In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the spirit of God moved upon the face of the water. (Genesis 1:1-2)

Eyes open.  Like magic, or a snap between  two fingers, I open my eyes. But nothing can be seen. The Darkness has blanketed the whole world in front of my eyes. After a while, I recognize myself. Hold on a second, what did I notice? Yes, that is right, it is myself. What is “I”? What am I? I ask myself. I am, I think for a while… myself! A fine smile climbs onto my face. Seems I am satisfy with my answer, although I don’t even know where those ideas are coming from. I lift my upper body and look around. Still, nothing is in my sight. As result, did I just look around or did I just process this strange thought of looking around in a completely dark place? I can’t help but have those strange thoughts striking my head. Were my eyes really opened? I don’t know the answer. I can only feel it. I put my hands on the ground to help me position. Immediately, my hand feels something. Something soft, wavelike and cool like air slips thought my fingers as I hold my hand back.  This is water. I recognize it immediately. Although I believe this is the first time we’ve met. As I said, sometimes strange things pops in my head. I want to know the water more, but I can’t see anything in this darkness. I can only feel. So I put my whole arm into the water, to examine it closer. I can feel waves spread as my arm penetrates the surface. Next, a very cold temperature pierces my skin, but I don’t feel harm. This new experiment excites me. There must be something new, something more interesting around here. I stand, as I immediately recognize, upon the water. I start walking.

And God said, Let there be light and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light day and the darkness he called night. And the evening and the morning were the first day. (Genesis 1:3-5)

Nothing exists, in this world of silence and darkness. Therefore, I don’t exist in this world as well. But I exist, in my self. This is such a strange thought that I can’t help but stop myself. I think, therefore I am. I smile, because I love this idea, one is perfect because nothing can contrast its inperfectness, and two is completed because the existance of an object must be proved by itself and the opposite of itself. Therefore I am not compelted, because I can only prove the existence of myself within myself, but not in this world.  Therefore, if following the same concept; this world is not compelted as well. So now, let me complete this world. Another strange idea comes to mind. To make myself exist in this world, what do I need? I ask myself. In less than one second I know the answer. It is the existence of the world. “Let there be light” I command loudly to this world. And there are the lights, shining up from the water beneath my feet, one by one like beaming pearls. It stays in front of me, hangs in the middle of nowhere. And there is me, standing above the surface of water. I look down at myself. And there was nothing but water. How is it possible that I can’t see myself, but at the same time, I know I am here standing above water, and I can feel myself and each part of my body. But the truth is, I can’t see my feet and my body, where I feel they are supposed to exist. At least, I know what this world of water looks like. It looks like nothing, nothing different than the deep above my head. I raise my eyes upward and turn my attention to this endless expanding water field, with tiny shining street lights in front me. I try to explore this world, but darkness won’t let me. It is so strange to look in a world fragmented by darkness. However, it is impossible to get rid of darkness, unless I fill the world with light. But then the light will blind everything and the world will be the same as the dark and silent world I lived in before. I point my finger toward the sky, “Gather.” The lights gather from all directions, filling half of the world with a luminous light. Even is important, I think to myself. From now on, I point to the light, “Your name is Day.” Then I point to the darkness, “Your name is Night, and both of you will cover half of the world, but you must move as time goes.” Then the light and darkness start moving. And I continue my walk.

And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters. And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament: and it was so. And God called the firmament Heaven. And the evening and the morning were the second day. (Genesis 1:6-8)

