I haven't weighed in on much of anything, lately; the thing I most want to address, Robin Williams's suicide, may be passe already (what a world, what a world, 24/7 news cycles, beheadings, and all), but I feel a need to speak up for and defend depressives, given that I've already acknowledged belonging to that group in previous posts.
Edwin Arlington Robinson saw it this way:
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich--yes, richer than a king--
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Corey, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
Bob Dylan once put it another way: "Don't go mistaking Paradise/For that home across the road." Shakespeare said "The eyes are the window to your soul," and The Hollies encouraged us to "Look through any window (yeah)," but our own myopia may be keeping us from seeing what's really inside.
I'm here to say that one can never, ever know what another's life is like. We may look in and see "riches" and "success," but what needs consideration are (is?) the demons within.
Depression is a terrible disease with which to contend. Its symptoms and effects are often not readily apparent, and it's not something with which we all have to live, which I think may inhibit understanding of the disease. Everyone, I daresay, is familiar with with situational depression, which is, I think, more correctly called "disappointment." Who hasn't had to cope with bad grades, or relationships gone awry, or jobs that don't work out, or that we don't get in the first place? Things don't go right for us, we have disappointments, we may sit with them for a while, but we cope, and we move on.
Clinical depression (or what I like to call "My Depression") is a whole 'nother beast. Circumstances don't matter, fame and fortune don't matter: what matters is the inner demons, the inner voices, that tell you that you fall short, that you're not good enough, that, no matter what the outer world sees, the inner world will never, ever, be satisfied. And that, my friends, is what I'm pretty sure Robin Williams was dealing with, as was the fictional Richard Cory, as are many of your friends, loved ones, and acquaintances, whether it's apparent or not. Riches, adulation, what is commonly thought of as "Success" are of no consequence. All of those are conquered, drowned out by the Inner Voice, which in many cases cannot be mollified: "our own worst enemy" is not an idle phrase.
Is this me condoning suicide? Not really. Is this me understanding the circumstances that might lead one to take its own life? Yeah, pretty sure that's it. Judge not, et cetera: as I have asserted here before, we all do what we have to to "make it through this life, if (we) can." And if we can't, others need to understand and make room for that decision. We're all going to the same place, anyway, whether we kill ourselves by rope, or by gun, or by booze or tobacco or other lifestyle choices, or by genetic fortune. As Ben Sidran says "See ya' on the other side." He was referring to an album (What, now?), but it's all the same.
So, am I gonna play something relevant to this post on my show this week? Nah--that'd be quite a bummer n'est-ce pas? I found a great Van bootleg from 1984 at Turn It Up last week, so I'm'a play that. It includes Dweller On The Threshold; I think that Mr. Morrison had something spiritual in mind, but for me it's a secular fact: we're all "dwellers on the threshold;" what lies on the other side is the mystery, and the adventure.
So, these songs this week, from Van Morrison:
Inarticulate Speech Of The Heart
Dweller On The Threshold
Vanlose Stairway
It's All In The Game
She Gives Me Religion
Help Me
Beautiful Vision
Northern Muse (Solid Ground)
Bright Side Of The Road
Celtic Ray
Higher Than The World
River Of Time
The Street Only Knew Your Name
Cry For Home
Haunts Of Ancient Peace
Cleaning Windows
Summertime In England
Full Force Gale
Also, Joe Sample died today, so I'm gonna play a few Crusaders songs, like "Hard Times," "Keep That Same Old Feeling," "It Happens Every Day," and Carole King's "So Far Away," among, possibly, others. See you Tuesday, maybe, from noon till two on WOOL FM, 91.5, or wool.fm on the webs.
"Oh, I wish that I could be Richard Cory:" maybe not so much....
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