Iie Seppuku...

I had a wonderful birthday. I visited the American Museum of Natural History, the Hayden Planetarium and Central Park. I got many well-wishes on Facebook and other social media. This seemed a strange post so soon after one's 52nd birthday, but...

I lost a friend of my college youth in Winston-Salem: she was to have turned 50 in one week from August 14. A heart attack, so young...an adult male child and 12 year-old-daughter left behind.

We all lost Robin Williams and Lauren Bacall...an ironic, coincidence of "threes," until Wednesday, Trekkie's everywhere lost Arlene Martel -  T'Pring. I would be remiss not to mention the heartbreaking tragedy of Michael Brown in Missouri (I will speak more on that tomorrow). Robin sadly, chose to end his life abruptly, as another part of memories of my youth slips away.

As I thrilled at the action in "The Last Samurai," seppuku loomed large in one of the first scenes. Before the subject could experience pain (and thus show "dishonor" in facing death), his second-in-command (Kaishakunin). would "dispatch" him quickly - you can see how at the link. I sat in the theater, and wondered if the warrior class had masked what we'd now know as anxiety; depression; post-traumatic stress disorder and made it "noble," masking our fears of failure. Even in the armed services, we talk about the "noble sacrifice," sending soldiers, sailors and airmen to meat grinders without thought of treating them for the aftermath (if they survive) and reintegrating them into a populace hopefully less violent than the battlefield, though that sadly is slipping away from civil society.

I am reminded also of a dark time when my thoughts were invaded by depression, and what Robin Williams accomplished, I briefly contemplated. It was not cowardice, as some inane television pundits quipped like verbal Tourettes (at least with social media pressure, he apologized), but an almost calculated - albeit twisted - "logic" at the end of despair; made "noble," similar to the Samurai, even though the people that would survive your deed would be burdened with "why?" with no clear answers or ritual dogma to comfort them. In dark tunnels, you must continually reach for the light no matter how dim or (its candle perceived) far away, and cry out your pain - silence is a foreboding familiar that will crowd away all else but echos...echos...echos, that only get louder and eventually crowd out all else.

I am 52, not 25. Though I'd love to have my old body with its speed, its strength, its stamina and endurance the only thing I can pass on that I hope is of benefit is the wisdom to talk; to share with others how you're feeling, or in my case how I felt to my family. It's a mental/emotional check on my current condition and a guard against slipping into it again.

Like many engineers during the early 2000's, the industry downturn affected me deeply. I suddenly found myself without a definition. I tried many things; failed at many things until I found myself in the mirror I tended not to look deeply at: I, nerd...still had value and a contribution to give.

Now, with more years behind me than ahead of me, I face eventual oblivion working towards being the best ME I can be; doing what I am in this instance to do before I expire. Someone stated to me what's said at your wake and funeral is the narrative you've written on the papyrus of your life.

Robin Williams, Lauren Bacall, Arlene Martel, Michael Brown and Crystal Phelps have written quite beautiful poems of their existence. I hope to pen as well when my time eventually comes.

Until then, I'll try to stay as mentally and physically healthy as I possibly can and enjoy this life and opportunities given me.

I hope my words help others avoid their own dark place; their own seppuku considerations (Iie Seppuku - "no")...seek counsel; hug your loved ones passionately. They deserve your life lived with them to its fullest.

1-800-273-8255

Peace.