I have put before you blessing and curse. Choose life-so that you and your children may live!
I’ve been reflecting on what this means for me, as a Jew, as a Buddhist, but very much as a person who struggles on a daily basis with clinical depression and occasional suiciality. This phrase is NOT one I can utter lightly or undertake with any sort of facile means. For me, it is indeed fraught, and a vow I must take with most solemn intent.
A bit of personal history: I have more than one suicide in my background. This makes suicide as an option imminently real, as these were both past very close relationships. One was a partner; one was a best friend. I have another ATTEMPTED suicide that I talked down from the ledge. So this is not a theoretical exercise for me. I know what it means; the reverberations it sends throughout the lives it touches, as well the sheer physical mess it leaves to be cleaned up for the unfortunate chosen ones to find your remains. I’m not working on some romanticized ideal gotten from poetry books and bad movies. This knowledge has been one of the things keeping me from it-I didn’t want to inflict this damage on anyone else. I do take personal responsibility pretty seriously, yeah? But then when I’m fighting the suicidal voice, it is saying: “But YOU’LL be dead, what will you care?” That’s when being both a Jew AND a Buddhist kicks in (good for me and the rest of you) and replies: IT MATTERS! I have a responsibility to others b/c I am in community (as a Jew) and also I am acting in a fundamentally deluded manner that will have definite negative karmic results (as a Buddhist).
So how DO I choose life? I do so by attending services and thereby being in community. (Thank you to my good friend G.S. for enabling me to join TWO shuls in this brave new connected world!) I do so by deepening my Buddhist practice. (Thank you to the two wonderful sites I use online.) I have an excellent pdoc without whom I would flounder. A therapist would be nice, but at this point is cake, thanks to my less-than-helpful insurance coverage for such things. And of course I must mention the companionship of my whippet, Miss P. Her faithful and patient love has truly changed my life, and I will be forever grateful.
What does it mean to be part of a community? I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I have a disparate group of friends, you see. They don’t overlap, except for the intersection of me. In each, I have encountered difficult people and befriended them. This might seem like odd behavior on my part. But I view myself an outsider in many ways and am aware that others might also. Perhaps I am also seen as a difficult person by some. But these particular people I write of do not have many friends, due to their habit of driving others away. I don’t let their peculiarities upset me unduly, nor take their actions or words personally most of the time, even when they might be directed at me. I realize that more is going than I can know and act with detachment and kindness as much as I can. Because THESE, just as much as the people who like me and WHOM I LIKE AND GET ALONG WELL WITH, are my neighbors. THESE represent my community also. If you say that your neighbor is ONLY they whom you like, then your definition of family is stunted indeed. In my definition of how to be in community, I was taught that all of my NEIGHBORS count: good, bad, indifferent. And you help ALL OF THEM, whether you LIKE them or not; whether they LIKE you or not; no matter WHAT. And this includes reaching out to the lonely; checking on the person who lives alone; and hanging in there even when the going gets rough. Not because we’re all in this together. But because this is how it works. OR doesn’t. How’s it working, from where you sit? I’m hearing that it’s not, really. I’m hearing that from both my groups. Are there answers? I don’t know. My answers are the same three sentences I read every morning. I have them written down on a piece of paper on my kitchen counter. BE KIND. DON’T ASSUME. TRY HARDER.
