Resilient Remembrance
Stuck on the tarmac and then the terminal at O’hare on September 11, 2001, my son and I tried to figure out what to do, where to go, and how we would respond. We knew precisely nothing about what was going on. Memory is a fuzzy thing. As I remember, somewhere along the way, someone decided the best idea was to turn off the televisions in the terminal. Likely to reduce panic.
Pro-Tip for the geniuses who want to reduce panic: - don’t turn off the one source of news if the cat is already out of the bag.
Our ordeal began on the tarmac where my ten-year-old son and I were waiting to take off. About forty-five minutes in, the Captain came on and said, Ladies and Gentlemen, we regret to tell you that there has been some kind of terrorist attack along the East Coast. We don’t have any details. But, for safety’s sake, we must return to the terminal.
We got back to the terminal and then tried to figure out where we would go, where we’d stay, and how to be safe. Even crazy things entered the mind: The terminal has a lot of glass walls. We’ve got to quickly get into a more secure area, prefereably downstairs.
I worry about our country today. On that day, the better angels of our nature was on full display. I remember a woman who saw my son and I huddling alone near the escalators. She didn’t wait a beat. She asked if we had a place to stay. If we needed one, we could come with her.
Fortunately, my wife had friends I’d never met, Nancy and John, who we were sure would be a place to stay. Indeed, they were. So, we didn’t need to use this kind lady’s home. Still, I’ll be forrever grateful and indebted to her solace, if not her home. I wish I could thank her now.
On that day, I found some strength even in the midst of confusion, fear, and doubt. I’ve written this poem as a reflection on my experience that day. I’ve also written it to remind myself that - if I could trust myself then - I can be assured of the wisdom I need for today. You have also had similar experiences. The one’s where you survived because you listened to your internal compass. This is a psalm to celebrate our internal compass.
Remembrance
by Mike Davis
There was that moment
The instant when you were called
To find an unknown strength,
To exercise a wisdom for which you felt unprepared,
And maybe unjustified to exercise
A moment for which there was no personal plan
No guideline
No idea.
It just was.
You were called to make choices
on the fly.
To protect self,
loved ones, or both
Unsure the extent, location, or proximity
of what you feared.
All you had
Was your best instinct.
Your most intuitive thoughts.
Not running, exactly,
But moving with caution,
thought,
spirit,
and deliberation.
Looking for those
with whom you could safely huddle
And avoiding those
From whom you must hide.
You survived because you listened.
Because you listened to your inner caution
But not too much. You had to go on.
You survived because you knew to stop
And take stock,
But not too long.
You survived because you considered what might come,
and from where,
but also because you avoided attachment
to any one place.
Today, distant from that place and time.
Even now, those resources aren’t far away.
You can - and would - do it all again
If you needed to.
Those resources sprung up from within you
From your experiences,
From your wisdom,
From your trust (and distrust),
From uncertainty (and internal assurance).
For some moment today,
Sit back and try to trust the Inner You
The You with doubts and fears,
Hopes and dreams.
The You who’s responsive,
Whose strong inner River,
Will crest and ebb,
When you listen and need it most.
Mike Davis