Last night, around this time, he must have been
contemplating death. If not contemplating, he must have at least been
struggling. Struggling with his thoughts, with his life, with time, with his
struggle. He must have been struggling with his struggle.
Whenever I have ever brought up the topic of death, of suicide, of self harm, or of depression - every single time, the person I have spoken to has paused and looked at me with a query. An expression of silence if not words asking me if it is about me. And every single time I have just felt disappointed. Talk of death, of suicide or active discussion of depression does not in anyway say anything about the one who is saying it. Against the naked backdrop of humans stripping down their clothes, nothing remains a taboo as much as such topics. We all seem self aware of everything yet we somehow like to believe in the nonexistence of personal struggle of others.
But then, thanks to him, there are millions discussing the topic today. Countless wrote about it today.
Struggle.
We all struggle. What makes pain and struggle worse is our exaggerated capacity to assume that nobody else is going through it. For us, we are the weirdest. For us, we are the most depressed, the most wrong of all wrongs. For us, we struggle while the world shines out there perfectly. For us, we seem to be the only ones in pain, complicated beings while the world out there is normal. We shy away from expression. We shy away from believing that the world collectively smiles but individually struggles.
We all struggle. Struggle makes us human. Sitting here at the bridge, I wonder, somewhere in the world right now, maybe just this person next to me, is struggling too.
What astounds me is how surprised we are when we hear of others struggles. When we realize that beyond our bubble of life, there exists others and their struggles. That beyond our capacity of living perfection, there exists an oasis of human pain and suffering.
Pain and Suffering, mind you, not the one attached to material or lack of material things.
Pain and suffering, mind you, not the one related to successes and failures of our concrete life.
Pain and suffering, mind you, not the one dependent on the arrival and departure of relationships.
Those are mere reasons.
Pain and suffering, mind you, the one that makes us struggle.
Pain and suffering, the one that remains personal to us.
Pain and suffering, the one we are most possessive of. Never admitting.
Pain and suffering, we deny, as we all struggle against the shackles of our thoughts that often confine us.
Somewhere, somehow, out there, in my sane mind, I wish I could hug and give out the Magic that keeps our struggles sane. I wish as much as we write and advocate treatment for clinical issues, I wish we could just look at each other, nod and say the most cliched phase - we all suffer. Maybe we don't want to know that we all struggle. For that might just undermine our own struggle. But we all need that one hug of brutal honesty - Knowing that we all have a mind that has thoughts which we combat.
The difference between a butterfly and a human is, a butterfly never regresses back to being a caterpillar. While for human, the struggle is constant. Fail. Fail again. Fail better. Become a butterfly, regress back to being a caterpillar. Become a butterfly again. Regress back. Struggle.
For Struggle keeps us alive.
Somewhere somehow right now somebody might be contemplating what he was contemplating yesterday.
Somewhere somehow right now, countless are struggling to become butterflies again.
I have nothing to give but a little prayer in the sky tonight, for I strongly trust the Magic that transforms a caterpillar into a butterfly.For I trust the Magic that motivates a caterpillar to try again, for it was once a butterfly. For I trust the Magic that inspires to Fail again. Fail better. For I trust the Magic that makes us Struggle and alive. For I trust that little hope that melts our ego, helps us shed the first tear. Even if it is just between us and ourselves.
For I trust Pain to be indicative of Life.
Whenever I have ever brought up the topic of death, of suicide, of self harm, or of depression - every single time, the person I have spoken to has paused and looked at me with a query. An expression of silence if not words asking me if it is about me. And every single time I have just felt disappointed. Talk of death, of suicide or active discussion of depression does not in anyway say anything about the one who is saying it. Against the naked backdrop of humans stripping down their clothes, nothing remains a taboo as much as such topics. We all seem self aware of everything yet we somehow like to believe in the nonexistence of personal struggle of others.
But then, thanks to him, there are millions discussing the topic today. Countless wrote about it today.
Struggle.
We all struggle. What makes pain and struggle worse is our exaggerated capacity to assume that nobody else is going through it. For us, we are the weirdest. For us, we are the most depressed, the most wrong of all wrongs. For us, we struggle while the world shines out there perfectly. For us, we seem to be the only ones in pain, complicated beings while the world out there is normal. We shy away from expression. We shy away from believing that the world collectively smiles but individually struggles.
We all struggle. Struggle makes us human. Sitting here at the bridge, I wonder, somewhere in the world right now, maybe just this person next to me, is struggling too.
What astounds me is how surprised we are when we hear of others struggles. When we realize that beyond our bubble of life, there exists others and their struggles. That beyond our capacity of living perfection, there exists an oasis of human pain and suffering.
Pain and Suffering, mind you, not the one attached to material or lack of material things.
Pain and suffering, mind you, not the one related to successes and failures of our concrete life.
Pain and suffering, mind you, not the one dependent on the arrival and departure of relationships.
Those are mere reasons.
Pain and suffering, mind you, the one that makes us struggle.
Pain and suffering, the one that remains personal to us.
Pain and suffering, the one we are most possessive of. Never admitting.
Pain and suffering, we deny, as we all struggle against the shackles of our thoughts that often confine us.
Somewhere, somehow, out there, in my sane mind, I wish I could hug and give out the Magic that keeps our struggles sane. I wish as much as we write and advocate treatment for clinical issues, I wish we could just look at each other, nod and say the most cliched phase - we all suffer. Maybe we don't want to know that we all struggle. For that might just undermine our own struggle. But we all need that one hug of brutal honesty - Knowing that we all have a mind that has thoughts which we combat.
The difference between a butterfly and a human is, a butterfly never regresses back to being a caterpillar. While for human, the struggle is constant. Fail. Fail again. Fail better. Become a butterfly, regress back to being a caterpillar. Become a butterfly again. Regress back. Struggle.
For Struggle keeps us alive.
Somewhere somehow right now somebody might be contemplating what he was contemplating yesterday.
Somewhere somehow right now, countless are struggling to become butterflies again.
I have nothing to give but a little prayer in the sky tonight, for I strongly trust the Magic that transforms a caterpillar into a butterfly.For I trust the Magic that motivates a caterpillar to try again, for it was once a butterfly. For I trust the Magic that inspires to Fail again. Fail better. For I trust the Magic that makes us Struggle and alive. For I trust that little hope that melts our ego, helps us shed the first tear. Even if it is just between us and ourselves.
For I trust Pain to be indicative of Life.
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