What is me? As I am walking upon the water, this question comes to my mind. As I look down to the water, there are no reflections of myself. What am I? Even the whole world exists, and yet there isn’t anything that can tell me. This time I cannot answer those questions. What gives definition to my self? I raise my head and look up to the ultimate sky. The light has been moving away and now the world has been filled with darkness again. What if I had not come up with the idea of light, I wonder; can darkness exist within itself? The definition of darkness is the opposite of light. Lack of light results in darkness. But darkness, if no light exists, can not define itself. After a while, light appears on the horizon. And I, in order to define myself, must… command the world with my powerful voice, “Copy.” Nothing happen, everything remain as it was.  However the whole world has been copied. All I need to do is to seperate them. “Filp” I commaned. Just a blink, the copied world flips. Top moves to bottom, like a mirror image. Now water lays both above my head and beneath my feet.  They all looks the same, except one thing: my self. I lay on the surface of water and watch the water sky above me. Nothing exists on the other side except water. If myself cannot be copied with the world, then that means I am not existing with the world. Although I am existing within this world, however I am not exisiting with this world. The existence of myself, as I put my arm into the water, can only be proved by a few waves. I don’t even know, if my arm is the real physcial object that break the surface of water or was my mind controlling the water to made those waves. I am depressed, frustrated and lots of other questions are running through my mind at the same time. When I copied this world, did I move to the copy or stay with the original one? Am I some invisible being that can’t be seen in both this world nor the opposite side of the world? Did I copy the world or create a new world, or are they merely mirror images? I can’t answer any of these questions, but I can set up an original point from now on, to mark the beginning of my creation and the departure of this world. I point to the firmament beneath my feet, “From this moment, your name is Heaven. ” It is strange to name this firmament beneath me, because if an exact copy of me does exist in the opposite firmament, I believe it will call where I stand “Heaven” as well. This is the purpose for giving the name to the firmament, a method to define the original. If you do exist, what will you call your firmament? How will you create your world? I keep asking myself questions that I’ve never thought  of. Then I took one step further to ask myself, am I the original one that exists in this world or just a copy of the original? Those are interesting questions that keep me patiently waiting for a response from the other side. As I wait, I continue my walk on the surface of the water.

Many cultures talk about their ideals – in the past or future, sometimes even both. Sir Thomas More, who invented the world “utopia”, wrote a novel that depicted his view of perfection. Appropriately named Utopia, the book, published in 1516, talks about a fictional island on the Atlantic. Like Sir Thomas’ novel, many utopias are centered around an actual, physical place. Another example of this is the Christian belief of the Kingdom of Heaven, and the Garden of Eden. Others are centered around a time period; the ancient greek poet, Hesiod, described the “Golden Age” of Greece. According to the orator, once in a distant memory there was a time of plenty, of wealth, of innocence. Similar is the Hindu belief of the Yugas: four different eras that rotate over thousands of years. The Satya Yuga is a time of abundance and purity, but the world is slowly corrupted throughout the other three Yugas until it is finally destroyed by the god Shiva, to be recreated again by Brahma.

Many paragons are embedded within cultures – some religious, but all personal. As young people, our thoughts are the least spoken for. But we as individuals have our own thoughts, we all have voices to share. We Bammers thought about, wrote, discussed, dissected, and imagined our own perfect worlds, our own utopias. As writers we put into fiction a friend’s utopia and each made it his/her own to raise a thought in your mind.

So, enjoy our stories – let us take you into worlds of chaos, equality, and most of all, wishes.

Note: We’re only publishing a few of these per week to roll it out slowly, so be sure to come back for new ones or subscribe to our RSS feed.

The  young couple laugh and chatter around their tiny fire.  The boy withdraws the marshmallow he had been roasting and absentmindedly puts it in his mouth.  He screams, the gooey, smoking remains of the white puff flying out off his mouth.  The girl giggles, and he scowls.  But soon he starts giggling too.  They laugh, they hug, they touch.  And they kiss beneath the pale moon.

Peering through the brambles and bushes, she smiles and readies her spear.  The huntresses had slaughtered too many of the cloven ones, too many of the clawed and hoofed runners.  Now any prey would be fair game.

She will not have to start chasing the other once she kills one.  Her weapon will easily pierce both at once.  Their screams will form a perfect harmony, a symphony of sickness echoing for miles about.  Her clan will know for sure what she will bring to the table.  Tonight, they will feast for the first time in days.  Tonight, they will feast on human flesh.

When someone asks me to describe my Utopia the first thing I think of is pretty boring: a lovely green world full of forests, meadows and wildflowers,  landscapes happily free of the scourge of deforestation and suburban encroachment,  a luxuriant rainforest with only very small cities where people have learned to use their square mileage to the utmost efficiency,  Isolated cities and towns connected through a verdant natural world by eco friendly highways,  a world in which the population is only two billion people instead of six. A place where government policy is made up primarily of environmental protection.  (Sorry if I sound like a militant sierra club radical, but that’s just how I feel.)  A world full of enlightened and disillusioned humans who look after people of all walks of life, and attend regular group grooming sessions. Wait what? I meant where everyone can afford a prosperous and healthy life.  I could go one frolicking through green fields plucking posies from…posy bushes?  But when I survey the world I have just dreamed up with that slightly creepy grin on my face, I don’t recognize it.  It feels rather alien and strange.  Plus, It doesn’t make for a terribly interesting essay I’m afraid.

