Do people ask for miracles these days?

"When was the last time you asked for a miracle?" I asked friends and family a couple of weeks ago.

I was curious how they'd respond.

Putting religious interpretations of miracles aside as well as scientific, historical or cultural vantage points, I was more curious about people's expectations.

What does modern man, scratch that, post-post-modern man expect from his world? Past the age of reason, past the enlightenment, have we become disenchanted thanks to our focus on facts?

In general, I think the answer is yes. To me, it seems that beyond the half-hearted attempt of Santa Claus, we have painted ourselves into a corner.

What corner? The idea that anything could happen to me in this great big, mysterious world is what excited me as a child.

That excitement translated into dreams and those dreams nourished a desire to be the first one out the door everyday. Every plane that hung from the sky, every car that whizzed by populated my world with possibilities.

Outside of the realm of religion, the purpose of miracles has a lot to do with our expectations. Does it sound over the top if I say that I expect my life to be miraculous?

Out of the dozen or so people that I surveyed, only three had given any thought to asking for a miracle as an adult. What do we lose in our rational preference for proof?

If you don't ask, you don't get, as the saying goes.

Years ago, in my previous career, a co-worker who was more successful at what he did than I was, walked me through an intriguing exercise. It went something like this:

"Picture yourself down the road, years from now," he said. "Let's say you're 30. How much money do you want to be making by then?"

I replied, "$30,000."

"OK, now that you have that in your head," he said, "you'll figure it out."

I thought it was an absurdly brief and arbitrary exercise. I picked that number to be my future salary because it sounded like a lot of money at the time. As it turned out, the goal wasn't a hard one to achieve.

My friend's method worked. It sounded like a shot in the dark to me at the time. How would I go from making $24,000 to $30,000 in just a few years, especially since I found my way into that company as a temp?

The path forward was unknown to me. Without the aid of facts, it was a leap. But it was a leap that I believed was possible. And what if I chose to be a realist?

The odds that a temp, who knew nothing about the field in which he landed, would be able to almost double his salary in such a short time seemed low. (I actually overshot my goal by a lot!)

A realest might have assessed himself at the bottom of the totem-pole and thought lower expectations would be prudent.

"If it is something you can receive by asking is it a miracle?" my mother-in-law, Ann asked.

That is the key point here. Many times, what you believe determines the outcome.

"Are hoping and asking the same?" Ann continued. "Is a miracle bigger than a hope?"

Are people's hopes big enough these days?

My dad once offered advice that would fit well here.

"There are many reasons why you can't do things in life, but if you can think of one reason why you can, go for it," he said.

Shooting down the possibility of miracles in your life takes away that reason. This is the corner we should avoid painting ourselves into.

When was the last time you asked for a miracle? Is there one that you wish were possible?

For more of The Joy of Life, visit genemyers.com.

Quick! What do you want out of life?

As spring gets underway, new projects abound! To keep track of everything I wrote a life list. A life list can mean different things to different people. It can be a simple list of tasks or it can be a things-to-do-before-you-die list.

In my mind, the list was also an icebreaker sparking meaningful conversations and illuminating the hopes and dreams of friends and family. But that's not how they saw it.

One night, at dinner with a friend, I beamed as I showed him my life list on my PDA. I awaited anxiously to see if he would in-turn construct a list of his own right there in front of me at the Hibachi restaurant while the chef made a flaming volcano of onions shoot fire to the ceiling.

Unfortunately, he did not. Not that he wasn't game, but he said he needed some time to think about it. I understood, or at least I was preoccupied with my hot sake.

On vacation, sitting with my cousin eating space ice cream (a dehydrated treat that looks suspiciously like a block of sugar) outside of the Men In Black ride at Universal Studios in Orlando, I proudly presented my list.

After reading that I would like to own another Jeep in my lifetime, my cousin said he would have to consult his wife before coming up with his own list.

Once again, the life list didn't seem to be a key to anyone's soul. Bonding with my cousin would have to be done over a day of motion sickness-inducing rides and junk food - I highly advise against this combination!

But, as you can see, a pattern emerged, and it continued with other friends and relatives. I was disappointed. How come my scheme to get to know the people in my life better wasn't working?

"It's not always easy to decide what you want," my wife said.

This didn't make sense to me. Stating desires and needs seemed simple. To illustrate that point, I asked our dog if he wanted water. He danced around the kitchen on his hind legs eager with anticipation as I topped off his bowl. My wife didn't buy it.

"People want to want the right things," she said.

It's an interesting point. I wasn't asking people a simple question like would they like a drink. How we spend our time on earth is one of the deepest, most difficult issues we have to tackle. Being in my loved ones' faces waiting for them to present their plans in writing probably made it harder.

But I still hope they give these lists a shot in private moments. To paraphrase Henry David Thoreau, you only hit what you aim for.

Googling "life list" brings up the name John Goddard. He is the subject of many motivational Web sites. Goddard wrote a list while he was a teenager.

Sixty years later, he completed 109 of his 127 goals. He learned to fly a plane, swam in Lake Superior and drove a submarine, but he didn't climb Mount Everest. He visited the Great Wall of China, built his own telescope and read the Bible cover to cover. But, to date, he still hasn't owned a chimpanzee.

My list is nowhere near as ambitious. Although who hasn't dreamt of owning a
chimpanzee? My list still gives me joy though, even just looking at it!

Somehow dreams, like singing in a band with my wife, seem more tangible now that they are written down.