Suicide

There is no such thing as suicide, really. The one who appears to fall by his own hand, stands as a testimony to the murderous instincts of his society. These so-called suicides are the litmus tests of human progress. I do not believe that, in a sufficiently evolved society, any man would long entertain the suicidal impulse. Rather, the community would gather around him, and offer formidable consolation to his ills.

Moreover, I would go so far as to suggest that many who have died in this way have done so, at least partly, on account of having been far in advance of their times. It was because of this discrepancy that no fitting place or use could be found for them. They are like computers in a world without outlets; what dark and empty boxes they must seem to us, who have yet to learn their use. Can we fault them for silencing their voices, which speak only to posterity, yet cannot hope to be recorded for posterity's sake?

The suicide, so-called, is a kind of adventurer who, dissatisfied with his homeland, sets out upon a darkened sea for ports unknown. Has it ever been said of the explorer, that he is foolish for having ventured to encounter a land of which he has no inkling? That only a reckless creature would seek fortune in a land where fortune is neither glimpsed nor promised? Or prefer, to the devil he knows, a god whom he does not? If this is the common position, it must stem from the common cowardice, and not from any semblance of prudence or modesty in the face of death.

How our people wail and protest, and clamor to make him tarry; this man whose sights traverse the horizon. Some even conclude that he is mad, or worse, -- a criminal of unparalleled guilt, for having (so it seems to them) transgressed the very will of the gods, who set him here for reasons of their own design. What god, then, sets him free?

What star ignites Promethean fire in his belly? What planet calls out to him from the beyond? If you say that it is only himself -- what self, then, calls out to him from the grave? What part of himself, divided by a veil, plots to reunite him with the rest? What angel, daemon, or demigod, half-buried in the soul, seeks its sudden resurrection in the dawning light of death?

With haste, we judge him worthy of excommunication. We would cast him out, who would cast himself off from our shore. It is not enough that he has died by his own hand. We must call him "coward". Yet, consider for a moment what he has left. Not the universe, though it may seem so to us, who believe that life on earth is synonymous with existence in the universe. Really, he has only departed our tiny culture; our cult of life; that is, earthly life.

And who knows that he might not, by virtue of this act, discover himself a welcome guest in a culture more elevated -- more alive, even -- than our own? Perhaps, when death at last has come for us, we shall discover such a world, and him in it, already settled and secure. And on that day we may even curse ourselves for having waited, and having denied ourselves for so long a pleasure beyond our wildest terrestrial imaginings.

These speculations are meant only to give us pause, before we rush to condemn the suicidal act. For, though the world is quick to call him "weak", I cannot help wondering if this self-slaughtered man is a kind of martyred hero, whose sensibilities, it may be, far exceed the coarse refinements of our world. And we, who perhaps feel the truth of it like a sting in our guts, may have fallen into the likely trap of slandering the one who, by his death, effectively judges us. Might it not be that the whole of life is a kind of test, the passing of which depends upon the choice to die; and thereby prove that we are indeed too civil for this world?

Or, if it be true that such an act is the coinage of madness, might it not be equally true that, in a world gone mad, the sanest man is the maddest? The one who understands the most, must perceive the greatest amount of misunderstanding; for if his vision extends as far as Utopia, he must also be confronted, at every turn, by the backwardness of his age, and the foolishness of his contemporaries. Such a state of affairs might easily trigger madness in a sane man.

Is it so unthinkable, that suicide, in certain instances, might signify nobility of soul? Who, being born for higher things, would not feel constrained by the lowly condition here presented? And who, born for the highest, could hope to endure this place? Yet we judge that he is full of pride, if he cannot suit himself to our humble estate. Are we not like the worm who tells the eagle to renounce his wings, as the symbols of his pride, and to squirm upon the earth, so as to prove his humility?

Lao Tzu writes: "Wise is the man who knows when to let go." Many people speak often of attachment as the root of suffering, but how does that tally with their insistence that one must remain attached to earthly existence at all costs? There is a bias in our culture, in favor of earthly existence, which is rather mind-boggling in light of how much faith we claim to have in the hereafter. People who insist that the termination of earthly life is synonymous with self-destruction clearly betray their own lack of faith in the spiritual realms, and in the immortality of the soul.

