Depression

So many people suffer from depression. A few weeks ago, I said to someone, "I've never been depressed."

Then tonight I realized that isn't true.

When I was at Harvard Divinity School for my second year and in the first year of my marriage (soon, very soon--September 5--to be 44 years ago!) I thought I was dying. I was sure I had a chronic and fatal heart disease.

None of the tests at Harvard's remarkable health center agreed with my self-diagnosis. So they referred me to a psychiatrist. She was a Swedish woman of middle age. We had several sessions at which I told her of my impending death.

My depression showed up as fear. I was afraid of dying, afraid of not knowing how to be a husband, afraid of whatever was coming next in my life.

Finally, on a monsoon day in Cambridge, I walked through torrential rains to see my shrink.

When I arrived, I took off my shoes and socks--soaked--my coat, soaked as well and she gave me paper towels to dry my hair in a fashion. I was soaked to the skin. It's the worst rain I ever walked 6 blocks in.

She looked at me and said: "If you're so afraid of death, why on earth did you walk through this weather to tell me you're afraid of death?"

She paused in that Scandinavian way of pausing, to let me think that through.

"You have the heart of a young horse," she said, "according to all the tests you didn't need....Get out of here and get over it."

I wish I could write that in a Swedish accent, but I can't. But imagine it.

I put on my wet socks, shoes and coat and went home.

She was right.

I can tell you I've had moments since then, but for the most part, I've never been depressed again.

And I thank whatever gods may be for that.....

And I hold in my heart all those I know and don't know for whom depression is a constant companion.

Belief

I'm just on it these days about 'belief'...and how unimportant I think 'belief' is.

My last 4 sermons in three different churches have been about how 'belief' isn't the issue--the issue is how we live our lives. Isis has lots of 'belief', they're full of 'belief' and look at them beheading innocent people, enslaving women, destroying ancient places...all because of what they 'believe'. Give me a break--you can 'believe' a lie and be damned.

I'm going to give my friend Andy hell on Tuesday morning because of the sermon he preached at his installation as Rector of St. George's in Middlebury. The whole thing was about how important the creeds are...believing the 'right things'. Give me a kind, compassionate, generous atheist any day to someone who thinks the Nicene Creed is the way to God.

The way to God is in how we live our lives--how we 'be' in this world.

I even admitted today in my sermon that I am a heretic. (We all are, trust me! I teach about the Gnostic Christians at UConn in Waterbury and I start each semester by asking how many people 'believe' in the immortality of the soul. Almost everyone's hand goes up and I say, "You're all heretics. The Christian Church doesn't believe in the immortality of the soul, it believes in 'the resurrection of the dead'. Check the Nicene Creed....So, now that we know we're heretics, let's talk about the Gnostic Christians who the church declared heretical and drove out."

My particular heresy is Pelagianism--named after a Celtic Christian named Pelagios (354-420) who believed that 'original sin did not taint human nature and the mortal will is capable of chooding good or evil without divine aid.'

God bless the Celts!

I actually 'trust' (the word I use for 'belief'--actually the Greek word could be translated that way) that human beings are not inherently evil and tainted. I believe there is a goodness to human beings...a leaning toward the light, if you will.

We were, scripture tells us in Genesis, 'created in the image and likeness of God'. And God, as far as I'm concerned, is good. So we must be chips off that eternal block of Goodness. What mostly makes people crazy and evil is the things they come to believe.

Nazi's 'believed' they were the super-race and all less perfect people should be exterminated. Many Republicans 'believe' illegal immigrants are, by their nature, flawed. Racism rages around the globe. Jews hate Muslims and Muslims return the favor. Many Europeans are horrified about the influx of people fleeing war and craziness and oppression in places like Syria and Africa--the war and craziness and oppression in almost every case being 'belief' based.

I told people recently that the older I get the less I need to believe.

I've got it down to this:
1. God loves you.
2. You're created in God's image.
3. Welcome the stranger.
4. Forgive always.
5. Do unto others as you want to be done to.
6. Include everyone.

I can live with those 6 'beliefs'. If I live out of them, I'll make the world a better place in some small way. And I'll be fine. Just fine. Really. Ponder believing my list and see how it would change your life....

What pain

Our neighbors' daughter Johanna went to college today.

Bern talked with Naomi about it.

What pain, when your kid goes away and you know they're gone forever.

She's a Freshman at Sacred Heart University. A wonderful school. And she'll be fine.

But dropping off flesh of your flesh at college is a really life altering event.

 We did it twice. Hard, hard, harder than hard to do that.

The world shifts on its axis. Never to rotate the same again.

Zoe, Johanna's much younger sister took it very hard, Naomi told Bern.

I've watched them together for a decade--Zoe is a little off-kilter, brilliant but awkward--and Johanna always made her laugh, made her 'at ease', made her 'at home' in herself. Of course she took it hard.

Passages are hard, hard, harder than hard. And passages are what make life Life.

It's what we do on this odd journey from birth to death. Things change and shift and alter. Just like that.

I got an email from the daughter of a woman who worked with me at St. John's in Waterbury 25 years ago. The email began, "you may not remember my mother..."

Of course I did. I remember most everybody, just not the years I knew them--lost in linear time am I.

My friend's husband died and her children wanted a 'religious person' at the graveside. Death is the biggest passage of them all. And children not raised in a church wanted a 'religious person' at their dad's grave. We had a great conversation, considering the circumstances, and, of course I'll be at that graveside with them.

Passages make us look to our souls.

And the pain is real, each time....Realer than real.

