10 Seconds
Today I decided to create a new blog. Guess what, my old blog is still active. Ha! Last post was from June 2009. So much has happened since then. I'm an entirely different person these days.
A very busy person, so I'm sticking with this one and saving the time that creating a new one would take.
What I want to write about today is something that popped into my mind after reading an article online.
I've been watching 9/11 documentaries the last several nights and promised myself last night that I'd steer clear of them in hopes of a peaceful night's sleep. I settled in and opened my facebook on my phone. I ended up skimming an article about The Falling Man. The Falling Man was a photograph taken by Associated Press photographer Richard Drew.
This morning I couldn't stop thinking about the photograph. I read a couple more articles online that were written about the photograph as well as one about the photographer.
Some people have tried to identify The Falling Man. A couple of different men were believed to be The Falling Man. One of the men was married and his wife did not want to believe it was him. She was told that if he'd jumped to his death, then he was jumping into the arms of the devil.
That's when I started thinking. Well, I'm always thinking, but thinking about this man. This Falling Man.
My initial thoughts were to acknowledge the tragedy and my emotions were just under the surface of my memories of that day. I remember feeling devastated when the buildings collapsed. I remember that there was non-stop news coverage and being advised to turn it off - that one should take a break from the constant coverage. I did that. I had two young children. I had just started home-schooling and was a newlywed. My life took over; I had two more children and then a failed marriage. I re-entered the work force and spent the last 15 years tending to my children's needs, taxiing them all around, and performing endless sundry single parenting tasks. I never watched another news program or read an entire article about 9/11 until this year. I never read about The Falling Man. I'd never seen the photograph prior to last night. It was published in a couple of newspapers and an article or two was written in a couple of magazines. There was also a documentary movie made. I never saw any of them.
I guess this photograph has me captivated for many reasons. Most likely the obvious reason is the same reason that it has captivated others. Like driving by a car wreck; you just can't seem to look away. Also, being a novice photographer, I am caught up in the moment that was captured. I have photographed my children at every stage in their lives; I think partially as a way of holding on to them. I've taken photographs of things that I've seen and wanted to show to others - anyone that bothered to look at my photographs. I've heard music in my mind while photographing different things and I've tried to put the lyric down in a visual way with the images I've taken. While photography is definitely an art form, it is also a way to record history.
Sometimes a picture does speak a thousand words. Sometimes it covers the truth in a shroud. I used photography to cope with my unhappy marriage. I created this happy world where my family was always smiling, always adventurous, and everything that I'd ever hoped it would be. I've also had the opportunity to photograph a few weddings and even the home birth of a child. Moments other people wanted to look back on and remember. Truly amazing moments of life. But a part of life is death. Is it so macabre to photograph - to capture - that moment also? Photo journalists are trying to document the events of the current world for generations that follow. What better way to describe something than to provide an exact image of the happening?
The even bigger question that I've been playing in my mind goes back to the idea that the man jumped to his death and therefore was jumping straight to Hell. If he did choose to jump - did he jump knowing that he'd die? Or was it a frenzied reaction to the fear of the imminent death that most assuredly awaited him had he stayed - even if the tower hadn't collapsed? Was he thrown from the building from a blast? Does it make it easier to accept his death thinking that was the reason? Was he fumbling around in the smoke-filled building, unable to see, and stumbled upon the open window? Again, is that the more palatable reason?
Is it wrong to run from one demise into another?
Why is it a mortal sin to choose one death over another? Is it solely because a person made a cognitive choice over death taking claim over them?
All of the lives lost due to the attacks on 9/11 were ruled homicides, save for the terrorists.
I've tried to rewire my moral compass. I've tried to turn off the judgmental workings that were an integral part of my discipleship training I received when I first proclaimed my desire to follow Christ. I've decided that following Christ is so much different than following a bunch of do's and don'ts written down by misguided men. Following Christ is selfless and involves loving one another. Pure, unconditional love.
I believe that The Falling Man chose the path of hope. He knew he would die if he stayed. Taking that step outside of the burning building was stepping into the unknown and if he did die, then it would be on his terms and he would have experienced 10 seconds of breath. 10 seconds of freedom from the suffocating fire. 10 more seconds of life.
posted by Melisse at 7:47 PM
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