The Edge of The Precipice

The Precipice.  Something we all fear.

Or do we?

I saw Richard Burton's interview in 1974 with Parkinson yesterday, and he spoke of it.  Being there, and knowing that he really didn't want to go on.  A man so desperately in love with his ex wife, and finding the separation impossible to handle.  He would not say a bad word about her.  Could not, even.  Such pain and tortured love.

Such a private man.  So poignant, the thoughts of someone so overtly unconcerned by what anyone thought, and yet hiding, not really knowing how to express himself.

I don't know why this should have effected me so much.  But it did.  He spoke of the decision to not be a part of the world any more, just before he disappeared into a bottle.  Several bottles.  Although denying that he was trying to kill himself.

It seemed a very black place to be, and yet somewhere that rang a bell.  As though I've been there, or had been there with him, holding hands and saying "shall we jump"?  It's not really a conscious thought, or desire, just a question.  Almost as though it is just one of a number of things you could choose at that point.  Standing there, looking.  Slightly scared, and yet very unconcerned.

Whilst I stand there though, I am not trying to get him to stop, attempting to comfort him and help him - it is his life and he can do what he pleases with it.  As with everyone - it is their choice how they behave.  What right do any of us have to influence another?  Even if it is to stop someone taking their own life.  It is theirs to choose, isn't it.

And how wonderful to have someone that you love that much.  Or more than one love, in any number of relationships.

What age or illness does to us - surely it is our own choice when we've had enough.

Not me though, not today.  I may be exploring the cliff, but it is from a distance, and there is no one on it anyway.  Not today.

“Worry is like a rocking chair--it gives you something to do but it doesn't get you anywhere.” Anon

I love the Spring.  New things bursting (or sliding sneakily) into life.  Someone once called me a Moon Child - but I don't think you'd normally call me a hippy chick if you saw me.  No tie-dye t-shirts, open toe sandals, or flowers in my hair.  And it is really not advisable for me to go bra-less!  But I do like to see the sun after the dark days.

I operate on a cycle - on this I've mused before.  Sometimes the wheel turns quickly, and sometimes more slowly.  The seasonal changes are one great wheel, and lots of other wheels of different sizes all turn at their own rate.  The difficulty seems to occur when multiple wheels reach their lowest points at the same time. 

Everything is black then, and I had a time like that a few weeks back.  It really felt that there was no point to anything I did.  Why are we here?  What is it all about?  Does anything we do really make a difference to anything? 

And does it have to make a difference?  If not, there really is no point to anything.  If, we are merely here to exist, then the only thing that matters is having a good time, surely.  Obviously some of what we do is to put food on the table etc - working now so that the future can be covered and we can live how we want to then.

But what about the end of your life?  I've an aging in-law who has recently shown a decline in person, mobility and motivation.  At a great age, she doesn't really want to go on - that's clear, and that's even though she is still independant, mobile, and fabulous compared to many others.  All that's left is further decline.  So why should she.  I wouldn't.  I don't want to be a burden and I don't want to be a vegetable.  But how to manage that process.

I had a conversation with an old friend this week, who has, in the past, humoured my ramblings on the 'what is the point' topic.  Suddenly, she gets it, having gone through the same feelings herself very recently.  She's put it down to the 'M' word.  Eek.  Menopause.  Nooooooooo!  It is true that the realisation that it's all a bit pointless, is happening to us both.  But it can't be purely physically, and chemically driven, can it?  I hate to even mention the word.  It's scarey with a capital S (ok, it's a capital M).  Actually, it's just plain irritating.  And I won't accept that.  I will just keep on believing that the reason for my musings are that I'm aware of my extreme limitations in the bigger picture of life the multiverse and everything.

How to deal with them?  Live well, do good things.... oh, that's a whole other chapter.

She has found comfort in labelling her emotional state.  I'm not prepared to go there yet, and aim to understand more before accepting the inevitable.  It's one possibility, but I think I'm more than just a bundle of chemistry. I can be there for her - so I guess that's helpful, and the very act could conceivably help me through my own mini crises (very mini, in comparison to most people, of course.)

Another friend is showing the signs of coming out of a dark place, the wheel turning and lifting him upwards towards the light.  That makes me happy.  Very happy.  That's what friendship is for.

It's always tricky to see the sun before it arrives.  One doesn't always remember that it will return.  But the wheel turns.  Some times more quickly than others.  I'm ascending again now, and need to ride the wave for a while, recharge the batteries, and ignore the impending doom for a bit.  Someone once said, worrying gets you nowhere.

“When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened”  Winston Churchill