The Day the World Changed

WTCThat day I was running late (as normal) to my medical office manager job.  Luckily, the doctors were running later than I was.

I opened up the office, turned on the local AM radio station the head doctor liked to listen to and started preparing the patient rooms for the patients that were coming in that day.

And as I was getting the ledger ready for the day’s entries, I heard on the radio that a plane had hit the World Trade Center.  It sounded like it was a small plane. ‘A Cessna probably,’ I thought and continued my daily work.

Then the announcer started to get more panicked as news started coming in of another plane hitting the World Trade Center.  Then a plane at the Pentagon.  And another plane downed in Pennsylvania.

I can’t remember the order anymore, but I remember the panic in the announcer’s voice.  I remember every one of our patients canceling that day.  I remember sitting in the doctor’s private office with his old TV turned on so that we could see what was going on.  After the office closed for lunch I remember going to a friend’s house so I could continue to see the news coverage.  I remember being in line for gas for over an hour as I tried to get home and thinking that the world was falling down around me.

I remember not being able to sleep that night, and for weeks afterward, without the TV blaring because it was just too quiet and scary.  I remember sitting inches from the television, listening to the president speak words that weren’t in my common vocabulary before, “Al-Qaeda,” “Jihad” and later hearing the name Osama bin Laden.

Even bringing those things out and speaking about them, 17 years later, still hurts.  I still want to cry.  I still want to scream.  I still feel a thickness in my chest that threatens to overcome me.  Perhaps it’s PTSD, perhaps it’s simply the fact that the visions of those towers falling will forever be imprinted in my head, no matter how much I try to get them out.

This year, on this anniversary, I’m already seeing posts about how we shouldn’t have memorial services.  We shouldn’t be marking this day at all because we created these evil people with our Middle East politics in the first place.   Some would rather use this day to rally against the government and its international politics.  Others want us to turn this day into a national day of mourning to honor the heroic dead that died on this day to ensure it stays fresh and can be recalled instantly by every American.

The fact of the matter is, I really don’t give a flying shit about any of those things.  Right now, I simply still just want to grieve. 

I want to grieve for what my nieces and nephews have lost thanks to now necessary extra security measures.

I want to grieve for the pain of loved ones that are missing friends and family that should have come home from work that day.

I want to grieve for my own life changes because on that day I became a little less naive.

I want to cry for the people on that plane, who realized they were going to die no matter what happened, and decided to take it down themselves.

I want to grieve for the unity of the country after the event.  That unity was caused only by the shared pain everyone felt.   We all were willing to pitch in and do what we could to help those that were hurting and try to pick up and get things moving again.  It was comforting, yet upsetting to see all at the same time.

And now, seeing the posts I am, I want to grieve for the loss of that unity as I think now it may truly be dead in this country.

So for today, I really don’t give a shit about why you say we should or should not have memorials and why this happened in the first place.  I don’t care about comparing the number of people dead in wars versus this horrible event in US history.  And I’m certainly not going to respect those who bang a drum of remembrance while saying we should be doing such and such right now because of the heroes that died on this day.  And the people who continue to place fear in hearts and minds that this could happen again because they want to get something passed in Congress can just go to hell.

All I want to do today is fucking grieve.  And try to heal.  Something I’m still trying to do after 17 years.  So just give me the space to keep trying.

 

Photo from Financial Express picture gallery

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The Trial of the Flame

flame_by_vexix1887
Photo from Deviant Art

Well take my hand, and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.
Oh take my hand, and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.

Now well within the cold dark battlements,
Black raven calls my name.
Never’ fore have I explored this backside of my brain.
There amongst those misty ruins likes this port of death and pain.

Take my hand, we’ll make a stand,
Through the trial of the flame.
Well take my hand and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.

Gonna take this long trek down the shoreline.
Where the sea awaits me there,
If you do not fear it friend,
You’re ‘bout as mad as can compare.
Lost souls, and ghosts and phantoms are there awaitin’ in the rain.
So take my hand and walk with me through the trial of the flame.

Take my hand and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.
Take my hand and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.

How does it happen now good lad
Black raven calls your name?
On this dismal voyage through a world that reeks of death and pain.
So clear the smoke it’s vastness so infest your mortal brain.
Take my hand I’ll lead you through this trial of the flame.

Take my hand and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.
Take my hand and follow me,
Through the trial of the flame.

 

 

I may not have all of the lyrics of this song correct, but they are as close as I can get them from listening to Garold Amadon’s album “Tillerman’s Rye”.  This song for me is speaking to a lot of trials that I seem to be going through lately; with the fibromyalgia, the changes in my social groups, my work and in my spiritual life.  It’s funny, Tillerman’s Rye came out over 20ish years ago now and those lyrics are still as meaningful now as they were then.

