Here in New York, they’ve turned on two shafts of light where the WTC stood at dawn six months and a day ago. The New York Times has a poignant article explaining it. I’m glad we’re doing that. It’s appropriate and healthy to mark events like this symbolically, ritually.

That day prompted the beginning of this blog. I started writing six months ago and I haven’t stopped. I’ve been to the other side of the world, learned a lot about myself, cut and dyed my hair a few times, learned to play guitar, formed new friendships and revived old ones, learned new technologies, watched movies, read books, saw plays, cried a bit, and smiled a lot.

For many, all that living ended suddenly six months ago. Since then many others have had their lives permanently interrupted. People in Israel and Palestine, people in Afghanistan, people in India.

Living a passionate life is an essential way to show respect for the preciousness of life. I won’t ever stop making the most of my time here. The destruction of those two towers only strengthened my resolve.

But, recently, I’ve wondered if that’s enough. Is it enough to enjoy life, give money to charity, volunteer once in a while, share the bits of wisdom I’ve gathered, look for the best in people, be kind, be there for friends in need, try to bring a bit more joy in the world…? I have good friends who have what seems to me to be “higher” callings. Working in non-profit to promote literacy, helping to create greater economic opportunities for women, teaching kids another language, or about science or about writing. What’s my higher calling? Should I have one? Do I already? Do I need one?

The eighty-eight searchlights pointing up into the sky downtown don’t contain the answers, but somehow they’re comforting.