A HUNDRED MILLION MIRACLES

I got the perfect picture for this post the other week!  I’ve been on the lookout for such a  field for awhile.  I was going to settle for a close up shot of a handful of the flowers when Sheba and I walked through this schoolyard.  There before our eyes was this beautiful field of dandelions….just as I have seen in my mind’s eyes.  For a full impact, please click on the picture to get the full size image.  It is breath-taking beautiful, absolutely wonderful….this expanse of sunshine.  You probably think I’m nuts, going on and on about a field of weeds.

I have not been feeling well lately.  I have been in a blue funk of some nameless sort.  When I opened my eyes the other day,  I saw my yard was full of dandelions.  I saw it was engulfed in weeds.  I became depressed and full of despair.  I felt hopeless.  How was I going to make it all go away?  I needed to change my view of seeing the glass half empty.  I needed to see it half full…not a small task.  I remembered reading in the paper about the curing virtues of the dandelion.  I decided to change the way I think about this plant….not as a weed, but as a valuable medicinal herb.

I am going to dig out the dandelions, save the roots, clean and dry them to make a tea –  the rest of the plant is going into the compost, or maybe into a salad or sauteed.  The possibilities are numerous if I am just a little adventurous.  The going is slow and I concentrate on doing one little area at a time.  I think of the exercise I’m getting and the roots I’m gathering. I feel somewhat of a pioneer.  I wonder if the flower is good for tea?  The song I’m hearing in my head today is A Hundred Million Miracles.  That’s what I think of when I see this lovely yellow weed called the Dandelion.  And I am sure that there is a hundred million of them!

I’ve never stopped to think about how miraculous life is.  It’s taken all these 60 plus years and a song from the Flower Drum Song for me to see. Each of us is a hundred million miracles in ourselves, miracles of a hundred and million cells breathing and working each and every moment of every day.  Every moment is a moment to revered and appreciated.  They are gifts ….. they are our lives.

It is something that I will have to remember…in those moments when I am tired, discouraged, in pain, in sorrow….whatever.  I will have to open my eyes and look around me and see and remember….all the miracles in our world and that nothing stays the same.

A HUNDRED MILLION MIRACLES (from the movie “The Flower Drum Song”)

My father says that children keep growing,
Rivers keep flowing too.
My father says he doesn’t know why,
But somehow or other they do.
–They do! some how or other they do.–

A hundred million miracles,
A hundred million miracles are happ’ning ev’ry day,
And those who say they don’t agree
Are those who do not hear or see.
A hundred million miracles,
A hundred million miracles are happ’ning ev’ry day,

–Miracle of changing weather:–
When a dark blue curtain is pinned by the stars,
Pinned by the stars to the sky,
Ev’ry flow’r and tree is a treat to see,
The air is very clean and dry.

Then a wind comes blowing the pins all away,
Night is confused and upset!
The sky falls down like a clumsy clown,
The flowers and the trees get wet.–Very wet!–

A hundred million miracles,
A hundred million miracles are happ’ning ev’ry day,
And when the wind shall turn his face,
The pins are put right back in place!
A hundred million miracles,
A hundred million miracles are happ’ning ev’ry day!

In ev’ry single minute so much is going on,
Along the Yangtse Kiang or the Tiber or the Don.
A hundred million miracles!

A swallow in Tasmania is sitting on her eggs,
And suddenly those eggs have wings and eyes and beaks and legs!
A hundred million miracles!

A little girl in Chungking, just thirty inches tall,
Decides that she will try to walk and nearly doesn’t fall!
A hundred million miracles!

A hundred million miracles, a hundred million miracles,
A hundred million miracles are happ’ning ev’ry day!

My father says the sun will keep rising over the eastern hill.
My father says he doesn’t know why but somehow or other it will.
–It will! somehow or other it will.–

(Reprise)
–Miracle of making music:–
When an idle poet puts words on a page,
Writes on a page with his brush,
A musical friend writes the notes to blend
Suggested by an idle thrush.

Then a young soprano reads what they wrote,
Learns every note, every word,
Puts all they wrote in her lovely throat,
And suddenly a song is heard!
–Very Pretty!–

A hundred million miracles, a hundred million miracles,
A hundred million miracles are happ’ning ev’ry day!

About hafong

Hello! My name is (Leung) Hafong alias Lily Leung. You always say the last name first….that is the Chinese way. That is my partner lurking behind me. Since this is my blog, I won’t mention his name. But this is a rather cool picture. You see me and yet you don’t…sort of the way I feel about myself most of my life. So this blog is a self-exploration, an archeology dig of some sort. My tools…..words of a thousand or so at a sitting. I will try for that.
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