We aren’t meant to be stagnant beings on this planet.  We are meant to learn, grow wiser and to help others.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t going to hurt along the way as we stretch ourselves.  We can only try to keep moving forward, keep pushing, keep striving for what is right for us and for our communities.

 

(Song by Garold Amadon, off the album “Tillerman’s Rye,”  available at his website)

Poem: I fly

The draft around me
I feel the sky
Wings outstretched, taut
I  bob and weave, leaning  into the wind
I see my prize

Water splashing around me
I dive in
Chaos reigns and could kill
Only a moment I have
I claim my prize

Pounding hard now
I regain my height
Heavier than before
But yet I overcome
I have my prize

I shall live a day more

Death…and Detroit

Language warning here – just sayin’…

ANTHONY BOURDAIN: PARTS UNKNOWN
NEW YORK, NY – OCTOBER 31: Anthony Bourdain films Parts Unknown Queens in New York, New York on November 11, 2016. (photo by David Scott Holloway)

Anthony Fucking Bourdain. Gone before his time from a disease that doesn’t give a shit if you are rich, are poor, physically healthy or have the best supportive care network on this earth.

I’ll admit, I thought Bourdain was a big time jerk and arrogant ass until he took his show to Detroit for the first time.  And I realized when I watched that, he ‘got’ it.  He ‘got’ Detroit. Bourdain loved Detroit. It didn’t all come out on that show that night, but I could see it.  He understood the grim reality of those who live there.  He understood their loss, he understood their resilience, and he understood how they just continue to move forward when everything feels so very much stacked against them.

“Detroit looks like motherfucking Detroit.  As it should.” he said in the show.  “Those who watch this show, smugly thinking, “That could never happen to my city” are dreaming.  Detroit’s problems are America’s problems.”

I’ve been a “Metro Detroiter” on and off for about 17 years.  I wasn’t born in the city, but still I have a fondness for it and it’s hardships.  I’ve been angry about the ‘ruin porn’ and I was pissed as hell about the fact that Detroit entered bankruptcy and screwed the pensioners that still called the city home.  I’ve driven 8 Mile, Telegraph, Gratiot and 696 back and forth to work, worked in the RenCen retail areas and when I was really lucky, took in the occasional Wings game at the Joe.  I even scored a pair of tickets to the Auto Show at Cobo center for my boyfriend and I once when I barely had enough money to scrape by.  That was back when the auto industry was still doing somewhat well.  But that changed soon enough.

And now, after hearing the news today, I now understand a little better why Bourdain got Detroit.  And perhaps I understand it a little more than the average person does.  Because depression fucks with you just as much as the people of Detroit have been fucked over by the auto industry, politicians, the state of Michigan and by billionaires like Matty Moroun making riches even now off the city’s blight.  Depression sucks your will to live ever so slowly, making mincemeat out of the joys you once held dear, making you think that you aren’t worth the air going into your lungs.  It hurts, and it hurts bad.

“Detroit’s Problems are America’s problems.” Bourdain said.  He’s right there too.  Suicide rates in the past decade have gone up 33% in Michigan, compared to the national average raising by 30%.  Both are grim statistics.

Perhaps one reason Bourdain had a love of the resilience of Detroit is because he willed that resilience within himself.  If he had anything like the depression I’ve battled with, I’m sure thoughts like that crossed his mind.  I bet he had days where he was proud of himself and his resilience, beating those demons for another chance at another day.  I bet he’s thought of the Detroiters he met while he filmed Parts Unknown on those days where the battle came to a draw and thought, “if they can go one more day, so can I.”  And he’s probably thought of those Detroiters on the days where he couldn’t bear to go on, wondering how the hell they actually did it; how they survived and made it bearable day in and day out in an a place that he compared to Chernobyl.

Maybe he was trying to get some of that resilience to rub off onto him.  After all he was working on a documentary about Detroit before he died.  And he consistently spoke fondly of the town in almost every interview, even going so far to say he wished he could say he was from Detroit, because that would be the coolest thing he could ever say.  In one interview he described Detroit as:

“Beautiful. Magnificent. The boundless hope and dreams and optimism of its builders is reflected in the architecture. I feel anger seeing the extent to which it has been allowed to crumble. I feel hopeful. And I feel a tremendous appreciation that people have stuck it out and are proud of their city. They’re loyal to it. It’s truly a great city and the font of so many important American economic and cultural improvisations and movements. That it could have been allowed to come close to failing is a national disgrace.”

And the fact that he, like many other people in this nation couldn’t openly talk about the depression they faced is also a national disgrace.

