Can Our Dreams Lead to Epiphanies?
Jul.31.13

I’ve heard several stories about dreams leading to life-changing epiphanies. Thank you to Gina Clapprood from Rhode Island for writing in to Epiphany Channel about hers. Have your dreams ever brought you answers or messages or an epiphany? Read on and see if this sparks any food for thought for you and share it with us if you’re so inclined…

Trust yourself and your own intuition and don’t let fear hold you back from sharing your gifts, even if they may not be considered “the norm.” 
Sharing our talents and gifts allows us to experience life in greater ways than we can imagine. ~Gina Clapprood

Epiphany of Dreams - 830 image

 

8/30/12—The day of my epiphany. The day also happened to be my 35th birthday. Let me explain…

I have basically been seeing the numbers “830” for the last two years EVERYWHERE. License plates, addresses, receipts, pin #’s and other secret codes assigned to me—you name it—it’s there—following me. I have been trying to figure out what it means. I played the daily numbers for a while—guess I wasn’t supposed to win a big jackpot. (I did win $7). It got to the point where, when my birthday rolled around last year, I was kind of scared something would happen to me. Of course, nothing happened and yet I still kept seeing 830 everywhere I went. I finally decided not to worry about it or try to figure out the meaning of it—like all of us Virgos often do. What I didn’t realize is that seeing this number combination would actually mean a lot to me on 8/30/12.

Since I was 15 years old, I have been intuitive. I always had this gut instinct—that little voice that just seemed to speak to me. I would get visions, thoughts and messages and share them with people. I have no idea how I see what I see and why so many people put their trust and faith in what I have to say. I always admired this, because it was something I actually never experienced for myself in that I have never had someone tell me something was going to happen to me, to prepare me or advise me on how to handle it, as I do with others. I was perfectly fine with that, but at the same time I always wondered if what I said to others came true because they put my words into action.

In November 2011, I had a dream that I was in a white room, and on the walls were tons of the number combination,“8 3 0.”  They were everywhere, the room was SO bright, and it was just me standing there. There was a sense of quiet and peace and then this voice said—I don’t know if it was male or female,“8 3 0, Special Delivery.” Then I woke up. I didn’t really think anything of it, especially the “special delivery” part. I was more intrigued about seeing the numbers everywhere and trying to figure out whose voice it could have been, and WHY was I now seeing 830 in my dreams too???

Before New Year’s, I had a different dream that I was with my sister, Michele, at a doctor’s appointment for an ultrasound. The doctor printed out a huge film of the ultrasound and wrote “It’s a Boy!” The next day I told my sister about the dream and days later I found out she was expecting! (She did not know she was pregnant when I told her about the dream.) Of course this dream stuck with me, and I wondered if she was having a boy. We found out that she was due on September 8th. She decided she was not going to find out the sex and wanted to be surprised.

In May 2012, I had the same dream again–I was in the room with 830 written all over the walls, and the same voice that I still can’t identify said, “8 3 0, Special Delivery.” That next morning I kept thinking about it—this time the “special delivery” piece was what I found most curious. Finally, I looked at the calendar and realized that my sister’s due date was a week and two days past my birthday on 8/30….it was possible that she could have the baby on that day.  So I told her about the dream and from that day on, I joked with her that she would have to be ready on 8/30 because she would be having her baby then. I wondered if she were to have the baby on this day if this could be the significance of me relentlessly seeing 830 for the last two years.

I shared these dreams with my husband, Jason, and some friends, family and coworkers. In the event that it happened, I wanted to get it out there ahead of time—if nothing happened, then I would assume the dream was simply … just a dream. What I couldn’t shake was that feeling in the dream and the voice I’d heard in it.

Fast forward to August 30th, my 35th birthday. I had plans to have lunch with my sister. I joked with her that we were going to go for Mexican food, she would drink castor oil, and we were going for a long walk. On my way driving to her house, she called me and told me that HER WATER BROKE.  Could this really be happening?!

I sat at my kitchen table at the computer and waited…updated family and friends…and waited….and waited….at 7:30pm…not much was happening. At about 9pm, the doctor was going to induce her to move things along. At 10 pm, I received a text that she’d be having a C-section. Finally at 11:15pm, we heard the wonderful news that my nephew, William Michael, was born!!!

I broke down.  Completely overwhelmed. I thought of the dream and the voice—I still don’t know whose voice it was but I am grateful to it—I know now what this dream meant for me. My incessant sightings of 830 had purpose and things came full circle in that moment. On my birthday, there would be a very special delivery. My sister is my best friend, and it was truly the best start to my 35th year.

