[This post was originally published on 9/11/2011 on a blog I no longer update, and have merged here].
September 11, 2011 changed me forever. Changed my life, too, but mostly it changed me.
I often feel I have no right to speak of it, mourn it, internalize it, to be so profoundly impacted by it. I lost no one close to me that day. Driving to work that morning in Midwestern America, I was far from the attacks’ epicenters. I was never in danger. I was a 25 year old trying to carve out and understand who she wanted to be and who she thought she was.
9/11 did that for me. It helped to chisel me out as a person. But in a way, it also would eventually in various ways knock me down.
The horror of that day motivated me to choose a new career in the federal government in an agency where I believed I could help to prevent an attack like that from ever happening again. I had been drifting after college in a meaningless job, and wanted to find my passion and pursue it. In hindsight, I wanted to connect myself to the tragedy in some tangible way. America was so thoroughly wounded, and I wanted to feel that day’s heartbeat, and make it part of mine.
I wanted to make a difference.
I believed I’d finally found my calling in life. It was a powerful feeling. Soon after starting the new job, I saw glimmers of what would drive me to leave it nearly eight years later, but mostly I was content and happy with my new path. I wanted to be part of the solution to prevent what happened from ever happening again. My love for America’s ideals – our liberty, our individualism and paradoxical spirit-of-community, our freedom to pursue happiness, our “anyone can make it” attitude, and our mosaic and messy history – coursed through my veins. It still does.
And, I believed I mattered.
That was the good thing about 9/11 for me – that belief that I could make a difference. I naively thought one hardworking, passionate person could solve the worlds’ and the country’s problems.
That was the bad thing about 9/11 for me. I eventually lost my sense of hope. I became cynical. Not because of 9/11 itself, but because of the path I chose after it. I became lost in a bureaucracy that frankly ate me alive. It’s a tricky thing though… reflection. I honestly can say I have no regrets about my choice to begin my new path. I do regret how it ended. I will save those details for another time. Today, with this blog, I’m at the start of a journey to find a new path and rediscover the idealism and naivety I once had. Those were good days.
9/11 pushed me into a new way of thinking about the natural world, far from where I had been. I was raised a protestant Christian, though not by an extremely religious family. My parents are believers, and taught me bible stories, but we were not bible thumpers. In summer, we missed many Sunday mornings in church. During middle school, through involvement with the youth group, I had grown very spiritual in my faith on my own. God had become the most important thing in my life, and everything I did was influenced by those beliefs. But towards the end of high school, my passion had begun to dwindle. I didn’t understand why. I still believed, but I didn’t feel the passion for it.
Although I had started down a path of rational thought and belief based on evidence and reason long before (even during the height of my religiosity), 2001-2002 was a pivotal year for my growth as a human. I had been struggling to regain a Christian faith I’d felt was slipping further away. That loss pained me and I’d been trying to find my footing, pick myself up, and find my way back home. I wanted to believe again.
9/11 was also the catalyst that led me to the next important moment in my deconversion. At the start of a solo vacation to Lake Tahoe in April 2002, a blizzard stranded me at my own airport for a twelve hour delay. While waiting for my flight to leave, reading an article in a thrown away copy of Harper’s magazine about the evidence against the bible’s version of the Exodus, I had a revelation. It literally felt as though a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, and a huge burden had been discarded. I didn’t see God or angels. Instead I had an overwhelming sensation of the release of anxiety: I now felt allowed to pursue other ideas and beliefs no matter where they might take me. This was a big deal. My mind was suddenly opened to all possible outcomes and reasons for existence. I hadn’t suddenly lost my faith, or my belief in God, but no longer was I bound by the limitation of my Judeo-Christian understanding of life after death, and what disbelief in it could mean.
In short, I accepted the possibility that pursuing a world view other than Christianity could result in my eternal damnation.
Not an easy thing to accept; yet at the same time it was. I now quietly celebrate April 1 (yes, April Fools Day!) each year as my “Epiphany Day.” I’ll save the rest of that for another blog in the future.
Many months had passed between 9/11 and that day, but my willingness to hear new ideas had pushed me further from the God I’d known and loved, and more towards agnosticism. It was scary and exhilarating at the same time. Yet, as of 8:45 am eastern standard time on the morning of 9/11/2001, I still believed in God. By the time I closed my eyes to go to sleep that night, I did not. I only realized this later after reflection, but 9/11/2001 was the day I stopped believing in supernatural explanations for all things, and threw my lot in with science, reason and logic. It was the event that opened my mind to that realization I had on my trip to Tahoe. Without 9/11, I could still be a struggling Christian, miserable with herself for her hypocrisy and loss of heart.
Thus began my transformation into a skeptic. I try not to define myself by one word, or one set of beliefs. I am the combination of all of my beliefs, dreams, and experiences. Just as you are. And tomorrow that combination, and net result could – and probably will – change. But if I must chose one, skeptic would be the word that best defines me.
All of that detail sets the stage for this blog. I chose to post my first entry on the ten year anniversary of September 11, 2001 with purpose. It marks an important date for me for many reasons. Without that day, my country, my life and me would be so very different, for better and for worse. Right now, I’m not sure which it is. Maybe its both. I do know this: I love to learn, I love to debate. I aim to seek the truth. I cannot do this alone. I’ve heard there are three sides to every story. Your side, my side, and The Truth. All three touch each other. My ambition is that through reasoned and challenging discussion, we can help each other find the truth about a great many things.
This blog isn’t about any one thing in particular. My interests run far and wide and my whims are even faster. I guarantee that while you may agree with me on one topic, you will vehemently disagree with me on others. But if you love critical thinking, and are willing to consider other options, I think we’ll be great friends, or at the very least, teach each other something.
September 11 means many things to me. What I hope for 9/11/2011 is that I can begin a journey with you to use one of our unalienable rights (and I don’t believe that phrase applies merely to Americans) to speak openly and freely while in the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness.
The rules for this blog are simple: Say what’s on your mind about an issue I raise, but do so in a civilized and respectful manner. Criticize the idea, not the person expressing it. Only then will all people feel free to share their ideas. And I want to hear what you have to say! I want you to challenge my beliefs just as I’ll challenge yours. It’s great to meet you.
Get ready for a wild ride!
