9/11, The Eighth Anniversary

Let me just repeat what I said a year ago:

This morning in Columbia County, New York the sky was blue. I took the faithful retriever dog for a walk in the fields. The golden rod is in bloom, and there are wild asters. American milkweed is in its cotton phase. It was September 11.

When I walk I am aware of my breathing. I am aware of my feelings. I am aware of my thoughts. Today I felt sad. I didn't know why. I was aware of my breathing and my feelings and my thoughts. I remembered where I was and what I did seven years ago. It was September 11.

I remembered watching the film of the airplane crashing into the World Trade Center over and over and over and over again. The people who escaped or survived the fire and the collapse of the building probably are still shocked. And all of us who watched the airplane crashing into the World Trade Center over and over and over and over again. We were shocked. Maybe all of us who watched have post traumatic stress disorder. Maybe we're a nation of people suffering from post traumatic stress disorder or shock or whatever you call it when you're filled with inescapable horror and can't do anything about it. After all, it was September 11.

I remembered sitting in the hot tub with all the lights off. Abundant stars. No airplanes. Silence. A tiny person on a tiny planet sitting in a hot tub listening to the crickets. It was September 11.

I'm walking in high golden rod. Thankfully, there are a few bees. There are some monarch butterflies. There are the usual birds who live in bushes. But as I walk I feel like one of the many children whose parents are getting divorced who assume that the reason the divorce happened has something to do with them, something, they don't know what it is, but it had to have something to do with them, didn't it? But, I think, the attack did have something to do with me didn't it? Some people say it did. Some people say it's the chickens of the empire coming home to roost. And I had something to do with the chickens, didn't I? We're all interconnected, the poultry and me. This connection is so remote, so far away, so ungraspable, so unfathomable. I couldn't figure it out. It didn't make sense to me. Sometimes things just don't make sense. After all, it was September 11.

The dog decided to go for a swim. I am aware of my breathing. I am aware of my feelings. I am aware of my thoughts. The dog and I decided to walk home. I gave her a treat. The sky was perfectly blue. It was just like that day seven years ago. Except there were airplanes in the sky today. But my country continues to suffer from its post traumatic stress disorder or shock or whatever you call it when you're filled with inescapable horror and can't do anything about it.

Today it rained. Otherwise, it's still the same for me. Is it true that when you remember something, your brain doesn't know whether it's a memory or something that is actually then happening?

Seven Years

This morning in Columbia County, New York the sky was blue. I took the faithful retriever dog for a walk in the fields. The golden rod is in bloom, and there are wild asters. American milkweed is in its cotton phase. It was September 11.

When I walk I am aware of my breathing. I am aware of my feelings. I am aware of my thoughts. Today I felt sad. I didn't know why. I was aware of my breathing and my feelings and my thoughts. I remembered where I was and what I did seven years ago. It was September 11.

I remembered watching the film of the airplane crashing into the World Trade Center over and over and over and over again. The people who escaped or survived the fire and the collapse of the building probably are still shocked. And all of us who watched the airplane crashing into the World Trade Center over and over and over and over again. We were shocked. Maybe all of us who watched have post traumatic stress disorder. Maybe we're a nation of people suffering from post traumatic stress disorder or shock or whatever you call it when you're filled with inescapable horror and can't do anything about it. After all, it was September 11.

I remembered sitting in the hot tub with all the lights off. Abundant stars. No airplanes. Silence. A tiny person on a tiny planet sitting in a hot tub listening to the crickets. It was September 11.

I'm walking in high golden rod. Thankfully, there are a few bees. There are some monarch butterflies. There are the usual birds who live in bushes. But as I walk I feel like one of the many children whose parents are getting divorced who assume that the reason the divorce happened has something to do with them, something, they don't know what it is, but it had to have something to do with them, didn't it? But, I think, the attack did have something to do with me didn't it? Some people say it did. Some people say it's the chickens of the empire coming home to roost. And I had something to do with the chickens, didn't I? We're all interconnected, the poultry and me. This connection is so remote, so far away, so ungraspable, so unfathomable. I couldn't figure it out. It didn't make sense to me. Sometimes things just don't make sense. After all, it was September 11.

The dog decided to go for a swim. I am aware of my breathing. I am aware of my feelings. I am aware of my thoughts. The dog and I decided to walk home. I gave her a treat. The sky was perfectly blue. It was just like that day seven years ago. Except there were airplanes in the sky today. But my country continues to suffer from its post traumatic stress disorder or shock or whatever you call it when you're filled with inescapable horror and can't do anything about it.

A Call For A General Strike on 9/11/08

This morning I was inspired by this Docudharma essay by dharmasyd. It explains the need for a General Strike and calls for a General Strike on 9/11/08. I support this. And I urge you to support it too.

What to do?

In order to get involved, here are the five best steps to take now:
1) Sign up with your email address at the URL in order to get updates,
e-alerts@votestrike.com;
2) Mark the day on your calendar and plan to be at a protest in your community;
3) Send this URL to all your friends, post it to forums, put it on your personal pages,http://www.votestrike.com There will be zero mainstream media discussion of this General Strike before it happens. So, we must be our own media and promote it. Link to this site from sites and blogs. Mention it with links in your comments on blogs;
4) Join the Consumer Fast already underway. Click Shut'EmDown at the URL
5) Take the lead and help organize a protest on 9/11.

There are, of course, no prescribed rules. And no spokespersons. This is definitely DIY. That means you can do what you want (I hope non violently). Mark the date. Go ahead and do something. Simple.

I don't have time right now to engage in a philosophical discussion about why this is an essential idea. I don't have time to convince you if you're not already convinced. Maybe later. For right now, I urge us all to proceed in accord with what the Wisdomkeepers of the America's call "serpent consciousness." Just do what we have to do to advance this idea, to tell others about it, to spread around the Internet and the media, moving without obsessive thinking or analysis. Just do it.

9/11, The Sixth Anniversary

There are three 9/11's worth our consideration. 9/11/01 in New York. 9/11/06 in India. 9/11/73 in Chile. Last year, I wrote about Chile and India. And now, six years later, I still don't want to write about New York in the same way that I never liked to write the obligatory essay about what I did during the summer. Frankly, I'd rather think about something else. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. For example, here are the lyrics of the 1998 Cry, Cry, Cry song, The Kid:

I'm the kid who ran away with the circus
Now I'm watering elephants
But I sometimes lie awake in the sawdust
Dreaming I'm in a suit of light
Late at night in the empty big top
I'm all alone on the high wire
Look he's working without a net this time
He's a real death defyer

I'm the kid who always looked out the window
Failing tests in geography
But I've seen things far beyond just the school yard
Distant shores of exotic lands
There're the spires of the Turkish Empire
Six months since we made landfall
Riding low with the spice of India
Through Gibralter
We're rich men

I'm the kid who thought we'd someday be lovers
Always held out that time would tell
Time was talking guess I just wasn't listening
No surprise if you know me well
And as we're walking toward the train station
There's a whispering rainfall
Cross the boulevard you slip your hand in mine
In the distance the train calls

I'm the kid who has this habit of dreaming
Sometimes gets me in trouble too
But the truth is I could no more stop dreaming
Than I could make them all come true

I too am a kid with the habit of dreaming. And when it comes to the constant repetition of words and images and analysis about 9/11 and its aftermath, my mind goes out for a walk. It goes right out the window and it keeps going until it gets somewhere. To be honest, today I really prefer that.

Be well.