It's September 11, again. Actually, it's the day before, but I'll be on a plane tomorrow. How's that for a reminder of the most consequential day in most of our lifetimes?

There's no need for a reminder, however, and no need to check the calendar, I know, because that day is with us every day. At the airport, of course, but also in our business activities, where security restrictions reshape all sorts of commercial endeavors; in our social and political decisions, obviously; in financial dealings, both public and private, where long-term planning has to incorporate various unknown risks and threats; and in our private thoughts and personal anxieties. If you think I'm exaggerating, just try the "where were you game when ..." with people you talk to this week.

Last year, on the fifth anniversary of September 11, 2001, I was attending the AFS Foundry Executive Conference, and enjoying a very pleasant dinner at a lovely restaurant with about 10 others. I learned through the evening's conversation that I had some things in common with the other diners, and some differences. There were some disagreements, too, I discovered because some of the other diners had read my opinions on one topic or another. Nothing unusual about that.

It wasn't until after coffee that someone introduced the "where were you" subject, and it became clear that, whatever other differences we had, we all shared that moment of particular sorrow.  The five-year anniversary was upon us, so there was some sense of an obligation among us to pay respect, but there was no sense that it was memory we were in danger of otherwise forgetting. Everyone seemed to have held on to one or two, or a dozen, bitter facts or memories of those hours.

The shock of the unprovoked attacks six years ago, and the confusion and dismay in the hours and days that followed, were so thorough that the anxiety has never been undone. Nor could it be undone, I suppose. For most of us aware enough of our lives before that moment, and at that moment, the change on 9/11 was abrupt and complete. It will be with us for the rest of our lives. It was a trauma, simultaneously personal and universal, delivered by mass communication and perpetuated because we resist the idea that we cannot live peacefully, comfortably, and freely in a modern, global society. We have to address the opposites of peace, comfort, and freedom.

The frustrations, the bitterness, the arguments we have since 9/11 just echo the interior conflicts we have — our present selves fighting to recover the peace and security we remember, or think we remember. We relive our personal traumas in our public affairs. And so, it's September 11 again. Today, tomorrow, always.