Saturday, September 11, 2010

Thoughts on 9/11

The detachment of American arrogance:
Today is a day that everyone is remembering where they were on 9/11. I for one, forgot it was 9/11 and made an appointment at the MAC store at 11 a.m. They didn't exit 9 years ago, and I decided not to go, and stayed home for the ceremony.

And so I sat and reflected where I was nine years ago - on the corner of 6th Ave. and 11th St. in Greenwich Village near where I live - coming back from voting. A woman pulled me aside and said "Look, that plane just went into the World Trade Center!". I looked and saw this sliver of a slit up top of the building with a bit of smoke going out the bac, but it actually didn't look like a plane had gone in it, and my first thought was, "Gee, what idiot would fly through the WTC"? Not for a second did I think any of it was true. None the less, I did see that low flying plane going I walked back to my apartment and immediately went to finish an e-mail "Someone just flew through the WTC" I wrote, and proceeded with my day. A few minutes later I decided to go down to the street as I heard some commotion and when I got there people began to assemble on 6th Ave. Still, no one was going on. I rushed upstairs and turned on the news, but there was no news about what had happened yet - so I went back down to see what the what was. Then the 2nd Plane hit and by then it was clear that something very bad was happening. People thought we were being attacked and were at war.

What was I thinking?
The only thought that came to my mind was "This is the beginning of the End". And what that meant was, this moment was the beginning of the end of everything we new and were about before. Nothing would be the same after....our safety, the way we did things, structures, new forms coming into being, belief systems....all would change.

But, where were my concerns?
But where was my concern as the buildings fell? I happened by a dancer I had known who worked with Billy Forsythe in the Frankfurt Ballet. In fact, we were both in the company at the same time. I was annoyed at the fact that this guy, who was American but had most of his career as a Forsythe "muse", could not get a grant from Career Transition For Dancers, because he hadn't worked in the US for something like "at least 7 years" as per the organizations by-laws. I ventured back up stairs in the midst of all the confusion to call the Ex. Director of the organization to see what could be done about it, "Its just not fair!", I said. My concerns were for a dancer's survival. Dancer's die two deaths, one when they stop dancing, and the other. The body fails but the spirit lives on, the choice for a dancer is already made for them. Until, as my sister says, "they make a body that lasts forever". Death was in the air that day, in many ways, on all levels.

And now St. Vincents has been put to death, the hospital where there were no survivors brought. And an imprint in my mind that will never die. Photo's plastered all over the walls looking for "missing persons" as if they were pets. That indeed was and still is a sad memory.

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