I wanted to write something about the end of summer, and how my beach memories of scouring for seashells and building sand castles seem so simple, while the board-hyphenated activities I saw this year took such skill: boogie-boarding, paddle-boarding, skim-boarding, and of course surf-boarding (which sounds so old school right about now).
But instead, I woke up today to the realization of 9/11 and remember how in an instant, I went into the depths of fear and vulnerability. I feel like pushing those feelings away, because it’s so scary and uncomfortable to be in that space. How is it that I remember exactly where I was, what I was doing, what I was thinking? How can fleeting minutes engrave themselves permanently in my mind?
I need to hold on to my discomfort, because it makes me realize my place.
Everything around us entices us into thinking that we’re in total control of our lives, even though there are now more tools than ever that actually help us do this. And on a daily basis, we make thousands of minute, free will choices that confirms this feeling.
But we know we’re really not. Not in the big sense. Not when we start thinking about life and death.
This time of year for me tends to trigger this line of thinking, but today, on 9/11 I want to honor all the feelings I tend to push away. Instead, I want to sit in the stew of the jumbled emotions I feel….being vulnerable, not knowing all the answers, the fear of loss, and in the end, just being human. Smaller than we think.