Were you mesmerized by the images of the newly-discovered black holes -- two "supermassive" holes were just announced in Nature, each 30% larger than anything seen before -- this week? I was, and found staring into the dark, unknowable void utterly hypnotic.
It was a lovely coincidence that this news emerged at the darkest time of the year for those of us who live in the Northern hemisphere. Although the calendar says, "happy, merry," for many people, this is not a joyful season.
Three for instances popped up in the last week. On the same evening, two friends called to report that their teenagers had wailed about wanting to die. The next day, as I stood chatting to a construction worker outside our city's latest luxury condo tower and bemoaning the fact that neither of us will ever be able to afford to live there, he tossed in this comment, "Some of the guys get so depressed about building things for the rich that they think of jumping." And, just yesterday I saw a poster on Toronto's transit system encouraging people who feel suicidal to reach out for help.
Thoughts of ending it all -- not so much our lives, as the deep, unrelenting pain -- are part of the human experience. Yet it's something few people are prepared to talk about. When they do, it's usually in whispered confidences or quickly recanted (my new construction buddy immediately softened his truth telling, "Well, sometimes...").
So, let's talk about suicide. Let's talk about how universal it is. Let's talk about the resources that exist now (in Toronto, for instance, there's the Distress Centre, which is open 24/7, 365 days a year). Let's talk about the resources that are needed. And about how we might help one another. After these three wake-up moments, I kept replaying an old voice message. In the wonderful Elmo-like voice of a five-year-old, my niece recites a ditty she had just learned. "Hug a monkey, hug him tight, hug him 'til he feels alright."
Of course, it's not just the suicidal, but those who suffer from the full range of mental illnesses who struggle at this time of year. I was astonished to discover that patients at the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health don't often receive visitors over the holidays, much less gifts. Out of sight, out of mind. So CAMH has come up with a way for people like us to give practical and meaningful gifts to these people -- and send a message of hope to those who need it most, when they most need it!
I'm going to write more about mental health in 2012. I'm eager to do my bit in erasing the stigma that is so strongly attached to such illnesses, and to help kick off a campaign designed to enlighten (as it were) us all. It's the latest clever initiative from Public Inc., a firm that is helping its clients rethink how we give. You might like one they've got running right now -- it's for the David Suzuki Foundation. Called "Where Will Santa Live?" it brings a fresh take to the issue of climate change and its impact on the... North Pole! (It's got the people at Fox all stirred up!)
This is the time of year when people around the world say "No!" to the darkness and welcome the coming of the light. In my tradition, we call it Christmas. Let's really celebrate this year -- and include everyone we can in our tidings of comfort and joy.
Now, dear readers, come into the circle of light by sharing your thoughts and experiences. Have you -- or has anyone you know -- struggled? What resources are available in your community that others should know about? (Yes, books are good, too!) How can we help each other find our way? And what "Festival of Lights" do you and your loved ones celebrate?
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Julia Moulden is a speaker, columnist, and author of "RIPE: Rich, Rewarding Work After 50", a 12-week course on discovering passion, purpose and possibility at midlife. Check out the video (a.k.a. book trailer!):
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In 2009 when I was still living in Toronto I attended improv comedy classes. There was another student in the class. Her name was B, and she had a beaming smile. She was far more talented at improv comedy than I was, and everyone took an immediate liking to her. She just had an attractive personality. She also trained in mix martial arts so she got my full respect! B shared her delight at having just moved into her own apartment and she'd provide weekly updates on her exciting tales of the life of an independent single woman. The class ran 8 weeks and then we all parted our separate ways. Months after our class ended I received a message from another student in our class - there was a funeral service to be held for B and we were invited. Smiling, funny, gorgeous B had taken her own life. It completely took us by surprise, and it made me think - what were the signs? How did we ever not know? What could have we done to help her? Sometimes you never know...
To loosely translate that which I partially understand: in the Thai tradition, a counter part would be called tam bun. I pronounce it tahm-boon. It is practiced every day; some days more than others and more by some. Essentially, I believe it to be "performing acts of merit".
Today I was asked to photograph an engagement ceremony; offered the opportunity to perform tahm-boon. The attendees presented the couple with gifts/baht. The host, the young girls grandfather, provided food and drink for all.
If we are to steer this fellowship progressively towards our highest goal, there must be a concerted effort to animate amelioration; move from ideals to actions. I think the Thai have known this for centuries, as many other cultures have. Here, however, I see the population walking the walk 24/7/365.
The word suicide often gives me pause and reminds me that I almost missed this day.
I once considered the act and acted on those considerations. An act I now think of as a long term solution to a temporary problem. Personal problems such as those that motivated me, well, I understand they rarely last more than a 100 years. That time frame put in the context of the life span of a black whole, for example, helped me develop more patients and tolerance.
Anyway, my brilliant plan that frigid January 19th evening of 1984 … was to meet George Orwell at the door. (Nah! Couldn't resist, though.) My choice of death was to freeze myself. It was well below zero. I bought a quart of beer and a pint of Tequila; drank them quickly and headed for the door. I awoke the next morning in a pool of vomit, still on the inside of my house.
Four months later, lighting struck me not six feet from that spot. (Still inside my "living room".) In August of the next year, I stumbled into and was enveloped by a wonderfully supportive fellowship.
I know tomorrow is promised to no one, but I am more accepting of the wait to see if it is granted to me.
Namaste – Have a nice day. Sammi @viasammilaw
Sure, let's talk about suicide. But don't be telling me how universal it is. Numerous books, from Dan Everett's "Don't Sleep...There are Snakes" to Jean Liedloff's "The Continuum Concept: In Search of Happiness Lost" have direct stories or allusions to the fact that many aboriginal peoples, when allowed to live out their cultural directives, have no concept of suicidal ideation. THAT, dear readers, is the subject for discussion. The question to be addressed is "What is it about most 'civilized' societal conditions that leads to a desire within a subset of the population to want to opt out. Is it not telling that Freud himself envisioned a "Death Instinct" while practicing within a Western civilization?