memorial

Of course, I am amongst hundreds, maybe thousands of postings on the 9/11 event, aftermath, personal impacts, current (and already revisionist) editorials. So I guess I am part of a chorus of voices, not singing in unison, perhaps, but still together in our purpose: to not forget 9/11 but to also keep living and loving.

I was heartened by the story in NY Times today about the owner of a t-shirt place in Gainesville, Florida who is walking her talk and refusing to make any t-shirts for the pastor (I won't use his name, I don't want to feed into his history-ego driven actions)who has threatened to burn the Quaran. Instead, she is giving away "Love, not Dove" tshirts and, with others, trying to reclaim their community's image as one of progressive, not regressive, thinking and actions.

Another article shared the story of a Muslim who worked in the towers. He and other Muslims had an informal prayer space in the S. Towers since 1999. He fled the tower as it was attacked and lost Muslim and non-Muslim friends in the debacle. He now grieves for the America he feels he has also lost.

Several thoughtful speakers on PBS yesterday, talked about the wound that will not heal from 9/11. It keeps "weeping" because leaders, political and spiritual, failed to show Americans a path to grieving after 9/11. In addition, political lassitude (the phrase used in the NY times) and private investment fears delayed rebuilding on the site, so that the scar has deepened, maintaining its hollowed, burned out image in the national psyche. These failures of spirit and courage, layered now with the anxiety and fears of the continued recession, lay down the ideals and historic beliefs of tolerance in the U.S.A., allowing them to be trampled by hatred and fears of "the other."

On the other hand, yesterday I experienced a dramatic production that demonstrated the power of voice and resiliency (www.korepress.org). Because of that experience, and the thoughtful conversation that we had amongst the audience participants, I am not as depressed about today and events of late that have, in the past two weeks, brought me pretty low. Instead, I know that there are really good people, in every community, that have stories of hope and love. In one town, it's a lady trying to make a living by making t-shirts, in another city, it's a man trying to survive not only the memory of 9/11 but the reality of religious intolerance nine years later. We are all survivors of 9/11. How we rebuild the towers mirrors how we rebuild ourselves.

For my part, I choose, just for today, to be hopeful. To not forget the seeming randomness of death, but to be open to a deeper lesson of purposefulness and to find ways I can make my today purposeful for me and at least one other person my life touches.