No I Didn’t See The Hunchback

The line up was long, but it gave my radar the time to turn on. I stared at the Notre Dame Cathedral and listen to our guides’ story of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. When I stood at the doorway I realized there was a Sunday service and the great hall was packed. For those to worship you can sit in the middle – for those of you who are touring please be quite and walk the perimeter.
As I stood there I took in the sight of the magnificent building and touched the stone that has stood for hundreds of years.
The warmth filled my body. I gradually moved myself through the crowd and listen to low baritone voice sing hallelujah. The voice passed through me as if it were removing any noise that may clutter my thoughts. I slid to the right to read a plaque in French and see if all those years living in Montreal and attending a french immersion class would pay off. As I moved closer to see – I am still not sure if it was my aging eye site or the limited dungeon like light available. It was just then that I felt a moment of absolute silence. No hallelujah, no echoing whispers from the tourists and no clicking camera shutter buttons.
It was just silent enough to hear and feel the light puff of air on the side of my right ear, cheek and side of my neck. It was distinct and definitive. It was eerily calming and emotionally overwhelming. I continued to stare at the plaque – still not to sure what it was about – I wiped away the tears as I thought about my Mom who passed away a few years earlier.
After her passing I learned more about her quite, but strong religious beliefs. For reasons I am uncertain she never pushed them on us. She always wanted what was best for my sister and me. She often put everyone else’s needs ahead of hers – including her grandchildren. I wonder what she would think knowing her 12 and 14-year-old grand children are travelling through parts of Europe and are presently standing in Notre Dame Cathedral.
Our tour guide mentioned that people have real awakening moments when they pass through the cathedral he was right.
I spoke with him that evening and replayed my encounter. We spoke till 2:30 am (no alcohol required) and he explained to me the origin of the word INSPIRE. He indicated to me that it was from the Greek origin to ‘inspir’ , or blow air in to ones ear.
I guess my mother was inspiring me that day.
Learn to quite your mind and turn on your radar and its fascinating the frequencies you will hear.

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