September’s Veil

That “back to school” energy I normally experience each September was hijacked eleven years ago, along with two planes that flew into the World Trade Center. As the anniversary approaches, a veil falls and I slow down to a point where all I can do is be. Tuning into thoughts and feelings and muscle memory that have formed a gauze-like patch over the wound, I find myself, ironically, fully present.

At 10:28 a.m., the time that the second tower collapsed, anniversaries have been spent in various places over the past decade. Often in my garden, I found solace weeding and transplanting. Once I was helping a blind woman find her way out of a rest room at Grand Central. A few years ago I was sitting on a bench in the spiritual community of Lilydale, NY, listening to an impromptu lute player who joined me and asked if I minded that she played. She had no idea of the time or what it meant to me. Last year, on the tenth anniversary, I had my special invitation to participate at the memorial service, the reading of the names, the major event. It was my first time there. As I stood and waited, watching the area fill with smiling people, people who also had moved on after losing those dear to them, I grew increasing aware that this was not the place I was meant to be. I struggled past barricades and closed streets to get out, probably the only person to do so. Once free, I headed the short blocks to the East River and started walking north.

The sun grew higher as my heart grew lighter. I experienced miracles and magic, seemingly mundane but I knew better. With each step, I was in each moment, as fully as I’d ever been. 10:28 a.m. was just one of them.



Sharing my art and writing in a loosely gathered way that allows for meandering and taking the scenic route, I try to be mindful, meaningful, but still, at times, playful.
This entry was posted in aha! (in the) moment and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to September’s Veil

  1. Thomas Ross says:


    This is so rich- so open, the pain, the struggle- but also the strength.

    A very powerful piece of writing.


  2. Cranky Cuss says:

    Very well said. And moving.

  3. Succinct and powerful. You’ll be in my thoughts next week.

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