Living Closer to the Truth: A Survivor’s Tale: Shattering Illusions of Security Is Not Necessarily a Bad Thing
Originally published: Daily Camera, February 17, 2002. Reprinted with Permission.
The incomprehensible devastation brought on by the horrific events of September 11, 2001, stunned us and left us with a feeling of insecurity and groundlessness. Certainly, life will never be the same. And I believe it may be better.
On July 19, 1989, I survived the crash of a commercial airliner that went down in Sioux City, Iowa. One-hundred-thirteen people died. I would like to highlight some of the inspiring aspects of our journey which parallel the nation's response to the terrorists’ attacks of Sept. 11.
After the tragic events of Sept. 11, we all asked each other, "How are you doing?" My friends were concerned that the plane crashes might have brought back the horrors of the one I survived. Quite the contrary: The situation reminded me of the gifts I experienced during and after the Iowa crash.
Please understand that I was shaken by the magnitude of the Sept. 11 tragedy and fearful of the implications for our world. But my illusion of security shattered 12 years ago, and that has not necessarily been a bad thing. From the moment that the rear engine of our DC-10 exploded until our plane cartwheeled, breaking into pieces in that Iowa cornfield, time stood still. Nothing has ever been the same since.
I had never really penetrated the veil of death until the plane I was on started to plummet. What came to mind immediately was the second Buddhist reminder which I had practiced daily—death comes without warning, this body will be a corpse. Freud said that we can never really "get" the reality of our own death. I "got it" in that moment. I was aware of breaking through conventional reality; death was real.
There is something very powerful about living that close to the truth; it helps in getting one's priorities straight. We stepped back from our preoccupation with material concerns and got to what is important in life. What else could have caused us to drop our materialism on such a large scale? Slowly, as we attempt to pull things back together, we move away from the raw realization of our own vulnerability. However, having been face to face with death, we have been changed. Our hearts have been opened. Our illusions have been broken down; and, we are left with what we have at the moment of death. Were we decent human beings? Did we love others? Were we loved? Are we at peace with ourselves? This kind of reflection validates the goodness, beauty and power of our lives.
As the plane was going down, I felt a heightened sense of connection with the people around me. The space between my fellow passengers and me diminished as the preconceptions which had distanced us just moments before became irrelevant.
The usual social constraint regarding staring into strangers’ eyes dissolved as passengers gave each other searching looks. What followed was not the every man for himself type of panic scene so often depicted by Hollywood, but instead was an incredible display of human goodness.
This incredible display of goodness was seen in New Yorkers, Americans, and the world at large on and after Sept. 11. Some carried others down hundreds of stairs. Another person stayed in the World Trade Center with his paraplegic friend while the building collapsed.
Tragedies can bring out the best in us. When the Iowa plane's engine exploded, and we started going down, it really called forth our generosity. Passengers changed their seats so as to be of most benefit to others. Some sat next to unaccompanied children, others moved into positions near the exits.
When the Iowa plane actually crashed, there were more displays of heroism. People went back to get fellow passengers. The part of the plane I was in was on fire. We were upside down, and it was totally dark. A fellow passenger saw a pinhole of light coming through the bulkhead. This hero punched through the metal and wires, and made a hole big enough for us to crawl out. If he had not done that, we would all be dead.
Our section of the plane totally burned up within three minutes of impact. From my perception of the experience, I would have thought it had taken 45 minutes for us to emerge from the plane. As we climbed out of the jagged hole, still more heroic passengers stood around to help us out; and we were able to get out in time.
Such tragic events can also restore an appreciation for life altogether. I will never forget how blue the lowa sky was, or how luscious and brown the earth was, as I made my way out of the cornfield where our piece of the plane had rolled.
Nor will I forget the smell; it smelled like everything in creation burning. I felt naked, though I was still fully clothed and amazingly well intact given what I had just been through. I was aware of having lost everything that had defined me just an hour earlier. My preoccupation with my upcoming consulting job, my notes, my flipcharts, my purse with all of my identifiers in it were all gone. It was like being born. My sense perceptions had never been so heightened nor had I ever felt so much freedom and joy at being alive. It was just like in the song "Me and Bobby MeGee": Freedom was truly just another word for nothing left to lose. It was not that the world was any less safe after the plane crash; it was just that I now knew it was not safe.
In spite of, or perhaps because of, the incomprehensible devastation, my experience of the disaster 12 years ago was not only terrifying, but exalting and heartening as well.
I believe Americans have also felt these possibilities. Referring to our experience after Sept. 11, a friend said to me, “This certainly is a Buddhist moment.” What makes it a Buddhist moment is the fact that all we have is the present. If we can embrace this present moment by slowing, softening and opening our hearts, perhaps we can understand why Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche taught that chaos should be regarded as very good news. Only by accepting impermanence and death do we have the possibility of living a genuine and joyful life