Mark Stanton Welch Responses to Questions

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Responses to Questions for Discussion

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Question for Discussion

After the shock, disbelief and painful sadness, one of the first thoughts I had with the news of the attack, was "See, none of this matters". Not the money, the job, the pursuit of making it to the "top". It means nothing in the end. To the life that was lost, and the people who loved them, did it matter how much money they had? What their title was? How young or how old the person was? Were they the best sales person, manager...? Did they wear the best looking suit? How many hours they put in at the office? What degree they had? These thoughts came from what may have been a righteous attitude. Having left a "successful" career, earning a nice pay check and big bonuses, to discover and pursue my heart's desire, leaving behind any fear of not having enough money, fancy titles, etc... I was validating my path, and my decision to live "my" way and not the way society dictates. I wanted to yell to the world to say "See, you are all doing it all wrong" And of course I soon stopped myself, because then I realized that I didn't have all the answers. I did not have any answer to what happened, why, or what this would mean in days to come. I was confused, I felt small and I was in pain. In pain for the people who suffered the attack, for those on the planes, for the fireman, and all the families directly involved. For people who just don't get the deeper meaning of life, nor are in touch with spirituality. I was in pain for me. I could have been on the plane, my brother, my friends. Where is the darkness in me? What is my dark side? Will people wake up through this chaos, or just create more? Those were some of the immediate ways I was affected on an emotional, thought level.

I was unable to follow through on my appointments the day of the event. However, as a massage therapist, I felt the way I could contribute was to continue my work for those clients who came to me in this time of need. As I began to place my hands on the back of my first client the "day after", tears welled up in my eyes, and I did not know if I could continue. My work had a whole new meaning now. How fortunate was I to be so privileged to touch this soul I was about to work with. Do I deserve to be here, doing this work? The fragility of the human body was flashing before me. All those bodies gone, gone, gone, gone beyond. The preciousness of the human life became so clear to me in that moment. Too precious beyond words, and how did I deserve to connect in this way. Could I live up to the value placed upon this divine work I was about to do? All i knew was that I was in the moment, and had 60 minutes to be with this human being, this blessed soul. And as I lay down that evening to try and write feelings from my days work, and how it changed after the 9/11 event, my journal entry ended with these lines:

And here I am , ready for an hour of physical, spiritual, and soulful connection.
Is an hour and hour?
What is time?
Does anything matter?
What matters is the moment
A moment inhaled, and exhaled
In this moment
that's all I know
I breathe in
I breath out

Jeannine Garrison
Pennsylvania

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