On this September 11th

Today, I walked and walked and walked. I have route that is familiar now, looping around the park near my house so I can peer in at the commuters sitting in still cars on the busy street while I breeze past, and then cutting through so I can watch the kids on the playground, the mothers nursing babies from benches nearby, the homeless people watching the world from blankets on the grass, the dogs and bikers and softball players and other walkers.

I watch as I walk, taking it all in. But I drown out the sounds of laughter, barking, honking, and parents yelling for kids that it's time to go home with music, usually loud, always with a beat that keeps my feet moving.

Today, the music was calmer, contemplative. I was enveloped in sun, I was surrounded my people and I was listening to this song by Iron & Wine.

It's "The Trapeze Swinger" and it is one of my favorite songs of all time -- up there with "Diamonds in the Soles of Her Shoes" by Paul Simon, "Polaroids" by Shawn Colvin, "Hallelujah" as sung by Jeff Buckley and "32 Flavors" by Ani DiFranco. The rhythm is hypnotic, the lyrics are exquisite and it speaks right to my soul.

Please, remember me

Happily

By the rosebush laughing

With bruises on my chin

it begins, and comes nearly to a close with

Please, remember me

Seldomly

In the car behind the carnival

My hand between your knees

You turn from me

And said 'The trapeze act was wonderful

But never meant to last'

I played it twice, and as it began the second time, the thought came to me that I hope someone knows to play this at my funeral. It wasn't a sad or mournful thought. It was an affirmation, an overwhelming sense of peace.

There's a lot up in the air for me right now. I am slowly mending my heart, carefully tending to how well I take care of myself, while maintaining a life that is often set to fast forward.

But today is September 11th, eight years from the day I evacuated my downtown office and later sat affixed to the television. That September 11th, I could not take my eyes off of the news, the stories, the panic, the reports, the pictures that silenced our nation. But much of the noise of that day was drowned out by streaming prayers and tears and fear.

This September 11th, I understand even more what it means to survive, both national disaster and life-altering trauma much closer to home. No matter how many years pass, no matter how much I am able to plan the details of my own funeral, the thankful feeling does not fade.

This day, I am grateful to be walking, warm, filled up music that moves me, surrounded by people I love and many I do not even know. I am grateful -- as I am sure you are -- to be alive.

Two years ago, this is what preoccupied my September 11th.

Last year, I meditated on moving through all tough times.

This year, I am centering on changing the world by finding peace within.