Isn't it amazing that when "it" is present (whatever "it" may ultimately be), everyone can sense it, and what they sense has a similar character for everyone present? I have experienced this in a variety of contexts, such as the black churches in Brooklyn in the 80s or in an inner-city dojo in the 70s, or in the best musical performances I've been present for.
During theme 1 I felt a beautiful, touching sadness --a good sadness -- no doubt tempered by the knowledge that my brief time (3.5 years) with the Guitar Circle would soon draw to a close. And I also remembered how, at the beginning, I struggled for many months (hours a day) just to plain the basic theme, and hearing the higher twinkly "glider" part (as I think of it) figured I'd never be able to play it. And yet, here I was playing it: a small full circle of sorts, though a rung higher (so, a helix?).
And I think it is safe to say that this extended moment would not have been possible without the oncoming formal end of Guitar Circle. Indeed, when I first heard that GC was "ending", this seemed a little nutty to me, but I went with it, and now I'm glad for it: It means halting a sort of production-line, "this is what we do and how we do it" feeling, that extends from some time in the past and recedes into the future in a cloud of exhaustion and mechanism. Which is not to say that something else can't come next, but it seems to honor the endeavor by allowing it to end.