It Was Finally Time...

9/11 Tribute in Light
Memorial (Wikimedia).

As a native son of NYC, the events of 9/11 had a particularly personal impact on me.  It was an attack on my city, my home and not simply an event to be watched on television or read about in a newspaper. This post, however, is not about my own personal experiences of that day but rather of the many days that came after.

The first time I actually visited the remains of the Twin Towers was with a group of friends in 2004.  All of them were from out of town and many really wanted to visit the World Trade Center site.   While a couple were indifferent, I was silently against it.  I had purposely avoided this area in the time after the attacks.  A deep sense of painful aversion came upon me whenever I thought about everything that happened and what remained (or rather didn't).  I didn't want to be face to face with it all.  But not wanting to create an awkward situation, however, I went along nonetheless.

The WTC Site,
2004 (Wikimedia).

When we finally arrived, all of those visceral feelings of unease and sorrow vanished quickly and were replaced with what I saw before me: a big hole.  The debris had long been cleared away and in the middle of lower Manhattan, surrounded by the skyscrapers and high-rises was simply a massive hole.  I left the WTC site that day with feelings that matched what I saw; an empty space within me.

In the time after that visit I carried this sense of emptiness around with me.  It wasn't an active sorrow or depression but a kind of latent mourning for things that were gone and never coming back; the iconic towers themselves but especially all those who had perished.  I decided that I would once again avoid the big hole in lower Manhattan.

Time, however, flowed on and so too did the reconstruction efforts at the WTC site.  Although I would eventually move away from NYC, I kept tabs on the rebuilding efforts via the occasional news story that highlighted the progress.  As the new buildings rose higher, so too did my anticipation and excitement about the newest additions to NYC's skyline.  On an inner level, my feelings of emptiness gradually gave way to its opposite.  Hope.  With the opening of the National September 11 Memorial & Museum in the Fall of 2011 spurring me on, I made my decision. After so many years, it was finally time to confront my feelings.  It was finally time to revisit the WTC site.

1 WTC approaching
completion.

1 WTC and the spire
of St. Paul's Chapel.

My first encounter was actually an unplanned one.  While walking through the area on the way to meet a friend, I couldn't help but notice how quickly 1 WTC was being built.  I also  made a little detour to snap a photo of a small little church, St. Paul's Chapel, across the street from the WTC site.

A few days later my uncle and I made the trip to the memorial.  It was a sunny, unusually warm (for January) morning.  There weren't too many other visitors at this time, which added to the calm atmosphere of the site.

The first things one notices upon entering are the two memorial pools that are situated in the footprints of the towers.  The pools are themselves massive and are meant, in the words of the architect, to "reflect absence".  The sound of the fountains was loud enough to drown out the normal urban noise.  Listening to the flow of the water had an inexplicably calming and soothing effect on me.



















As I made my way through the site, walking around the two memorial pools and reading the names of those lost, I was struck at their sheer variety.  The victims were from so many nationalities, races, and religions.  Aside from reflecting NYC's well known diversity, this point also served as a reminder that the attacks were not a scar on only New Yorkers or Americans but rather the whole world.

St. Paul's Chapel.

After leaving the memorial itself, my uncle and I stopped at St. Paul's Chapel (which is NYC's oldest church) directly across the street from the WTC site.  When the towers fell, St. Paul's managed to survive unscathed.  Not even a single window had been shattered.  In the weeks and months after 9/11, the chapel served as a resting place for relief workers at the site, a true refuge in the middle of the chaos.  Aside from the normal church functions, St. Paul's also houses an exhibit regarding 9/11.  Of particular note are the many, many tribute items on display.  The exhibit itself is called "Healing Hearts and Minds". While standing in middle of St. Paul's, I definitely felt healed.

At one of the entrances to the chapel lies a "pilgrimage alter", an area for people to place tribute items or leave messages.  A decade after 9/11, things are still being left there.  I too decided to leave something as a way of finally making peace with my feelings about 9/11 and finding that sense of closure that had eluded me for so long.  My offering was a rosewood mala with an endless knot on the tassel.  Although not an intentional choice, I found the endless knot to be especially fitting for the occasion.  Sometimes it's obvious and sometimes it's not, and sometimes it's strong and sometimes weak, but we all have a connection with everyone and everything else.   As the famous sage Shantideva famously and eloquently wrote:

"The hand and the other limbs are many and distinct,
But all are one - the body to be kept and guarded.
Likewise, different beings, in their jobs and sorrows,
Are, like me, all one in wanting happiness...

And therefore I'll dispel the pain of others,
For it is simply pain, just like my own.
And others I will aid and benefit,
For they are living beings, like my body.

Since I and other beings both,
In wanting happiness, are equal and alike,
What difference is there to distinguish us,
That I should strive to have my bliss alone?"