The Lilies Of The Field, The Stars In The Heavens & The Space In Between

I miss doing what I do. That's to say that I miss being an astronomy educator. Oh, I still do it occasionally for my friend Jolene as well as my Vagabond Astronomy events. The truth is, though, I miss the daily routine of working doing something I truly love. I'll never get rich being an astronomy educator. But for me, the personal rewards far outweigh those monetary.
We live in a day and age where we are almost forced to participate in this mass-consumer driven society. The pressure is always there to buy a new car, new clothes, new computers. We have to spend, spend, spend. And what sort of lives do we lead? Shallow, hollow and devoid of substance. We may live in houses that are huge, have several cars and spend enough on doodads to keep us in debt well beyond our years. Still, we're not happy, and so the chase begins in earnest; we believe that we have to buy something to sooth that ache, and the cycle repeats.
We live in a day and age where most of us don't really have any interests that seem substantial and worthy. If you read about life as recently as fifty years ago, it seemed that they were able to be happier because their lives were so rich and vibrant, that they didn't need money or things, that they were able to be happy with what they had and what they did. The truth is, we're all victims of our economy's success. Our economy depends on just that sort of behavior. If someone is feeling blue, then perhaps a new pair of shoes will help. Or a new computer. Or a new blender. Or a new house. We have these ideas rammed down our throats daily, hourly. Mass commercialism has made us all mass consumers and to support that lifestyle we sacrifice our happiness.
Jesus told us to this was a bad path to take in Matthew 6 -

28. And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin,
29. yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.
30. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith!

He warned us that physical pleasures were not the answer. Yet, here we are, a nation of so-called faith, bowing down to the pleasures and desires of the material. I am no exception.
How do we get around this? What do we do? For me, the answer is simple; throttle back on this lifestyle (not that I haven't already). When I did this before, the spending habits really weren't that bad. I was satisfied with what I did, what I was, to the point where I didn't need anything else. My life was wonderful, pleasant. Not rich in a material sense, not consumptive. Rich in what I was doing, who I was. Never had I a sense of purpose than when I let my heart lead me into a field where I had a purpose. It was satisfying on all levels. And I miss it.
Soon, things will change. Until then, I have the hope that this life I'm leading right now is a temporary bump in the road. Soon, I will again derive pleasure from sharing the greater part of Creation with others. That's what I do. That's who I am.

An Apology

Sometimes, we humans tend to be more emotional than rational. I'm afraid that I definitely fall into that category. I just don't think sometimes. I've had a pretty tumultuous last two months, and as a result of all of this, nearly lost my best friend. You see, when this all started, I felt that she had turned on me. That wasn't the case at all; she was trying to push me as far as possible from the situation that was about to unfold, and for my own good as it turned out. I took it way too hard, and as a result did some stupid things. It ended up becoming a recurring obsessive thought that I just couldn't shake; why was she doing this?
The problem really wasn't her. It was me and my inability to let her go when she really needed to be free. Let me rephrase that. I know well that she belongs to nobody, no one. Yet I just couldn't leave the situation alone. In my attempt to keep her from being hurt, I ended up becoming a target myself (and to a degree still am). She didn't want a martyr, she wanted a friend. She didn't need heroes, she needed an understanding soul.
I let those events consume me. It was one of the things that played a major role in my own drama. But it wasn't her fault at all. She had asked that I give her space. And I didn't. And it nearly cost me a very dear friend, and probably has done some serious damage to our relationship. It will heal, I've no doubt. But it will need time.
To my dear friend, and you know who you are, please forgive me for all that I've done. It was never my intent to make this situation more complicated. Just trust that I will always be here for you and will do all I can to mend this. I promise.

