Remember

I feel like I should at least write SOMETHING about the 10th anniversary of 9/11. I have not much felt like thinking about or commemorating the anniversary. The only mainstream media coverage I've tolerated, other than watching a little of the original media footage from that day (As it Happened) is NPR's, because they took a really different approach focusing on 9/11's effects on arts and culture. For me, thinking back, the event created in me a feeling of "alive-ness" that I'd never experienced before, of thankfulness for the beautiful clear September days we had that year, for family, for friends, for love, for all that the world could offer me and all that was good in the world. But even more so, a feeling of interconnectedness and synchronicity. Over time, through the banalities of life, intense feelings like this tend to ebb away. I went back through my computer files to see if I could put myself back to that time in my life. 

I found the lyrics to "Turn, Turn, Turn" by the Byrds/originally from Ecclesiastes. Incidentally I just saw on Wikipedia that Rudy Giuliani read these same words today as part of the remembrance ceremony, so I guess they're poignant to more people than just me. 

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

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I found this piece, unfortunately without an attribution, though I could probably find one if I tried:

THE GEOGRAPHY OF HOPE The seasonal cycles of the natural world go on, undeterred by the havoc around them. 

For proof of nature’s healing power one need only read accounts of how Americans instinctively flocked to urban gardens, mountain overlooks, forested trails and ocean shores in the wake of the terrorist attacks, seeking refuge from an anguish that was all consuming. In those places they found the solace and spiritual renewal that only nature can bring. The novelist Wallace Stegner wrote that as human beings we need wild places available to us as a way of reassuring ourselves of our sanity as creatures. Calling this sense of connection to the natural world part of the “geography of hope,” Stegner evoked the eternal rhythms of which we are all a part. 

Exposure to the natural world has been shown to be therapeutic by alleviating stress and promoting health. The medical community has long known about the healing power of nature, which is why healing gardens are cropping up in medical centers across the country. Healthcare providers understand that flowers, trees and running water can create an oasis for those facing the trauma of a debilitating disease or the loss of a loved one.

As Americans look for spiritual renewal, emotional healing, or time to reflect on how our country will rebound from this national tragedy, many are turning to Mother Nature. Wildlife and wild places — whether they are found in the mesas of the West, the grasslands of the Midwest, the Alleghenies or Adirondacks of the East, or the park down the street — are part of our strength as a nation, an indomitable part of our American heritage that is impervious to those who attempt to destroy our resolve. 

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I also found a journal I kept beginning on the 11th and continuing into the days immediately following, but it's intensely personal and I'd rather not share that here. Just suffice to say that I'm so glad I kept my own commemoration of that day that I can always turn back to in order to remember. 

Today at church the service (thankfully, in my opinion) was not overtly 9/11. We had a water service where everyone was asked to bring water that was meaningful to them in some way, from summer travels, etc. Then we came up in groups as East (renewal, sunrise), South (power, strength), West (a time of harvest or endings), and North (restfulness, self-care, wisdom). All of the water went into a collective bowl along with some water from last year's service and an empty bottle poured to show solidarity with those in the world who don't have access to safe clean water. We also had paper raindrops on which we wrote a few words and then posted on big sheets of paper.

I went with East and "new beginnings" though "birth and rebirth" might have been slightly more poetic. I could have easily gone up for the other three directions too. The meditation was to imagine ourselves as water- maybe a stream, an ocean, rain or teardrops but ultimately cycling through all of these forms. North bleeds into East, East into South, South into West, and West back into North.  There is a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to reap that which is planted. All things are interconnected. Remember and be thankful for the fragile world that we live in and our place in it.