33.


Relating

On ending it all

I receive a daily online health newsletter that includes research from various people who have spent many years delving into one or another aspect of health.  The author of the newsletter explains their research in layman terms and the comments on them often are the best part.  One comes away with various unhomogenized perspectives.

Recently one issue dealt with the rise of suicides in America.  Since 1999 it has increased in the USA by 25%.  Various explanations were given and all had some merit.  However, it was a reader's comment that struck a cord within me and for others too.  The writer, sounding in his 50's, said, to paraphrase, that he felt tremendous pain (emotional) his entire life.  It never left him.  Opting out was always an available alternative and back up plan.  It actually gave him comfort to know there was a way out.  In the meantime he hoped to work his way out of his 'synthetic' life and maybe try to live closer to the land and grow organic vegetables.  This was his plan.

His openness sounded real and somehow seemed more sincere than any mind/body technique or motivational talk offered by various thinkers and writers.  Perhaps the pain he referred to is our true foundation.  Beneath all the noise, clutter and clamor is the uneasy feeling that we are running from something.  This is at least true for some of us.  On the deepest level underneath it all this might describe a universal condition.

'Taking leave' is of course one way to protest or to escape a painful life or condition.  Then there is the voice of Hashem, or Eliohai, or God.  Above all the busyness and activity and aggravation and unsolvable situations one might hear between it all “It's okay. I'm here.  Go forward with your general plan.  It makes sense.  Don't look back.  You're doing okay. I'm with you. Inch your way through.”

If suicide appears as one solution, hearing the voice from above might be the other.

32. 

Relating to god  

No longer talking to Ruth

I had a neighbor friend who passed away a few years ago.  She was a good walker and we often walked and talked together along with others.  She had no family down here and tried to make the best of it and so did I.  I would be her back up for hurricanes and recommend some decent auto mechanics and help out with that kind of stuff.  She would invite me over for various holidays with some of  her friends, and this would provide some company for me.

We would often kid each other in various ways, while walking or else wise.  Some of it would go too far, as I would say 'I hate you' and she would answer 'I hate you more.'  We were like two acting out brats but at least it was a safe arena to do it in.  I would call her squirt because she was small and she would call me Monk because I was compulsive.  It was  a chance to act like kids, maybe something we both never fully had.

As said she passed a few years ago and for a time I found myself, when nothing was on my mind,  talking to an image of her as if she were present.  It filled some gaps, and I got to complete some funny lines I never had fully mastered.  I became better at the craft of being silly.  It was like an invisible friend.  I could make fun of her and be bossy or talk idiotically.  It was an outlet of sorts.  It was almost like having a pet.

One day however, when feeling somewhat okay, having talked to a couple of people recently who were not so okay, I seemed to hear 'give your energy to the living who need it.' It made me pause.  My friend was gone from here forever and the living were here for just so long.  Whatever life and vitality I had should be spent here among the living.

For a time I still automatically talked to my invisible friend but I think these words from above  gradually reshaped my habit and behavior.