I'm pretty sure I did not actually cause the sudden blizzard in the Rocky Mountains, but I was certainly in the right place at the right time.
When I left Minneapolis after Finding Buried Treasure in the Mermaid's Lagoon, and was on my way to Scottsdale where I would have my adventures with The Little Squid on the Prairie and The Mountain Lion That Did Not Eat Me, I debated on whether I should visit friends in Broomfield, Colorado (between Denver and Boulder).
Due to the early November timing of my southwest journey, I told my friends that "the last thing I wanted was to get stuck in a blizzard in the mountains with all that I owned in my little car." I debated this topic with a few people in addition to my Colorado friends and told each one of them that "the last thing I wanted was to get stuck in a blizzard in the mountains with all that I owned in my little car."
Due to the early November timing of my southwest journey, I told my friends that "the last thing I wanted was to get stuck in a blizzard in the mountains with all that I owned in my little car." I debated this topic with a few people in addition to my Colorado friends and told each one of them that "the last thing I wanted was to get stuck in a blizzard in the mountains with all that I owned in my little car."
I stayed in Kansas instead with the promise that if the weather looked good in April on my trip back to the Midwest I would take the mountain route then.
I had made promises that I would return to Milwaukee for Easter, and I waited as long as I could before leaving Scottsdale. The weather looked good.
Once again I debated the likelihood of snow in the mountains, telling everyone with whom I consulted that “the last thing I wanted was to get stuck in a blizzard in the mountains with all that I owned in my little car."
At the last point when I could take the non-mountain route, I checked the weather at my motel telling the clerk who looked online for me that “the last thing I wanted was to get stuck in a blizzard in the mountains with all that I owned in my little car."
Of course you know what happened. Not only was there a blizzard but they closed down the highway (I-70) on both sides and shunted all of the cars off at the Vail pass. The skiers at Vail we're doubtless jubilant but for those of us stuck in our cars it was not such a treat. We waited impatiently; not until the weather completely cleared but just until the many wrecked cars could be cleared off the road so we could go through.
This took quite a while and by the time we were allowed to proceed, those drivers who had been nervous before were now terrified and moving at a snail's pace where as the locals who were mostly just annoyed at the delay, put the pedal to the metal to get where they were going.
So now, there were cars trying to drive 30 mph and cars trying to drive 70 mph on the snowy, icy, mountain obstacle course around the ever increasing new wrecks.
And then it got dark.
And then it got dark.
Did I mention that at that time in my life (although not anymore!) I was afraid to drive in the dark — even on familiar, flat, dry roads?
To add to the fun, as I was going down the mountain on a very steep grade, at a speed dictated by the cars in front and behind me, with no opportunities to pull off the road, my ice encrusted windshield wipers stopped making contact with the glass and just skidded back and forth. The glare of the oncoming headlights on the windshield's icy build up made it IMPOSSIBLE TO SEE ANYTHING.
Although it was a rather inconvenient time to be blinded by the light (literally or metaphorically), I suddenly I became oddly calm. I had a moment of total clarity and realized that I had nothing to lose by trusting in whatever powers had brought me to that moment in my life. If it was my time to die, then under the circumstances, there was nothing I could do about it. I consciously relaxed my white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and surrendered to internal guidance.
I don't know how long I drove blind, (probably only a few minutes), and I don't even remember how the situation with the windshield resolved, but I made it safely to my destination.
Perhaps the universe conspired to bring me to that storm, and to the other defining storms in my life such as The Day My Life Changed Forever. Perhaps my fears attracted the circumstances I most needed in order to move through them. Perhaps I'm just incredibly lucky (although it never seems that way at the time) and showered with amazing coincidences that shape my life in ways that later prove to be perfect for me.
Welcoming the Storm (I can't find the artist, but love this image!) |
I do not understand the mysterious ways of the cosmos, but I do know that invariably, whenever I have been confronted with my deepest fears and greatest painful trials, if I am able to surrender to the experience, open myself up and lean into that which I desperately want to escape; magic happens.
This is also true of more mundane events on a smaller scale, but sometimes more difficult to notice. When something feels hugely intense, we are more likely to devote our full attention to the circumstances. We also experience greater upgrades in our abilities to trust ourselves and life when we successfully navigate the big storms.
If you have resisted some life storms or stormy transitions or if you have welcomed them and experienced transformations, I would love to hear from you. I would be delighted if you would respond the comment section below, but if you are shy about public sharing, you can send me an email.
A note about this special New Moon:
This New Moon is a Super Moon. It also takes place on the Vernal Equinox and on the day of a solar eclipse! Enjoy the magic of this powerful beginning of the spring season!
Afterword to the blizzard story:
As I drove away from my friend's Colorado home and into Nebraska (where my last post - Not in Kansas Anymore took place), I was blessed with a vision of beauty that I would have never before appreciated. The flat and brown terrain of a Midwestern spring no longer appeared boring and drab, but rather a lovely, familiar and comforting contrast to the sharp, white peaks I had left behind.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder |
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