The other day, I had a close call.
It was at one of the busiest intersections in town, and about five of us pedestrians were ready to cross on the walk sign. However, cars on the cross street also had just had a green arrow to turn left into the street we were traversing. When the coast was clear, this little group of us started to cross. As we did, another car must have decided to swing around and make his turn before we made any headway, and he came to a screeching halt literally about three feet from me. I "screeched to a halt" too, and there was a domino effect as the lady behind me walked into me, etc. I looked up at the driver, and I guess what stunned me was that he didn't appear remotely sorry to have almost plowed into almost half a dozen people. He appeared to be angry that we were in his way. I don't know that for sure, of course. But I do know that the look on his face didn't appear to be apologetic, sheepish, or relieved. Just irritated as heck. Every day, as a pedestrian or a bus passenger, I am seeing our current level of stress manifesting in these kinds of ways.
My life didn't pass before my eyes. (For me, that happened day in and day out over COVID year, as I was reminded of all the experiences I'd had in life that were suddenly no longer possible.) And once I safely reached the other side and thanked the heavens for that outcome, I went along on my round of errands. But in the few days since then, that moment has stayed with me and I have been conscious of several things.
Firstly, I believe there are no accidents. Had there been a spectacular crash, it would have been because collectively, all of us involved might have been sending out mixed signals about our determination to live. I know that somewhere in that positive outcome -- despite all the ups and downs of my life -- my soul was singing "yes" to life, and I am relieved about that. I'm still profoundly curious about the future, and am grateful to be here to experience it.
Secondly, last week on the equinox, I made a commitment to being more profoundly present and grounded this fall than I have ever been. Without pushing away other options (England or otherwise), I made a promise to myself to anchor myself as firmly as I possibly can to this little spot on the tip of Lake Superior. Being present and alert at that moment certainly helped me stop on a dime, and it may have helped a few others to do the same.
Lastly, as you often hear about in the lives of other people, a near-death experience does serve as a doorway to increased sensitivity, openness to magic and mystery, and gratitude. It seems to be an invitation both to take life more lightly and more seriously; whatever happens around me, I am still here and I have some purpose still to fulfill, even if it is simply to align with joy and the Goddess. It was literally as much a wake-up call as a close call, and the moments since then have had a new poignancy and energy.
