I can recite the entire Webster's Dictionary definition of epiphany, all thanks to an old T-Pain song called "Tallahassee Love."
The song begins with the spelling of epiphany, letter by letter. And then T-Pain recites:
Definition one, a manifestation of a supernatural being.
Definition two: a sudden moment of insight or revelation.
Marinate on that.
I thought of T-Pain's "Tallahassee Love," as I was writing out goals in the following increments: 3 months, 1 year, and 3 years. I was never a believer in setting goals until I tried it once, lost the piece of paper, and found it 6 months later only to realize I had accomplished all of them.
It seems that we all have this "thing" (maybe I'm just speaking to the deeply burdened creative and sensitive people such as myself here...) but we all have this desire. Maybe it's not a specific thing, but goals.
I record goals in my passion planner and spend a lot of time in stillness. It's like I have to say to myself, "What if I only had one life to live? What would I do with it? How would I want to live that one wild life?"
Oh wait, there is only one life. I only have one life; and nobody else can live it for me. Nor would I desire that anyone live it for me or I live theirs.
What I've begun to play around with is something I call the "Plasticity of Life." Plasticity means "the quality of being shaped or molded." Through meditation (I used Headspace... anyone else?) I've been able to trust in the process of neuroplasticity: the brain's ability to form and reorganize synaptic connections.
Recently, I went through something extremely painful and I was desperate for some string of hope to hold on to. The first thing I did was call a pottery teacher, and ask if she would lead me in one-on-one lessons. I've been taking this pottery class now for seven weeks. Each week, I learn something new about God transforming me. In Jeremiah 18, Jeremiah is told by God to, "Go to the potter's house. I will give you my message there."
Jeremiah does as God instructed. He saw a potter working with clay at a wheel. He was making a pot, but there was something wrong with it. So he crushed the clay to make another pot. With his hands, he shaped the pot the way he wanted it. Jeremiah understood that God was telling him, "You are just like this clay, no matter what has happened before - I can make you new and shape you into something greater."
The pain, for me, was connected to past trauma, and un-healed wounds in my heart. Wounds I didn't even know were there until they surfaced, along with a host of insecurities.
My epiphany, thanks T-Pain, was that we're never too broken for God to make us into something new. I've come to appreciate the pain, along with the trauma (even) to know that there's something inside of me so much deeper than this human physical existence. We have the power to transform, just by the inter-workings of our minds. It begins with a seed in our hearts and repetition in our minds.
What's possible? A whole lot more than meets the physical eye.
Life is malleable, and we're constantly changing. Sometimes, it's okay to be completely crushed and start all over again. Maybe, those are the most powerful moments of all.
Thanks for reading.