There are certain moments in life that seem to unfold without effort.
Not because you planned for them.
Not because you earned them.
Not even because you were ready.
They just… happen.
Alan Watts called these moments “happenings.”
They are not tasks.
They are not lessons.
They are not punishments or rewards.
A happening isn’t done to you, nor is it for you.
It simply is.
Like a breeze rustling through the leaves.
Like the tide coming in.
Like laughter erupting in the middle of silence.
The happening is life moving through form—without permission, without apology, and without agenda.
But here’s the subtle grace of it:
While a happening doesn’t revolve around you, something remarkable occurs when you begin to resonate with it.
Not resist it.
Not analyze it.
Not control it.
But meet it.
You and the happening begin to merge, not as two separate entities, but as one synchronized expression of presence.
Like a musician becoming indistinguishable from the music.
Like a dancer being danced.
When resonance occurs, the happening is no longer “out there.”
It is not “yours,” yet it is you.
It becomes the unfolding of your being in perfect rhythm with the cosmos.
This is the beauty.
Not that something happened to you.
Not that something happened for you.
But that you were in harmony with the happening itself.
That you were available enough, quiet enough, alive enough to notice:
Life is not something you control. It is something you meet.
And when you meet it with stillness and wonder,
with humility and presence,
the happening becomes a sacred echo of your own nature.
You weren’t chasing the moment.
You were the moment.
Just… happening.