Bitter Ironies & Acts Of Greatness

Tonight, Tracie and I had to drop off my prescriptions at the Walgreens near our apartment. I spent the better half of the day going from one doctor's office to another; I'm tired, still a little shaken but no longer stirred. Since we had a few minutes to kill, we decided to just drive around in silence and listen to her "Wicked" soundtrack. I am easily touched by things - music, imagery, words. A couple of the songs on that soundtrack really struck a chord in my heart.
I'm an emotional person. Things touch me in ways that are truly deep and profound. I seem to find beauty anywhere, in anything and in anybody. Sunsets, sunrises, clouds, stars, trees, small animals and children. The stark asymmetry of a city skyline. The majesty of the ocean. The silent grace of a pine forest. To me, they are all indicators of something greater. For that reason, they are wonderful. Perhaps I should be more logical and rational. It would certainly keep me from hurting myself as much as I seem to do. But I feel that I was made this way for a reason. I'm a sensitive guy.
After we returned to Walgreens, we had a few minutes before we had to pick up my meds, so I decided that we should take a walk to the bridge. This was the very bridge that last week I was considering throwing myself off as a result of the wrong medications and too much stress. Now was my chance to walk across it victoriously. I had beaten those inner demons.
As we stood at the point where I had considered jumping, I looked to the southern shore of Goodby's Lake and saw an anhinga on a fallen log. For the unfamiliar, the anhinga, or snake bird, is a cormorant-like bird that is perhaps better at swimming than it is at flying. It appeared to have a fish in its beak, and would shake it from side to side.
It seemed odd that the bird simply wasn't throwing its head back and swallowing this small fish. That's when I realized it wasn't a fish at all. It had a piece of plastic stuck on its beak, holding it closed.
The water's edge along the tributaries of the St. John's are not the safest in the world to try to walk along. But being me, I went off on a knight's errand and was soon standing on those muddy banks, ten feet from the bird. It was surprisingly calm. The plastic looked like maybe a fishing lure, but translucent. As I tried to get closer, my feet soon began to sink; the mud in this area can get waist deep. I backed up and realized that there was no easy solution here.
A couple nearby saw me and what I was trying to do as Trae stood on the bridge, watching and hoping to be able to flag down a police officer. Ed and Debbie come to the newly built boat ramp to enjoy the view of Goodby's Lake. As they saw me and my attempts to rescue this bird, they decided to help as best they could. Ed went to a nearby marina and sports club while Debbie hunted around for a net. I stayed to keep an eye on the bird. The folks that Ed spoke with were too drunk to really care. Debbie found a sheet and a netted bag. Not much, but a start.
It was now 8:20 PM, and with clouds filling most of the sky, it was growing darker by the minute. Ed came around to the section of muddy shore where I stood. We tried to come up with some sort of solution, but hope seemed to be dimming with the sunset. That's when two young men with a jet-ski showed up. I never did get their names, but we called to them and explained what we were trying to do. Without even hesitating, one of them jumped straight into the murky water and deep mud and began to close in on the anhinga.
The bird seemed pretty weak, but as the young man reached out to grab it, the anhinga dove into the water. As I said, this is a bird that is more at home in the water than in the sky. For the next twenty minutes, all of us, the boy in the water, the one on the jet-ski, Ed, Debbie, Trae and I tried, in vain, to herd the anhinga towards the boat ramp. In the end, though, it out maneuvered all of us. It is a swimming bird, after all.
By this point, it was past 9 PM. The sky was too dark, and so was the anhinga. We left feeling a little down. The anhinga's prospects are very dim; without being able to free itself from this human-made trap, it will starve. That sad point was at least balanced by the fact that six humans came together for a half hour to try and save it. In that simple act, grace was upon each of us.
Last week, I wanted to end my life from that bridge. My life was spared. Sadly, a little life that didn't ask for this punishment may be lost near that same bridge. More importantly, though, a small group of good hearted people gave the best they could to spare that little life, acting in greatness and true kindness towards another traveller upon this Earth.

