9/11 – Seventeen Years Later

Dear Reader,

My emotions are close to the surface today, as they often are on September 11th. After having lived in New York City for twenty-four years, including 2001, this day has special meaning for me. Along with recalling the devastation, pain, and profound sense of loss we experienced that day, I think of my New York “family” – and that includes all New Yorkers.

I think of the closeness we felt that day, even for people like myself who had commuted out of the city to work and couldn’t get home. During the days and weeks that followed, that closeness remained, along with so many acts of courage, kindness, love and support. For many, that feeling of family extended worldwide.

Looking back after seventeen years, I see that day as a profound change point, in so many ways, that still has an effect even now. Many of us, myself included, resolved that day and in the aftermath, to make a positive difference in the world.  People changed jobs, moved into helping careers. New voices of activism emerged. Our entire approach to foreign policy changed.

I wish I could say that all of the changes were positive, but of course, they were not.

The events of September 11th, 2001, also triggered great fear, leading to anger for many, and a desire to lash out and “get even.” It is currently more evident than ever that the fear and other shadow aspects of our nature are still with us, and coming out in unpredictable, sometimes downright ugly, ways.

It is amazing to me how we human beings are such studies in contrasts.

We can be so fragile, and so resilient, at the same time. We embrace both light and dark. We all just want to love and be loved, and when we act from that loving, inspired place within in us, profound good can happen. And yet, in an instant, we can be completely taken over by our worst fears – and we all know how that usually ends.

Seventeen years feels like a long time.

How can we, how should we, respond to the events of that day, so many years later?

I think of the people who survived the holocaust in World War II, and how so many of them refused to let those events ever be forgotten. Seventeen years after that time finally ended, I had barely been born. I grew up reading about the holocaust in history books, without having lived through the time myself. Now, I read this morning that this year’s high school senior class will be the first to graduate without having been alive in 2001.

How do our generations handle tragedy?

Every year, I experience this day differently. Last year, after having set my meditation practice aside for a while, I started meditating again on 9/11. I resolved to sit for just ten minutes a day, starting then. It just felt right.

Last night, I meditated for the 364th day out of the last 365. I am up to fifteen minutes, sometimes twice per day. And yes, I missed a day! It was a day I flew to the U.K. to visit family, and I forgot about meditating until I was sitting in Heathrow Airport the next morning. I let it go. I decided that being perfect wasn’t the most important thing.

I started meditating again last September 11th as an act of kindness, and compassion. It was an act of good, from my heart. And I didn’t think for a moment that it was an action I took only for myself; I saw it as an act that would ultimately benefit my family, my friends, my colleagues, and all beings.

And what have I done so far this year on this day? Along with meditating (another year coming up!) and watching the pouring rain outside my window here in Maine, I have made a cup of coffee for the guy who is here repairing my bathroom floor. I have made my dear wife a cup of tea. And I am writing this post for you.

Perhaps one of the best things we can do to transform tragedy, whether during our grief or after it dissipates a little bit, is to do something good for ourselves or for others. What you do for yourself, in a heartfelt way, you do for others. And what you do for another, no matter how small or large the act, you do for the world.

I have a friend in New York City who is dancing for peace today. That is something good. I feel the generosity of her act, and I’m sure others will too.

We are a people of great, great love; I continue to passionately believe that, no matter what. And I believe that wherever there is life of any kind, there is the potential, and the hope, for even greater love to follow.

So, dear reader, how might you respond today, no matter where in the world you live, to our human tragedies, our fears, our fragility, and our love? Or if not today, how might you respond tomorrow, or the next day?

And will you respond from love, or from fear? Because even in the darkest of times, you always, always have a choice.

I honor your loving heart,

John