Yesterday was 9/11. A day that takes me back to 2001. I was deeply moved by what happened on that day to my New York, to my World Trade Center. Even as an ex–New Yorker, or maybe especially as an ex–New Yorker, this was an incredibly difficult, nearly unendurable event.
I didn’t get to visit the site until two years had passed. I really don’t know how it is possible that the survivors survived the horror and tragedy. Just like I don’t understand how survivors survived the holocaust, the killing fields; trauma is such a monumental shakeup of everything. Everything.
I am blessed to be a survivor. Of personal trauma and cultural trauma and family trauma.
I am blessed to have had an opportunity to speak at a meeting last night. And to have gotten much loving understanding for the challenges I’m facing today. Yes, challenges of my own making. I am still challenged by my own thinking and my own fears. I have not been cured.
I am grateful for hula class and my hula family. What a blessing.
Life is a gift. I am grateful for the present.
Blessed be.
