How do I recognize a miracle when it happens in my own life?

Rumi teaches us that miracles aren't always the dramatic breaking of laws—sometimes they're the quiet rearrangement of what was already there. A miracle might be the conversation that arrives exactly when you needed it, the sudden clarity after months of confusion, or the way grief transforms into compassion. The key is noticing. Most of us live half-awake, expecting miracles to announce themselves like thunder. But real miracles often whisper. They ask you to pay attention to the small impossibilities: the timing that couldn't have been planned, the stranger who became essential, the door that opened when all others were closing. In my tradition, we say the whole cosmos is a miracle—your breath, your heartbeat, the way love persists despite everything. So the practice isn't waiting for extraordinary signs. It's developing the capacity to witness what's already miraculous. Start by pausing once a day and asking: what today was I too hurried to recognize as grace? That attention itself becomes the miracle.