Updated: Sep 19, 2020
I received the news of the terrorattack in New York City that day, on a TV-monitor at Malmö Centralstation on my way back to my apartment, after cancelling a meeting with a medium, actually because of an intuitive hunch that I was called into another direction, that he too perceived. So nstead, I just strolled downtown, but a bit on alert and wondered why. Watching the planes fly into the towers seemed completely unbelievable and at first I thought it was some kind of movie showing as entertainment. Then more and more people gathered and watched the TV's without sound hanging over some benches. I decided to hurry home and hopped on the bext bus. I turned on CNN and watched the live coverage and replays the whole night, trying to grasp what just had happened.
I called Mum in the morning, and emailed Dad who thought it was a retaliation and pretty much the Americans' own fault. I just thought of his own envy of never being there himself since he had been banned from entering a decade earlier.
I went to an internetcafé and emailed my friend Evy, who was in NYC at the time with her mother to visit her sister, who lived on Manhattan in a small room attending a design school. Luckily, she and her family was OK. Evy shared how they had planned on going to the mall at the bottom floor at the World Trade Center that exact day, but how Evy had insisted for them to have coffee first elsewhere, without really knowing why, delaying their visit with half an hour or so - and most likely saving their lives that way!
Evy now works as a bus-driver down south of Sweden, and has even crossed the North African desert with the “Pink buses”. We belonged to the same Swedish organization IKU for exchange students going to High School abroad. In fact, it was Evy who interviewed and approved me before I left to go to upstate NY in 1988. We have remained friends for many years after that, moving into the same neighborhood afterwards and celebrated holidays together when we both have been single.
Later that weekend, I went clubbing as planned, hosted by two Swedish guys who too had been students at Parson's like Evy's sister. We all shared the same shock.
I also was in email contact with my former classmate of Ticonderoga, Eric, which I had just been emailing during the spring of 2001 about the upcoming Centennial celebration and High school reunion that I was invited to. So wish I had been able to go! He responded how he trusted that the US would be swift in their response to the attack and it struck me how fast Americans are to fight back. Is that good or bad?
Was the terrorattack even a retaliation of some sort that my Dad had said? After all, the United States used to often claim superiority in worldly affairs, seemingly with little insight of the opinion from other countries' citizens. Perhaps due to our own fault as exchange students who get to know the US in our young years that we share then, without the more critical eye we grow over time. Could I not go back now?
I visited Manhattan in April 2003, when I was there for about a week to do interviews for my research paper in Workscience with two Lifecoaches and visiting the Career center for Columbia University, as a benchmark for creating something similar at Malmö University in Sweden. I also visited “Ground Zero” of course and felt the devastation seeping through me, never forgetting seeing the soot on the wall on a house next to the hole in the ground, the visible subway sign sticking up, the pair of boots remaining on the fence outside the little church where firefighters had gathered, and of course the man in a business suit and tie, coming from a busy Wall street, crying next to my crying, by the exhibit. It was also then I suddenly felt pollen allergy, and sort of a jetlag that didn’t budge on the third day that it usually does when I travel. Maybe I breathed in something? It was also during the fall in Sweden weird things started to happen out of the normal conflicts and lessons we all face in life together with the majority of my teeth breaking down while my mother’s cancer worsened. Was it then I began to be surveilled? Or even after visiting Miami in 2002?
And in 2005, I got to know a surviving nurse who had moved to Honolulu after 9/11 and received her story. (You can read more about that in my book "The Call for Divine Mothering".)
However, little did I know that I would come to wear an orange jumpsuit myself, just like terrorists, ten years later in 2011... (You can read more about that in my book "The Call for Divine Fathering".)
In 2015, I read a post about “remembering 9/11 2001" on Facebook by a woman from New York called Janessa who offers Pilates in Stockholm. I have been wanting to practice this to strengthen my core muscles and release tensions accordingly, but for a variety of reasons, I have not been able to attend yet. She shared her own memory and I thought of mine. Reconnecting me with my love for the United States, and both the collective grief, as well as understanding more of my own and my former fears of commuting, not to mention being stalked and felt “stopped” from coming on time to many of my meetings, yet at times saving me from unnecessary draining of energy, or harm, making me grow trust in my intuition and instincts. Indeed, it seldom is wild animals we must be ready to flee, but other people.
The number 911 is to me, also Archangel Michael’s number - a call for the police and the angels. We can remember that too!