In This Hour of Need

Renaissance and interactive faires, movies, television, RPGs and other forms of games, books, music, theater, and art.... all of these are escapes. They are modes of transportation to take us away from reality, from monotony and from the daily grind.

Yet in the light of recent events we turn to these and find no solace. It seems that the quiet contemplation, the heated anger and the overwhelming sorrow have seeped into our very pores, travelling with us wherever our escape may take us, pricking the backs of our memories like a jackhammer.

Last month I submitted the last of the Renaissance Articles and now I look back on it and think how inconsequential. I am part of a mourning nation. I witness the diligence of the rescue workers and feel helpless. I rage inside while the hush of fear silences my screams, as it does so many others. I watch friends being called to arms for impending events and I see people weep for the unknown as much as for recent events.

I think if there ever was a time when an escape was needed it is now. It is now that we wish ourselves whisked away. Some of our escapes are no more than fantasies in which we are blissfully ignorant of politics and governmental agendas, languishing on a beach somewhere while still in our offices. In others we are the heros, shooting away at the faceless enemy on our computer screens as we would the faceless terrorists if we could. We live the adrenaline and fear, and experience similar explosions through movies like "Independence Day" or the ash covered decimated city scenes of "Volcano," knowing all the while it pales in comparison, realizing that the people celebrating in the streets at the end of the movie are the true fantasy.

I thought I had no escape. I thought that there was no place for comfort, a place to forget. Tired of hearing the same news reports lingering on accusations and death toll counts, I turned to the information super highway, and there I find it, my escape. My salvation came with a keystroke. But it isn't only me. I am a moderator on a message board and frequent a few others and on those I bore witness to an amazing thing. People from all over the world pulled together. Online donation sites ebbed away the helplessness. Minute to minute updates and photos kept us informed without the journalistic melodrama that continued to feed the frenzy, yet more importantly there were voices. Those who couldn't use their phones were on the net, pounding out typo filled messages describing the scenes, all the while lending comfort that they were alive and well. Because of this people breathed a sigh of relief. Discussions ensued about the politics, religion and sheer emotion globally, and the disparaging feeling of being alone dissolved. It seemed everyone had a story. Everyone knew someone and while it didn't make it all okay, it made it a little better. It was through cyberspace that I found out my friends are alive and well. We laughed and shared stories, we recalled visits together and helped to chip away the emotional overload we were all experiencing. It was on a message board that my friends overseas found joy in my wellness. Strangers appeared online, those who never voiced anything and began to share. Suddenly we were more than a nation brought together in the face of pain and anguish but we were a world united in the common desire to find reason and make it go away. It hasn't gone away, but there are countless numbers who have taken a break from the horrible reality unfolding around them to touch others and be touched by the heartfelt concern and love pouring forth from the computer screen. While this may not be an escape in the sense that the world as we know it melts away, maybe not all escapes have to whisk us away. Sometimes an emotional break, that gut felt sigh and being able to sit back in a chair with a smile is enough of an escape.

And who would have guessed? 10 years ago I barely knew what the internet was and now in the face of one of the greatest crises we have ever faced, it has proven to be the greatest tool and best escape I could hope to find.

-- Lynne

9/2001