9 Years Later, The Air Still Thickens
We all express our thoughts, emotions, hopes and fears in different ways.
Some through spoken or written word, some through clay or paint, others through song, dance or, even, exercise. Sometimes we keep these expressions to ourselves, other times we give them life and open our hearts to those who would listen.
When I feel, I write.
Not for the world, not for my friends, just for me. Occasionally, though, I share these expressions with others. So it was, the Summer of 1999 when I awoke to what, then, seemed a huge human tragedy—the downing of JFK, Jr.’s plane. I sat on the couch and I did what I do. I wrote.
But, instead of keeping it to myself, as I’d always done before…
I felt out loud…
First, with those closest to me, and, eventually, to any who chose to read. I posted publicly, then e-mailed it to everyone I knew. When, for the first time, I shared my writing, I opened a little piece of my soul. I took a chance at being judged and an amazing thing happened…
My life became a far richer place.
My sister read my thoughts and called me crying. She said, for the first time, she began to truly understand why I live my life embracing today and taking risks. Friends, clients and family members began to open their hearts. The love, the emotion, the tenderness; the bonds that came back to me upon this act added more to my life than any single word I had written before.
To this day, though, I have not been able to write much about what happened 9 years ago in NYC.
I guess, part of me is still there.
Three days after the event, I stood, a volunteer, by chance, in an army reserve unit, not more than 10 feet from what the workers called “The Pile.” The air was so thick you could barely breath and your eyes burned and streamed tears in a futile attempt to flush the toxic soup that caked them.
Somewhere inside, a friend, the father of two young boys, lay buried.
A few hours in, an alarm sounded. We didn’t know why. But, everyone began to run for their lives. In every direction, away from the pile. So, I ran, too, panting and wheezing through my mask to get enough oxygen to keep up the pace.
Settling into an area that seemed far enough to be safe, I searched for my buddy, who’d been helping distribute masks and goggles. Finding him, I asked what had happened and he said they thought one of the remaining building might collapse onto The Pile, too.
So, we both made a choice.
With my 3-month old daughter at home and his wife 6 months pregnant, we retreated to safety. We decided to serve another way. We were not willing to risk our lives and the chance for our kids to have dads by going back in. To this day, I am amazed, awed and eternally grateful to those who did just that.
And, on days like today, I have to admit…I can still smell the ashes.
While time begins to heal, it is not time enough. I don’t know if it ever will be. I watched footage of the dreadful day on the fifth anniversary and, in it, the filmmaker said, “it’s five years later and, on the outside, it looks like life has just moved on. But, scratch the surface of anyone who was here that day and it’s still right there, just below.”
So, I begin, now to do what I do. I write. And, yet again, I share. Not with the hope of stirring emotion, but simply to let those who read it know…
I, too, feel, I, too, miss…and I, too, will carry on.
In the weeks that followed 9-11, mixed into the unrelenting heaviness was a sense of unity and compassion that I had never before experienced among so many that had, a few days prior, lived largely to the exclusion of those around them.
As the pain of that day faded, so too did much of the acknowledgment that every other person in this city is, in fact, my brother, my sister, my mother. And, while I wish 9-11 never happened, with an odd sense of shame, I miss the tightly-woven fabric of compassion, non-judgment and respect for others that blanketed and defined the 6-months that followed.
It, too, seems to have drifted.
Emerson said:
“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a little better; whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is the meaning of success.”
Let’s all succeed, together, in becoming a community defined by kindness…
One that values, as riches, the depth and integrity of the bonds we create between each other. In doing so, we bring each other alive and serve tribute to those who no longer can.
Open your heart today and share your thoughts by writing a few words in your own journal, in the comments below, on your blog or wherever you share online. Call a friend to tell them you love them, forgive an old grudge that has created space that need not exist.
However you can tap your ability to express emotion and connection, do it now.
Goethe reminds us:
“Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.”
With love,
Jonathan
Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below…
[This post was first published on 9-11-08, but with so much uncertainty in the air today, the basic message is as relevant as ever]
59 comments
POSTED IN: Conscious living, Leadership, Motivation & Success, Parenting | Family | 09/11/10
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Jon,
You write so well (and touch so many). Don’t ever stop writing.
