I got halfway, or less, through a story about my experience on 9/11, eleven years ago, when I realized that it was a story, and that I really wished to communicate other things on this day...
That day may go down as the most impactful day of my life...not because I was flying that day and caught in the chaos, or that even in the aftermath I was hosting live call-in shows on the subject and receiving threats for facilitating discussion looking into the roots of the events and a response.
No, on that day, I made a choice about how I perceived the world and how I would operate in the world. I felt the connection between all, and it electrified me. I acknowledged that grief and suffering were felt throughout the world, not just in my geographical corner of it. I shunned a "patriotic" response to events in favor of a collective hope - and prayer - that we would treat ALL as the sacred treasures that we are, regardless of any demographic that might separate us. I decided to look at events FIRST through eyes filled with compassion. I grieved...of course I grieved...for the unimaginable that occurred on that day, in New York, in D.C., in Pennsylvania, and around the country and world, as people received calls or acknowledgment that a loved one was gone in an instant - or worse, yet, perhaps, in tortured smoke- or flame-filled or even death-leaping awareness - and for those who searched for loved ones for days.
But my grief, and my heart, extended beyond those borders, to take in the grief of many, around the world. My eyes grew wider, my heart expanded, my capacity for compassion exploded exponentially...
With this perception and vantage point, my heart broke, repeatedly - and continues to do so - at the carnage our response - and the response to our response - has wrought. I have no need, at this point, however, for marking a "beginning" to the tragedies, only a longed-for end.
I am beyond grateful to have found like-minded and like-hearted others along the way in what continues to be a remarkable journey and awakening. I applaud and embrace each of you who reach out to assist animals, veterans, your relatives and friends, persecuted innocents, those caught in the nightmare of any conflict...
I celebrate our shared compassion, awakening, and our increased capacity for and expressions of love! (And below, if you wish to read it, my story...)
"I have so many thoughts about this day, 11 years ago: flying on that morning, on the 6 a.m. American Airlines flight out of Albuquerque, on the way to NYC and my sister's wedding, only to be grounded in St. Louis in a chaotic mess at the airport w/ a flight attendant getting on the intercom to announce, breathlessly, "Osama Bin Laden has knocked down the World Trade Towers, let us pray! Feel free to use your cell phones...," when not many had them and we shared them around the plane and people were getting reports of additional attacks in Chicago and L.A. while we sat out on the tarmac for about 40 minutes, waiting to get into the terminal and wondering if WE were vulnerable to attack; deplaning into the terminal to be met with almost concurrent announcements of, "Evacuate the terminal," and, "Please report to the ticket counter on the lower level to exchange your ticket"; having to search for my luggage amid a sea of tossed luggage on the floor by the baggage offices; being asked if I'd like to take one of the seats in a car somehow procured by Al Unser, who would be driving back to New Mexico by way of Indianapolis and saying "no"; banding together with a fellow passenger, a man from CT returning from business, to secure a hotel room together while the realization dawned on me that I was living my worst nightmare - being apart from loved ones in a disaster! - and he was saying, upon entering our shared room, "OK, I've never done this before..." (Who had, on this scale, although he probably meant sharing a hotel room with someone other than his wife...); avoiding the nonstop replays of the tower destruction footage on the hotel lobby televisions; securing my own hotel room later in the day, when those who held reservations did not show because there was no air travel; reaching my almost hysterical mother who knew I was flying that day toward New York and, in her panic, could not make sense of whether I happened to be on one of the passenger jets used as weapons that crashed; spending hours on the pay phone in the lobby talking with dear friends, seeking my center; spending a mostly sleepless night in the hotel room, alone, unsure if I was safe or what might happen in the night. Those are the ACTIONS I remember from this day 11 years ago. I was in survival mode for a few hours. (Of course I was in shock about the events, and I worried, tremendously, about my friends living and working in NYC. It took me a few days to find out about everyone...from my friend who worked in lower Manhattan, close to the towers, who had to walk across a bridge to escape the soot and ashes with which she was covered, ducking into buildings and store fronts along the way to merely breathe...to my friends who lived about 20 blocks away and were in complete shock, if not danger...to my many friends who traveled to NYC frequently on business from all parts of the country.) I spent two nights in that St. Louis hotel until I was miraculously able to secure the last seat on an Amtrak train leaving a small town station about a half an hour outside of St. Louis and heading west. (Much of that time in the hotel, or walking around it, is a blur. I remember most that I was on the phone with friends and family a good deal, keeping an open heart and mind. It finally dawned on me that I would not be making it to the east coast for my sister's wedding at which I was to sing. I made a sobbing phone call to her, apologizing.) After a 30-minute taxi ride, I arrived in the small town where I would catch my train. I don't remember the name of the town at this moment, but it was a quaint, small town with a farmer's market in swing near the station. I bought bags and bags of fresh, local apples to take with me on the train. (I was right in guessing that there would not be adequate food, either in content or quality, to purchase on the ride - before I even knew that the journey would last two, mostly sleepless days!) The apples were a huge hit with my fellow passengers! There is more to tell, of course, and maybe I will later, but I am realizing that I am perhaps done with the need to tell the details of this story, unless an historian comes knocking some day. Instead, I will return to the top to add a paragraph devoid of details, but containing the things I most wish to say."