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4 Cases of My Strong Trust Resulting with Small Miracles

Val is a life-long student of unexplored human potential and many challenges that self-honesty throws at us on that path.


Miracles are not contrary to nature, but only contrary to what we know about nature.

-- Saint Augustine

Miracle No.1: Lost Set of Keys

Couple of weeks ago my wife and I left home for a walk at a nearby mall, as we often do whenever weather doesn't allow for a walk in our favorite park-forest.

As usual, she was window-shopping around, maybe trying some shoes on or whatever women do, while I was strolling back and forth casually observing people and listening to my MP3 with positive affirmations and theta sound frequencies in the background,

After some time we walked out, now approaching our car, when, reaching in my pocket for keys I couldn't feel the spare set there -- which caused a little jolt up my spine, because on that set I had my apartment key, main entrance key, and spare car key.

No need to describe how fast I was checking all other pockets, while knowing in advance that I wouldn't find them, since I always keep both sets in my right side pocket of my jeans.

Reluctantly I shared the news with my wife, and let me skip her reaction which would take too long to describe.

As for myself, being the way I am, after that short initial shock I got flooded by strange calm and a sort of resolve which I recognized from before -- one of a sudden "knowing" that the keys would be found.

I didn't know "how", and it was a moment of an almost insane trust that I could "create" the desired outcome.

My wife calmed down somewhat, now talking about the possibility that I had dropped the other set at our parking spot while taking my driving set out of the pocket. Going on positively, she mentioned how maybe a good neighbor found them and took them to the Superintendent.

Of course, that only after she gave me a scenario of one of those suspicious looking tenants finding them. Then, knowing that our car was the only Toyota on that side, now also knowing whose keys they were; then he would have knocked on the door to make sure no one was at home, and walked in to help himself with anything in there.

All awhile I was just driving and almost entranced by that "knowing", that trust, which I felt so many times before.

Arriving at our parking spot and not seeing anything on the ground that would look like keys must have given my poor wife a spike of high blood pressure. I quickly got out of the car, told her that I was going to check with the Superintendent, forgetting that I didn't have the key of the main entrance.

And then, as I was rushing toward the entrance -- there they were, maybe five yards from the door, laying on the ground for everybody to see.

In those few hours of our absence, anybody getting in or out of that seven stories high building must have practically stepped over them.

To me it was a little miracle, especially as I was thinking of quite a few of known druggies in that building, with possibly some dark activities, since they didn't work at all. Call it luck, call it whatever, but it did feel like a miracle.


Miracles happen every day, change your perception of what miracle is, and you'll see them all around you.

-- Jon Bon Jovi

Miracle No.2: Curing My Heart Arrhythmia

When some 17 years ago I found myself in hospital bed with a violent heart arrhythmia, I immediately blamed my two packs of smokes, several coffees, and beer for it.

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Then the good doctor told me that I could have got it even without any of those habits.

"It's just something that some people get at a certain age". -- he said. But the real verdict came when he added that I would probably keep coming every few months with the same problem, because "there is only a way to stabilize it, but not to cure it".

At which point I heard myself blurt out: "Well, then I will be the first to heal it".

You know what kind of look he gave me, I don't have to tell. But right there I "knew" that my body could heal it on its own -- didn't know how, but at the moment it didn't matter at all.

I had another, and then another episode some months after, but they were so short that I didn't bother going to the hospital. The third one I stopped with some kind of tea, but all along I was firmly convinced that sooner or later I would get rid of that condition by the power of my trust alone.

That opportunity came some 16 years ago when we went to Las Vegas, where I got it on the last day before returning home.

Knowing that I couldn't go to the hospital even if I wanted to -- I got that same surge of trust, which made me decide not to go to the hospital at all once when I come home, but let it run out its course "and then disappear forever".

While on the plane, my wife kept spying on me, every so often asking "Are you okay?" I think it was my calm smile that finally allowed her to doze off leaning her head on my shoulder.

After arriving home, I told her that I was not going to the hospital, because I had no alarming symptoms, and I wanted to deal with it myself. She didn't insist, just said: "I hope you know what you are doing."

And I did know what I was doing. Almost in a state of grace mixed with a victorious feelings, I spent the next three or four days, acting as if there was nothing in the world to bother.

It was Monday when we returned from Las Vegas, and when I woke up on Thursday morning, my ticker was beating normally.

If I had been a cat in that moment, I think I would have started purring so loud that my neighbors would have heard me.