Deb
I hope you don’t mind a bit of advice from a reader… you could express your ideas so much better if you would just relax a bit. Stop worrying about sounding so spiritual and intelligent on here and just write how you feel. It doesn’t have to be perfect and it doesn’t need to make you look super insightful. Just let go a bit.
Congrats for that comment Pete, you’re an asshole.
Thanks for this post Jonathan. Well said and insightful as always my friend
Nicely said Scott, you said what I was thinking.
Pete,
I believe you may simply be mistaking the writer’s authenticity in this genuine and heartfelt piece.
Any writer — especially one who writes on a subject like 9/11, with such conviction, and from the heart — is doing his writing and his readers a severe disservice by being anything but genuine.
Warmly,
Dave Ursillo
What a strange thing to say Pete…. I don´t think you follow Jonathan´s work very much to say such a thing…
Very nicely said Jonathan. You spoke to our hearts and a verbal response seems insufficient. I think it’s best left at thank you from the heart.
Thanks for a great post.
You inspired me to post about my own memories from 9/11. One thinks that memories of such a dreadful day would never fade, but I found myself remembering things while I was writing and having to go back and edit what I had already finished. Thank you for prompting me to do this before any of those words were lost forever within me.
[...] 7 Years Later, The Air Still Thickens – Jonathan Fields [...]
I love this. Thank you for writing this piece or “peace”. I feel like I’m back in yoga class, listening to your inspirational stories before we begin. Let’s all strive to unite and work as one world. – V
Thank you for telling the world that you left. People need to hear that. We’re surrounded by stories of heroism, and people need to be reminded that heroism isn’t just the snippets of video they show on CNN.
It’s easy for any discussion about the events on 9/11 to turn into “I was doing this” and “Oh YEAH, well I was doing THIS!” so I’ll try to spare you the boring details. But I had a (sort of) similar experience.
I was in Toronto, near the airport, and a lot of people were stuck at Pearson. Nobody knew when they’d be able to leave and for tourists, there was nowhere to go anyway. I had about a hundred bucks to my name, and I thought I could go and buy bread and stuff and bring sandwiches. I was all set to go and then thought, “Wait a minute. If I was a terrorist, and I was bombing airplanes, what would I bomb next?” And I realized that a major international airport was probably one of the riskiest places to be.
I was single, pregnant, and the mother of a two year old. I realized that I couldn’t orphan my kid bringing peanut butter sandwiches to the airport. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
So thank you. I’ve felt guilty about that ever since it happened, and I feel a little better now.
Jonathan,
I remember very clearly being in the Personal Training Studio I owned that day, alone, on the treadmill watching the towers fall, breaking down and crying and crying, wondering “is this really happening?” and asking “what was happening?”. The image that I think of often is how many people – no matter their age, ability, medical condition – climbed out of trains into dark subway cars, ran blocks, carried friends, and walked miles to get home. I was thinking that many of those people probably thought that they were too sick, too old, or to frail to exercise…but they were able to accomplish a physical feat that day.
I posed a question in a workshop on wellness that I was giving today – Can you do it if your life depended on it? The answer we learned on 9/11 was
Yes, you can! and my response (in relation to taking care of yourself) – And, it does! Don’t underestimate the strength of the human body powered by the strength of the human spirit.
In memory of the lives lost,those who worked so hard to save them, and those who are rebuilding the greatest city in the world.
September 11th was a horrible day, although I was relatively young at the time and don’t remember how I felt. I didn’t know anybody who died, although residing in Maryland, I was somewhat close to the attack.
Thanks for a beautiful and touching post. I enjoy reading someone who has “been there” in many senses of the phrase. Your soul shines through your writing.
Hey everyone,
Thanks so much for your kind words and for sharing your thoughts.
And, yeah, Naomi, deciding whether to go back in or bail was a tough call. There was really no right or wrong answer, only what we felt we needed to do at the time. Life’s not always easy, black and white. And, balancing self interest and service, when your life is potentially on the line is just a tough thing to explore.
Like my daughter says when we watched the divers compete in the Olympics, “he did his best.” S’all you can ask.
