Depression is real. Compassion is also real. And a depressed person may cling desperately to it until they are out of the woods and they may remember your compassion for the rest of their lives as a force greater than their depression.
People tend to think when you say you are depressed, you are just being a sad privileged prick, sometimes I wish that were true, it kind of has a quick solution that way, just find a source of joy and be less of a prick, right?
Sadly, depression is not sadness, it is a lack of vitality and intense apathy towards almost everything, if you are lucky, if not, towards everything and I mean everything.
Captivated by the thoughts of winning
He hastened towards the finishing line
Blinded to the miracles of running
He missed a grave point
The last sigh kisses life goodbye
A ripened fruit decays
Living is not racing
Winning is not finishing
But first learn to grow.
Painting: Through River Trees, Tom Nachreiner
Do you describe yourself as a river, or the trees that stand at its bank?
For the river, the struggle is holding on. For a tree, the struggle is letting go.
Most of the people say, they wish to learn the art of letting people go. Well maybe you don’t, because when you get too familiar with the art, you can virtually never tell when to stay.
And I don’t know what is worse, holding on to the idea of a thing long after it’s gone or letting go of it when it’s still there. But the hard part is not being able to tell them apart.
The monotony of my thoughts was wearing me down, as I talked to a friend of mine. He said, and I quote:
You will find it. It takes time.
When you like doing something more than you like not doing it, you will know it’s there.
How wonderful is an excerpt when extracted with simplicity.
Less is more.
Does it happen with you that at certain points in life your mind starts playing games with you?
After you’ve fallen, after you’ve tasted the ash.
It consoles you by altering the perception of reality.
The course has never been worth the fight. The fight has never been worth the preoccupation.
And it changes the course in the blink of an eye. Because it knows you too well. It controls you. It manipulates you. You’re a hurt slave and the master knows just how to appease you. Not too much so you may break out of its slavery, but just enough to keep you going. Just enough to keep you addicted and humbled before it.
And you cannot break free. Because you need it. Because you’re the bird that won’t fly out of the cage. Because you’re the bird that has convinced itself that the life in cage is what you need.
Painting by L Wright
How will you break free now?
How will you keep yourself from quitting?
Is human life easier to live in the absence of faith, in the absence of fear of a Divine judgment, the resurrection? Yes, it surely is.
To live in the moment. To face the storms and aftermath as they pass through life with no fear of reverberation.
Then why, to think of it, has faith survived in one’s life?
There comes certain times when the world appears to halt. When the sounds of life no longer stir your hearing, and your life appears to be suspended in a timeless dimension.
It becomes harder to figure out the significance of the moment just by looking at it.
Its like you hear silence and watch space, and want your mind to draw worth out of nothingness. How?
So you need a bigger picture. An epilogue to understand the point of grief.
Is life fair?
Can you figure out algorithms to get through life?
On most days you can, but days like these, simple substantial derivations are not enough to propel you forward.
You need a belief in the Divine. A belief that this is not the ultimate end. That this day is but an insignificant hitch in an otherwise magnificent story. And that the logical thing to do is walk forwards, despite the urge of remaining suspended. Because the story ends with the Creator, not the character.
This is why faith survives.
This is why you need to cultivate faith on good days so you can harvest the produce in hostile ones.
So you have a cradle to lay low.
So on this day, you lie down under the shade of your belief and listen to the breeze.
Guidance will come.
Are you a survivor?
What do we have in common? We both know that this time again, your heart will not stop.
Yes you will sink a little deeper than the last time, and the splatter will be seen till a little farther than your last time, but you will ultimately rebound.
We will endure.
You will endure.
Is it always like this? Your biggest strength is your greatest trial, I don’t know. But the statistics of your and my life suggest so.
It is either our mind, or heart. What puts us in a dilemma all the time. I’m not quite sure which one it is because ultimately both survive.
Yes that shattered, bandaged heart of yours is a survivor. It has not lost, it has collected itself, always. Which is why it has happened again. Which is why life found another way to shatter it. Think about it. Why would life waste its energy on a lost target?
Measure your strength by the magnitude of your trial.
Maybe there is no reward. Maybe thats all there is to it. This is how we will end.
It was all still worth it.