It was time for me to leave the constriction I continued to feel in NYC. I didn't want to abandon the now-so-challenged city that had been my home for nearly seven years, but all road signs were most certainly guiding me out of the Big Apple.
John Hughes, my coordinator in Australia, who lives between "OZ" and the UK, was very concerned and caring about the toll that the city and 9/11 had taken on me. He kindly offered me his home in London in which to "download" and regroup until my cruise "gig" out of the UK in March. Fortunately, phone consultations continue seamlessly from the US (with nifty discount phone codes).
On December 10th, United Airlines lifted me out of NYC towards Heathrow. As I watched the war-torn city below me—challenged again by yet another airplane crash—it felt like I was being "de-Velcroed from (and the words that came to mind were) the morass and the miasma." Later, I looked up both words in the dictionary, and sure enough, they fit quite appropriately: morass: a frustrating, confusing, or unmanageable situation that makes any kind of progress extremely slow; miasma: 1. a harmful or poisonous emanation, especially one caused by burning or decaying organic matter; 2. an unwholesome or menacing atmosphere.
NYC had become frustrating, with phone cables still not operating properly and too many businesses now defunct or operating at reduced speed, even while the city bravely struggled to it's feet. Many of we small business owners experienced an amplified version of the country's collective gasp, inhaled since 9/11. We were waiting for a unified exhale. All the while the city had become more compassionate and yielding—even among the cab drivers.
Everyone had more patience with those (myself included) who simply needed to talk. I was finding greater allowance from fellow passengers whenever I'd traveled after 9/11. We now all found ourselves in the same boat (or plane) of delays, long security lines, reschedules and jumpy passengers. With new luggage restrictions I was finding that others waited more patiently when I hoisted my overloaded carry-on into the overhead bin, and scrunched my computer backpack (now combined to included purse contents) at my feet. I felt part of a distinctly kinder brother and sisterhood of humanity.
The miasma of NYC continued to feel intrusive and pervading. Shortly before my departure, I made a final farewell walk down to "ground zero." The surreal specter of the Twin Tower skeleton still reached to the heavens, having delivered its human offering to God. It remained in a smoky mist, backlight by the eerie light from tireless, ongoing demolition. I felt even still, an atmosphere of shock and unearthly confusion. I breathed in what continued to feel like the unhealthy air of pulverized debris of glass, aluminum, asbestos, plastic, and I-can't-allow-myself-to-imagine what else. I said my prayers, thanked all the souls who sacrificed for the spiritual awakening of so many, and said goodbye.