I choose to believe that these 830 sightings, signs and the dream, all serve to validate my intuitive gift. I absolutely need to trust myself and when I had this occur, it left me amazed and blessed, and I will admit, a little freaked out. Something like this has never happened so dead-on especially with someone I love and who is so close to me. This day was a turning point for me and was a gift in itself. It was exactly what I needed to have more confidence and trust in myself. I understand that seeing 830 everywhere is a sign to remind me to come back to my center and make sure that I am being true to myself.

The epiphany for me happened the moment my sister told me her water broke on 8/30. It was like a weight was lifted from me. I realized that it was that it was time for me to be more comfortable being me — being a wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, coworker, manager and intuitive. It was time for me to incorporate my intuitive side and gifts into my life — gifts, which shockingly, I have tried to keep secret. It was time to come out of hiding who I truly am. I am just me…intuitive me — and I am proud of the friendships and trust that have formed out of my sharing my gifts. I just need to take my own advice and learn to trust where my path is taking me.

In my opinion, there is something greater than all of us that can guide us – we just need to be open and listen to it. The greatest lesson I have to share from my epiphany is this:

Don’t be afraid of what others think about you if you have something to share that may not be considered the norm. Trust yourself and your own intuition and don’t let fear hold you back from sharing it. You may just experience an amazing gift as a result.

Another amazing gift from that auspicious day, of course, is my little nephew. We will now share a special day together, and hopefully someday he will read this story and realize how special he is and how his birth was the spark to one of the most important epiphanies in my life.

~Gina Clapprood, Rhode Island

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One Day I Had an Epiphany about My Rules to Live By…
Jul.28.13

Rules to Live By

Be kind.
Be gentle.
Be gracious.
Be quiet.
Keep things sacred.
Go deep.
Serve.
Find solace in what still lays in front of you and don’t lament what’s behind you.
Detach.
Love.
Forgive.
Laugh.
Play.
Write.
Connect.
Nurture.
Remember — Clear eyes. Full heart. Can’t lose. 🙂
And know you’re going to be just fine.

~e. ballard

What are some of your rules to live by?

EPIPHANY love cloud - life rules.

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A Haircut Epiphany by Beth Karlin
Jul.15.13

 regular-haircut-1aI wanted to title this blog “Yes, Virginia, Epiphanies Are Sparked Even By Haircuts” (uh-huh, nod to “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus”) but then I thought maybe the reference wouldn’t work — during a heat wave in July, no less. Maybe I’d be wrong about that (I mean, did you get it?) but regardless, the point is the reference occurred to me because there might be some Doubting Thomases or Virginias out there who are skeptical that someone could have a life-changing epiphany just by cutting off his or her hair. But once you read the epiphany below, you’ll understand how someone could indeed. Also, this is such a brilliant example of how you never know where your greatest epiphany moments might come from – many, many times they hit you during experiences and circumstances you’d least expect.

The author of this epiphany, Beth Karlin, attended Jen Pastiloff’s Mothers’ Day Retreat in Ojai in May and heard me speak about epiphanies. She ended up having an epiphany soon thereafter. She used the tools I talk about: Listening, Belief, Action, Noticing Serendipity. See, they work! (BTW, we’re doing another Manifestation Yoga and Manifesting Epiphanies Workshop over Labor Day, in case you’d like to join in the fun.)

We’re honored that she wrote the story of her epiphany for us to share here on Epiphany Channel. I’m sure most — if not all — of us can relate to defining ourselves as how the world sees or defines us. Beth’s epiphany is about realizing that we are much greater than how anyone or anything defines us – including ourselves…

“I am greater than the things that define me.
There is an essential ME that expresses itself in myriad ways but is not reliant on any of them to be whole and complete.
I am beyond definition.”
~Beth Karlin

Beth w: Long HairI’ve been thinking a lot the past two days about my hair and why this haircut means so much to me. I mean, it’s cool that I’m able to donate it and do some good in the world just by regenerating cells. And it is nice to shed some length just in time for summer and get a new look going into the next phase of my career. But that wasn’t it – this was bigger than that.

