We of the Northern hemisphere have learned to appreciate our unique climate which offers us the beauty of snowdrifts that glisten like diamonds and rewards us with frosty works of art etched on our window panes as Mother Nature annually lifts her wand of ice and paints the landscape anew. The challenge of course is be open and ready to receive these gifts when the temperature descends to -40°c and you are outside hoping that the tears your eyes are crying are not going to freeze them shut, permanently. Ah, bliss!

As autumn advances, it is easy to identify with the squirrels as they madly dash from tree to tree, scrambling for the last remainders of food and frolic before the big chill. Sometimes, in my overblown imagination, the approach of winter feels like the calm before a tsunami wave – you know it’s going to hit, you don’t know when exactly, you just know you’d better get indoors and be prepared.

Am I scaring you yet?

This year, autumn has in fact been as gentle as a kitten, although from recent experience, even the temperament of a kitten should not be taken for granted (little Lulu comes to mind – the destroyer of all things destructible). Still, when I recently went to visit a friend in the Laurentians, an area of large hills an hour north of Montreal, I felt a wistful twinge as I drove along the winding roads and witnessed the bare branches of the trees being twisted back and forth by the howling winds – all signs of summer erased – the hills and roadsides laid bare, waiting for the silent and frozen blanket of snow and ice soon to hide them from our eyes for the months to come.

Certainly the best part of these types of road trips is the destination – a warm hug, a cheery welcome and a crackling fireplace ready to warm even the deepest chill. There’s something very “Survivor” about overcoming the elements and reuniting with close friends.

On this particular trip I was visiting a dear friend who was in preparation for surgery to treat cancer. It was a very suspended time that we shared, looking back on the many occasions we had celebrated together and questioning what was to come. We only had a few hours to share but we stretched out the minutes into many more meaningful memories.

When it was time to go, I was reluctant for our time together to end, but I did my best to say good-bye in the same way I’d always done and was soon back on the road.

Not a minute later at the first stop sign, did I pause and look up at the sky and notice a streak of bright green light. I looked again and wondered if someone was celebrating with a light show. At the next stop sign I rolled down the window and removed my eyeglasses, but sure enough the light was still there. Thanks to the inventor of the cell phone, I was able to call my friend and leave a message to go outside and “look up”! Another mile down the road and I pulled into the corner store parking lot, eager to see what “was up”. I had a premonition that it was the famous Northern Lights, or Aurora Borealis, that I had longed to see but always missed as a city dweller.

As I got out of my car, another woman was standing gazing at the sky and she told me that it was indeed the famed “festival of light” and that it was more spectacular than any other time she had witnessed. Shafts of green light were shooting up from the hills on the horizon, shimmering high up into the sky and beyond. It was pure magic! I stood there spellbound and absolutely thrilled that I was finally an eyewitness to this fantastical event.

I phoned my friend again but her line was busy. Should I go back and make sure she wasn’t missing this? I paused in the car for a moment, then shifted into reverse, turned around and headed back to her home.

Climbing up her steps I banged on the door: “Come out! Come out!” Seconds later her astonished but gleeful face appeared in the window and she ran to the door. Excitedly she told me that she had heard my earlier message but only the last words to “look up”. Dashing out her back door she had seen a completely different light show in the opposite direction and had experienced a personal message written in the light of the skies especially for her. She had been deeply moved.

Back inside, I insisted that she grab a coat and come back to the parking lot, which had an unobstructed view of the surrounding hills. We climbed into the car, racing against time to catch what was left of “the show”. We arrived as the effects were starting to dissipate somewhat, and stood looking up in wonder as the green waves of light started to shift and move in our direction. We happened to be freezing cold, but somehow physical numbness was not to be a mitigating factor.

So close did the swirling lights come that we both exclaimed we could hear them! Closer and closer they shifted until I looked up and saw that we were at the base of this funnel of light (a bit like an inverted tornado) – we could look right up into its vortex! Quickly, I turned to my friend and told her to release the energy of her cancer, and to allow the vortex of energy to take it up and away. I can’t tell you how profound this moment was and how elated we were to be blessed and partaking in this magic together.

I was asked a few months ago if “life had recently declared itself to me in some way, some small energizing jolt of insight or recognition that reminded me of the ‘rightness’ of me being here in this way at this time”. At the time, I was at a loss for a confirmation, but this special moment was a definite “right here, right now.”