Now, in the aftermath, perhaps knowing that this larger than life person who said he had the best job in the world lost his battle means that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself when I fight my own battles.  Perhaps I can recognize a little better that my own struggle is real, and it’s hard enough to take anyone down.  Perhaps I can start being a little bit easier on myself on days when it’s the worst, and push off those harder tasks until tomorrow, when I might have a bit more mental strength.  Maybe I can try to find even more healthy coping mechanisms to keep fighting.

Maybe this Metro Detroiter can find that resilience Bourdain was looking for.

Lifeline Suicide Prevention Hotline

To Write Love on Her Arms – Help by topic page

Poem: Hail to Thor

Hail to Thor
Whose lightening frightens
As  it reminds us
Of how needful  we truly are

Hail to Thor
Whose thunder awakens
As it pulls us
Out of mundanity for a moment

Hail to Thor
Whose storms bellow
As they tell  us
How small we  are

Hail to Thor
Protector of Midgard
As we hear his call
And see his power

May we always be respectful of his protection

Poem: Spirit

The spirit within me burns.
It burns with passion for things that I do in my life.
It burns with desire to be stretched
It yearns to shine within the eye.

The Spirit  longs to burn that which does not help
The Spirit longs to fill the space left with warmth and flame.

It burns with strength.
It burns with desire,
It burns to touch other spirits.

It is not mine to say ‘turn it away’ because it shines too brightly.
It is not mine to hide, afraid that I would burn another.
It is mine to be the reflection.

The Spirit is mine to allow its energy to saturate me;
It’s mine to allow the warmth to flow from my fingers,
Dripping onto the things that I touch
Changing those things unavoidably.

For that is the nature of the Spirit.

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A Tale of Two Deer

After some of the horror that we’ve seen in the US these past days, I thought it might be time for a little bit of a nicer story.

The company I work for exists in buildings that were built right next to a state certified wetland, therefore there is a good amount of the property that the company can’t build on.  Instead of letting this land go totally wild, the company maintains trails throughout the land for the employees to use.  There is also a nice side open field the company has created to allow associates to come and picnic, or use for cross country skiing or even training for trail runs, which I’ve seen associates do before.  The land is privately owned however, so you must be a company employee in order to utilize it.

July 2017.jpg

Back in July, however, something peculiar showed up in the open field.  Two baby deer, waiting for their momma.  The employees left them alone, with the exception of getting pictures.  Overall, we thought momma was very smart, leaving her two babies in a field where humans frequent.  That would be a perfect place for them to be safe from predators.

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Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.  After seeing the babies over and over, we realized momma had been the deer that was hit several weeks previously.  These babies were orphaned.  But as we kept seeing them in the field, they went from simply sitting to eating grass and finding places to sit in the shade when it just got too hot in the sun.  21077281_10213512057256774_4321863583240579355_n.jpgSome weeks would go by and I’d see them every day out on my walk.  Other weeks, I’d see them once or twice.  Every time I’d see them, I’d talk to them for a few minutes before I continued on my journey around the walking trail.  I worried a little bit about what they would have to eat, but with the creek and wetlands, apple trees and fruit bushes on the property I figured they would be OK.  And none of the associates that work here tried to pet them; instead, we all took pictures, and went on with our business.  The only real roads they have to cross now are the small ones that link the parking lots for the multiple buildings together, and those all have a very low speed limit.

The deer have a pretty nice size of property in addition to our area too.   Many other businesses on our side of the road were built around the wetland, which means the deer have solid woods for roughly half a city block around my company’s property.  And it’s all private; so there will be no hunting in this area.

There was a lull in our sightings of the babies in August and September.  I had hoped they were OK, but felt that it was best that we didn’t see them.  Perhaps they had learned about how to behave like proper deer, and hide when the humans came around.  But about two weeks ago; another associate I work with spotted what we thought were the baby deer on one of the trails.  He pointed them out to me.  When I looked at them, I realized those weren’t our baby deer.  One had a serious amount of antlers.  And they were much more wary of us humans than the babies were.  I think one of them had to be daddy.  And perhaps daddy had picked up on raising the babies where momma had left off.

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This week, I was able to spot both of them again.  As you can see by the photos, they still aren’t afraid to be seen.  Sometimes they stay together, but sometimes they wander on their own as well.  IMG_5003.JPGTheir spots have gone, and they are getting bigger by the day.  I think the day will come soon when we don’t see them at all anymore; they’ll take their daddy’s advice and keep away  from the humans.  The day I took the final picture of them above, I did stick around to see what they would do when they saw a moving car.  And wisely, they quickly made for the foliage around them instead of sticking around to see where the car would go.  So they are still OK with humans, for now, but don’t like cars, and that is very good news.

I hope that I’ll get the occasional chance to see them as they continue to grow.  But even if I didn’t, I’ve very much enjoyed the times I did see them.