I continue to be speechless, so I'll tell another story.
This is a story I briefly referenced back on 10/29/15, but that's almost a decade ago, so I'll tell it again now, and at the end see if there is any relevance to today, a blustery one in all senses of the word.
Back in 1982, a year after earning my MMus degree in London, the degree ceremony (where we would be handed our diplomas) was scheduled for December, and I arranged for time off from my job to go to it. (Originally, part of the draw was that Princess Anne was to preside...I have to be truthful and say I looked forward to at least this brief contact with the royal family!) As it would turn out, the princess was not in attendance. As it also turned out, it would be the only time in my life that I wore the academic gown and hood (that colorful fabric "thingy" hanging down your back) appropriate to my degree. Royal Albert Hall was packed, I had no proud family in attendance, but it was still thrilling and perhaps in ways that I didn't understand yet, the moment representing the highest "old paradigm" goal I would ever achieve.
That evening or the next, I was invited to a celebratory party in a part of London I didn't know very well. I made it to the correct tube stop, then started to walk downhill in what I hoped was the right direction. Out of the blue, I realized that there was a tiny little old lady walking with me on my right side! We greeted one another, and we started to chit chat. I must have told her why I was in London, and where I was from in America. She started to tell me a little about her own life, including the fact that she was very creative, loved to cook and do needlework and paint. I remember very clearly telling her that she reminded me of my own grandmother, who was very dear to me.
When we reached the bottom of this long downhill road, it ended at a t-junction. I told her that I was going to have to turn right -- could I help her cross, or get to where she was going? She basically said, "No thank you dearie, but it's been lovely talking with you", and started to walk left. I glanced away for a second, but then looked back toward her to make sure she was all right, and she was gone! She had completely disappeared. I looked in every possible direction; no old lady. Within days, I would learn that my grandmother had died, and not only that, she had died that night around the time that I met this old lady. Did I immediately assume that this woman was my grandmother coming to "say goodbye" to me? Yes! Do I still believe it? Yes!
What does this have to do with today's exceptional moment? Superficially, very little. But the kinds of stories I want to pass along have to do with kindness, the Great Mother, and miracles of a positive nature. This might be a good time for all of us to remember our grandmothers, and listen for their messages to us, in our memories, in our hearts, in the trees, in the clouds. And even I need to be reminded that there are (and will be) meanings behind the meanings, behind the meanings.