Thank you for such a touching post, Jonathan. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for New Yorkers on 9/11, but I can tell you down here in Australia at the bottom of the world we were sharing your pain and horror, and rooting for your great city to rise up through it all.
As for your decision, you did the right thing. Your daughter and wife needed you, and there are many ways to be a hero in life.
You’ve got me all choked up now.
Kelly
[...] 7 Years Later, The Air Still Thickens [...]
Thanks Jonathan. Very touching blog and that day still lives in the hearts of many near or far. Literally minutes after I watched the towers fall, I remember writing in my journal as I waited to have my 12 week first pregnancy checkup, asking myself whether I was doing the right thing to bring a child into such a world! Now the best thing I can do by that child is live as an example of love, peace, and compassion and keep him surrounded by other examples of the same. You are such a person. Thank you!
Hi Jonathan,
Beautiful post.
Anybody in the U.S. – let alone here in the Tri-State – won’t forget that moment.
Thanks for sharing your feelings with us.
Ryan Biddulph
Anyone anywhere will not forget that day. We are all connected. We all felt it! And continue to.
Just…thank you.
Sometimes, help comes in small ways, from unexpected places. At the time of the disaster, my brother was a Red Cross volunteer. One of the people he worked with, who had formerly been homeless, now ran an organization that was delivering food and supplies to the area. While he was down there, one of the homeless people gave him a quarter – as a donation for the Red Cross. The man running the organization passed it on to my brother, along with the story of how and where he got it.
It made all of us feel a little better – that even someone with very little wanted to help.
Oh, and one more story (if you’ll indulge me). After Katrina, I volunteered to help staff a center that NY City set up to help people who were relocating here from New Orleans and other places affected by the hurricane. One woman told me that her husband didn’t want her to come for help. He didn’t want any part of public assistance or handouts or charity. She didn’t either, but felt she had to (for the kids). I said, “You helped us when we needed it [on 9/11] – we’re just returning the favor.” She smiled, and said she felt better and would tell her husband.
Thank you for reflecting a difficult thought..none of us wish disaster to occur – but I too long for that temporary love and harmony we experience collectively in the aftermath. Whenever you remind us that fellowship should remain the ultimate goal from Kindergarten thru life – I am heartened so many others beside myself will hear you. I’ve shared the Emerson quote you chose countless times in the 20+ years it has defined my outlook on being. Thanks for including an Emersonian echo in many of your musings.
No one wishes for terrible things to happen, but sometimes it is those moments of unbelievable devastation, loss, and pain that bring people together at the most basic level. We stop being “you” and “me” and instead become “us” and “we.” The pettiness drops away, leaving only the most important things standing. We suddenly discover what we truly value. We are no longer distracted by the things that don’t matter, and only want to hold on to who we love. In times of crisis, our lives become crystal clear. No longer is our vision clouded by doubt and indecision. When you think you may only have a little time left, you find it much easier to pursue that which is closest to your heart. You feel the angst of things left undone with an almost unbearable pain and you know what you will do if you’re granted the gift of one more day.
No one wishes for terrible things to happen, but some of the strongest bonds are born of tragedy – with our fellow humans and with our own hearts.
I could say today is in that picture http://personalconfidantency.blogspot.com/2010/09/september-2001-ten-days-later.html
Jon -
I wrote a check this morning and just writing the date was a bit eerie. I didn’t walk the streets of NY during the time of tragedy or help clean up afterwards, but the disaster will forever be embedded in my mind as I watched in unfold on TV. The bravery of those who entered the abyss to save others or those who stood on the sidelines comforting the loved ones who had a family member inside was indeed a time of great compassion and unity. You have eloquently written what many feel on this day.May we never forget!
Another thing that tragedy like this can do is help you clarify what’s important to you. For me, it’s repeatedly provided impetus to make healthy changes. My wife and I lived in OKC during the Murrah building bombing. My wife worked for AP and was responsible for fact checking and updating the death toll for the wire service.
In our personal lives, we went through a painful year awhile back involving the unexected deaths of several family members. Here’s what I wrote about my experience http://www.phils-career-blog.com/2008/09/seeing-clearly/
I encourage people to try and reflect on the pain as a platform for thinking through the future. As in, “Given what you know now, how do you want to go forward?” If we can’t do that, then it’s just pain…and that seems pointless.
