Weekend Wrap: Reflections on a Quarter Century

Each weekend, I like to pause, reflect, and look back on the past week. This isn't meant to be a deep dive or sweeping life philosophy—just a collection of things that caught my attention, made me think, brought me joy, or stayed with me in some way.

This week, however, I want to do something a little different. I’m still sharing one thing that I am enjoying, because it is powerful. The rest, well, I hope you will read and indulge me.

What I’m Enjoying

Last October, Raphael Weinroth-Browne released Lifeblood. It was easily one of my favorite records of the year, but landed a full 5 years after his previous release, Worlds Within.

That is why I was so surprised when he announced Empyrean, which was released this past Friday.

Born out of an 80-minute soundtrack for a “Reimagining Bach” dance performance, he created a new, 44-minute masterwork of solo cello music. And it is a triumph. Again.

Beautiful, moving, and heartbreakingly emotional, Empyrean is in many ways the celestial counterpart to Lifeblood’s more visceral and grounded music. I haven’t stopped listening to it.

Reflections on 25 Years

Twenty-five years ago, the world changed for many of us.

I will never forget the morning of September 11th. Going downstairs before work, casually turning the television on, and then simply staring. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was unreal. It couldn’t actually be happening.

Yet it was.

Arriving at work, all of us glued to the television in the break room of the OR, that disbelief continued. And then the towers fell.

None of us alive for that tragic day imagined it would happen. The Twin Towers had just been a part of our lives. Every image of New York City was dominated by them. There they stood, an integral part of the skyline.

And then they were gone.

In so many ways, we still haven’t recovered from that. A quarter of a century later, we still feel the impact of that tragedy. Having visited the memorial a few years ago, it felt just as real—maybe more so—as that day. Tears flowed from all of us.

Yet, other tragedies happen. All over the world. All of the time. Perhaps to a lesser degree. Sometimes to a greater. They don’t get the same notice; they aren’t happening in New York. Do we feel the impact of all of those tragedies in the same way?

No, we don’t.

But someone does.

Someone’s life will be forever changed today because of some tragedy. We will never know of that tragedy, and likely never know them. We will never know their sadness. Their loss. The grief they will carry for the rest of their lives.

Just as others will often never know, truly, our own grief and loss. That is part of being human. Of living in a flawed, broken, and messed-up world.

But it is also a beautiful world. Because of us. People are—simultaneously—the worst and best part of this world. And it is on us-our decisions, our actions-to help decide if we are part of that best.

Maybe, just maybe, we can be a little more kind to each other. Show a little more compassion. Be a little more patient. Extend a little more grace.

Make the world a little better by being in it.

That is my plea. It is my goal: one I fail more often than I care to admit. But the world only becomes better because we choose to make it so.

I hope we will all make that choice. Not just on this anniversary.

But every day.