What did 9/11 teach me? The unimaginable Poetry of beauty & terror
Friends, I’ve been reflecting on surrender recently — in the context of 9/11 and Afghanistan, climate crisis, and most importantly, what it means to live with grace in an era of turbulent change. This week’s post is a meditation on embracing beauty as perhaps the sanest response to these times. Much love, M.
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The backdrop to my September 11, 2001 was the glory of a seemingly perfect New England day. The air was crisp, and the sky cloudless — mirroring the infinite possibility I was feeling at the start of my senior year of college.
Little did I know that possibility would include the unimaginable.
Stopping by my dorm between morning classes, I was stunned to find my night owl roommate awake, glued to our TV. Something had to be amiss; she was never awake before noon.
Pointing to the news, she said: “A plane just hit the World Trade Center.”
And with those words — an unintentional incantation that cast me into a completely different reality than the one I thought lay ahead — the world changed.
Having gone to high school in the shadow of the World Trade Center, I’d spent countless afternoons wandering Lower Manhattan and hanging out at the mall in the WTC. These were my stomping grounds, the backdrop to the innocence of my youth; and it was unnerving to watch an important part of “home” literally collapse in the span of minutes.
As a native New Yorker, the Twin Towers were my most reliable compass. Climbing out of the darkness of the subway, as my eyes adjusted to being above ground, I’d scan the skyline and they’d inevitably show me due South. The Towers — which stood commandingly above the jangled din of the streets — were literally how I oriented myself.
Thinking of my family and friends working in the Towers or living in Lower Manhattan, I was on edge. I had no way of knowing if they were safe, or how to respond to the enormity of what was unfolding.
I felt unmoored.
So I tried to call my mom who was working in the City, but the phone lines were frustratingly jammed. I couldn’t get through.
Overwhelmed, I pulled myself away from the live news footage. And I decided to show up late to my next class — Music 112.
As soon as I opened the thick wooden doors to that grand lecture hall, I stepped into a completely different reality.
Classical music soared through the air. My classmates were rapt, transported by its transcendence. Strings ached in heartbreak, while woodwinds invited brightness. Even though the chorus sang in Latin, I didn’t need to understand the words to feel their depth.
It was dizzying.
How could I be experiencing so much beauty while chaos was unfolding 75 miles away in Lower Manhattan? How could all these realities could coexist in such close proximity — immense beauty alongside astounding loss?
It was a paradox of seemingly irreconcilable realities that I didn’t know how to hold at the time.
Twenty years on, it’s hard to believe, but the post-9/11 era has marked the entirety of my adult life. It has felt like “terror” has lingered in the air, just with different flavors on the menu: pandemic, climate collapse, and racial injustice to name a few.
Without a compass, I have at times found myself feeling adrift. And staying glued to the news offers little solace.
Feeling overwhelmed, a few weeks ago, I pulled myself away from the news and started a media fast. I stopped reading the news and cut back my social media consumption. Instead, I’ve been increasingly turning to music — just as I did on 9/11.
In particular, I sing.
At the start of the pandemic, I started learning to sing the poetry of classical Persian masters like Rumi and Hafez in their original Farsi. (Yes I know, random.) I don’t understand Farsi, but it doesn’t matter. The beauty transcends language and time.
And when I step into the reality captured by these poets who lived 800 years ago, although they write of a time whose particularities were different, I’m struck that breathtaking anguish and beauty have not only always lived side-by-side, but are inextricably intertwined.
They remind me that tragedy is simply one of the strands in the fabric of life; and hint that beauty is deeply embedded in the warp and weft of every reality.
And when I let beauty anchor me, I am grounded in a reality far more reliable than any external landmark, even the grandest Towers. And that is the unimaginable beauty of living the Poetry.
Melissa’s Reading & Watch List
What’s bringing me hope?
Daram Omidi — “I Have Hope" (YouTube, 6 min)
This is one of my favorite songs I learned in Farsi during the pandemic. It’s a traditional Kurdish melody that sings of revolutionary hope in times of upheaval. (As performed by my supremely talented voice teacher Adrienne Shamszad, and her teacher Mahsa Vahdat).
What’s making me curious?
Fantastic Fungi (1 hour 20 min, Netflix, YouTube, Amazon)
This cinematically stunning documentary on mushrooms is remarkable! And what struck me most about it was how if it wasn’t for fungi, the biological world wouldn’t break down so that it could begin again. Fungi literally create the soil that allows new life to take root. Breakdown and breakthrough always live side-by-side.
What’s bringing me delight?
The Midnight Library: A Novel by Matt Haig
This was the most feel-good read I’ve come across this year! Think of it as existential Harry Potter for the mid-life crew; or It’s a Wonderful Life updated for the 2020s.
From the book jacket:
Somewhere out beyond the edge of the universe there is a library that contains an infinite number of books, each one the story of another reality. One tells the story of your life as it is, along with another book for the other life you could have lived if you had made a different choice at any point in your life. While we all wonder how our lives might have been, what if you had the chance to go to the library and see for yourself? Would any of these other lives truly be better?
PS, the audiobook performance was stellar; and a fabulous companion on walks that lifted my spirits.
And in case you missed it…
On the power of orienting toward joy. How the brilliance of the world is always hiding in plain sight. (4 min)
In this piece, I write about how last year was my secret masterclass in joy!
Thanks for reading! To learn more about the leadership coaching and organizational change consulting work I do, you can find me here.
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