And make life "Life".

Big mistake

I seldom proof read these posts. And the one from Thursday night was terrible. I said having crickets in you head is "a lot worse" than other things. What I meant to say (and have now corrected it to say) is it's 'not's nearly as bad' as other afflictions.

In fact, if I cold choose an affliction if I had to have one. I'd choose crickets in my head.

Go back and read the redacted version. It's what I meant....Sorry....

The crickets in my head

I have tinnitus. It sounds like crickets in my head. So, it's very pleasant and rather relaxing to listen to the crickets in my head.

But sometimes they go away.

They are away right now. I was just out on the porch and real crickets were making their cricket noise and the crickets in my head went away.

I remember when I was at St. John's in Waterbury, I'd go sit in the church while Bob Havery, the organist was practicing. And the crickets in my head would go away. Maybe it was some note or series of notes that made them leave. I don't know.

It's rather odd to have no sound in my head at all, since I have it most always.

I hope I'm not getting to the point where I miss the crickets in my head when they're not there!

But here's the truth, as I know it, having crickets in you head is not nearly as bad as most afflictions.

In fact, if someone could promise me that after death I'd just hear crickets for all eternity, that would be an afterlife worth longing for.

They still aren't there--the crickets in my head--and it's been half-an-hour.

What I'm pondering is this: do I want them to come back or not.....?

How strange, to be wondering if I'll miss an affliction....!

Mr. Robot rules!

Mr. Robot is this TV show we like. It is very weird and nerdy--the main characters are Super Hackers who try to even the playing field by bringing down the rich and powerful via computer magic.

This morning, you all know, two journalists in Virginia were  gunned down on live-TV by a former and disgruntled employee of their station. The woman being interviewed was wounded. The TV interviewer and her cameraman were both killed. Police followed the suspect on the Interstate and after he wrecked his car, found he had turned his gun on himself. He subsequently died.

So, trying not to think of that horrible act of violence, Bern and I were settled down to watch the last episode of this season of 'Mr. Robot' and what came up were yellow words on a black screen. I don't remember them exactly, but some of it said, 'tonight's episode of Mr. Robot contains a graphic scene that resembles what happened this morning in Virginia. Out of respect for the families of the victims in Virginia, the season finale will not be shown tonight.'

Then, last weeks episode began again.

Who knows what the scene was--reporter being shot on camera or something like that--but Mr. Robot is quite popular and millions of people were settling in to watch the end of the season and they pulled it, just like that.

And they'd only had 12 hours or so to decide that and accomplish it.

I don't expect people who make art in order to make money to be that sensitive. And I realize they had to contact all the sponsors and convince them to pay for another episode and to know that the huge 'finale crowd' they expected tonight wouldn't be there to see their commercials.

It was, it seems to me, a very big deal.

And, beyond that, the Absolute Right Thing To Do.

Which doesn't get done much.

Next week we'll see what the producers felt it would be insensitive to show this night. We'll still see it, but I can't remember the last time I've witnessed that kind of integrity from the media.

I applaud the people who pulled off delaying a top rated TV show out of respect for victims. A rare moment, it seems to me, since many TV shows try to exploit current tragedies in fictionalized ways.

Thank you, Mr. Robot, for being decent and respectful.

(The problem is--where are we as a society when 'decency' and 'respect' deserve a thank you? Shouldn't decency and respect be the norm? It shocks me to the core to realize my reaction to what the producers of Mr. Robot did tonight is the exception and not the rule. We all need to ponder how we can be a part of restoring 'decency' and 'respect' to being the default actions of our society....)

Where I come from

Where I come from, the southern most county of West Virginia, when you met someone, your first question to them was "where are you from?"

Where I've lived since 1980, when you meet someone, your first question is "what do you do?"

That tells you most of what you need to know about 'where I come from.

"Location, location, location" was the Appalachian mantra. Where you fit into the geography of life was the beginning of a relationship. "What you did" was secondary...not even secondary, rather beyond importance.

Knowing where your roots sunk into the mountains was remarkably telling. I would then have known who 'your people' were and who lived around you and what your universe looked like. I would begin to 'know' you as soon as I could place you in the landscape.

People, where I come from, were defined by which mountain, which valley, which creek they lived near. It was in our DNA to seek out location as a way to begin to know another person.

"Oh, you're from Filbert," meant the person was most likely a second or third generation immigrant from, most likely Italy. "Oh, you're from Spencer's Curve" meant the person was generations after generations a Scots/Irish resident of Appalachia.

When people asked me where I was from and I answered "Anawalt" they knew I was from a town (if you can call 500 people a 'town') and that I was probably of a merchant background or a teacher was in my family. People in Anawalt, everyone knew, didn't work in the mines because Anawalt wasn't a mining camp. Being from Anawalt meant your family sold stuff or taught school. And it was true.

Amazing what knowing where someone was 'from' could tell you about them. Ethnicity, employment, educational level--all that quickly. My father 'sold stuff' and my mother was a teacher. I was the quintessential resident of Anawalt. Knowing where you were from told people what you "did for a living".

It's much more complicated here in New England. Being from Cheshire doesn't tell you a damn thing about your ethnicity or employment or education. All 'being from Cheshire' says is that you're probably upper Middle Class or you couldn't afford to 'be from Cheshire'.

Appalachian 'location' is much richer and more telling than other places.

(This is my third post about being an Appalachian in the last couple of weeks. I need to ponder why that's so obviously on my mind. Most of the time I don't think of it unless someone catches something in my accent and asks me if I'm southern....)