I was just in the process of doing some bookkeeping and then I looked at today's date. Wow, I can scarcely believe it... seven years.
In a roundabout way, the events of September 11, 2001 were a catalyst for me ending up in Paris. It didn't happen overnight of course, but I distinctly recall in the months afterward that I (like so many others) had a very strong sense of my own mortality and that I didn't want to live a life filled with regrets. I wanted to live my life more boldly, to the best of my ability.
Well, here I am, seven years later and I barely recognize myself or my life. While I am still filled with sadness over what happened (and every time I see the New York City skyline, my heart literally contracts with the sadness... it just looks WRONG somehow, now), I am mainly filled with gratitude that I was able to be inspired to make my life feel more meaningful to me.
On that day, I chose to write about my feelings. Here's what I wrote, if you're interested. For what it's worth, I still feel exactly the same way today... saddened, but not angry, vengeful or hate-filled. The world is in bad enough shape without me adding more negativity to it. Instead, I'd prefer to remember the good in people... and there is still a lot of good going out on there.
