Free What I Know For Sure by Oprah Winfrey Page B

craving a bowl of red pepper and tomato soup—then walking into the kitchen to find that my godmother, Mrs. E, left some on the stove for me. A miracle is watching a sunset the color of strained peaches and seeing it turn to raspberries by the end of my evening walk. It’s having pomegranate, kiwi, and mango on a pretty tray for breakfast. It’s admiring the pink peonies I cut from my own garden and placed in my bedroom. It’s when a green minivan pauses on the road and a young woman leans out the window to yell, “You’re the best teacher on TV!”—and she herself is a kindergarten teacher. It’s the sound of the birds and their individual songs and the moment when I wonder, Are they singing to each other, to themselves, or just to be heard?
    A miracle is the chance to roll in the grass with all of my dogs—and enjoy a full Sunday stretched before me with no obligations, no plans, no place to be. It’s the chance to come back to myself after a week of going, going, going and have time to finally just be—alone. To meditate on a log cabin porch, leaves rustling like water, newborn geese in the pond with their mother teaching them to swim. To feel the joy of this glorious life—and have the chance to live it as a free woman. If I know nothing else for sure, I know that the big miracles we’re waiting on are happening right in front of us, at every moment, with every breath. Open your eyes and heart and you’ll begin to see them.

     
     
    Getting older is the best thing that ever happened to me.
    I awaken to a morning prayer of thanks posted on my bathroom wall from Marianne Williamson’s book Illuminata. Whatever age I’m at, I think about all the people who never made it that far. I think about the people who were called before they realized the beauty and majesty of life on earth.
    I know for sure that every day holds within it the possibility of seeing the world with wonder.
    The older I get, the less tolerance I have for pettiness and superficial pursuits. There’s a wealth that has nothing to do with dollars, that comes from the perspective and wisdom of paying attention to your life. It has everything to teach you. And what I know for sure is that the joy of learning well is the greatest reward.

     
     
    I’ve heard truly amazing stories over the years, about almost every human situation. Conflict, defeat, triumph, resilience. But I’ve rarely been more awed than I was by John Diaz’s story. In October 2000, John was on Singapore Airlines flight 006 when it exploded at takeoff. Eighty-three people perished in the flames. John and 95 others survived. John—who describes himself as a very straightforward, competitive, and pragmatic kind of guy—still endures physical pain from his injuries. But in other ways he is more alive than he was before he literally went through the fire.
    The plane took off in typhoonlike conditions. Before John boarded, his instinct told him not to. He’d called the airline several times—“Are you sure this plane is taking off?”—because it was storming so badly. Peering out the window as the plane taxied, all he could see was rain. He was sitting in the very front of the plane and watched as the nose started to lift.
    But the 747 had turned down the wrong runway.
    At first he felt a small bump (the plane hitting a concrete barrier), followed by a huge bump right next to him where something (a backhoe) ripped a hole in the side of the plane right near where he was seated. His seat came unbolted and was thrown sideward. He could feel the motion of the plane rolling and spinning down the runway. And then it stopped. In his words:
    “Then the explosion hit … a great fireball came right out and over me all the way up to the nose of the plane and then sucked straight back, almost like in the movies. And then there was this spray of jet fuel like napalm—whatever it hit … ignited like a torch.…
    “And a gentleman, an Asian gentleman, comes running right up to