Death is

We all know the saying about death and taxes, and we all expect that death is the worst thing that could happen to us. Well, sort of on the last. I won't get into suicide and all its manifestations and perspectives except to say it's relative to one's life and view of life. I just wanted to say death is. Just that simple, it is, and nothing more. We can wrap all the heroics and faith around it we want about being noble and good or being in the name of some God.

But in the end it just is. The absence of our existence. The absence of our bodies on this earth, the last time we'll be around to experience life. And it's about the mess we leave behind, our belongings and estate where the survivors and the courts have to wrangle with the leftovers of our life. We've departed the scene and whatever is there when it happens is there, and all our planning and hoping won't change the reality of it.

Ok, you're wondering, or not, why this topic. And why right now. Like you're expecting some great revelation or something? No one has one because no one comes back to tell us the news of what happens. Near death experiences don't count because it's the body's way of preparing to die, it just didn't happen that time, and we awake with a sense of having seen the open door and our departure from life. But it didn't happen.

Personally I think evolution has given us a way to die. I can't see that death, a normal phenomena in nature - and we're a part of it like all the rest of life - hasn't been programmed into our innate brain structure. It's seems reasonable and logical we are programmed to accept death when our brain senses it immenient. And how you ask?

I think there are three steps in death. First, there is a trigger. Something has to happen where all the sensory inputs into the mind meets a threshold and triggers the death sequence stored as part of our innate sense of being - those things evolution has given every animal. This doesn't mean it's a reality and will actually happen, but simply the threshold is met. And the threshold triggers the mind into the next sequence about pain.

Second, the mind determines that it can't accept all the pain associated with the sensory inputs from the body from dying. No one thinks death is painful, or maybe at least the last few moments. Evolution, in my view, wouldn't be so cruel to make it painful, and as near as I can tell from those I've known who have died, pain wasn't at the top of their list when they died. And it does this in two ways.

First it floods the immediate consciousness with white noise, the "white" that near death experiences produce. This isn't a sign or anything beyond the brain automatically covering all the sensory inputs about pain. In short, the consciousness becomes full so pain isn't recognized let alone acknowledged. We feel no pain but the perceived pleasure of white and our life.

Second it floods the short term memory with one's past, that seeing your life flash before your eyes experience, except it's reminding you of the life you had with experiences and loved ones. It reminds you why you were alive, to be and to have, and to have been born, lived and now dying. Both the white noise and your life completely occupys the consciousness and memory of your mind so nothing else exists.

Third, the mind has to determine it's time to simply stop, to tell the heart to cease and tell the body the mind isn't open for business anymore. This signals the rest of the body to go on autopilot and let whatever is natural happen. You're no longer alive and conscious, so the other side of nature takes over.

That's my take on it. Why today? I don't know except it sneaks into my consciousness now and then in my dreams and I wake up with the notion it's another day. Nothing more except death didn't happen overnight. For you see you don't know. People die in their sleep routinely, and not just the elderly. We can die anytime, and life is the luck of the draw every morning.

And sometimes I wake up with the last dream about death. Not necessarily mine but the idea of death. I'm one of those folks who dreams in ideas. I don't put much stock in dreams - they're the brain's way of reprocessing experiences, storing memories and recharging the active parts for the next day - and so they're only interesting if I wake up with a memory of one, such as my 50th birthday.

So that's the thought here. Nothing more than death is and a matter of course. We don't have to worry about it, it will find us sometime in our future. We won't know exactly when, but we will know the moment, or rather have a new experience where there is not return.

It's just a life

It's just a life, one in 6-plus billion with thousands coming and going every day. I don't know what else anyone has the right to say. While each of us can claim some right or power over other people, it's still the same, we're one in the many, much like any grain of sand on a beach. Just one. But it's our one, and that's the question and answer. Or is it really?

We're given life with a set of innate characteristics, much of which we can't change, or at least not without a lot of money and/or help, but likely not, and we are somewhat limited in what we think we can accomplish and really can accomplish. We can use our talent to achieve, go through life with it, or simply forget about it's existence. It's not fixed how and how much we use our talent, but it's our choice within the framework we're given from life.

And that's the second part. While we have all this talent, we can only do what life provides in terms of opportunity. You can argue all you want about chances and opportunity, it really boils down to the old adage with everything, timing and location. We have to be at the right place at the right time for many opportunites whether we believe we created them or not. A small change in the world and life, and it's all for naught.

