Feeling our Oneness
It is a time of collective remembering. A time to remember the men and women who have given their lives serving in the United States Armed Forces. From the Civil War to Iraq and Afghanistan, and everything in between, we remember. With honor and gratitude, we remember.
We remember the families of Moore, Oklahoma who have lost their homes, their belongings and some of their children, friends and family members. We remember the streets of the Boston Marathon, the children of Sandy Hook, and the natural disasters that have forever changed countless lives in recent times.
And the fact that we remember – together – is part of who we are. Collective remembering is powerful because it reminds us that we are more connected than we are separate. (Click to Tweet). What happens in another town, another state, or another part of the world impacts us all. Natural disasters in another part of the country impact the cost of my house insurance. Economic changes across the globe impact the solvency of our own. And the death of children I’ve never seen or met can squeeze the breath right out of me.
Our need for collective remembering is all around us. Memorials can be found around the world. They can be as simple as a cross along a busy highway or the magnitude of the Twin Towers Memorial being built underneath their location in New York City. Cemeteries themselves are a powerful place for collective remembering. Let me illustrate with a personal story.
In the Spring of 2010 I was fortunate to travel to Italy with some family members. Part of our itinerary was to see the U.S. National Cemetery near Anzio, a small town south of Rome along the coast. I am humbled to say that until that time I hadn’t really thought about Americans being buried on foreign soil, and had never thought to seek them out while traveling. On the suggestion of my sister-in-law we drove to Anzio to see the cemetery, and I’m so glad we did.
Anzio is not a large town, but it took an hour of driving around to locate the cemetery. Directions from locals were not consistent and our Italian was minimal. But along the road heading toward Nettuno we came upon the beautiful entrance to the “American Cemetery” as they called it. Seventy-seven acres of U.S. soil in Italy. The rows of white markers were unmistakable; precisely laid out as far as I could see. 7,861 Americans are buried there. I had no idea. The marble walls of the chapel are engraved with more than 3,000 more that were missing.
It felt surreal to read the names of soldiers that sounded familiar, from cities and states I could recognize – so far from home. I wondered how many of their family members had the opportunity to visit their resting place; and how many never would. I felt grateful to be part of this collective remembering. Though I knew no one buried there I instinctively felt connected, and I was proud of the U.S. for impeccably maintaining the cemetery in their honor.
Standing there, half a world away from home, in this place of collective remembering; I felt more connected than separate. Across time, across space and across differences. I felt the power of remembering together. What a gift.
Who do you know that needs reminding of our connection? Share these thoughts today….