So in terms of essay concepts I’m pretty much back to square one.  Utopia, the dictionary definition says, is an ideal state in which everyone lives in harmony and everything is for the better.  But I think “Utopia” also implies a word that people do not necessarily include in a standard definition, regardless of the fact that this “word the first thing they think of when they hear the word.  That word is happiness (cue images of me skipping through the forest singing falsetto while song birds perch lightly on my shoulder).  What is life but the search for happiness?  Yes, yes it’s been said before; ‘tis an important statement.  So when I seek for a Utopia I’m seeking the world that would make me the most happy.  Now we have crossed a line; it’s no longer our Utopia it’s my Utopia, but that’s a discussion for another time.

What arrangement of metaphysical apparatus would make me most content?  For most of my teenage life I have not experienced abundant happiness (wipes tear from corner of eye. Stifles sob by means of violent quivering of lips).  No, truly, I have not had a very fulfilling nor enjoyable existence for many a year.  High school makes me wish I had never grown up.  And there I have it!  The shit really hit the fan when I grew up!  It should never have happened! What an outrage!

The Allegory of the child:  he wants to grow up.  From His happy perspective the world is his oyster.  And despite the knowing advice of adults, he continues with this venture much to his grandmother’s dismay.  And then, when he begins to gain a semi adult view of the world, he  realizes all that is wrong with it.  He is slowly and painfully weaned from his trance like imaginings, told hard facts, given schooling, expected to behave responsibly, and driven away from his imagination. His creative capacity is slowly killed off, forcing him to “specialize”. After all he’s got to major in something at college, right? Oh, and then after that he’s got to settle down and find a job, and make money, oh yes lots of that, got to have plenty of that. He’s a man now and he should contribute to society.  And a wife, and a car, and a good marriage.  All of this is supposed to make him and the people around him happy.  It doesn’t and he’s trapped in his life.  Nothing is interesting; everything is a bland blur. He’s lost his taste for food in his quest to lose his stomach.  He doesn’t feel like traveling for he can experience the world from his TV, and the borders of the map were filled in long ago anyway.  Why bother?  He has even tired of the mystery of women, brainwashed by his expensive porn.  He has amnesia.  Nothing lingers from day to day.

Nothing, except something he sees sometimes in his child’s eye.  A soul caught up in the glory of things.  The tiny explorer among rainy Sundays filled with frogs, and mud and dirty yellow wellingtons.  Someone lost in a land of strange diagrams and indecipherable scripts, of made up languages and impromptu voyages to distant coasts, filled with wondrous monsters and birds. A place where stories enter the head like the resultant proteins of DNA.

A great king of men marshals his hosts against the forces of evil. Giants loom across the night sky as sorcerers chant arcs of blinding lights from metaphysical diagrams of magic.  Meanwhile pilgrims flee across the desert carefully carrying a great secret.  They shelter in a crumbling stone library full of cold tiles, dusty codices, and strange astronomical contraptions.  Embalmed emperors rot in the tombs beneath them.  Pirate ships exchange fire with each other, as an army of islanders surf from boat to boat lighting furious little flames.

The stories go on and life is novella of dragons and knights.  And words, hardly understood as more than magic, loom into sight like the messengers of enchantment.  Runes are accompanied by the mustiness of ancient tomes and the dry flip of pages.  And dreams are sleepy little wanderings across doors and thresholds. Where fall leaves and snails get stuck in the world of shadowy spirits with many faces.  Somewhere in between are halls with raging fires and laughter.  It is a trance painted vividly with imaginings of a fresh mind.  And somewhere in that death of sleep, the soul finds itself.

