
“Well, sure. But have you seen the weather here?”
Let’s be honest. If you live in Groningen — or anywhere above the rivers — you might have trained yourself not to expect too much light.
And definitely not miracles.
But here’s the joke:
It’s not that kind of light.
It’s not “the sun’s finally out” light.
It’s the light of your Self.
The one that doesn’t care about the clouds, your to-do list, or your last bad decision.
It doesn’t flicker.
It just waits.
And when you stop muttering “ja maar…”
When you stop squinting at the dark and start asking,
“If I’m not a body, what the heck am I then?”
—
Well, then you’re in business.
Because miracles don’t need perfect weather.
They don’t need incense or enlightenment.
They just need one simple, radical gesture:
That you open your eyes.
Not your physical eyes — they’re overrated.
But that quiet eye inside you
That knows something very old, and very soft:
That love was never gone.
Only forgotten.
Behind the clouds of “I should…” and “I must…” and “It’s just how I am.”
So today, just maybe,
Groningen gets a miracle.
Not in the sky,
but in the moment you remember:
You are not weak.
You are not lost.
You are not a body.
You are the light.
Even with muddy boots on.
Even with deadlines.
Even if it rains all day.
Now go have your coffee.
But drink it slowly.