I hardly know where to begin. Things are starting to clear in my head now as I return back to reality, but it is still hard to believe the events of the past two weeks are stored in my memory under "life experiences." If your background info is not thorough, let me first fill you in.

Who we were:
A group of about 15-20 loving healers gathered to make our team. Some stayed for 5 days, some stayed two weeks. We represented CERMT (Carolina Emergency Response Massage Team), but we were also joined by the Florida team (FIRST) and the Alaska team (RESTA), two girls from England who are going back to make their own team, and other lone therapist from both the east and west coasts.

What we were doing:
They say that you cannot give with out receiving and vice versa. Our purpose was to provide relaxation and comfort via massage and aromatherapy to those whose energy is running on low.

Where we went:
We visited St. Paul's Cathedral (by Ground Zero, the haven for the workers), the Port Authority at both JFK and La Guardia Airports, various fire stations around the city, offices for Safe Horizon (the company that does mediation and counseling for victims, the hotline, etc.), and the Landfill "Fresh Kills" on Staten Island.

When we went:
We were there from December 23, 2001, through January 6, 2002. Though my mother and I were really there until the 7th because our flight to Raleigh Sunday morning got canceled.

Why we went:
Just keep on reading.

The experience itself was incredible, and looking back I don't know how I can get the picture in my head to transfer into yours. But I will try in the best way I know how. I wrote some pieces mostly while in the Cathedral, mainly because that site was so inspirational in itself. These are excerpts from my journal, in very raw form.

12/25/01 (10:27 a.m. ET) New York
"We're in St. Paul's Cathedral. There are many things around to remember. There iis a flag made of square pictures that look like they were printed from a computer. They are all faces, some in red, white or blue. All repeated. It reminds me of my Doc Martin boots with faces on them. But these faces mean something. It says 'In memory of those who died on September 11, 2001.' There are messages from all around. They cover the walls, the pews, and the pillars. There is a paper lea from Hawaii with writing on each flower that's draped across the whole side of the Cathedral. There are huge banners covered in signatures from Oklahoma, Oregon, Tennessee, on the opposite side. On the second story one can see at least fifty cloth banners that would cover the place if they were hung. Paper angels and cards clutter the pews clinging on with tape. Some that are falling off are taking some of the finish with them, much like signing, 'I was here,' in a bathroom stall. Along with the decorations, in the corners of the rows sit some stuffed animals and blankets, folded nicely for when the half dozen cots (or so) along the sides are taken."

12/30/01 (also at St. Paul's)
"I see a man. A green vest shelters his cream dress shirt. His vest is much like a jade green, but with soft texture. A calming, warm green you can find in a forest on a soft patch of leaves if you look hard enough. Or in the city you can find the color where they have tried to replicate it on four-door sedans. It is tucked into the waistband of green pants. The insides of the pockets are lined with fabric similar in color to his shirt. But they are surrounded by a darker green. Not a green you find in the forest, but in the woods, on the tips of pine needles or aged Christmas trees in the driveway after New Year's. His legs follow down to boots that once shined a tint of green. They are the green a keen eye catches in the lake at night. Now, they have walked the length of oceans but are smothered with light colored dust."

I really don't know how to follow those, but I will keep on writing. The Port Authority was an adventure. I only got to go to La Guardia, and the definite highlight was when they let all five of us huddle in their holding cell while they took our picture.

One of my favorite places to go was the fire stations. From the "Harlem Zoo" to Engine 6, they all were equal in hospitality. Those buys know how to serve visitors. I ate more there than I did all day. But each were all unique in spirit.

When I went to the landfill I did not bring my writing book, but instead I made notes. Which I am kicking myself for because I can not find them. But this was a place of budding ideas. Also, it was the most bizarre. Driving past the chain-link fence, all you can see is piles and piles of just what looks like junk. I wish I had a more vivid memory of the actual scenery, but it was hard to look at, knowing that this used to stand tall in the city. I do remember the sky. We were there on December 29, 2001. Watching the sun set, while seeing the moon already on shift was a nice distraction from what I know they could both see beside me. There were mushroom-like tents along one side. We set of in the supply tent. Inside, there were rows of benches where some workers on breaks resided, with their white Tylex (?) uniforms at their waist. When they would walk in, the only skin visible was their cheeks. They wore respirators, boots, gloves, etc. I noticed the posters with exact instructions for how to put it all on. There were like astronauts floating through unsorted territory. There was also a poster with the names/pictures of who they identified, by bone, DNA, one by a hip replacement. There was only about nine. It wasn't the idea that shocked me, it was the number. I suppose I believed it would be more. Despite the atmosphere, that was my overall favorite site.

It is difficult to explain/show/tell two weeks of sensing/learning/growing/experiencing, into words. But, as a writer, this is not a new dilemma. I strive to make the intangible, tangible. I would like to close with what I was taught, or what was reiterated.

I have definitely discovered the rewarding gift of massage, and aromatherapy. These concepts are not knew to me, but for two weeks this is what I lived for, and it was wonderful. Massage therapists are some of the best people (with few exceptions, but there are some). I entered the trip as an apprentice aromatherapist, and left as an aspiring massage therapist. I started learning the hand massage routine and would give that to those waiting, or would double up while someone did the back and neck as a "two-on-one." I'm now looking into going to massage school and kid DougE (the team leader) that when he retires, I'll take over the CERMT team and change the name to FERMT (if I stay in Florida).

I also just learned a lot on self and life. Which I feel is the most rewarding. I thank everything that I was able to go and do this, for I left changed. I hope that by writing this it can help you step into my shoes, now covered with New York dust, and grow just a bit in your own way.