I never got another episode. And if it ever came about, I would give it the same "medical treatment" of not giving a rat's ass about it.


Out of difficulties grow miracles.

-- Jean de la Bruyere

Miracle No.3: Healing an Ugly, Nasty, Bleeding Polyp

As I am presenting these miracles in their chronological order back in time, the next one to be talked about is the case of a quarter size, cushiony, red polyp on the sole of my foot -- some couple of decades ago.

It was hanging on a short and thin stem, which, whenever disturbed, started bleeding profusely.

The good doctor cut it off -- only to make it grow back with vengeance at a mushroom speed. Then the doctor suggested a surgery in hospital where they would dig deeper into its roots.

It was Thursday when I came back from the doctor, and my surgery appointment was to be on Tuesday the following week.

I guess, by now you already are familiar enough with my weird shifting into a state of trust, so I don't have to elaborate much about what my brainstorming was about as I sat on my couch with eyes closed, "knowing" that there wouldn't be any surgery the next Tuesday.

Somehow I felt violated, insulted by the doctor's verdict -- like I was some dummy who didn't know how to heal my own foot of that stupid looking polyp. A surge of resolve which I recognized from before, saturated my mind, my heart, my soul.

Like out of nowhere I got this crazy idea to try so called "pranic healing" that I had read about in who knows which of those thousand books.

Almost in a playful mood I was going to perform that pranic healing on my foot. So I crossed my leg, now facing the polyp, and after rubbing my palms together for few seconds, I started performing circular motions over the polyp, envisioning a green healing energy emanating from my palm.

Then I did the second step that looked like picking up the bad energy of the polyp and throwing it away. That I did for about half a minute, before switching back to the step one.

While it did feel like a sort of fun -- not a damn thing happened about my polyp in the next 20 or so minutes, at which point I quit -- but not in my head, somehow still convinced that I was eventually going to win over that bastard of a polyp.

The bed time came, and I went to take a bath, because by standing under shower I could make the crazy thing bleed.

As I was sitting there, suddenly I realized that the regular feeling of a bee-sting was missing from my foot. I carefully moved my foot to take a look, and I got a most pleasant shock.

That cushiony polyp was now thin like a leaf and hanging on a hair-thin stem. I poked it with my finger and it fell off.

Like an idiot I came out of the bathroom holding my polyp between my fingers in front of me like some kind of a trophy, to show it off to my wife and daughter.

To me it was a little medical miracle. When some time later I saw the doctor for some little thing, he asked: "By the way, what happened with that polyp of yours".

I asked him to promise not to laugh, and he didn't, after I told him about my pranic healing session -- just winked at me and said: "Well, whatever works".


Once all struggle is grasped, miracles are possible,

-- Mao Zedong

Miracle No.4: Obtaining Missing Immigration Documents

The year was 1981, when my wife and I decided to move from Canada to California, where her oldest sister lived with her daughter and family.

So we went to the American Embassy to start the process of immigration, at which point we were given a bunch of printed instructions with hand-circled necessary documents to be presented at the time of final interview.

We got them all -- or we thought so, because when the time came, we found out that two of the documents had not been circled by the mistake of the clerk. We showed the paper proving it, and the official was good enough to give us three days to get those papers from ex-Yugoslavia, otherwise our case would be reopen only after 3 months.

My poor wife went ballistic on the way home, while I I have to say it?

Yes, I "knew" it, again, that there was a solution -- albeit, at that moment I couldn't think of one if someone would force it out of me at a gun point. I just kept having that surge of heightened trust that everything was going to be okay.

By that time we already had quit our jobs, took the kids out of school and sold the furniture -- so I don't have to tell you why my wife kept despairing on the way home from the Embassy.

Then, the moment I stepped into our home, I knew what to do. I phoned my wife's sister in Yugoslavia, and asked her to, please, get that proof of my completed army service and one about my clean criminal record.

The next step for her, I said, was to go to the airport and find the flight to Toronto, then ask a "nice looking traveler" to bring those papers to us. Next, she was to phone us and describe the dude and tell us the time of the plane's arrival in Toronto.

Everything, to the last detail went as I planned, and we just had enough time to have the papers translated at notary public before literally running into the Embassy.

Well, to me that was nothing short of a miracle that I, first of all, got that idea, and even more important, that everything played out that smoothly.

So, these are the four miracles which were way beyond a simple luck.

I hope you found it all interesting, maybe even reminding of something in your own life which could not be explained by any other way but as a miracle.

© 2022 Val Karas

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