It is a feeling the man sometimes gets as he walks naked out into the rain.  He inhales it and feels it absorbed by his lungs into his blood.  The feeling drips with liquid ease down his shoulders, off his brow and into his mouth.  It churns in his stomach, as a breeze tickles the back of his neck and spine, his buttocks and feet.  And then it stops raining and he is a soaked nude in pool of water wondering why the storm has ceased.

And that’s my Utopia.  If I could bring my reality as child into my life as an adult I would.

14.5% have made actual plans.

900,000 youth have been depressed and planned suicide

9% of my peers have tried to kill themselves at least once.

Does that surprise you? Does every new teen suicide in high schools this year eat at you?

That’s just suicide.

1 in 5 teens have self-injured at least once

1% of teens have eating disorders- 6 people in a high school class of 600

About 20%,  or 1 in 8 teens, will experience depression before adulthood.

10-15% have symptoms of depression at any time.

30% of teens with depression abuse drugs and alcohol.

Depressed teens may be as much as 12 times more likely to commit suicide.

Less than 30% of depressed teens get help.

Isn’t is time for us, as a society, to start thinking? To start speaking, to start writing, to start asking questions?

Does this happen at your school?

Is this happening to your friends?

What can you do to help?

:::

This is the introduction to our group’s written symposium on the challenging topic of Self-Preservation vs. Self-Mutiliation. We would love it if you read through each of our personal reflections on this topic, and we value your comments, experiences and perspectives.

We also encourage you to reference our list of Resources, should you or someone you know need help.

Suicide and depression are huge, over looked issues in America today. In 2006, suicide was one of the the leading causes of death in teenagers and young adults, ages 15 – 24. Drug addiction and abuse are also becoming more and more of a problem, as teens decide to try more and more things, and getting hooked on feeling part of the “in crowd” for doing what they’re told is “cool.” Every year, people lose their friends and loved ones to the steady rate of deaths due to actions not taken to provide treatment and moral support, for the both adults and teens struggling with their addictions or issues. Less and less are people taking the risks seriously, and less and less are doing things to prevent the numbers from expanding.

In 2006, To Write Love On Her Arms began.

TWLOHA began as merely a written, true story, when a man named Jamie Tworkowski put it down onto paper. It told the trials of a new friend struggling with self mutilation and cocaine addiction. She refused to go to treatment because she’d lost all hope of ever recovering from the deep hole she had dug herself into over the years. This woman was only nineteen years old, and had already endured terrible things in her life that no one wishes to ever have to face. Jamie writes the tale of his meeting her, and spending the next five days with her in order to help save her. Essentially running his own rehab, after she denies treatment from a drug center, and until they can gain enough money to pay for her treatment.

The young woman’s story is moving, and inspiring. What once started as an act to help a friend in need, escalated into a nationwide, non-profit movement and organization for the support of young adults struggling with self mutilation, depression, abuse, drug addiction, and suicide.

It started with a story, and developed into a world wide vision.

The vision created by Jamie, says that rescue is possible; that freedom is possible.

The vision is putting down the blades. The vision is that we were all created to be loved. The vision is that there are some people who actually believe these things, and that they are here to help you. In 2009, Jamie & TWLOHA won the MTVu Woodie award for favorite organization.

Now February 12^th is To Write Love On Her Arms Day; a day to raise awareness nationwide about the origination, and it’s cause. Anyone can write the word “Love” on their arm to spread the word and raise curiosity. The day was started not by the organization itself, but by fans and supporters who wished to do their part. In 2009, the official TWLOHA Day Facebook group reached over 1,000,000 confirmed guests and participants.

There are things that we can do to help those suffering from these issues. Even if you don’t know someone suffering, there is someone out there who needs your help.

Information on donating to TWLOHA, keeping up with their news and/or buying a t-shirt to support the cause, are all listed below. All proceeds go to recovery programs and helplines listed on the TWLOHA website.

To read Jamie’s Story, go to http://www.twloha.com and click on VISION. To donate, go to the website and purchase merchandise, or click on one of the many buttons under NETWORK.

Last but not least, if you wish to seek help, or know someone who may need help, please visit the website for a list of 24 hour hotlines and treatment options.

