Epiphany

Art by Arkadiusz Danovski

The first week of the year always delivers epiphany in one way or another. Arriving in strange freefall as we watch our world glower and glitch. The days of inversion are upon us. Capricorn's many thresholds jam packed with revelation and rampant revision. Our world tipping wildly Pluto's way, tangling in a brand spanking Aquarian initiation sequence.

January 6th rings on the calendar as Epiphany. Its roots far more ancient than the Christian celebration of the Magi who followed a star. Far more seditious than storming the capital of ailing empire. Far more prophetic than either lets on. Ancient wise ones scryed these past twelve omen days, throwing bones in darkness to deliver cryptic keys and clues to the year ahead, falling like snowflakes brief and silent.

Such a beautiful word to roll around in your mouth, epiphany is from the Greek meaning manifestation. The striking appearance of breakthrough. The Hindu word is bodhodaya, from the Sanskit conjunction of wisdom rising. The Zen term is kensho, describing how it feels to find solution to doubt. Common to every language and prized in all.

Epiphanies themselves, the personal kind that stop you in your tracks, are a rare commodity. A kind of magic borne of all that came before it that cannot be summoned at will. Moments of insight and innovation whose lightning reshapes sightlines and paints the future in a flash. They are a saving grace, the balm a brutally rebirthing world craves too.

For a moment leave the news, the world and all the other clocks. Step out of time towards epiphany. Tune your inner ear this day to the siren song of muses. To what keens and whispers to you from within. All that could bloom and what must now wither on old vines.

Listen well before you influence your destiny with fear or longing. These twelve nights or more have whispered secrets of your life to come, sure as its months will tumble fast and slow over each other. Set your seer's eyes just so, close them and listen.

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To divine is to imagine the world rightly, past the illusion that we are separate from the entire fabric of reality.
~ Gwendolyn Womack

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Words c. Kerrie Basha, 2025