Today is September 11, the anniversary of one of the most horrific days in American history.
I live just a few miles from the Pentagon. A few weeks before that day, I was on that very same flight. There was a creepy guy sitting across from me. I later learned that, in the weeks prior to 9-11, those who hijacked that flight took practice runs.
I don’t want to make too much of that. But still, creepy.
I waited at home with my 9-month old for the rest of my family to return. We had two other boys in grade school, and many mothers were making the choice to go by the school and pick their kids up early.
I decided not to do that. I was NOT going to allow those terrible people to dictate how I behaved.
They still did, of course.
It was really hard for our family members to get home. Many walked the eleven miles on the bike path that connects DC to suburban Virginia. A friend’s husband was at the dentist nearby and she asked me to drive over there and tell him what happened so he wouldn’t go back into DC. A lot of us did strange errands like that. Phone lines weren’t working very well. We all had babies. We were doing the best we could.
We have a memorial tree growing in our front yard in memory of my only daughter, Grace. That afternoon, when the children came home, we gathered by the tree and had a little remembrance ceremony. I played “Amazing Grace” on my flute. I have known since the death of my daughter that an essential part of my parenting responsibility was to teach my children how to grieve well. So, I did.
While all of this was going on, I watched the newscast of what was happening in New York. I was feeding the baby as one of the towers fell. That was pretty surreal.
Life.
Death.
It’s the core of the human experience. It was always there. It’s just that 9-11 made people remember not to forget to remember that THIS LIFE – this ONE beautiful moment, in fact – is really, truly, all that we have.
On days like today, it’s easy to remember not to forget.
But in just a couple of days, maybe even by this weekend, the undeniable truth of our own mortality will fade into the background.
It’s easy to live your life the way you are meant to live it when you are smacked upside the head with the truth that you could die any day now. It’s much harder to make the choices you need to make when you forget to remember that, it’s not just that you are GOING to die. It’s that you don’t know when.
And that not-knowing, that uncertainty around the time that remains for you personally, is what I’d like you to try and remember.
It’s critical to stay in touch with our own mortality, not because it is morbid, or because we are “dwelling” on negative things. (By the way, what could ever be “negative” about the truth? It just is.)
We stay aware and awake to our own mortality because doing so gives us the courage to live our lives fully TODAY. @Jennifer_Boykin (click to tweet)
Not tomorrow. Not when you finish thus and such or so and so. Not when the kids graduate, or you retire.
Today. Now. THIS MINUTE.
Some of us won’t be here tomorrow.
It could be you. It could be me.
One thing’s for sure — It’s GOING TO BE one of us.
Remember that.
And then, think of how you’d like to live THIS day in light of that reality.
If we do that, if we live our best lives each day, then we take the sting out of what “they” hoped to accomplish. @Jennifer_Boykin (click to tweet)
We remember — and ACT ON our own inherent greatness.
We live our own Best Life in tribute
to those who left too soon.
Not because we are citizens of this country or that country, but because we are each part of something bigger than that. We are each an essential component of the human tribe.
EVERYONE has something to contribute. Even the evil people contributed. They reminded us of our own capacity to love, to triumph, to raise our consciousness toward the collective good.
We are not defeated. They did not break us. We will not yield on that.
In remembrance of all whose lives were lost that day and all who remained to tell the tale,
“Blessed Be, and God Bless America.”
P.S. I’d love to hear about the day that changed your life, whatever day that was. Let’s keep hope alive in the Wisdom Circle comments below. And don’t forget, sign up for updates here:
photo: flickr, Erik Daniel Frost
Your message is an important one and something I try to remember everyday especially as I am getting older. We don’t know how much time we have on this earth, so I try to remember this in the words I speak to others, especially my family, and in the things I do each day. Of course, this is not any easy task. September 11 affected the whole world and it is a day that we really should stop to remember what and who we have in our life and to remember to appreciate each day and each other.
Thank you, Anne. You’re right. I think it’s a day we share with the entire human community. Jen
“We live our own Best Life in tribute to those who left too soon.”
Indeed. Thank-you for this reminder Jen, it really struck home. :’-)
You’re welcome, love. Report back in on how it went, please. Jen
Sept. 11, 2001 was one year to the day that my husband of 27 years had told me that he no longer loved me and was leaving. The year had been really rough and I was wondering how I was going to survive the day. Seeing what happened and grieving for those who died changed my vision of what my life was. I saw I still had a chance to live and enjoy my life remembering that it could be all over in a second. I fly a flag outside my home to honor them and every day, in some little way, I remember and am grateful.
Oh, my, Debbie. What a miracle that you saw that your life could be different — that you still had life to live. Thank you so much for sharing such a deeply personal and moving story. Jen
Jennifer,
What an inspiring and truthful message.
Thank you and all the best.
Thank you, Holly.
Your piece today reminded me of this poem which warmed my heart and widened my vision. Thank you:
And if I go, while you are still here
Know that I still live on,
Vibrating to a different measure,
Behind a thin veil that you cannot see through
You will not see me, so you must have faith.
I will wait there for the time when we can soar
together again, both aware of each other
Until then, live your life to the fullest
And when you need me,
just whisper my name in your heart,
….I will be there.
Wow. Lovely. Thank you.
You know my story Jen, 3 years ago my precious baby girl was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis and I have been churning and working and chewing on the grieving process… I even got stuck for a little bit – paralyzed by the fear that my baby MIGHT die…. and the truth is, ANY of our babies MIGHT die, with or without Cystic Fibrosis. And you are so right we all WILL die at some point…
The only way to live is right HERE, right NOW, with some urgency… I’m lucky that I have a 5 year old that asks everyday “What are we gonna do today mama? I think we should make this the best day ever” and so we do. My laundry pile is ridiculous, there is more dust on things than I care to admit but we really do try to make everyday the best day ever.
Thanks for being in my life and writing such wonderful things to remind me of what really matters. Namaste.
You’re a wonderful mother, Kelly. Love, Jen
Thanks for the beautiful reminder, Jennifer. I remember really appreciating how much I enjoyed and treasured the people I worked with. Work pretty much came to a stop as we spent the day in our boardroom watching events unfold on the big TV. We were quiet, somber, in shock, and appreciating life and each other.
The Challenger space shuttle day was like that for me, too. I worked at IBM then. For once, people got off the phone.
I love the fighting spirit that comes across so strongly here! ‘They did not break us! Fantastic!
Yep, I’ve always had quite a bit of fight in me. That’s not always been such a good thing, but this time — Rock On!!
“We live our own Best Life in tribute to those who left too soon.”
Beautifully put. Twenty years ago, the guy with whom I thought I’d spend my life passed on… for no reason, according to the autopsy. It took a while… I moved on… but he is always quietly there.
To the bewilderment (and sometimes annoyance) of the men I’ve loved since, I understand all too well the fragility of life’s cord and the importance of living in the present. Life is good.
Thanks for another excellent post.
I’m sorry for your loss. And delighted you decided to rise again. It’s the Spiritual Booby Prize for sure, but learning from loss, and using it to do good, is one gift that we do receive from receiving what we didn’t want.
Love, Jen