A miracle is a shift in perception, a realization that all minds are joined when the ego falls away. Suffering, painful though it is, can become the very soil in which healing takes root. Yet healing never forces itself upon us—it waits for our choice. Each person must decide whether to take responsibility for their own suffering, or to project it outward as blame. This moment is not a time for accusation. It is a time for awakening, for personal responsibility. It is a time for miracles. Blame is the ego’s favorite weapon. It points outward to avoid looking inward. It builds walls where bridges could stand. It convinces us that our pain is caused by others, while quietly reinforcing the patterns that keep us trapped in fear. Yet the truth is far simpler: we suffer because we resist what is. We resist our own responsibility. We resist the truth that peace begins within. To see this clearly is to reclaim the power to heal. Suffering teaches until the lesson is learned. Many of us only awaken through pain—through moments when life forces us to see that the old ways no longer work. In this sense, suffering has value, not because it is desirable, but because it can become the turning point. The moment I stop resisting and accept responsibility for my perception, the suffering dissolves. It has done its work. What remains is a clarity that does not come from winning arguments or blaming others, but from opening to what is true. We are being offered such a moment now. It is not a time to sharpen our weapons of ideology, but to soften our hearts. It is not a time to divide ourselves further into camps of right and wrong, but to recognize the deeper truth that we are reflections of one another. What I condemn in you is always a mirror of what I fear in myself. What I celebrate in you is always a reminder of what I am. To realize this is to undo the illusion of separation, and with it, the illusion of enemies. The culture around us profits from outrage. Media corporations sell division as though it were a drug, feeding us a steady drip of fear, blame, and indignation. Outrage may keep us entertained, but it does not keep us whole. Each clip we watch, each headline designed to inflame, pulls us deeper into a trance of separation. We do not even notice that we are being sold our own suffering. The hangover of that drug is emptiness, anxiety, and despair. Yet the remedy is simple: a pause, a breath, a moment of conscious presence. When I feel that rush of indignation, I can ask: Is this really who I want to be? Or am I just consuming the product being sold to me?