September 11 – Ten Years Later

Dear Reader,

I’m sure you remember where you were on September 11, 2001; I know I do. On that sunny Tuesday morning, I was commuting from New York City to Princeton on the NJ Transit train. I caught a 6:05 train from Penn Station as I usually did, so I could get to my desk by 7:30. I settled into my seat with a large cup of coffee and a stack of children’s poetry I was reviewing as a member of a panel on creativity in writing. What a great way to spend a train ride! I sat on the side of the train furthest from the skyline of New York, and I sometimes wonder if I turned to look out the window at the Twin Towers on the horizon, not knowing it would be my last chance to see them standing.

I had already been working for over an hour when a co-worker’s email came in “You gotta see this.”

That’s when it all changed. The Internet clogged; a TV appeared in someone’s office downstairs. I got off a quick call to my mother before the phone circuits were overloaded to let her know that I was out of the city and safe. We watched the towers come down in shock, and everyone left by noon.

My first and foremost thought was to get back to the city. That day, all of New York City was my family, and I wanted nothing more than to be with them, regardless of whether it was safe to be there. All transportation was shut down. Unable to go home, I stayed overnight in Princeton at a co-worker’s house.

I was on one of the first trains back to New York the next morning. I came up the steps to Seventh Avenue from Penn Station, and immediately started walking downtown in a silent city. It was surreal. The only significant movement came from convoys of national guard trucks racing through the streets. I don’t remember how far downtown people were allowed to go that day – was it really only Fourteenth Street, or maybe Houston?

Anyway, I walked until I was stopped by police barricades. In the days that followed, I went downtown as far as possible from my tiny studio on the Upper East Side, getting a little closer to the disaster site each day. Some trips, I would get as far as the 86th St. subway station only to discover it was closed because of police action. Time to turn around and go home, turn on the tv and see if something major was happening. Nobody knew yet if the attacks were over.

In the next few days, I desperately wanted to help. All the blood banks were full; no more donors allowed. The line at the Convention Center to volunteer for cleanup and rescue was thousands of people long; the wait was over five hours and people were being turned away by the time I arrived. Of course there was also the fact that I had no construction or welding skills.

I spent a lot of time those days just walking the streets. When home, I had to keep my window shut to keep out the burning smell, so I preferred getting outside and being among people. As I walked, I grew more frustrated and discouraged. I felt helpless, like I had nothing to offer, no way to make a difference.

And then, as I was walking, it hit me. I had at least one thing to offer that nobody else had. My heart. My unique, loving heart, willing to be of service to the world. With that realization, the trajectory of my life changed.

Just the thought comforted me, and that very evening I found myself attending a free reiki healing circle, holding the hand of a young woman whose brother worked in the World Trade Center and was missing. I simply held her hand, and she thanked me. I never did find out what happened to her brother.

That was all ten years ago, and of course I have been remembering and reflecting over the past few days, as so many others have. Although my life didn’t take a 180° turn, as it did for some because of 9/11 – I was already interested in being of service and making a difference in the world – it is fair to say that the trajectory of my life did change. I felt a deep sense of urgency, commitment, and awareness that the most important contribution I could make involved my own unique gifts.

So my dear readers, and you are dear to me, each one of you; if any of you have been feeling frustrated, confused or in despair that you have nothing to offer the world…

My message for you today is – think again. You have your heart. It is unique. There is no other like yours, filled with love quite the way yours is, ready to support the human family quite the way you can. Do what it takes to follow your heart. If nothing else, you can start by reaching out and holding one person’s hand. Maybe that’s the best way our world can be changed – one hand at a time.

I honor your loving heart,

John