We all have our stories. Where were you when you heard about 9/11? I was getting ready for work and as was my habit, I turned on the news to wake up… I was mesmerized standing before the TV… I couldn’t even sit down. I called to my husband,” Come look at this.” Again and again they played that scene of the plane crashing into the Twin Towers… and the people taking death dives out the windows… and the chaos, the chaos.
I continued getting ready all the while watching incredulously at the developing mayhem on the screen. Someone at work asked, “Did you hear about the tragedy?” I usually hate psycho babble from those PHD types. Dr. Babs wanted all of us to get in a circle and talk about our feelings. Some people wanted to raise a battalion and go out and cream someone…. Anyone! Who was responsible for this anyway?
At home I began setting up a shrine to the victims. … and the World. I collected many small religious objects: a Japanese mourning bell, a replica of the Statue of Liberty, an incense burner, a black obsidian rock, a clear white crystal, a reflecting oval of cut glass, a Celtic cross, an old Peace Symbol button, an African power necklace, a Moracan drum, a small statue of Buddha, a medicine bag full of multi-colored rocks from the Mohave Desert, a wall hanging of a crescent moon, a cinnamon broom, an abalone shell, a sage stick, a Quann Yin statue, a Holy candle, picture post cards of the Virgin Mary and Krishna, an American flag, an Aboriginal digging stick, a God’s eye weaving, a Star of David… the list goes on and on. Let it be said that I was calling to every god from every culture I could find.
All these things I kept on a low dresser in the boudoir. I rang the bell, and I watched CNN. I rang the bell, I lit incense, I watched CNN. I rang the bell 100 times per day for over a year. I had a lot of praying to do. We all had a lot of praying to do. We still have a lot of praying to do. Blessed Be. Peace.