I don't really have a point to this post except thinking out loud, as I do sometimes, and now in retirement on a new career, I wonder the typical philosophical stuff about what I'm doing. After 28 years working for an agency, and the normal bosses, most too stupid to be good but a few really great, and working for the public, where I really believed in the work I was doing, the proverbial "for the greater good." And being in my mid-to-late 50's it's the time you begin to face the reality of your own body, what's left that it can do without breaking.

Two years ago I had a complete physical with several heart tests, including a sonogram which is really cool to see your heart working, and the normal test they give to those over 50, meaning a colonoscopy, complete with DVD too. I now know the limitations of my aging body. I can't do what it did when I was 50, let alone before that. It's the reality of my being. And I have to learn to find ways to keep it working near its best, or best I can do.

And I've had to accept what I can learn. The mind is interesting as it ages. Our minds are still as sharp, and maybe a little slower, and hopefully smarter and wiser. Studies have shown that many endeavors requires the youthful mind where they professionally peak in their 20's, and while they can still do more and new work, their best is usually history past 30. But many endeavors are doable until one's death. One of those is photography. Age only slows you down but never impedes the creative mind.

Well, except for one thing, happenstance. We never know when something will happen to leave you less than whole, and we have to learn again who we are. We can hope for a life without such events but life is a random chance. We can simply go about what we're doing and let the rest of it take care of itself. It's about life as we know and can.


In the pile of leaves, we just another one that existed for the season in the many piles in the corners of the world. And life goes on.

Respites

This almost sounds a contradictory idea, a respite from life with Dysthymia. Dysthymia is often the struggle to cope with life and all the things you deal with just getting through life. People take respites from life, work, careers, jobs, family, friendships, relationships, love, war, and many other things, but from Dysthymia? Don't you take respites from everything else but Dysthymia, or is a respite from Dysthymia happiness in and about life?

Well, yes and no. I wrote a brief description about Dysthymia, or at least my view of it. Mine is more the mild to moderate version where I can function in life without too many people seeing, let alone knowing, I suffer from it. It's easy to put on a face on those days I don't feel like it. And many times, simple informal, casual interactions with people help. And sometimes it creates so much anguish it's hard just to stand there.

So, sometimes I have to take a respite from it. And how can someone do that? First, it's hard since it a part of your psyche, part of your feeling and thinking, and part of the fiber of your being and doing. It's always there and never really goes away, so the best I can do is find ways to push it into the background where it's lost in the noise of life and the world. That's the hard part because my body is what drives my thinking and feeling.

Huh? We're conscious human being, and according to many, if not most, people, our mind is in control of our bodies, instinctively, innately, subconsciously and consciously. But, I would argue, for many people it's the reverse, our body drives our mental balance and state of being. It's what keeps us alive and controls our mind. And I know some will find this difficult, as it's common for those who can't see something or some idea to see something different, and then understand and accept it as equal to their view of things.

If you don't see this view, then how do you explain addiction? How do you explain depression? How do you explain when you're doing something physical and in the flow of the moment, not thinking but simply being whole with your body. It's the body controlling the mind. Not hard to accept. In people with Dysthymia, it's similar, instead of an addiction or something else, the physical being of Dysthymia in our mind and body is controlling the circumstances.

And there comes times it's simply becomes tiring to continue without a respite. This takes conscious effort to recognize it and to think to take a respite. For me, at times, that respite is photography, simply taking my camera some place(s) and taking photos. It's a slow change to thinking as a photographer, all the artistic, tecnicial and mechnical issues of photography, but for the periods it consumes my mind and body, and the Dysthymia fades into the recesses of my mind.

Other respites are with running, walking, hiking, reading, and many of the little things in life, the "sweeping the floor" as the Buddhist adage goes, like working with my many plants, cleaning the home, washing the van, or whatever. Anything to engage the body and mind. Away from Dysthymia, a respite from it's continually existence.

Writing

I wrote two short essays on living with Dysthymia. I decided to start this series of essays so others can know about this world and people who inhabit it daily. People who live with it constantly. It's my form of therapy to let go of what's inside, to sit in the exterior world and be seen as what it is, my reality. And surprisingly of all, it's very, very creative.

