Astronomer Sir Fred Hoyle rejected the prevailing scientific theory that life on this planet emerged by accident from a primordial soup. The chance of that happening was as likely as "a tornado sweeping through a junkyard [and assembling] a Boeing 747 from the materials therein." I do think that something less amazing, but still semi-miraculous, is in the works for you, Leo. What do you imagine it might be? I'm getting a vision of a windy thunderstorm blowing through a junkyard in such a way as to assemble an impressionistic sculpture of you wearing a crown of flowers and X-Ray Specs as you ride confidently on the back of a lion.

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Having ridden my mountain bike through Marin County's hills for years, I've watched the central shrine, Mt. Tamalpais, go through thousands of changes. Depending on the weather, the season, and the time of day, it has been a different event on each occasion I've seen it. When the low-slung sun illuminates the thin layer of mist covering it late on a winter afternoon, it's not the same mountain that lies beneath a full moon beaming down on it through a hole in the streaming clouds on a summer night.

The realist in me says I'd be justified in giving it a new name each time I'm in its presence.
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The preceding oracle comes from my book, PRONOIA Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings.