Remembering September 11, 2001

Sept 11 memorial

On September 11, 2001, I sat on the GO train across from a lady who was praying.  I couldn't hear her praying nor were her lips moving, but I knew she was prayingnonetheless.  Her body was held in the praying manner, composed, but relaxed; her hands were joined neatly on her lap, gently; but her face was what made me know - that calm, focused look, not sleep, but busy - connecting.  Even with her eyes closed, I felt her prayers.  I felt an aura of peace emanating frm her center.  And I took it for granted.  "That's what prayers do." I thought, and turned my attention to my own pursuits.  I regret now that I did not join her, because it was a day when so many prayers were needed.
  I remember feeling that people who lived during the second World War must have felt this way - uncertain of where to turn, lest the very spot you were standing on was the next to be bombed, or perhaps it was the safest spot.  I remember feeling sorry for my parents to have lived through that and I hadn't known, hadn't given enough attention to their hardships.  Callous, selfish, impetuous, head-strong youth.  Like a potion, it had drugged me.  Yet, without it, the human race would cease to push the envelope, for it is the wildness of youth that drives the world forward.
  I remember feeling an endless lust for information, for pictures especially and while repelled by the horror, I was also addicted to it.  Movie-makers must realize this.  What is it in human nature that craves this fix? I know if it is too peaceful, people will war to stir up some excitement, even unto death.