When I read about class of 93' graduates Brent Woodall along with Mark Bingham both from the University of California, Berkeley, the story for me was not just about their contribution to the Cal community as outstanding student-athletes, but for the first time I learn about them as victims of 9/11.

Mark a former Rugby player was on the United flight 93, the plane with passengers that decided to win against the terrorist by diverging its intended target. Flight 93 crashed in a Shanksville, Pa. field instead. Brent, a former Football and Baseball player was at work inside the the South Tower on the 89th floor of The World Trade Center. Although I did not know these two gentleman personally, their stories felt close to me as I, their legacy and our families share the belonging to the Cal-Berkeley community, and so you have that"degree of separation" that connects us to this moment now, that will resonate forever.

  Although there is a season for life and death, many of us are left perplexed with the anxiety of not like this, not this way for lives to end. With that said a few people shared with me their personal stories of the 9/11 tragedy. How they felt then and how they feel now on this 10 year anniversary. Each person had a deep desire to reach out and say, you are not alone, you the victim, the family or friend of.  Though we may be far in body with no hand to hold, our hearts feel you and think about you, always.

E Pluribus Unum-Out of many, one. Truly, you are not alone!

Tara remembers:

I woke up to the persistent ringing of my phone, totally surprised to hear the voice of my boarding school roommate, whom I hadn't spoken with in months. It was 9:13 am on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. A fact, not of memory, but of record. It was one of the few things I wrote in my journal that day.

 I was in my final year of my grad program at New York University. I didn't have morning classes and had opted not to take an assignment from the temp agency I'd been registered with, so I was more than willing to play catch up with Michelle about life in Detroit.

 Hearing the sleep in my voice, she asked if I was okay then immediately broke the news of a plane crashing into one of the Towers. When I turned on the television, the news was replaying the footage of the planes crashing into the Towers.  It was clearly not an accident but a deliberate act of terrorism.  I don't remember how long we stayed on the line. I'm sure I probably tried to reach my family in Michigan to assure them that I was okay. The lines were jammed. I spent the morning in a state of shock, watching the news to make sense of what was happening a few miles away from my Brooklyn apartment. 

 A drive from my Greenwood neighborhood across the Brooklyn Bridge and into Lower Manhattan could be as short as 20 minutes. But the winds carrying those sooty particles across the waters and into my windows made the distance seem shorter. My friend and her husband picked me up to stay at their home in Bed-Stuy. Heading northward out of Park Slope, our drive was halted as we maneuvered through the throngs of people walking shoulder-to-shoulder in the middle of one of Brooklyn's main arteries, Flatbush Avenue. It was an unbelievable sight: masses spilling from the Manhattan Bridge toward what we all hoped was the safety zone. The rest of the day was a blur.

 Looking back, I can't remember feeling fear. Uncertainty? Without a doubt. Helplessness? To some degree, because what could we possibly do to protect ourselves against another attack? But, I don't think there was space or time for fear.
 
 It's taken years for me to fully acknowledge the impact September 11th had on my life. I instantly questioned the point and purpose of studying issues of race, gender, politics and culture in film. I attributed moments of depression or feeling lost or stagnant to my quarter-life crisis and disenchantment with my graduate program. Surely, those had something to do it with but I gave absolutely no consideration to the looming shadow of our new post-9/11 reality.
 
 As the saying goes "we teach what we must learn." Through the process of teaching and collaborative learning, I've come to recognize how deeply affected I was by the events of 9/11. For years friends would ask if and when I’d visit NYC, and I’d feel myself tighten up. Brooklyn will always be in my heart, but it's no longer the same for me.

 Now on the 10th anniversary, I'll lead a yoga practice in remembrance of that life-altering experience. As we move through a mindfulness practice called Touching the Earth, we'll express gratitude to all the people and experiences that have taught us how to live more skillfully--extending compassion, loving-kindness and understanding to ourselves and others. I'll dedicate each breath to the memories of those who were lost, those who survived, as well as those of us who lived through it and who are continuing to heal.

Tara teaches yoga and meditation in Lansing, Michigan and has a 1yr. old son. (www.dharmayogaarts.com)

It is life Take 1, not Take 2 that matters.

Teal