They maintain, moreover, that suicide is selfish. Yet, there are forms of Cancer which are more selfish than suicide, as they involve living in an indulgent way (smoking cigarettes or eating unhealthy foods), -- though I wouldn't call death by Cancer selfish. For one thing, people are "only human". The world is a difficult place, and some places in the world are more difficult than others. To pass judgment, especially without even considering the specifics of each individual case, is to ignore the devastating nature of various environmental and neurological conditions. We are not even in a position to perceive the relevant factors, so, we are very far from being in a position to judge their effects. Yet some people, for whatever reason, have absorbed the cliche notions that suicide is "selfish" and/or "cowardly". If I had to speculate, I'd imagine that these people are either cold-hearted or short-sighted, or both; but I can't know for sure, and I suppose it's impolite to speculate.

Suicide is often a course of action "chosen" (I use the word very loosely) by individuals who are more sensitive than the average person. Sensitivity is not the same as weakness. On the contrary, insensitivity is more likely to constitute a weak response to life. Insensitive people tend to be people who have managed to numb themselves in some way to the more disagreeable aspects of life. Often, this is accomplished by keeping a low profile, agreeing with the crowd, and not questioning things (since assumptions tend to make us feel safe, like we are in a stable world, and we know all the answers). Sometimes it involves cultivating an absurdly optimistic perspective, and blatantly denying the existence of shadows. There are many ways to numb ourselves, but this is not an option for some people, who either feel things very deeply, or who possess too much intellectual integrity to lie to themselves and others, or both.

What we need to understand is that deeply sensitive people can provide early warning signs when a culture is going the wrong way. They are like canaries in a coal mine, who alert miners to the rise in carbon dioxide. Or, as stated above, like the litmus paper used to determine the acidity of a substance. When sensitive people start killing themselves in large numbers, it is a sign that something is very wrong with the culture, and that we need to seriously question the priorities and attitudes embraced by our culture. The main reason that people kill themselves is not because life is hard, or because they themselves are weak, cowardly, or selfish, but, because the culture as a whole exudes an atmosphere of indifference, competitiveness, and aversion to subtlety.

The eastern philosopher, Jiddu Krishnamurti, writes, "It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society." I repeat this quote often because I feel it expresses a realization that is greatly needed in our time. We often see everything backwards. We think that these people who cannot stand our way of life are sick, when the truth is that our way of life is sick, -- and those of us who seek to defend it are the sickest of all. Our culture, for over two thousand years now, has embraced a patriarchal, dominator mentality. This way of thinking is so deeply embedded in our world now, that most of us cannot begin to separate the ideas which come from Source from the ideas fed to us by our backwards culture. But sensitive people are often the first to sense that something is gravely wrong here. Is it any wonder that they often resort to suicide, when they're consistently told they're insane for questioning our way of life?

Dominator cultures embrace things like war, materialism, competition, and hierarchy (i.e. "winners and losers", "masters and slaves", "rich and poor", etc.). Partnership societies, like those that once flourished for thousands of years (before the ideology of conquest became the norm), and like those that still exist in small communities throughout the pre-industrial world, embrace things like family, community, cooperation, equality, spirituality, and compassion. People rarely commit suicide in these cultures. Although the use of psychedelics is always widespread in such cultures (or, perhaps, because of this?), instances of psychosis, or even neurosis, are relatively minute.

Whereas our culture's obsession with possessing things puts us in a position of having to work long hours at uninspiring jobs, partnership societies work an average of less than sixteen hours a week. Their lack of dependence on material variety provides a freedom which, in our culture, is generally reserved only for the independently wealthy; who, despite this freedom, remain slaves to their possessions. The majority of their time is not spent in mind-numbing, soul-numbing occupations far removed from their daily needs, -- but, in socializing, making art, telling stories, learning from their elders, raising their children, supporting each other, and exploring the mystical experiences generated by their intimate cooperation with nature; and the plant allies provided by nature for the spiritual well-being of humankind. In short, many of the people who end up as suicides in our culture are the rightful leaders and teachers of our people, if only we would listen to them, instead of labeling and ignoring them.