Remember September 11.

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”   ~ Albert Einstein

How do we put the unexplainables into words? Many individuals experience times of heightened perception. Senses increase with the ability to take in a variety of information. Different than a mystical or religious experience, an opening for self-understanding occurs.

As teacher in a Life Story Writing class, I assisted a gentleman when he wrote military experiences. An Air Force officer, he had taken a Japanese prisoner during World War II. In his essay, he shared perceptions and emotions that gained him a writing prize and a magazine article.

One Friday when he did not appear in class, his daughter called to say he needed skilled care nursing. I planned to visit him that next week in September.

I awakened on September 11, 2001 feeling my  father's presence even though he had passed several years earlier. The power of it cuddled and nourished me.

My husband, Michael, had left for work so I sat and let the feeling linger. A sensation of protection and swirl of calm made me feel secure and settled.  I held it close and didn't want it to end.

Suddenly Michael burst though the front door, "Something's going on. Turn on the t.v."

We shared the horror as the towers fell.

Throughout the day I continued to experience my father's presence.

Two days later on the day I had planned to visit my writing student, I received a call from this daughter that he had passed away.

She explained that he had gone into a coma the day before 911. Her voice wavered when she said, "He sat up in bed and said - America is under attack. Two planes have struck.  Then he closed his eyes."

Even with training as a clinical psychologist, she had no answers. His prediction overwhelmed her as 911 unraveled.

She formed the notion that when one is near death, possibly they receive communications.  "Maybe he picked up the terrorists' frequency?" she said but didn't believe her words.

I wish I had told her about my sensations.

The cocoon I felt from my father continued during the weeks after 911. It provided a cushion, helped me process and deal with the enormity of the situation.

Another experience after 911 jarred my sensibility again.  I awakened at 3:16 am out of a dream that where a dear friend's voice said, "Penny, I'm all right. Everything is just fine. " I went back to sleep knowing she was gravely ill but maybe feeling better. At  8 am her daughter informed me she had passed away at 3:20 am.

I often tune into a sense of heightened perception. It has helped me make informed choices, focus on writing or other tasks. Never has it led me with a predicting capability.  I'm grateful for that.