Follow/Subscribe to TWLOHA Updates:

• Twitter: @twloha & @jamietworkowski
• FB Fan page: Facebook.com/towriteloveonherarms
• FB Group: TWLOHA Facebook group
• Myspace.com/towriteloveonherarms

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Sources:

• www.twloha.com
• www.associatedcontent.com
• www.sciencedaily.com

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore -

and then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over -

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?”

- “Harlem” by Langston Hughes

Everything starts with curiosity. Whether that curiosity is to play a new sport, try alcohol, or pursue a psychological question, the beginning point is always curiosity. That can be seen clearly in science papers: someone asks that question “what if…?” and tries to figure out what, indeed, would happen.

In this day and age, much of the “what if” question that our generation asks seem to be potentially harming. Many of the posed question deal with drugs, alcohol, sex, self-harm, etc.

“What if I just try a little bit of weed, just once?”

“What if I just take a sip of that Smirnoff?”

“What if I let this guy take my shirt off?”

“What if I just cut myself a little, enough to feel something?

The list of possible questions go on and on.

But frankly, we are not the first generation to encounter these questions. Many of them have been around for decades, if not centuries. Now our morals have shifted, and science has brought us a long way in learning about the health effects of alcohol since the Middle Ages. However, in the last 50 years alcohol and drugs have become more widely available.

“Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.”

- “Fire and Ice” by Robert Frost

There are always two sides to a story. In an idea, there are usually many more perspectives. It is very rare, close to never, that there is a unanimous agreement on a single subject, let alone controversial ideas like these. And, as such, the following are my thoughts only; just a few thoughts in a sea of thousands, thoughts which could sound biased, or thoughts that another person could completely disagree with.

I think that potentially self-destructive addictions hook people by their sense of ecstasy, relief, or regularity. Possibly all three. As someone who has never been addicted to a substance, I cannot say for sure.

That is the common thread through all the people I know who are or had been addicted to substances. Often, it is just a tool to lean against and try to ignore hard times. That, or peer pressure got to them.

“Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?”

- from “A Dream Within a Dream” by Edgar Allan Poe

There are two extremes in perspective to these topics: the side of complete ignorance and uncaring obliviousness, and the side of anti-everything, teenagers-should-not-leave-the-house-until-adulthood obliviousness; I would have to disagree with both.

How can anyone not care about things that his/her friend may be mixed up in? And those who are convinced that everyone should stay puritan forever, what do they know? They obviously have not looked outside the window since 1912.

Most kids will try alcohol, drugs, sex, or self-harm sometime during adolescence. Even physiologically speaking, how could we not? Our infamous raging hormones control our minds, as all-knowing adults say.

Instead of spurning us teenagers or withholding us from the outside world, would it not be better and more efficient to educate us as much as possible? Is not knowledge power?

Or is it that adults think we cannot make our own decisions, whether we are informed or not?

I think that kids will make decisions that they make, and that creating a safe environment to come home to is the most important thing.

“We real cool. We

Left school. We

Lurk late. We

Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We

Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We

Die Soon.”

- “We Real Cool” by Gwendolyn Brooks

There are many perspectives to any idea. A Point can be seen from all sides, eternally. There is the perspective of your mother; your grandfather; your boy/girlfriend; your teachers; classmates; endless possibilities. These are just my thoughts. These are just my thoughts in a sea of others.

::::

This is my personal reflection on the challenging topic of Self-Preservation vs. Self-Mutiliation. Our entire group has contributed to this SHIFT (our written symposium on challenging topics), and we would love it if you read through each of our reflections, and added your comments, experiences and perspectives to the discussion. We also encourage you to reference our list of Resources, should you or someone you know need help.

Self-mutilation includes practices like cutting, suicide, and drug abuse, which should not be used as ways to escape from the reality. Cutting? Goodness… how does it make a person feel better? It just reminds me of the times when doctors cut their patients to release “bad” blood as a way to cure illnesses. I was pretty disturbed when I first heard about such methods of “healing”. Most of the people who went through this treatment died, I believe. When a person cuts him or herself, he or she just stresses out the body even more than it already is. I’m not sure though. I have never cut myself intentionally before. But I am guessing that people just feel more “relaxed” after they cut themselves because they lose energy as they lose blood. Not cool.