I’ve had long hair for as long as I can remember. The last time I had my hair cut this short, I was in 5th grade and my mom threatened me for months that she would cut my long hair if I didn’t brush it twice a day.  I knew she was bluffing – she loved my hair as much as I did. She made barrettes to go with all of my outfits and sculpted it into two perfect braids for every soccer practice and game. She wasn’t bluffing. I cried, pleaded, and fought so much in the chair that people thought I was being tortured and the best haircut the poor girl could give me was choppy and uneven, which she tried to correct with layers. It was awful – I had gone from adorable to wretched in 10 minutes. And to make matters worse, we moved two months later, from the San Fernando Valley down to Orange County,where all the girls were blond and had beautiful long hair (or so it seemed). I hated myself with short hair and vowed to grow it out as quickly as possible and never cut it short again. And I kept that promise for 25 years – until two days ago.

Andi Scarbrough is my hairstylist and she is wonderful. She has gotten to know both me and my hair well over the past few years and she knew this was big. She pulled it together into three ponytails, grabbed the scissors and said, “I know this sounds cheesy but think of something you want to let go of and let it fall away with the hair.” I loved the sentiment but honestly couldn’t think of anything specific, so I just channeled my inner yogi, closed my eyes, and said “let it go” in my head as a mantra when she cut each of the three pieces. Let it go… Let it go… Let it go… Then I looked up. I didn’t gasp. I didn’t cry. I think I laughed. So that’s it. I don’t have long hair anymore. I felt lighter to be sure, but wasn’t that just the hair? She finished the cut and styled it, giving me some advice about making it straight or wavy and I was on my way.

But what did I let go? I wasn’t sure but I was pretty sure there was something there to let go. I’ve had long hair my WHOLE LIFE. It is who I am. It’s my identity. I went to an awards luncheon yesterday with four other amazing engaged scholars, all of whom just happened to be incredible women with long hair. I realized that I wasn’t one of them anymore but I still identified with them as a woman with long hair. What the hell does that even mean? I don’t know but I found myself telling the two who hadn’t known me before how I had just cut my hair, as if to say, “Just so you know – I’m actually one of you. I only did this to donate to charity. It’s temporary.” So did I even give up the hair? I realized that I hadn’t at all. I was still “Beth with long hair”. Now I was just “Beth with long hair who cut it temporarily to donate to Locks of Love because she is so freaking altruistic.” Wow – what a load of crap! Did I need to get at-shirt made? How much work was it going to be to maintain that identity? I was exhausted just thinking about it…. then I went dancing.

I danced the night away last night to 90s hip hop (pretty much my favorite thing on earth) with old and new friends at the Music Center Downtown. It was awesome! And even with my new haircut, I still felt like me. In fact, I started to feel more and more like me. I loved the way my hair swayed with the music and how my exposed neck could feel the evening breeze. So maybe I didn’t need to be “Beth with long hair” after all. Maybe I never was at all. Maybe I wasn’t defined by my hair but by my experience of being me, with any haircut at all. Could that be possible? Could I still be the EXACT same me that I was two days ago even though I no longer had that part of my identity? Yes! Yes I could. And I was. And that’s when it hit me. What was right there to let go… my identity.

I went on a Manifestation Yoga retreat last weekend with Jen Pastiloff and she invited Elise Ballard to come and speak to us about her book, Epiphany. Elise defined an epiphany as “a moment of sudden or great revelation that usually changes your life in some way” and talked about how they come to us when we are open and listening and when we recognize the serendipity of circumstances that point us toward them. I’m in a huge state of transition in my life right now, both personally and professionally, and have been actively exploring what this all means for me and how I want to live my life going forward. I have been open and listening in recent months to a lot of voices that I would have previously considered…frivolous (to put it mildly) and have been embracing these voices and experiences as teachers, believing that the pieces would come together and that I’d “figure it out”, not even knowing what the “it” was to begin with…

But I didn’t “figure it out”, at least not in the traditional academic sense of the world. It came to me in a moment, in a revelation, in an epiphany. “I am not my hair. Long hair was a part of my identity and my identity IS NOT ME.”

What else does that mean? I am not my Ph.D. I am not my love of 90s hip hop. I am not my inability to navigate. I am not my reusable water bottles. I know, I know… cue the Fight Club music (“you are not your bank account, you are not your grande latte…”), but I think my view is slightly less nihilistic than Tyler Durden. I don’t think this makes life meaningless. Quite the contrary – knowing this makes life seem all the more meaningful. I am this beautiful, whole, complete perfect being and anything I do or express or share or give is just an adornment, a decoration. I am simultaneously no different and completely different from every other person on this planet. I AM a beautiful and unique snowflake, Tyler, but my hair didn’t really have much to do with it. Neither did the paper I just submitted last week. Or the dinner party I threw the other night. They are all a part of me but none of them define me. I am beyond definition. I am all of those things but I am equally me without any of them. And the paradox makes perfect sense to me… or at least it’s starting to.

