As you breathe, you know you're alive. Every movement you make, that you will your body to take, proves that you're alive in ways that you've come to take for granted. You do not even think about the mystery of this thing, this life that causes you to lift your body each day from your bed and set about the tasks that you have ahead of you. Feed yourself. Make your car start. Drive through hundreds of other cars, all moving fast enough to kill you and each other. Climb out of your womb and snake your way into the misery of labour and work for enough money to feed your car and buy the food and make a place for your bed.
Then to do it all over again.
If you have the power, open your hand and place it before your face and look at it. Try, if you can, to comprehend the complexity of that tool that you use easily every day, so easily that you need not even think about the complexity of the tool to apply it. Imagine how difficult it would be to manufacture a tool that, not only did what your hand does, but does it so gracefully that you need not give more than the most fleeting thought in order to make that tool do what you want.
Now grasp that this happened by chance.
Not by manufacture. An incomprehensible number of chances occurring in an incomprehensible number of living beings of incomprehensible nature, stumbling and procreating their way along through an incomprehensible number of sunsets, mixing and mutating until something as complex as you became so commonplace that it can be completely ignored in its millions.
How odd that we take it all for granted.