Many people are driven to considering or committing suicide when they face emotional issues and life changing problems that they think they can not get through or escape. This creates the thought that there is no point living anymore. Such cases include breaking up with a boyfriend or a girlfriend, or if someone is continually being teased at school. It is most often fueled by thoughts of being useless and inferior. However, committing suicide does not leave the chance of possible change in the future. Teens who commit suicide basically waste up to ¾ of their life. In that time, they could have made many personal changes. Many people who were stopped from committing suicide ended up getting over the issue they were stressing about. Most of those who got over the stress were thankful that they had not ended their lives early because they learned that there is always an alternate way out of a situation. It may not be the easiest way out, but they can always get over it. It just takes time and effort.

Alcohol abuse is practiced by teens the most these days. Almost all college kids drink before the legal age of 21. Thank goodness my brother had not started yet. I mean, he has tried a few sips of red wine before, but he’s not a big drinker. Man! He has a really low tolerance level. Alright, I admit it. I’ve tried a little bit of alcohol before as well. But this was a long time ago. It was elementary school, middle school at most. My dad let me try some beer. That stuff tastes bad! It’s bitter! I really wonder how people can actually like this stuff. In my opinion, beer is gross. My mother encourages me to try red wine sometimes. She claims it’s good for the body. But just from tasting the beer from long before, I refuse every time. Nasty! There are several reasons to why teens abuse alcohol. First, the legal age is set at 21 and there is this American way of thinking: When someone says no to something, we just want to go do that something. So when alcohol is prohibited to teens, they have more of a drive to be their natural rebel and drink. I also think the legal alcohol consumption age is a bit too high. People in other countries drink small amounts of alcohol daily. This includes adults, teens, AND children. Children learn not to abuse alcohol through this practice. I believe this method is effective because it leaves children less curious and less deprived.

People are free to try what they want and I have no say in that. But the very least a person can do is… take care of him/herself.

::::

This is my personal reflection on the challenging topic of Self-Preservation vs. Self-Mutiliation. Our entire group has contributed to this SHIFT (our written symposium on challenging topics), and we would love it if you read through each of our reflections, and added your comments, experiences and perspectives to the discussion. We also encourage you to reference our list of Resources, should you or someone you know need help.

That makes sense to me. The people I know, who have pulled through depression, did it when they found a place where they literally felt the warmth of the community in the air. It’s a different place for everyone. Everyone copes in their own way.

Maybe that’s the issue. We can’t deal with all of the shit that’s thrown at us unless we have some outlet, some coping device. But in our teen years, some people have the misfortune of coping devices that are unhealthy, destructive, or addictive. Or almost worse, they started out with one outlet, only one, to channel all of their frustration into, and it was taken away from them-by school, by parents, by peers, by shame or fear-and they had no where else to go.

It’s too common. I know so many girls who cut, a couple girls who drink to excess, a couple who sleep with random people just to hold someone, at least 5 girls who have starved themselves. It isn’t something I think about, really. I’m almost more surprised to meet girls with no, even mild, self-destructive behavior. I don’t know why I’m placid about this.

I remember talking to her next to the benches, when she told me her cousin drank herself to death. Then she showed me her scars and I told her not to again. I told her to talk. We lost touch.

I remember holding his hand when he talked about a friend of a friend who threw himself under a train. He was torturing himself with “why hadn’t he done more?”

I talk to her sometimes, on Facebook, and she scares me. She’s wearing too much makeup, she slept with him and she’s still in middle school. She does E every Sunday. She said she might be going sober? I hope.

I only remember he said that conferences saved his life. He’s saving lives now, too.

I don’t know what to do.

No one goes to the counselors at school.

Can anyone really practice self-preservation with no one else around them?

I don’t want to think about where I’d be without people who love me, and show it.

Without a community that surrounds me with affirmation and hugs.

Without friends who have calmed me down when I crumpled catatonic in a hallway.

Without family members who listen and support me.

Squeeze someone’s hand, say you care about them. Notice bags under eyes, don’t dismiss stress. Take a moment to send warm fuzzies.

It doesn’t matter if you’re blind leading the blind, there’s a self-destructive urge among our generation, and it’s scary.

Be there, if you possibly can.