Not saying don’t feel your pain, just suggesting you use it to make healthy change. Why spend time on things you don’t care about for a little more money etc.?
Jonathan – I was on the treadmill at the gym when the 2 planes crashed into the WTC – I still feel nausea –
I fully understand why you still smell the ashes from 9-11
After reading the thoughts of my favorite blog posts I will also convey my thoughts on this day.
Thank you for this beautiful post Jonathan – be blessed.
My daughter flipped on the Discovery channel this orning to find footage of 9/11 well presented. She is nearing 11 so doesn’t remember it; but, she is likely old enough now to hear about it. Living in the DC area, we felt the impact of these events; my work has been shaped, to some extent, by that day. So this morning, for the first time in her more maturing life, I found myself telling her were I was when the day started and more about the morning than she realized. She has participated in memorial runs and events before, but this morning her questions were about the events themselves and our lives.
That morning started with her at Daycare and me at work – it was a perfect September morning just like today – just like each day this week. To date, picture perfect mornings in September give me pause. I am a single parent – her dad raced home from his office 25 miles outside the Beltway to be with his family – While I left mine to take my daughter home as the center was closing. My office works closely with the Pentagon; we had people there when the third plane hit; and I left only because the center was closing… there was work to be done.
I spent the next days not watching events unfold; but I spent them with my daughter living life as normally as we could. Life in this area is not the same. My building is more secure than ever. 9/11 changed my life in different ways than it changed others – I realized that I will not work in DC in that I need to be able to get to my daughter; I realized that when it comes down to it, it will be just the two of us (as the sniper attacks later furthered); and that we will be one of the masses sheltering in place. But I also so the spirit of the people, the desire to embrace life, and took note of all those who did everything they could to help in any and every way.
Thanks, Jonathan,
You are one heck of a writer.
That days that followed were filled with more closeness, more human bonding, that I’d ever experienced.
I kind of miss that, too.
What happened that day forever changed me. I’m really a lot more aware of my surroundings. I worry more about my child..my wife.
I’m still angry, too. I always will be.
Today, I pray for the families. For their continued healing (if that’s really possible)
JL
Beautifully written Jonathan.
This day was the first time I can remember truly feeling terror as an adult. I’m not talking about the fear that comes from deciding to take that big drop on the mountain bike or getting the pink slip at a job or getting held under by a powerful wave in the ocean. With those events there is always a feeling that I had some control in the outcome and could do something to end that fear. This was pure paralyzing fear and the feeling of helplessness while thinking “are we under attack?” “what is going to happen to our world?” and from being at work separated from my family, with children in school and at their own jobs and not being able to protect them. And then the terror of watching those at ground zero going through their own hell. It was a life changing experience for all. Prayers to those that lost their lives and their loved ones. Never forget!
This is beautiful, Jonathan. Thank you!
I will focus in one word you wrote, and that one is –LISTEN- how many times we stop for a while and try to listen, with love, patience and genuine interest to those persons, mums, friends, relatives, unknown people. Every story is important, and is in those valuable moments where we learn to connect to those around us. Is in that moment when we can feel empathy, and then, naturally, those around us will start to have empathy with us.
We need to be bold to express ourselves, but sometimes we need to be bolder to listen, full of respect not just to the others, but to our own self.
Then maybe we could help to transform the world.
I appreciate your willingness to talk about your personal experience. It’s often easier to let others tell the stories (and for a historical perspective maybe that’s best) but you give us the human, personal perspective that resonates with all of us.
I’m glad you write.
Touching post.
Emerson quote full of values to aspire to too.
Thank you and have a great, peaceful weekend, Jonathan and all.
Rob
So much to say and yet I’ll keep it short and simple like Allison and Jana…this is a stirring, heart-full piece of writing. Thank you, Jonathan.
Thank you so much.
Thanks so much, Jonathan, for sharing this. I’ve been feeling it about 9-11 for days and I, too, had to write. I know several people who could have been there but circumstances “just happened” to get in the way that fateful day…for which everyone is so grateful.
