It’s difficult to be in New York City today. 8 years ago our world changed in the most catastrophic way possible. Time stood still. Shock set in. Horror engulfed us all. I don’t know of anyone whose lives were not deeply, eternally affected by the morbid decision of a few men.
And then there was the shift. Once the breath slowly returned to us all, hands started to be held. Heads leaned on shoulders. Tears were wiped away, only to return too quickly. And then, out of the vast and indescribable stillness: voices were raised. Music seemed to be the one balm which could offer a modicum of comfort. That breath, which was stolen from us so violently, found its path again through singing. Unity happened.
It’s not only the memory of the terror that saddens (and still shocks) me – but instead, there seems to be a deeper sadness hovering over today: the inconceivable, unforgivable loss of that unity. The sadness seems to mix with shame and anger as I watch the division deepen in this country and around the world. How did we dare to allow that to happen?
As I was in Alaska – beautiful, astonishing, miraculous Alaska – it dawned on me how very, very small we are. And yet, we are also immense as well when we unite. Funny, that.
I must be naive, because in my mind it is crystal clear and so utterly simple. Isn’t it?
My thoughts are with the world today, especially those who lost their precious loved ones to the hands of hatred and ignorance. (And that includes all those lives lost in the continued , seemingly endless aftermath of 9/11…)