:::

This is my personal reflection on the challenging topic of Self-Preservation vs. Self-Mutiliation. Our entire group has contributed to this SHIFT (our written symposium on challenging topics), and we would love it if you read through each of our reflections, and added your comments, experiences and perspectives to the discussion.

-

1. Truth
A messy thing to talk about. What is truth? From the outrageous to the simple definition, truth eludes and deludes. Some subscribe to the idea of truths on several levels. As in, from “change my diapers now, I want milk and attention,” to “the truth from television news,” to “the relative truth after discussing politics with friends,” to “the truth created after reading conspiracy websites,” to “the truth after talking philosophy with yourself alone for years,” and finally to “the ultimate truth you will never know of the universe’s singular reality’s mother’s origin, deluxe-platinum-unrated-director’s cut edition, only on blue ray, the best way to watch dvds, ever.” Instead of ever-expanding generalizations of thought, I think truth in reality has no level but one. In life, our relative ideas of logic change our beliefs. Truth changes the instant one learns something, or changes. The ever-expanding generalizations are actually changes in reality perception.

From the first years in a school environment, I developed an unhealthy hatred for arrogant, compensating, and cruel behavior from others (but not myself). When I couldn’t stop others offending me, I stewed in frustration, adopting dramatic versions of cynicism, nihilism, atheism, misanthropy, until breaking into a depression. I rejected everything to save my ego – whenever people agitate me for whatever reason, my subconscious reasoned, I can escape from the issue by putting myself down while blaming failures on them. I never thought about this consciously, I imagined myself perpetually inadequate, hopeless, and miserably pathetic, and everyone else always trying to push me deeper in mud, out of their sight and mind. I ironically counted on my easily-earned grades to bolster my ego now and then. So when they started to slide around in 6th or so grade, when teachers and parents gave disappointed looks, I lost my last line of defense. Meanwhile, bullies found me strange entertainment; I always so willingly returned for any remnant of attention and friendliness they gave, sincere or not. Their barrage of insults and cruel jokes emanated from their insensitivity and also my hypersensitivity – I was severely uptight, getting angry at pranks I overthought and took too seriously. Escaping further into solitude, I schemed unrealistic vengeance fantasies for the tresspasses, despairing in their impossibility. Never once then did I fairly judge their own situations, why they acted as they did, preferring to ferment in bottled hatred. Eventually, I accidentally wrote my suicide note, one stuffy, math class afternoon, in a flurry of ego-centrism and misanthropy, on the back of homework, complete with little sketches of imploding worlds, skeletons, etcetera. Then I was discovered and was plopped into a silly house. I realize now I manipulated my concept of truth constantly to continue self-destruction.

In more recent memory, I deal with truth as the inner thoughts of peoples, covered by social traditions and mannerisms. I value this over love, attention, and bliss. As for lies, or euphemisms, or question dodging, they ultimately do not solve problems, do not bring a deep understanding to a feud. I can’t believe I have to say this, but telling the truth, and even entering a minefield conversation, will resolve issues better than a well-constructed lie. The most obvious example I can think of is the discussion to children about death. Yes, we all accept truths at different speeds, but such cushy accommodations slow development – delaying an understanding of the entities around oneself, does that evoke the image of intellectual, psychological, emotional, and physical maturity? And yet, everyone lies, dodges questions, uses euphemisms – even me.

2. Pain
Surprisingly, much less messier to talk about. I’ll begin with a shorter story.

Once upon a time, I attended a private Catholic elementary school. I had a question for whoever adult or curious came across me; a very common question for Christians to ask, or so I hear. “With God’s mighty Powers, why can’t He take away the pain so many experience in their lives?” Some approached with a retelling of Genesis, but I do remember one saying that God uses pain to teach. But what of people who suffered needlessly? I don’t remember a response for that, but I entertained a possibility, after leaving the silly house: tenacity.

So perhaps pain exists to do its exact opposite – to strengthen and to teach. Most of the time, pain does what pain does, hurt. I do acknowledge the countless millions and probably billions who have committed suicide over the pressure and pain of life, when one draws the line, declaring life intolerably painful, fair or unfair, voluntary or involuntary. I realized that ultimately, the afflicted alone makes the decision to return to less painful (but not always happier) days. Others can never force this type of change, to the afflicted it won’t feel real. Pain leaves this choice up to the afflicted, to learn to learn from pain or to just feel the pain. As for situations involving “tough love”  I leave the discussion of excess pain to the audience. We may live among people so conflicted in themselves they satisfy their sadistic tendencies whilst dispensing “tough love.”