We should never forget the Flight 93 and Pentagon catastrophes, as well. A day like that should never happen again.
Ugh, this time of year again. It’s almost strange how powerful it is — whether you want it to be or not. The mood in the city is almost palpable, you know?
I hate seeing “NEVER FORGET” bumper stickers in the city… as if we had a choice.
We went to DEFCON Delta that day, and I was deployed two days later with no return date scheduled, and none really adhered to. Then I got stationed in NYC in a small unit with big guns. I haven’t left. Paranoia, alcohol, divorce — yep. 9/11 still hasn’t stopped screwing with our minds.
My (new) wife worked in the Tower 1 for several years, but started a new job uptown 5 days before. I think I was meant to be come here, do that job, meet my wife, and face down a lot of fear. I can’t imagine doing it with a child at home. In fact, now that I’m a father, I don’t think I could.
I saw you at Chris’ thing the other night. A big piece of 9/11 for me has lead me to search for a life of meaning and purpose — and it’s weird for me that we’re all here together on this island. It felt powerful back then to be a guy with a uniform and a gun, but now I’m not so sure. I think I’d rather choose art and creation than time hitting doors and reading intel reports.
Shit. I don’t know. There’s nobody here today except me and my thoughts, but I’m damn sure not going to the site today, so I guess it’s just more thinking. But, you’re right — writing and connecting helps. In this regard, you kick ass.
There’s been one pervasive thought in my rattling brain these 9 years — the only one that has persisted: “We were robbed. ALL of us.”
I don’t mind hearing 9/11 stories. I’ve heard probably over a thousand, and I’ve held hands with strangers who just wanted to cry. Therapy is when you allow yourself to be human.
Okay, Renegade Warriors — have a great weekend, and take care of yourselves.
Tommy out
[...] post is inspired by Jonathan Fields’ 9 Years Later, The Air Still Thickens. Probably the first time I’ve read a post and all the comments through to the [...]
I remember… being alone in my car running errands. I heard it on the radio. At first I thought I must have stumbled on some futurist’s hypothetical scenario or a piece of Orwellian theatre.
When I realized it had really happened I couldn’t stop crying. A huge pillar of pain and horror opened up around me.
Thinking of all the innocent people in those buildings, of their lives and dreams, and of everyone who loved them or even knew them.
I knew we would never again feel that sense of perfect invulnerability again – having never been attacked and afraid in our own backyards.
But most of all I was horrified by what I knew was inevitable…. what we as a nation would do to other innocents in retaliation, to perpetrate even greater horror.
And I felt, and feel, so helpless to make it stop.
I long to live in a world where we ALL remember that we ALL have a mother and father who love us, that we ALL want our children live unafraid in peace and joy, to become everything they dream of being. No matter who, no matter where.
And I will continue to live my life working to make that dream a reality. And pray that that is enough.
Jonathan,
Thank you for the opening. I think grief this large, grief shared by so many, can only be taken in and let go in small bites, lest it drive us insane, which clearly, it can. Because you collect and share great quotes and sage advice, I include the one posted on my desk since 9/12 all those years ago.
“When will our consciences grow so tender that we will act to prevent human misery rather than avenge it?”
Eleanor Roosevelt
The day I posted it, I was in too much pain to really get it, and that was followed by moments of such blinding rage that it fell on a deaf mind. But as we were debating our response, recovering our feet, and sending young soldiers and civilians from around the world into harms way, this stayed on my desk. It poked at my rage, asking me “When WILL we start preventing misery instead of reacting to it?”
When the attack is so heinous and encompassing that there can be no reaction? Will piling injury upon insult upon death and more death help us sleep more easily at night? Would I even be able to consider this if MY family member remained in the rubble?
I haven’t been able to find an answer to that question with any logic we currently grasp. So…I plague my mind and heart to remain open to something new…which I am sure is more torture and more work than letting it slam shut with the certainty of any one position.
I post this not because I think I know an answer, or want to pass judgment on the answers of another. It’s progress for now just to start to consider the question without falling into abject despair.
So I applaud you, Jonathan, for just being honest enough to say this is still agony. I’m not sure it can, or should, be anything else right now.
