Earthquakes and Depression
There is a silent earthquake forming within.
The inner pressure is such that it pushes me against a wall and I freeze. Better yet, it raises the water levels of raw emotions such that I start floating. That is when I surrender. And weep.
There is no particular content to the tears, just raw sadness and some relief. (I suspect that this is a natural, wise, internal equalizing mechanism. I have learned over the years not to add rational meanings to the process.) As the tears flow, inner and outer pressure find a balance, and there’s quietness, despite today being gardeners’ day in the neighborhood.
Water levels recede again. I am back in the center of my experience, as the center of my experience.
The answer to the questions “what would I do with my life if I won the lottery, or were diagnosed with a terminal illness”, is what prompted Inward Ride. Yesterday I was thinking that now that I am about to depart on that very “end-of-life, very meaningful life choice” journey, what would I do if now I won the lottery (yes, I continue playing)? I would extend to others what was given to me: free access to medical treatment of depression and other mental illnesses. In this lifetime, I have swum in an ocean of inner suffering, but have lived under a downpour of grace and gifts.
There are choices that I can still make without the need to win the lottery. I want to get trained in suicide prevention to help others. My own daily spiritual practice, coupled with studies of psychology, have allowed me to persevere in my quest for healing. Many others are not as fortunate. All over the planet, every day, one person a minute takes their own life. That is too many, too often. And ending one’s life doesn’t end one’s suffering. The intimate knowing of that truth also helps me with my unrelenting perseverance.
I want to learn more and more skillfully how to communicate the possibilities inherent to human suffering. If often changing the circumstances of my life isn’t an option, learning from them is always available. Perhaps my deep passion for learning has saved my life time and again.
I owe my depth, the strength of my presence, and my compassion all to depression. I am certain that without it, given my wits and talents, I would have blossomed into an utter asshole.
Depression is a very powerful teacher who delivers its course load in a haltingly slow fashion. It doesn’t matter how intelligent one is; the learning is done slowly, incrementally, over many, many years. Like earthquakes, there is a pressure that accumulates and lets off, rises and bursts, only to start all over again in new cycles. When all is said and done, the landscapes have changed, the surface of one’s life entirely altered. And many new lessons learned. Rubble is one form of nature’s architectural design, and it can be beautiful, too. If only I let go of comparing…
But these earthly movements, in retrospect, don’t feel or look so bad, and what is left to be experienced in the present is a new landscape, a new life, a sense of calmness after the storm, and a budding seed of excitement: I have survived another earthquake! I am still here, more capable of loving than I ever was before! More capable of encompassing the totality of the human experience. And more denuded of what I am not.
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I wrote this post in early August while preparing to leave on this journey. I publish it today as I dedicate it to Ash (photo) who has suffered from depression since he was eleven. At 15, he says that he knows few people who don’t have depression. After a long, sincere and invigorating conversation at a campsite with him and other members of this family who also suffer from depression and anxiety, he mentioned a quote that he likes, "I would rather hear about your suffering than about your death.” So we talk about our suffering, and our humanity.
Today, after seven days on the road, I understand and agree with what I’ve heard many times before: that the biggest gift from this kind of open travel are the people we encounter. Everyday, as I tell my story with sincerity and vulnerability, others open to me the same way, and express their gratitude for the quality of the interaction.
I want to live in a world where there is real connection in the simplicity of every moment.
Inward Ride and Ciro Coelho are supported by:
Aether Apparel website, Facebook and Instagram
