I watched my son enter the world, and I knew I was witnessing something magical, something far greater than a medical event. His body knew exactly what to do. For months unseen, unasked, and without instruction, it had been assembling itself. Bone and nerve. Heart and lungs. A nervous system learning its rhythms in the dark. An intelligence older than thought was at work, shaping, adjusting, correcting, preparing.

When the moment came, that same intelligence guided him through the narrow passage from the safety of the womb into the open air. No one had to tell his body how to do this. No one could have explained it to him even if they tried. He emerged, startled but alive. And then, without rehearsal, without memory, without prior experience, his lungs opened and drew in their first breath of fresh air.

Around us, nurses and doctors moved calmly, with precision and extraordinary kindness. They were protecting the miracle of life. Clearing space. Standing ready. They checked the cord, warmed his back, cleared the airway, watched the color come, and stayed out of the way of the reflexes that know their own order.

Watching this unfold, something became impossible to ignore. We search the skies for proof. We demand burning bushes and parted seas. We want something loud and public that proves it. We want the clouds to split and a voice to speak. We want a dramatic display that leaves no doubt.

Where is God? we ask. If it’s real, why doesn’t it show itself?

But what else could I call what I was seeing?

A body that knows how to build itself. A breath that knows when to begin. A mother’s body that knows how to nourish. A group of people keeping watch, loving and kind, while nature does its work.

The yogis taught that the divine is not a distant ruler demanding belief, that “God” is not known by argument, that instead, it is known by witnessing life acting intelligently through form, expressing itself through countless forms. The Absolute does not stand apart from the world. It flows through it. Through instinct. Through growth. Through love.

It does not hide from you. You hide from it, by expecting it to look extraordinary. You search for the miraculous while surrounded by it. In suffering and in joy. In the majestic and the microscopic. In every body that knows how to live without being told how.

The Absolute, the living principle at the heart of all things, the Creator, God whatever you call it, has been revealing itself all along.

Open your eyes.