Epiphanies are like blissful pops of clarity, to me. Soft subtle surprises of the very best kind. Lightning bolts of direction and understanding. Discoveries and oracles. Clarity in the crevices. Revelations and realizations. Sudden changes of being.

They come in so many ways, a conversation, a mountain bike ride, practically choking on your water when it hits you, a drive, writing, skiing down the slope, a teacher, meditation, a shower, transforming your energy to the core, your dog licking your face, a child’s unconditioned wisdom.

You suddenly have a new design for the doghouse you’re building, you open to receiving something you’ve yearned for years, realizing where you’ve been unwilling to change; you can suddenly embrace both life and death in your heart making you present to love others; you know what you want to do next in your company; you move; you’re done; you’re suddenly clear what you don’t want…and what you do, you can feel it in your bones.

They come when we consciously or unconsciously have opened ourselves to the untamed within. We stop looking for the answer or the clarity we expect, within the container or structure we’ve been looking, and it shows up in its wild way.

Make room for them on purpose.

Epiphanies are not moving around the pieces of what you already know or have been, like pieces on a chess board or rearranging the chairs on the Titanic. Epiphanies are part of the standard faire when you’re in love with the creative edge of your life, with the unknown, with surprises, with the quantum field.

From the most subtle perspective shift to the deepest pattern dissolutions in your being, their grateful arrival moves you never to return again to the spaces that can no longer sustain or contain.

Epiphanies come when we’re playing, when we’ve relaxed and opened our focus, when we keep creating, even in stillness, instead of waiting or holding our breath; when we access that inner part of us on purpose.

You can cultivate the soil, plant your seeds, water, set up a trellis, metaphorically hoping for your epiphany. But it doesn’t come. That is, until a surprise moment, when your hanging your hoe in the shed, putting your feet up in your favorite chair, brushing your daughter’s hair or watching your dad comb his.

Epiphanies love those unplanned moments, the untamed spaces, knowing your listening and so attuned it can come in any moment.

Cultivate the space for them, till they become an ongoing conversation with life. May epiphanies reign.

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