So, here I sit...the last in my department at work on this what started as a cold September day. Tomorrow is Friday the 13th, which is always something I look forward to on the calendar. Is it just me or has it lost the stigma that it once had? Perhaps it is just something that exists more in the Middle America-like mentality, and since leaving the suburbs, it does not seem to affect me. Now it is completely celebrated by my pagan friends and all the witches I know are out having parties. Regardless, it is the 11th that now holds some sense of stigma. Yesterday, the winds that blew all around the city were so powerful...clearing the energy from what was now a historic day of erratic sorrow. I went to visit a friend in Midtown who told me that the wind was all of these souls just coming through to hug us...say that, "We are here!" She also told me a story about a man she met who was working as a rescue worker inside one of the buildings before it collapsed. He had picked up a man in one of the stairwells who could not walk anymore, and they were still somewhat high up as he struggled to carry this man down. Flames were meeting them at every turn, and he began to wonder how the hell they were going to get out of there. He stood, holding another human being's life in his hands when he found himself looking down the stairs at a huge wall of flames. His next memory is of standing, holding the same man, except they are outside. He did not know how they got out of there. He stood, bewildered, and then he looked down at the man, who said, "Did you see? It was an eight footer." And the rescue worker said, "What?" And he told him again that it was an eight footer. When he inquired as to what "eight footer" he was talking about, he told him that it was the size of the angel who picked them up and carried them out of the building to safety. "It wasn't our time," he said. The man told my friend that he has to believe it as truth because he personally has no other explanation for how he got out of that building alive. I told my other friend this story last night as he made us the best dinner I have had in a long time, and he began to go off about the world of miracles that exists. It was so cute...he just kept saying, "Miracles. It was a miracle," over and over again as he sauteed peppers. I went out to go and have a smoke, and I thought about how miracles must happen for us every day, and that sometimes we may not recognize them for a while. Little things. Missing a train can be a miracle. Not getting a job. Or making a train and getting the job. It is the mind set of everything happens for a reason. Finding The BLOGGER! A miracle. Because these moments are a prt of our path...whether they invlove eight footers or editing posts. I really do not know. I HAVE had a lot of sugar today. Anyway, I do know that I had a beautiful evening last night, and we toasted to that wind and the thousands of souls riding along it yesterday. Tonight I think I get to see a friend who I have not seen in quite some time. That is nice. I hope everyone gets a chance to do something wonderful with their lives tonight. Now, I need to get the hell out of this office and go on about mine. Much Love.
