"Wonder & Hope" - My Interpretation of Chap. 6 of SSHM

 "No man is educated who has never dallied with the thought of suicide." - William James, quoting Benjamin Blood

Songs to listen to for this post: here or here

William James believed that life was worth living -- maybe. He explained that it is up to each of us to "make what we will" of life. Obviously, he didn't believe that death was deserved for some; instead, his 'maybe' was meant as more of a 'you just have to find its worth'. 

I believe similarly. I think there is worth in life if you look for it. As the quote above mentions oh-so-grimly, many of us have had the thoughts that lead someone down that path. While maybe not looking down a bridge at the water's edge, and maybe not as seriously as to hurt ourselves, I think most, if not everybody, has considered what would happen. Many of us, though, pushed the thought away before we could feel its consequences.

But what about those who don't? The jumpers who only feel regret after they've jumped off the ledge?

In the beginning of the chapter, when Kaag is atop the bridge, a haunting statistic is shared: every 15 days, another jumper takes their life in the East River beneath the Brooklyn Bridge in NYC. In fact, according to the CDC, all over the world, 1 person dies by suicide every 11 minutes. 132 people a day. 47,782 in a year. Kaag mentions in these paragraphs that there is a terrifying liberty in the choice to live or die, and I am inclined to agree. James himself said "there is a freedom each of us has in life to end it, but also to fix it". 

As I read this chapter and attempted to impart its wisdom, it was impossible not to think of the two people I had lost in my life to suicide: My uncle Mike and my aunt Lisa.

From what I knew of Mike (not my dad's true brother, but a true brother nonetheless), he was kind, and he was cool (to 8-year-old me). As a kid, my brother and I spent most summers at his Nashville home, with slip n' slides made of tarps, trips in the creek behind the house, and popsicles waiting to cool us off. He loved cars. His garage full of them felt so big to me as a kid, complete with a multitude of vintage signs (my favorite) and shiny muscle cars (his favorite). He also loved roosters -- they adorned almost everything in his home, from kitchen towels to statues.

And on April 14th, 2019, he took that liberty we all have and ended his own life. 

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When I read this chapter, it made me think of the life things have, and how even when they are gone physically, they are never truly gone. I still think of the warm June and July evenings spent at that house. 

Kaag, in the chapter, describes how nothing is truly lost. He describes it like this:

A small rock thrown into a river will settle into the water, beneath the ripples and waves, at rest at the bottom. The small difference, the "perturbations" of the rock in the water are still there, even if you aren't able to feel or remember them anymore.

I think of life and death that way.

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Mike's house was demolished a few years back after a fire nearly destroyed it. All that's there now (that I know of) is a field of dead, overgrown grass that will one day become condominiums or overpriced apartments. But it's still remembered as what it once was in many people's minds, and that memory keeps it alive, keeps that rock beneath the water throughout the waves of life.

His sister, my aunt Lisa (again, not blood-related), also took that liberty a few years later on December 31st, 2022. She was one of the most caring women you'd ever meet. A kindergarten teacher for almost 20 years, and a loving wife and mother. Her daughter was her light, and I spent many afternoons playing Barbies with her, or swinging on the big playset she built in a backyard gated by bamboo.

I still think of both of them often, and that choice they took in all its finality.

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William James describes the self as a model of spheres. At the center is the "material self", consisting of our bodies and our possessions. It's considered the most concrete aspect of our selves, but ultimately superficial. Next is the "social self", consisting of the recognition we get from friends and loved ones. It's how others see us in life. Finally, is the "spiritual self", consisting of our hopes, our dreams, and "the intellectual, moral, and religious aspiration". The spiritual self is the most expansive, but also the most neglected selfhood. Kaag describes it as "the wave that matters even when it is not fully detected or articulated". It is what remains after we're gone.

Our goal in life, in my opinion, is to try to feel the waves around us. William James thought that "it is a remarkable person who can sense [the waves] deeply with any regularity". The ebb and flow of life will always continue, but I believe we should try to stop and feel the waves of others, of emotion, of change and growth and natality, instead of trying to still them.

"The flood and the ebb continue to go out and come in." - John Kaag

As I write this blog post years after their deaths, I still feel their stones beneath the river from their time here on Earth. Even though I knew them for such a small time in the grand scheme of things, especially compared to those who loved them most, I still tear up thinking of them, even though it's been almost a decade. I try my best, every day, to never forget the feeling of their lives. - Haylie Thurman

p.s. 

I couldn't find another place to put these photos, but I still wanted to include them in the post. When you only know someone later in life, it's hard to imagine them younger sometimes. They were both teenagers/young adults once (as indicated by the photo op.), and they were even little kids in the 70s with bad haircuts once. Weird.