To clear minds and open hearts,
Cory
Jonathan, thanks for sharing. On this day I always send out prayers and angels to those we’ve lost. I admit that I also miss the WTC, too. It wasn’t just a building, it was my hub a supporting character in my life.
Thank you for such a moving post!
And your powerful prose still touches many, I felt quite emotional reading this post and I was not on the ground like so many others but watching from afar on the news in disbelief.
Ironically today is my sister’s birthday and so for me it’s a day to celebrate her being on this planet and in my life.
There’s always good to be seen in any situation, hope in tragedy, love in times of hatred, courage in times of fear.
Thanks Jonathan,
I want to say something profound but can only feel right now….mahalo for the opening.
Aloha~
Thank you for re-posting this, Jonathan, obviously this anniversary is particularly powerful for Americans, but we Brits also relate to it with great emotion. My late mother-in-law, with whom we watched those terrible events unfold, lived through the Blitz in the 1940s, and it brought back alot for her, but she said at the time, “Maybe they’ll start to understand the ‘Blitz Spirit’ now, the unity and strength, the new community’ Clearly, you did.
If we can all build more love into life as a result, those vindictive acts will have exactly the opposite impact from what the perpetrators intended.
Thanks again.
Jonathan…I’ve been reading your blog regularly for several months now and have never taken the time to tell you that I always find value in what you have to say. Today’s message was particularly moving and heartfelt. Keep on expressing your art, your passion, your gifts and know that I am among those whom you touch.
Jonathan,
Deeply appreciate your candor and honesty in this post. I have been following you for some months now and had no idea you were a Reservist working to excavate survivors at Ground Zero.
Thank you for your service to our country, and for the example you set for others like me.
Dave
Actually, I’m not a Reservist. The Army National Guard Captain was rounding up any available civilians who had made it past the barricades and my friend and I happened to be there when he walked by and asked if we would help. My friend lived down there so he was able to escort me into the area. We thought we’d just help hand out water bottles about 10 blocks north of the Pile. Apparently there was a very different pan in store for us.
Please excuse my mistake, Jonathan. That certainly adds an entirely new layer to the story and makes me appreciate your efforts even more.
Warmly,
Dave Ursillo
[...] morning before I even rolled out of bed, I read two blog posts marking today’s anniversary: this beautiful one from Jonathan Fields, and this from Chris Brogan. It stirred up a lot of emotion in [...]
My husband and I watched a 9/11 documentary the other day, and the feelings came right back, just as strong, just as raw. Living on the other side of the world, we watched in horror as the events unfold throughout the night, and as I was pregnant for the first time I remember feeling my child moving and wondering what sort of world I was bringing him into. 9 years later I think the answer is that it’s fundamentally a good world. Yes, there’s a dark side, and sometimes I’m quite simply undone by the atrocious things humans are capable of doing to each other and the world around us. But, I believe that they are in the minority. And, I never want to forget the feelings I experienced on 9/11, because it’s those feelings that remind me to live in the moment, to make the most of each precious day, to live a decent and honourable life, and to teach my children to do the same thing. Thanks for a lovely post Jonathan, you’re a brave man and your daughter is a lucky girl.
Writing is my therapy also. I heal my mind and open my heart. Great post. p.s – we will never forget 9/11!
Thank you for sharing your feelings. As a New Yorker who was in the city during that period, 9/11 brought out the best in us, our first responders, those who helped support the efforts in anyway they could, and those of us who showed our gratitude.
What I remember most is the eery silence and solidarity among New Yorkers that followed in what is usually a noisy, bustling city. It was our way of showing respect for the victims and those who tried to help them.
I echo many of the sentiments above.
This summer I was in NYC for the first time in my 50 years on the planet. It was exhilarating. I have no “before” as a comparison, but the feeling of unity and “us” that you value, Jonathan, was pretty clear to us. NYC may be the friendliest city I’ve ever visited.
There were many tourists like myself to water down the vibe, but you could “feel” when there was a clutch of New Yorkers nearby. The “we/us” was palpable but it was not exclusionary. I felt “other” but acceptable and accepted.
So, maybe, there has been a lasting and positive sense of pride and togetherness that is larger than one’s own social group?!