What causes us to commit self-destructive acts? Why do we so often declare war on ourselves? I think about these kinds of things. Almost every day as of late. While I think about this topic a lot, I infrequently discuss it. It’s not the kind of conversation that’s suitable for cocktail parties and ice cream socials. That’s what I believe some other people believe. I think what you believe is important. I think talking about how you’re feeling is important. That’s also something I think about often but share less often. There’s an outside chance I’m not alone in these personal affectations. On the chance that’s correct, I’ll continue.
You by now know that Robin Williams was found dead and that by his own doing. There’s been a satisfactory amount of tributes written and recorded to Mr. Williams. Well deserved I believe. One such tribute led me to a clip from Dead Poet’s Society, a monologue by him, preaching the gospel of poetry in perpetuity. The punchline is “What will your verse be?” The “verse” refers to your contribution to the powerful play that is life that all have a role in. I believe that’s true. We all play a part and we all, it’s been suggested, get to choose how that plays out. Robin Williams understood this. Not because he acted it out in a movie. Because he acted it out in life.
But this isn’t about Robin Williams.
Although I do identify with him.
Not his belief that the best option was no option but to silence himself. Though I’m starting to learn to see how someone could find themselves there. What I identify with is his ability to mix happiness with pain. There doesn’t seem to be much call for that. People want their happiness as pain-free as possible. But sometimes you can’t avoid pain. It finds you. Robin Williams, who, as a reminder, this is not about, had his share of disappointments. Close friends who fell victim to injury and disease. I read he was a pretty good friend even still. Almost like a caregiver in spirit. He even went out of his way, according to the stories, to help out those who were hurting. Most of whom you’ll never know the name of. They weren’t famous. He didn’t seem to mind. One account of his disposition stated he felt guilty for coming from an educated, well-to-do family. I don’t come from money but we never knew growing up what it meant to need something and not have it. I share a similar undeserving feeling. Perhaps that never goes away.
I wonder if Robin Williams had a conversation with anyone letting them know how he was feeling? It’s not easy to do. It’s not easy to be a part of. That’s probably why they don’t take place a lot. Because like reading this article, having conversations where you don’t use a filter can be awkward. Though each and every one of us is in the exact same canoe with but one oar. We just don’t always see it. At least not in ourselves. We can look across the aisle and see the progress still pending but we fail to recognize that person is actually a reflection.
So we don’t talk. Not about the hard stuff, the stuff that has its own stuff. I’m waking up to the reality that this isn’t tenable.
I have people with whom I can talk about the hard stuff. They prefer it that way. They listen differently than most. We take turns when one needs a rest. How beautiful. Everybody needs this. I hope you have it. Find someone if you don’t. Be that person when called upon. Pay attention because the honest answer can often be disguised in laughter.
Thoreau said, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”
Perhaps the desperation comes from not opening our mouths to let the song come forth? Can quiet desperation exist if in the presence of song? I’m not sure I’m ready to give an answer.
However that works, I choose the song. I hope you will too.