And the cool thing about this is that if all the awesome things about me don’t define me, then neither do the less awesome ones. I am not the argument I got into with my mom driving home from said yoga retreat. I am not the failed attempt to reply to the 132 unread emails in my inbox. I am not my procrastination or my loquaciousness or my impatience. These are things that I do and I accept responsibility for my actions and am actively working to improve how I live and work and relate and connect with the world around me. But I don’t need to hold onto them as if they were me. They are not me. They are things I have done. They are not who I am. I can let them go.

In addition to listening and serendipity, Elise identified two other elements of epiphanies that are vital to their relevance in our lives. The first is that an absolute belief in the moment and the insight we’ve gained and the second is to build off that absolute belief by taking action on it. This is why I am doing something so previously uncharacteristic of me by writing and actually posting this for all the world to see. I know that what I’ve written here is not earth shattering and may even come off as trite to some, but it is something that I have identified for myself as a truth and one that I want to stand in and live by, so by sharing it with you, I am declaring it as such and engaging in the constitutive role of language to make it so.

I am not my hair. My identity limits me to what I am defined as but I am greater than the things that define me. There is an essential ME that expresses itself in myriad ways but is not reliant on any of them to be whole and complete. I am beyond definition.

Beth Haircut

Beth Haircut 2

 

 

 

 

 

~Beth Karlin, Los Angeles, CA

(Before and after photos provided by Beth Karlin)

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A Writer’s Epiphany: Your Calling Calls You All Along
Jun.21.13

Rumi Quote

“The moment I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” ~Rumi

I remember reading this quote by Rumi one day, and I honestly thought it only pertained to lovers. I love the way the words flowed, the way the idea of it all sounded in my head. “Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere, they’re in each other all along.” I am a hopeless romantic, a soul torn between the conventional and the unconventional. One part loves the competitiveness of corporate America; the other just wants to be a free soul roaming around the world connecting. I didn’t realize my greatest epiphany happened, until I realized it did.

For as long as I can remember I have always searched for my passion. I would watch the Olympics and be envious of these athletes that knew what they wanted, were driven by their hearts calling and went for the gold. “I want that, I want that feeling.” I wanted that, I yearned for it, and that search has led me down many paths.

At one point I convinced myself that I wanted to surround myself with Fashion, so I went to the first artsy fartsy College for information on a degree that catered to that. I sewed wallets, totes and nursing covers, sold them online and thought I knew that that must’ve been it. I rode horses, picked up painting, was a server, did yoga, was in retail, tried becoming a vegetarian, had little spells that led me to be a pro-active activist; everything I did I immersed myself in it completely, convinced that THAT was it, but somehow I was always left feeling unfulfilled, gaining momentum at a certain point only to have it waver off with nothing but a disappointing after taste filling the corners of my mouth. Here I was searching, finding an interest, then losing it quicker than I could declare “I FOUND IT!” and that frustration always brought me to one place for as long as I can remember; pen paper, fingers against plastic, tick, tick, tick, recite, recite, recite.

I was in abusive relationships, I had a hard childhood, I got pregnant early, I got married and divorced early. I went with the flow of live. First heartbreak, suicide, parents divorce, mom’s new husband, dad’s heart attack, childhood guilt, mother’s guilt, wife guilt. Guilt. Write. Write. Write…

Then one day I drove my now ex-husband to work, and I don’t quite know what triggered it, but I saw a vision: I was walking along a barren hill, surrounded by dust and the hot sun, and I looked down and saw the blades of grass blowing serenely in the wind. I was carrying buckets or books, and I was in some distant country, doing what I love to do. What do I love? WHAT am I doing? All of a sudden it hit me…

“WHOA! I think I got it!! I think I know what I want to do! You know how I am always doing all these different things? I want to travel? I want to help people? I’ve been in abusive relationships? I know how to sew??? … I want to own a non-profit?! I want to do workshops in third world countries! I want to help women and children break the cycle of abuse! I want to travel around the world and spread the message. I want to sew signature totes, sell them, have all the proceeds go towards my non-profit and do workshops around the world, and when all is said and done I want to write about it. I want to WRITE about it.”

Tears flowed. “Why am I even crying?” I thought. “How stupid is this, that I finally know what I want to do, and I am crying?” But I was and I did, and time passed and that vision has never left me. Its distant echo still haunts me. “I want to write about it.” And as I’m writing this, my fingers tremble. “I want to WRITE about it.”

