Coffee & Epiphanies


Epiphany- (1): A usually sudden manifestation or perception of the nature or meaning of something (2): An intuitive grasp of reality through something (an event) usually simple and striking (3): An illuminating discovery; realization, or disclosure


Frission- A passing sensation, a moment of intense emotion or excitement


 Do you ever just stand outside at night and look at the stars with the eyes of a child? I find myself doing this often. In my little fenced in corner of the universe I sit on a stoop and look through the jagged oak branches mosaicing the subtle black of dusk and wonder at the little pinholes of light. I look at them so long and hard, like I am reading a book, until they start to look surreal—like a backdrop for a Wes Anderson flick—and I feel finite and infinite at the same time.

 I think about looking at the world with the eyes of a child a lot. Epiphanies were so easy to come by as a child—every experience is new and as we age the newness of things begins to wear instead of polish. This makes me sad. But I really feel perspective all boils down to who we choose to surround ourselves with. I surround myself with people that inspire me, challenge me, people that create because creating something keeps their sanity intact. I still look at the world, at every experience, as if it was new—because I am new, I am ever-changing. I still have epiphanies; some smaller than others, but I have them often and I find the feeling they invoke in me intoxicating and addicting.

 My good friend told me about frission one day over a cup of coffee. It is like epiphanies, but in music. He said he didn’t really have but one epiphany a year, but frission—he experienced frission all the time. I think of frission as the bare-bones, animalistic well-spring of epiphanies; an epiphanies’ granddaddy of emotion. And I am happy to have this amazing person as my friend as we are both experience life with a child-like sense of wonder.

 Said good friend gifted me a book of Richard Brautigan short fiction for Christmas. He is rapidly becoming one of my favorite writers. I think about this friend and our sensitive and intelligent conversations over a cup of joe and the lines of Brautigan’s ‘Coffee’—“Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee affords.” It is rare to find those kinds of people you can share a coffee intimacy with.

 I will drink my coffee one epiphany and frission at a time.


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