“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child—our own two eyes. All is a miracle.”

― Thich Nhat Hanh

In 2018, I was teaching English in the Dominican Republic and falling in love with meditation. Unfortunately, I was also falling out of love with a coworker I dated. Unable to bear a chance encounter with her each morning, I would arrive at the school before everyone else, my only companions the clean stillness of the early morning and the blue sky above me aching with possibility.

Fresh off a breakfast of mangú and chuleta one morning, I arrived at school and was quickly caught in an imaginary dialogue between me and my ex. I was walking to my classroom through the quiet school grounds, lost in my thoughts, when I stopped in my tracks. I noticed a tree. I was stunned at the beauty of this giant palm bursting up from the ground. Its majesty seems almost musical.

Prior to this encounter, I had spent a couple months doing morning meditation to self-soothe my breakup wounds. Nevertheless, the more I studied the tree, the more I realized I didn’t know it at all. I had never truly seen a tree.

In this essay, I’ll reveal a technique I use to grasp the true nature of anything I look at. Welcome to comprehension beyond meaning.

Why is it that some people exist in an optimistic daydream despite dire circumstances, while others are crushed by debilitating pessimism in the face of great success? The answer lies within you.

People constantly ask me how I can remain so positive when the circumstances turn sour. The answer is my world is already filled with more wonders than I could ever explore. I know the meditation is coursing through my system like a cosmic drug when I find myself distracted on walks by the leaves of bushes on the sidewalk. A leaf is a chlorophyll universe, and I hold its fragility in my hand. When I look at its veins spread out across the surface, I see it as an imaginary map of hidden treasures.

The colors on any dead leaf you pick up have the potential to astound you. The spectrum of colors that rip across its surface reminds me of a wildfire. The way the light hits a waxy leaf makes it glow, like being handed a golden key from a disembodied hand in the clouds.

Maybe it’s not the wonder of leaves that you fall in love with. Washing the dishes, for example, can also change everything. Instead of a podcast or death metal, try silently scrubbing and cleaning. Feel the water running over your hand. Watch the light shimmer as it reflects off the slick porcelain or plastic. Watch as you–creator of worlds–make bubbles appear as you run the sponge up and down the surface of a bowl or a fork. You use your hands to do what you need to do with the dishes. This fact alone should amaze you. Washing the dishes is a chance for your hands to frolic in a pristine waterfall while you run your fingertips over some of the smoothest surfaces you’ll encounter all day. What is not to love about the symphony of sensory overload? Light, color, texture, smell, and touch all weave together to form the miracle of dishwashing. You clean what is dirty, but in the process, you are cleaned. Washing the dishes has fallen in love with you. Can you fall in love with it?

The task becomes the reward. The goal becomes the task. Life falls away. Everything that matters is reduced to a single point of focus. This kind of joy–the joy of task–can be tapped into whether it’s conversing or cleaning. The world is begging for you to discover its magic. And when you look for it, you will find it.

Maybe you fill your life with social media because you’ve forgotten just how much stimulation there is in the real world. Or maybe you’re running from the feelings you can’t bear to face. Maybe you are desperate to sign your name on the cosmic wall of significance. Whatever it may be, looking for more beauty is the answer.

Tune into the frequency that you’ve always existed in: your own. Look at your surroundings as a child would and you will stumble into a universe of meaning that’s been there the whole time. There are two ways to do this.

Method #1

Pick any object in your environment. Then, look at it with your full attention. Ask yourself, “What is that?” I am continually astounded that my glass of water suspends volume in the air as if it’s hovering, a pillar of liquid that I somehow take for granted. What is the texture? How does the light reflect off of it? Is there a smell? What are the details that you notice when you look at the object in front of your nose versus from across the room? What are the parts that make up the whole? Give the object the care that you would give to a sick child in your arms. Send all your love and appreciation to this object for what it does: helping you sit, read, listen to music, or whatever it is.

Method #2

Stare at an object without looking away for an hour. Examine the object as closely as you can, and then step back until you can see the object in full. Look at all its details. As the hour ticks on, the object will become more and more interesting until you break through to the other side and comprehend it without meaning.

Some of you may wonder how someone could focus on something for this long. But if you want results that other people don’t have, you have to do things that other people won’t do. Spending an hour looking at an object is a secret in mindfulness. It’s an effective way to start literally seeing the true nature of things. Put your phone away, take some time for yourself, and practice this. It’s a spectrum of understanding, so if you can’t do an hour, half an hour can do, as can fifteen minutes. There’s only one rule: don’t look away.

Staring at the palm tree in the Dominican Republic turned into gazing at it for an hour. I walked up to the tree until I could only see the rough bark in front of my nose. And then, I slowly backed up until I could see the whole tree without moving my head. I devoured every detail over the course of an hour, and it helped me comprehend what Tree was for the first time. I see trees completely differently now. I don’t see them as disparate parts, but instead as forms beyond their parts.

Ultimately, the secret to profound joy has never been anywhere but right here, hidden in everyday existence.