I recently passed two women at a steep outdoor flight of stairs–a busy workout spot in L.A. “It’s only a matter of time before it happens here,” I overheard one say to the other.

I’ve been listening a lot these days–though much of the time all I hear is silence. People are quieter now, deep in their own thoughts, their own trepidations. Occasionally, I hear exchanges like the one I mentioned–shared fears, a heavy sense of uncertainty.

Here’s another exchange: At a Mail Boxes Etc. a customer said to the woman behind the counter, “Have you had any suspicious letters here?”

The woman lowered her eyes; I saw her mouth tighten. “Not yet,” she answered.

I know we’re not supposed to give in to fear, but I’m going to say what I think we’re all feeling: Osama bin Laden was right when he said that America will never know another day of peace. So far, anyway, he’s correct. We’re frightened, no matter where we live, no matter how far away from Ground Zero we are, no matter how unpoisoned the mail is in our neighborhood. Fear doesn’t have boundaries; it nibbles away at peace of mind. I don’t know how we cope with this new, unfamiliar state of existence except to admit it, call it what it is.

But here is what I also see. Despite the fear, we have changed in amazingly positive and impressive ways. Los Angeles is a big, rumbling city where people typically stay sequestered in their cars for long periods of time, are too busy and hurried to be polite and hardly ever make eye contact with fellow human beings. We practically invented road rage.

Still, an amazing thing has happened since Sept. 11. People are nicer, they take their time and say hello to strangers. Fear may erode our peace of mind, but it can also be a great equalizer.

It isn’t just the flags fluttering from car windows, it’s the fact that drivers aren’t as hostile. The other evening on the freeway, I needed to change lanes twice within a small span of time, and it was effortless. As soon as my signal went on, the drivers in the other lanes slowed down to let me in. Earlier, when I arrived for an appointment at ABC Studios, the uniformed guards apologized profusely for all the security scrutiny, although I don’t think anyone driving onto the lot minded.

At CBS Studios, a few days earlier, I had unlocked my car so the guard could search it. I soon realized I had my gym bag in the front seat and, without waiting to be asked, I dumped out the contents. He blushed as he nodded OK at the pile of clothes that included a running bra, a leotard … we’re all new at this, but these moments of awkwardness and embarrassment are sweet. The man and I were complete strangers, but we smiled and shrugged at each other–as if to say, Yeah, it’s weird, isn’t it?

I want to move past the fear. But I hope we hang onto the sweetness and the slowing down, the willingness to show our vulnerability.

There is a hiking trail in Malibu–in Solstice Canyon. A few days after the 11th, I went there early one morning and saw that someone had constructed a shrine of sorts along a bend in the trail. It was an arrangement of rocks that seemed to be in the shape of a cathedral. Into this steeple of rocks there were sprigs of wildflowers, pieces of jewelry, coins, a tiny American flag that looked like it had been torn from a shirt or jacket. There was also a silver Star of David and a small gold crucifix. I wanted to contribute something to this evolving shrine, but I had nothing in my pockets but my car keys. So, the next day I returned with a few crystal beads; I thought they would be pretty in the sunlight–tiny prisms giving off rainbows of light. Not only were all the coins and religious symbols still there, more offerings had been left–a crumpled dollar bill, a beaded bracelet, more quarters and nickels.

We are poorer in many ways since the 11th. We’ve lost lives, many lost their jobs and their homes. Most people are worried about the economy. But we’re richer, too. In really deep and important ways–beyond the reach of any terrorist mastermind–we are stronger and richer than we have ever been. We’re sadder, too, and it’s true that we don’t have peace of mind. Not right now, and maybe not for a long time.

But we build shrines along trails and stop to smile at each other instead of hurrying past in our busy days. We think more about legacies these days, about heroism, about heart. And we know more about what all of that means.