Why I don’t really talk about this day

Since 10 + 13 years have passed (13 being the number of the divine feminine), it feels like the right time to talk about being in downtown Manhattan on September 11, 2001.

I was living in Brooklyn and working at my first job out of college—a start-up tech company off Canal Street—one subway stop away from the World Trade Center. I remember the crowded morning rush hour trains would always empty out at that stop—there were so many people who worked in and around the towers.

When I got out of the train at Canal Street, I saw a bunch of people standing at the corner and staring up. Seeing the smoke pouring out from one of the towers felt like being in an apocalyptic movie. I started walking toward my office but then ran back to the corner after hearing a loud noise and screaming. The other tower was now billowing smoke.

When I got to my office, our phone lines and internet were mostly down. But we received some sporadic news about the Pentagon and possibly other hijacked planes. We were advised to stay put.

Being on the 26th floor, with a south-facing balcony, we had a clear view of the towers as they burned. And as they fell.

There is sometimes a feeling of profound clarity that takes over in these moments of crisis. Despite feeling like I couldn’t really do anything, I knew instinctively that I needed to place a bowl of water at my office windowsill for the souls who were transitioning.

The energy of the city (and the country) shifted after that day. Those who use tragedy to divide were very successful in promoting the normalization of fear. Many of us with brown skin—especially Muslim people—remember the personal pain of this shift.

There are still those who use this day to promote fear and division—I guess this is part of the discomfort of talking about it—but fear and division is not a way to honor the dead.

We honor the dead by honoring life.

We honor the dead by celebrating love—in all of its shapes and forms.

And we honor the dead by honoring ourselves—in the memories that we carry and in the lessons we continue to learn on a path that leads toward authenticity, acceptance, and compassion.

We honor the dead by honoring love.