After that, eventually my husband and I separated, and I jumped into another abusive relationship. I was desperate, I was depleted, and I was outnumbered by my own thoughts. Shifts, major, major life shifts. “What have I done? What happened? Where am I? What am I doing?” Write. Write. Write. “What am I searching for? What if I never find it? Romance, I want romance. Love. I want love.” I wanted to be more consistent in my ever-changing roller coaster of emotions and stay strong. So in order to journal my own growth I started a blog (www.katestaysstrong.tumblr.com). Mind you, I had blogs established on several blogging sites already, but I wanted one that I really kept up with, that I was completely honest in, and that I would share with the rest of the world – finally. No matter the outcome.

I wasn’t sure what I tried doing — maybe I wanted people to see me, the true me, in the hopes that my honesty would show them that it’s okay to be honest too, that the world isn’t perfect. Maybe I wanted to cut the bullshit and finally strengthen my inner voice, that nudging whisper that has always told me, when I thought I knew what I wanted, “No Kate, this isn’t it. Keep trying. Keep writing.” Write. Write. Write.

I got out of my abusive relationship, thinking that was the hardest part. It wasn’t. Now there I was, with nothing to cling onto for distraction and my inner demons were killing me. So I wrote, because that was the only thing I knew how to do. I wrote. I wrote until I had no more thoughts left, until I broke down crying, until my soul spilled. And the thought crept up slowly, the echoes, “I want to write about it.” All my interests I thought were it, but weren’t, because there was no writing involved. If there was only one thing left in the world for me to do, I would write and that alone could sustain me. The more honest I was, the more feedback I got. The more of a difference I felt I was making. “This is it.” My little voice whispered. “You found it.” That voice declared, with a smile and a nudge only my heart would be able to reveal. “Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere, they’re in each other all along.”

I have always been a writer. “I want to write about it.” I want to hear people’s stories and “I want to write about it.” I want to feel, and see and hear and “I want to write about it.” I have always been a writer. “Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere, they’re in each other all along.” Writing is my passion; writing has always been my lover. And if I could ask anyone who his or her lover was, I would ask anyone — from Oprah, to orphans, extraordinary people to ordinary common folk. Because in the end, we all have the same purpose, we all want the same thing. We yearn for the EUREKA moment that ignites our fire and makes us do nothing else but follow the beating of out hearts. Cut the bullshit. “Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere, they’re in each other all along.”

~by Kate Berlin
New Port Richey, Florida

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EPIPHANY! Inspired By A Father’s Guidance & Love
Jun.16.13

“Simple question, simple answer.
But it changed the course of my life, and I thank my dad every day for his guidance and love for me.”


ErichSchlegel8826homepagelogo2Photo by Erich Schlegel

I was in college at SMU (Southern Methodist University) and was majoring in business. We lived in Latin America while I was growing up and my dad had an international business consulting firm. It was small — just him and my mother and couple of other partners throughout the years. It was successful and interesting, and I figured I would study international business and take over his company some day.

Early in the summer between my junior and senior years at SMU, my dad came to me, and we had this very short talk. But it was a conversation that would change my life.

He simply asked me, “So what are your plans after school, Son?”
“Oh, after I graduate, I’ll go to Thunderbird, get my masters in International Business and work for you,” I replied.
“Aha,” he said. Then he asked me what I liked to do.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What do you like to do?”
Simple question. Simple answer. I like taking pictures. So I said, “I like taking pictures.”
“Well, why don’t you do that!”

HOLY SHIT! It hit me so hard. I had developed a passion for photography, a true passion, and he made me ask myself the question so that I could answer it for myself. That was it! I KNEW EXACTLY WHAT MY CAREER WOULD BE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. I totally knew it.

It was such a honest and unselfish act. He started his company because that was what he wanted to do for himself. He saw my passion for photography and knew that was probably the answer for me. He helped guide me to ask the question about what it was that I truly wanted to do with my life so that I would understand and realize it for myself.

I thank him ALL the time for his guidance and his love for me. I’m doing what I am doing because of that conversation. I love my father and I love my career in photography with a passion!!!

Mom & Dad are still around, retired and living and loving life in Lake Chapala, Mexico. I talk to them almost every day.

I’ve been wanting to share this with you and finally got the words out.

Erich Schlegel
Austin, Texas

Thank you, Erich, for sharing this with us, and sending gratitude and wishes for a very Happy Fathers’ Day to all our dads for their support, guidance, love and the epiphanies that they inspire in our lives! 

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