Shhhh.

We all have our very personal version of today's story. 

Mine is mostly summed up like this:  9/11 was the loudest silence that I had ever heard.  

Ever.

People drove somewhere.  People herded out of public spaces and to be with loved ones.  Quietly.  Orderly.  Stunned silence.  Even the phone lines were silent to New York City.  In the morning, able to locate my mate, we spoke for a long while.  Rather, we were on the phone together for a long while.  I pulled up the news on my computer at work, he was thankfully home (he lived in Manhattan).  We merely spent the time together in the only way that we could.  Including when the first tower disintegrated, gravity recalling every accumulation of dust, bolt, blood and sweat put into creating such an amazing structure.  His reaction was again, silent, but for one expletive said softly, repeated once more.

Humanling is now 13 and couldn't give two pinto beans about what today is for.  They showed her a "boring" movie about it in school today.  What she doesn't realize is that while she was in school, I was working from home, with the minute by minute replay on MSNBC.  And you know this movie.  You know what the tough parts are and where they will be.  But still, can't help but watch.  Can't help but feel so sad for the President at the time, George Bush, who never seemed so little, frail and human as he did that morning.  

I lit a candle and worked.  Turned around here and there.  Cried.  Remembered. 

And remembered what came after.  I am grateful that I didn't lose anyone personally, but how can that possibly count?  Each person on this earth has energy that contributes to the whole.  So I lost a lot - we all did.  I just couldn't put my finger on it.  A beautiful reunion finally sealed itself official for me at this time.  There was a rainbow somewhere in the rubble.  

I am reminded that I wasn't chosen to leave that day.  My mate was planning a dinner for us at the top of one of the World Trade Centers, which would have taken place within a week of the attack.  I'm still here.  And have to remind myself that there are things still to be said, to be done.  There's a time to sit back and relax and that should always be somewhere in the day.  But perhaps indulgently following those wonderful words and actions.

((((Hug)))) {Pass it on...}

Today I work from home. I love not getting work face and hair together and not having to cover up the usual Neighborhood lack of Get Up that is usually reserved for weekends. Working for Big Pharma means not wearing army pants and a black Trick or Treat t-shirt to work. It also means missing Regis and Kelly, which in my opinion, not watching it sucks as much as Turdblossom's (special thanks to FireBoy for the name) grandmother's old vacuum cleaner, before dealing with the cat litter. Except for today because it is the seventh anniversary of 9/11.

Otherwise, mainstream daytime tv is mostly poison. The commercials make me want to petition God's powers for ten minutes so that can I develop billions of Stretcharmstrong legs and kick off everyone's brainwashing caps. Especially on a day like today. Hearing one more commercial about women who can't deal with laugh lines when your body is disposable eventually anyway, seems like it comes from a less evolved planet. But yet, they agreed to keep political campaigns off the air. Something in which the end result will hopefully bring about positive and permanent evolving change that is beneficial change. But leave the Botox commercial on so that between rememberences of 9/11, we can go back to problems that never seem to evolve spiritually. Yeah, I don't want to look haggard either. I'm getting ready in a couple of months to trade my 38 model in for a 39, and who knows how I'll feel in 10 years. But that's what I strive for - inner beauty - evolved spirituality, so that injecting youth serum into my skin isn't what's crossing my mind at that point.

I watch these kids talking up on the podium, giving a beautiful and simple speech that echoes shades of adult reality. They say that they miss their father. In identifying with others, the first thing I do is parallel it to myself and think of Humanling's dad. Who is alive. And lives down the road. And leaves me to answer with shades of adult reality to Humanling why he doesn't call or come by. Why doesn't he take care of her. These kids sounded as though they truly miss a father who can't be around. Humanling misses a father who chooses to live within basically the same exact crossing of meridians on the map of the world, but chooses not to be proactive.

It seems unfair to watch all these young enough children, crying in their innocence. Perhaps many of them will take that early reality gash and work it into something sustainable for the world - be it politics, scooting most of the world's countries onto the same page or the food and environment sector. We usually won't change the status quo without the burn.

What I remember most about it here in Connecticut on 9/11, besides the minute by minute events themselves, is the methodical way in which we all left our jobs to go. Go wherever we had to go. Silence. I don't recall there being sound, traffic lights, road rage, speeding, talking, pedestrians. I remember our large campus emptying out silently, cars along the road in a muted traffic jam without the stopping. Just the slow moving toward whatever we would find when we got there. The sound of sadness I suppose, maybe the sound of a hole in the collective soul of all that is.

I guess when you are at the sound of complete silence it can only get louder. Where we are now sounds like chaos with two different high heels on. But there are paths starting to gain tread that will hopefully bring around the balance. We have to just keep on passing the love out.

Whether or not you believe in him, it is said that the way to be a fabulous human is to act like Christ, every minute of everyday. Whether or not you believe in him, is that such a bad way to be?

I'm going to make another pledge to myself and see what the sifting eventually leaves in my hand. I'm going to look at the divorce next week with love. (well YEAH I will LOVE to be divorced but I mean this differently). I want to walk into that courtroom and check Turdblossom and the being that he clutches close to him for security (and for the reason of probably to try and miff me because I hadn't yet seen him rise above anything unless it is a 100% investment in something that he needs) and I want to be able to smile at them. Hi. I'm glad to be here. I'm glad you're here. And now, I'm glad we can part and good luck to you both. And the kid that is being put into a situation with someone who didn't do so well with his Starter Marriage (With Kid version). Good luck to you guys because if i keep hating, I'm going to need a bigger ribcage to fit thicker and more constrictive bars over my heart. And as the heart is the single organ with the most electrical activity (not the brain), I think its important that it has all the breathing room that it needs. So maybe I am doing this for myself. I am. But I'm doing it for all of you too. For my Humanling, for my mom, for anyone who has to pass through my energy in any sense and for anyone who will pass it forward. I don't want to be like the factory farm slaughtered animals that die with adrenaline raging into their bloodstream (for all to eat by the way, something to think about - you are what you eat). I don't want the adrenaline that exposes me whenever I think about the perceived wrongs that this Turd Van Blossom has put upon me. I want to be able to look at him and the situation with nothing but a pure, clean of tension and pure with positive intention, vision.

Energy is contagious. Hand someone a good vibe - boost them up - they most likely will hand it off to someone else and before you know it, you have another bad hair product commercial - "And they told two friends, and so on...and so on...and so on...." (Sorry if you missed the 70s - you missed some Einstein moments in televised commercial space).

One of the side effects of all these products that they are continually forcing into your consciousness is that YOUR RISK OF BEING HUMAN NEVER GOES AWAY. So with that - with an honest and open heart, free of competition, free of jealousy, free of hate or the metal bars that tighten over your chest, bring someone up. And they'll tell two friends. And they'll tell two friends. And so on. And so on.