And while you're shrugging a "Huh?", it's probably one of the most creative spaces a person can have. To shed all the pretense of life and the world, to be at the very core of one's existence, knowing only darkness. It's leaves the mind to wander amidst the darkness anew, to find places few of the rest of you realize. You fear this world because you've never been there. And you fear what you would find if you did, or what you would do.

That's the beauty of being there. Life and death just are. Two answers to the same question. Neither better or worse than the other, but simply a choice of two. There is no gray. No colors of the rainbow to see the whole of the world. You're faced with the simple choice, and you have to decide. Not deciding only prolongs the decision, it doesn't change the choices.

And from there I can find new thoughts and feelings, discover more of me I never knew existed. And learn to appreciate the creativeness of others who have. While I wouldn't wish this world on my worst enemy, I have to say everyone should be there once in their life. I know few do, some because they never realize it's existence and some who simply fear it. At times I am sorry for you.

Because coming from it, you feel alive. Not more alive as some like to describe about death defying events in their life, but simply alive. To know what simply being alive is all about. And that's what writing is about.

Crashing

After writing about the level people with Dysthymia live with on a daily basis, sometimes we, like everyone, crash. I can't speak for all people with Dysthymia or with depression, I can only speak from and for my experience. From what I read, my crashes are different the people with depression, but it also has some commonality too. And when I change course to begin to feel better, and find my level again is also different and similar.

My crashes are a slow spiral. They start weeks, sometimes months and even occasionally years before, with a small event. I describe it as going down a long, windy, slow downhill grade. You don't notice it at first but after awhile you see something doesn't feel the same, doesn't feel normal. It's usually followed by a loss of the small things I like to do and small changes in how I express myself in the world.

I've learned after living with my Dysthymia all these years to follow the symptoms. Not the symptoms themselves, they're just hints and clues to the real feelings. Something set it off long before, something I didn't originally notice but made me feel angry at myself. It can be something I did, like a dumb mistake we all make, or something someone else did, like an extreme unnecessary criticism or lost opportunity.

Sometimes I know what happens and can interrupt the spiral and find a solution I can live with and return to normal. This is often rare for me. Most of my episodes spiral down into the valley. Like going down hill, sometimes there isn't much to do until I have the bottom level I'm resting at. I have to know where bottom is and that I'm there. Most of the time I can then see what to do to improve and start back up the hill.

But occasionally, bottom isn't bottom. The long slow spiral takes a different turn, very similar, I think, to anyone's severe depression or double depression with Dysthymia. It's like suddenly finding yourself after a long slow decent at the edge of a canyon, so deep and dark you can't see the bottom. And there are those times without realizing it, you find yourself falling. You can't seem to stop.

This is double depression for people with Dysthymia, a sudden change into the abyss to the very foundation of your existence. The problem is that it's hard to get help when you're falling, you're not focusing on help but on trying to understand what's going on, and why your world is shrinking. As the saying goes with Kafka's mouse between the trap and the cat, "Alas,... the world is growing narrower every day."

Instead of fighting the fall, I've learned to keep falling. It changes your perspective. Falling causes you so see differently, so I watch what's happening and what I'm thinking. Strange? Not really, because sometimes in moments there are insights into one's very being and existence and into the why. The why behind my falling. And when I find bottom, I sit there and ponder the world around me.

With me, while it's dark, sometimes so dark I can't see the light looking up, only more darkness, not unlike a deepsea diver who goes so deep and dark they lose all sense of direction. They can find up until they pay attention, follow the clues. There often is a calmness and quietness when I sit on the bottom. The difference with mine is that I know I'm sitting there, or most of the time. Twice I didn't.

It's what I think happens with people and suicide. In the darkness, with it's own calm and quiet, you find peace. And you want it to go on forever than face the world you fell through. That's hard for others to understand that sense of reality. It truly is a been there done that experience. It's the mental version of standing on Mt. Everest, you can't describe your world at that moment and no one can understand it.

And so twice I've felt the warmth of the darkness, but twice I decided it wasn't a forever thing, for me. I sat there feeling that world. You are down to the very last crux of your being, and the final decision to stay in this world or not. And actually, what few know, it's harder to stay. You see the up isn't fun or easy, and the alternative often is the lessor of evils.

Because the up always takes a lot of effort and a long time. And even when you feel you're back to normal, you aren't. For normal doesn't exist except as a temporary and tentative state you can only hope for. It's why is easier to fall back into the abyss, to the warmth and quiet of the darkness, and contemplate the same question again.

But I haven't, and I'm still in this world.