For Glynis and those who were meeting the event lasted for three months, or maybe longer, there was no way time could be measured or involved.

The sisters and aunts had all gathered – the instant flash an old woman saw was a record on earth of the nanosecond that all these wonder beings left their territories for the sacred summit. The old women on earth who saw the flash knew somehow that they were in charge as keepers of The Moment. And around the world for that instant these seemingly insignificant old women held the keys to universal manifestation. After the moment had passed everything returned to normal as Glynis and her relatives went back to their holdings.

But the flash of ultimate responsibility and love had caused a profound change in the old women of this planet. Insight became keener, intuition became more acute. With new clairvoyance and clairaudience they were telepathically linked to one another and able to talk and visit. It was as if they were holding hands around the entire planet, keeping it for the future generations.

They laughed about it together, and advised each other on how to deal with the problems, ailments and sufferings brought to them by the villagers and people in their towns and cities. Somehow miraculously they could all speak the same language, understanding one another perfectly.

One had a granddaughter named Leanne by her parents but her grandmother called her Lily Lee when she was a baby, then Lily as she grew older. Lily was to meet Glynis, how and why no one knew. They walked each day to the edge of the forest, leaving a small bouquet or a bunch of branches tied with bright ribbon. This meeting was not like the meetings in the forest when Glynis met wanderers and seekers. This was very different. For Lilly was to be trained in the Forest Ways. Her grandmother had seen the flash in the gap of time, and had been forever changed by it. Lily had been born right then, right at the instant of the gap. In the flash.

Glynis knew Lily had to wait, and let the understanding of her purpose settle inside of her. For Lilly, going to the forest edge, placing the flowers or herbs was a precious time with her grandmother. And when she grew into her teens, and her grandmother fell ill, she went to the spot at the forest edge at the same time on Saturday morning as usual. For many months she did this, standing and gazing at the mist on the trees, or in rain, or bright sunlight.

Finally, it broke open, and she saw, in a glimmer, Glynis passing by. At first she thought it was a deer but there was no sound. All forest sounds were suspended, and it was as if the sky stood still. Lily felt warm, bright and intelligent. Aware suddenly of this deep stillness but not afraid. She rushed back to her grandmother to tell her, and hold her hand and have her explain it all to her. As she ran she feared the worst — her grandmother had died at that moment, or was taken away to the hospital. But the door opened as usual, and she was in her room as before, thrilled to hear the news of the opening. “That is really progress,” she said.

Lily waited several more months. Nothing happened, nothing otherworldly, but as she was watching, her senses became very keen, hyperalert. She heard the conversations happening back in the village, she felt the news of a new baby coming, she noticed the plant that could make soothing tea for her grandmother, as it ventured to grow right beside her, in a place it hadn’t ever been before. She picked it up and thanked it as her grandmother had taught her to do from childhood, and made it into tea for her that afternoon.

And so it went on for the next weeks, months and a few more years. Her grandmother could no longer go to the forest so Lily brought the forest back to her. Dreaming one night she saw her grandmother’s friends, the circle who met and restored the world. They were speaking in strange languages that Lily couldn’t make out so she didn’t know what they were saying.

The next day, Saturday morning, she headed out to the spot when she heard her name being called. More like singing then calling. Lily Lily Lily Lily Lily-Lee. The song became syllables sounding, layering and echoing over and over one another. A moire of Lilys sounds. She fell into the daze of it. Drawn to the forest edge she stepped into Glynis arms. At last at last. I always knew you would come. Was it Glynis who spoke or was it Lily? No matter. It was what they both felt to be true in their hearts. Are you ready to come with me now? Glynis said, looking directly into Lily’s eyes before glancing toward the forest path.

Lily didn’t know she said yes, but she did. She thought she hadn’t stepped forward, but she had. She followed Glynis. To her surprise they dove beneath the path, swimming under it, spreading into the forest.

People searched for Lily for years. Her parents were heartbroken, her friends afraid and confused. Only her grandmother understood what had happened. “Oh god what have I done?” She cried as her daughter thought she was senile and patted her back to bed.

Dissolved into the forest bed, Lily, as if anesthetized, in shock, found herself dispersed and suspended in the interstices – The space of soil, route, rock and water. Thought but no voice. Feeling but no sensors. Hearing but no ears. Then just suddenly, they both popped out, standing fully formed in a sunny clearing embraced and welcomed by the waving treetops. In a rush, sound returned, a tsunami of sound and feeling. This is how it was. This was the beginning of Lilys apprenticeship, the start of all her learning by doing.

Famished, they found the local forest hut, stocked with bread, wine, nuts and cheese. They began to talk – as Lily told her everything — about her grandmother, the waiting at the forest edge, life at home seemed so very far away — like a dream. Parents, friends, all were distant characters in an old story she once knew. Glynis told Lily about her long life in many forms and times, and about the ways of the forest, the ways of her relatives in the sea and sky, desert and tundra, the ice cousin in the north, and all their exploits. Day after day they walked the forest and each evening Glynis told tales of her people in far places.

Once, Lily had a glimpse of the circle of grandmothers sitting around a fire somewhere – parallel to them and superimposed in a way onto their own evening conversation. She heard thanks singing and drumming in the distance, in her mind saw a bear dancing on hind legs with a strong tall woman in a fancy red dress.

After a few nights of this, she told Glynis, who showed no surprise. She was pleased and happy that Lily’s vision portals had begun to open. She told her, “Go closer to them. When you hear the drum, the singing and clapping, listen with concentration. Hum along, even dance if you can. Then look into the fire. Soon you should be able to see them clearly.”

Lily practised this. It wasn’t long before she saw them, small figures appearing through the fire, as if the fire were a sort of screen she could view the world through. Once when she was watching them they all turned toward her. They bowed, waved their arms from side to side over their heads, and changing their song, began to dance ecstatically around their fire to a more rapid drumbeat.

“What am I supposed to do?” Lily asked, and Glynis replied, “You will know.”