It’s been almost ten months since I’ve written here, and though I’d thought of closing this forum, today seemed an apt day to post again.
I’ve written about 9-11 many times and in many different ways. Last time I did, two years ago, I told my story at the request of a friend. That was probably my least poetic post on the topic, but it is a record of events as best I can recall them. The sights, sounds, smells of that day and its aftermath will always remain with me, as I imagine they will everybody who witnessed it firsthand or was otherwise affected—so, all of us, really.
What I first learned that day that has impacted me many times since is our collective capacity for strength and resilience, and that from great tragedy can come great beauty. After 9-11, the sense of bonding and community, the gentleness with which we treated one another, the checking in, the deliberate connections, remained for quite some time. And then, as is human nature, bit by bit they faded away and for many of us, life returned to some semblance of “normal,” forever changed though we were.
There’ve been far too many opportunities to experience this since that terrible day. I think of 11-9-16 which, for me and many people I know, was an absolute tragedy. And in the aftermath of that unthinkable day, I found my tribe.
In 2020, science fiction became reality. In the midst of debilitating uncertainty and fear, and a loss of lives so catastrophic it was impossible to grasp, new kinds of connections were forged. New survival tactics. Yes, we all spent way too much time on Zoom, but how isolating it all would have been without this dubious technology? The people I’d have expected to stay connected with during lockdown and those I did connect with on a regular basis were not entirely the same group, and I was grateful for the two-dimensional relationships I maintained and the new ones I built.
I suppose the point of this post is that out of blackness can come light, if one is open to finding it. It doesn’t eradicate the darkness or the trauma, but these things can coexist with unexpected comforts and bittersweet joys. One need only skim Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning to read much more eloquent words on this topic from a man who has weathered far worse than I have.
But I don’t want to diminish my experiences, because I’ve weathered pain as well. We all have. And in so doing, I have found meaning of my own, people upon whom I can rely, and resilience I didn’t always believe I had.
I took the photo above earlier this summer while I was recovering from COVID and feeling quite blue. I had a lovely home (not my own) in which to convalesce but I had too much time to think and feel lonely. And in the early morning hours, earlier than I’d wanted to be awake, I saw a stunning sunrise.
The title of this post is from the Nat King Cole song “Smile,” which B and I have long had a connection to. This past February and March, he spent about six weeks in Ukraine. We met in Paris for a brief respite shortly after the invasion began and the news was, of course, heart wrenching and terrifying. On a day I was particularly lachrymose (even by my standards), we walked across the Seine and stumbled upon this (click to play video):
On this most difficult of anniversaries, I send love, strength, and resilience to all who read my words.
Слава Україні!
firstsweetpang 