“There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When we are afraid, we pull back from life. When we are in love, we open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance. We need to learn to love ourselves first, in all our glory and our imperfections. If we cannot love ourselves, we cannot fully open to our ability to love others or our potential to create. Evolution and all hopes for a better world rest in the fearlessness and open-hearted vision of people who embrace life.” John Lennon
THIS!! In relation to my blog, “Who’s To Blame?”
“Mental health agency Beyond Blue said “suicidal tendencies” were unlikely to lead a man to take the lives of 149 other people.
The organisation’s CEO, Georgie Harman, said such discussion showed a lack of understanding of mental health.
“Whether or not the co-pilot had depression I think is incredibly unhelpful,” she said.
“When a person takes his or her own life, that’s suicide and that’s usually a single act. When a person allegedly kills hundreds of people for whose safety he or she is responsible, that’s a crime.”
Is it “suicide” when you take even one person with you? Or, do we call that “murder? Murder comes in degrees, the worst degree being the one where you plotted and planned it. Compassion for illness that may have caused the incident, is up against compassion for the 150 people who had no choice, some of them children. I think of all of their hopes and dreams, and their only crime being in the wrong place at the wrong time with a man who “wanted to show the world.” I have compassion for their families. There was a poster I shared from a friend on here the other day about wanting to remember the name of the pilot who tried to stop it, not the one who caused it. Maybe we need to ask ourselves about fame and what it has done to us . . . that 15 minutes of fame is a worthy ransom for thousands of lives around the globe.
So many questions.
I have been watching, listening and reading about the Germanwings airplane crash. Like so many of the situations currently facing us in today’s world, there are no quick and easy answers. We pull apart the reasons we can find, arguing with one another about their validity and in the end, we all go home dissatisfied with the outcome. Because, the outcome will never be the undoing of what happened.
And the truth is, we all have headaches from trying to understand and make sense of it all.
We want sympathy for the co-pilot who suffered with mental illness. We make the plane crash about mental illness and argue that too many people suffer silently, afraid to let anyone know, and when someone has to live their life in that kind of pain, they are going to snap. This one is easy, while pursuing awareness for mental health we neatly place the pilot in another group . . . the one labelled, “not me.” We can let go some of the responsibility when what happened is about “other people.” We can be less vigilant in our own lives.
There are people who blame the co-pilot completely, without any compassion for him or his mental illness. They refuse to be sidetracked. They need someone to blame and he is the most identifiable target.
Cue the people who then point to the last group and say they are part of the problem that marginalizes people with mental health issues. They suggest that THIS is the real problem we need to address. Continue reading
“No, they won’t understand you, they will call you depressed, self-indulgent, mad, but you will smile, for you are like the daffodil, and you never wanted to be understood.” Jeff Foster
By: Andy Weir
You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?” Continue reading
“I could lose my mind here,
surrounded by quiet mountains
that seem to have a way of communicating
with one another
whenever I’m not looking.
I could lose my mind out here,
exploring every crevice of every mountain
the way I used to explore every crevice
of your neck.
I could really lose my mind out here, wandering for miles and miles
in search of something I thought I lost.
I could yell, scream, punch, run, and kick
and the mountains won’t do anything but stare back at me.
As if I’m a child again.
They’re trying to tell me something,
I know they are.
Their peace and their silence is lethal
to a busy mind like mine.
But maybe that’s what they’re trying to tell me. I breathe and breathe and breathe
and finally I drop to my knees and surrender.
The world is a gimmick.
When you look up at a mountain you feel so small.
When a mountain looks up at the moon it feels little, too.
We’re all connected.
I could honestly and truly lose my mind out here.
But to be very honest, I think that’s the point.”
what nature can teach us”