9/11/19: Today marks 18 years since the lives of so many of us changed forever. Those of us up close watched in horror as our community was broken, those of us far away watched remote feeling helpless. But each one of us changed on that day, and we did so together.
It struck me today as I reflected on the profound impact that this day had on the trajectory of my entire life, that 18 is no ordinary number. In Judaism the number 18 is referred to as ‘chai’ or life. More of the ‘ish’ part of Jewish, I am deeply aware of the life that I was given on that day 18 years ago when everything changed forever.
Immediately following the attack our phone lines went dead. I was unable to get a call out and watched frantically from my rooftop as the black plumes rose towards the sky. It was eerily beautiful outside, not a cloud in the sky, a stark juxtaposition from the thousands of lives lost within a single morning.
Once we found our loved ones and were sure they were safe I remember heading to the armory on 23rd to join arms with the community in preparing food and tending to the first responders and families of those missing in any way we knew how. Not trained in trauma I could still lend a hand, give a hug, and prepare a warm meal for those hoping for news of a loved one, those exhausted from a day of digging in smoldering steel, or those walking in a daze trying to make meaning of it all. We worked together, the entire community. We lifted each other up with all of our being. On that day and the weeks that followed we were not 8+ million people in NYC, we were one.
So much has changed since that day. No. So much has changed BECAUSE of that day. In business we call it a pivot. In life, an awakening. I left a corporate career to enter the classroom, joined a cohort of colleagues vested in improving the nature of education for all of our learners, and opened my eyes to the potential of lifelong learning.
This morning as I put my children on the bus for school, too young to understand the devastation on that day, I hugged them a little tighter. My husband, working from home to be nearer on a particularly trying day also gave me a tight squeeze. A reminder that we are still here. And there is still work to do.
My big kid asked recently: mom, what’s the point in life? I answered: to find your own answer to that question.
Now I find myself on a train headed back to the shadow of those two towers, a compass each time I emerged from city trains to get my bearings. Today I calibrate my bearings and hope you too will share your calibration with me.
What is the purpose of this life? What is the purpose of your life? How can we refocus on answering better questions to support each of us, from K to gray, in seeking out our most meaningful life?
More importantly: how can I help?