The Ultimate Act Of Selfishness

In the week since my journey to Ten Broeck, I've come to realize something I never would have. I was reading an email from my good friend and former co-worker Mark. He wanted to let me know the impact I had made up there and on others, especially on one of my own students. As I read it, it hit me that suicide is actually the ultimate act of selfishness.
Suicide is a way out for too many people. They want to end their pain and suffering. It is a permanent solution to their pain, but causes more pain and suffering. In ending their lives, they are putting themselves too far ahead of their friends, family and loved ones. When someone commits suicide, they are denying others so much. You see, suicide is a deeply personal act. It is rarely done with the knowledge of others. When someone decides to go down that path, they are disregarding how others feel.
It is so easy to recall the Jimmy Stewart movie "It's A Wonderful Life". Yet the story in that rings so true. We have connections to so many people, many that we are completely unaware of. The impact we have on others is vast. In a way, as we live, we weave a web of connections. One tug in one spot on that web, and the whole web moves. Perhaps the effects diminish with distance, both physical and emotional. Still, the effect is there. I have friends on the other side of the Atlantic, as well as on the other side of the globe, who would have been effected by my suicide.
Think of the survivors of suicide. It denies them closure, a chance to say goodbye. They are simply left picking up the pieces and asking why. The person who commits suicide may have said goodbye, but no one else could.
I feel sad for those people I've known who've committed suicide. All they had to do was let someone know they were hurting and how deep it was. If one person was unable to help, they could have always turned to others, and if that failed, there was always counseling... or in my case, hospitalization.
As I look back at the events of last week, it hits me just how wrong, how painful, how selfish I was being. When I started feeling that the Paxil was failing, that instead of controlling it was worsening my depression, I should have immediately sought help. Instead, I internalized the problems on the one hand, and externalized perceived "causes" and "triggers" on the other. I'm intelligent... usually. Instead, I let the pain and my own stubbornness take command; "Surely, this is the deepest pain in the world! No one has suffered as much as I! Look at me, I am the king of pain! It's hopeless!"
It took a number of things to fix this. First, of course, were the meds. Next was just the isolation and therapy. The two biggest things, though, involved others. While at Ten Broeck, I met people who have problems far greater than mine. Yes, depression is bad. There are mental illnesses that make it pale in comparison, however.
And there was the big, gaping hole I would have left in the lives of others. I might be one person, but the lives I've touched in turn touch others.
I'm not a selfish person. There is so much more I want to give... and I can't if I'm not around to do so. To those to whom I've seemed selfish, I am truly sorry.

Being Normal & Other Myths

Last night, I attended my first support meeting. I really wasn't sure what to expect when I got there. From what I had heard, it was going to be a mixed bag of diagnoses; paranoid schizophrenics, manic depressives, bipolars and your basic home-variety clinical depressives like myself. More than anything else, though, I wanted to listen. Surely, there have to be other, non-prescription ways to control this demon.
When I arrived, I discovered that most of the people there were just average people, for the most part. Perhaps they smoked more than others, but really who could blame them? As I looked around the room, it occurred to me that some of the faces were familiar, and not from my stay at Ten Broeck. I had surely gone to church with one of the women, and I think I may have worked with someone else.
You see, conditions like these don't have any real physical manifestations on appearance, at least most of the time. The person in the cubicle next to you, that good looking woman driving the red sports car, the pharmacist who fills your prescriptions, a large number of actors, writers and artists, a few major political figures... that's right, folks, the mentally ill are all around you, and you don't even know it.
What I aspired to be when I went there last night was "normal". The new regimen they have me on has rather flattened me out; is this "normal", is that what it feels like? When the topic of being normal was brought up, pretty much everyone laughed. You see, "normal" is a myth. It is a fabrication. No one is "normal".
What we want to be is "stable".
This fact was first brought to my attention around 1976 by my best friend's mother. She was an artist, and in many ways my mentor. She certainly didn't consider herself normal; she was decidedly eccentric. And she revelled in it, and encouraged me to do the same. Perhaps you can blame her for the fact that I am an astronomer/artist/writer/musician/philosopher/computer geek. More than likely, though, I was heading in that direction anyway. She just taught me the importance of embracing my eccentricities. They are what make me.
Even my therapist brought this up to me a few weeks back, as I felt myself beginning my slide downwards. I told her that I just wanted to be like other folk. She asked me why. I told her so I wouldn't hurt all the time. At that point, she told me that other people hurt, too; they just have coping mechanisms. Her advice; embrace all of those eccentricities. Old advice. Quoth Polonius, "To thine own self be true."
While that might not have helped me the way it should have (mostly due to a major chemical imbalance), it certainly does so now. I'm not normal, and to be honest I never want to aspire to be. I'm me, and I'm pretty darned good at it. What I need to be is stable.
Stable means predictable... at least to yourself. Stable means being able to cope with the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune (more Shakespeare; in fact, Hamlet was probably the first, true clinical depressive in literature to be truly popular!). Stable is simply knowing that you can be yourself... and be yourself no matter what. No swings. Just somewhat steady.
You have to ask yourself. What if everyone was truly alike, what if everybody just acted the same? When we're young, we're conditioned to accept that as being "normal". Now, imagine a world where no one was interesting.
No, for me, it is stability. That's the goal. Normal is a state of mind that doesn't exist. Stable is what we all really need.