This is a strange choice for an example of what I consider a most sacred moment. I am not a basket ball fan. Still, this past Sunday, I was passing through the living room while Lee was watching the LA Lakers play Orlando. Since, the living room television is in high definition, I paused to watch.

It was then that a basketball player tossed a ball through a basket. As in a ballet, from finger-tips to toes, his body aligned with the trajectory with the ball, the goal… the stars. It that moment, I saw the grace and beauty of the human body that all artists have tried to capture. It was a wondrous sight.

In perfect stillness, his body lifted from earth disturbing only air, one with his desire, within and without. Nothing else existed. Until the ball slapped through the net, I held my breath.

“Look, look,” I said, “he just touched God.”

It is the moment a writer finds the right word, the moment an athlete excels, the moment of birth, the completion of an objective, a project is completed. This moment of miracles belongs only to the achiever. It is a personal miracle, a momentary awareness of all that is possible.