3. Reality
Whatever one experiences, learns, rejects, etcetera, is reality. Like truth, I don’t believe reality exists in multiple levels, only multiple ways of experiencing it, like reading aloud or speed-reading a book. It is based on the things one believes in. If a Heaven or Hell exist…well, I’m the kind of guy that’ll settle for uncertainty and probabilities as credible evidence. I’m a loyal faithful of agnosticism – if I wake up after I die, and I see God and He says “Whoops! You should’ve listened a little harder back then buddy, see you in Hell,” then I would’ve made a mistake I wouldn’t mind making. Perhaps as I grow older and death winks closer I’ll change my opinion just in case anyone outside listened in. Standing up for select beliefs, even against conflicting evidence sometimes, just because a little voice in our heads said so, that is the other part of reality. Without change, one’s reality cannot grow. Without faith, one has nothing to relate reality with. Of course, one can believe reality doesn’t exist at all – that a sentient haze of smoke and mist indivisible surrounds our minds, constantly changing, so nothing remains stagnant. How dreadful, and beautiful.

Anyways, this idea didn’t spawn directly from a depression-laced adventure. Rather, I discovered it while attempting to sleep for the first or second night in the silly house. The pillows and blankets smelled of the kind of plastic to cover old furniture during a moving, and it was policy to keep the doors of newcomers open. I would’ve had sweet pitch darkness had the guard outside had the thick steel door closed. Slightly ajar, and luckily for sleep deprivation the ray of light felled the darkness all the way to my pillow. And in this haze I somehow started thinking about this stuff. I was probably crying about how faraway Kansas was, too. Not that it mattered, I live in San Francisco, ha! And then I realized the close if not identical definitions truth and reality shared, and went back to sleep.

4. Religion
Ahh, yes. This definitely came from colorful run-ins with the nuns and the counselors at the private Catholic elementary school. Some adults there encouraged me to try and convert my parents. My father simply staved off all attempts with questions, probing into thought systems. Eventually I found myself asking questions myself. If God forgives why do people fear Him? If God forgives, why does He sentenced the damned to eternal suffering? Buddhist ideas on belonging to multiple religions differ from Christian ideas, but to which set do I adhere to? Ultimately this contributed to my melodramatic episode during the 6th grade, but inside the silly house and during recovery, finally thinking about others, I attempted to analyze religion, specifically Christianity.

I must warn you I come to you with rather negative experiences of the clergy. The ones I have met as a child have attempted to ostracize, oppress, and normalize me and my thoughts. I am aware of some churches who advocated open-mindedness and coexistence opposing the old schools of thought, and to these clergymembers I salute you.

Religion attracts many followers because of the image it augments unto the world – a world filled not exclusively with empty heavens, bleak despair, animal emotions, and uncertainty. With religion followers can see color and shape in the skies, and take comfort that we do not behave as windblown seeds scattering. Or little groups of prehistoric amino acids acting funny from the lightning strikes into the sea. With religion people can find hope and optimism easily, and with this, happiness. That isn’t so bad. What’s more, people can find meaning to positive activities and negative activities – God is good and right, and what’s not bad about a God that advocates altruism and denounces selfishness and bad qualities?

As some high-standing religious figures in a cool movie believe, “There is no salvation outside the Church.”

So what’s so bad about religion? With religion’s great power over its followers, one may choose to take any road supported by religion. The intense amount of faith and trust placed into their leaders, coupled with the massive numbers of followers, creates a position of power ready to easily maneuver followers into a directions – personal, political, nationalistic, anywhere. And, because of religion’s self-perpetuating nature, we have prompted ourselves to change many facets of life, sometimes temporarily, according to religion – gladiator matches, vengeance-murders, laughter, music, dancing, happiness, expression of self, gays, tolerance, free thought, accountability. That intense power to change societies – without great responsibility great injustices breed. One completely devoid of selfish or hurtful prejudices must man such a powerful state. And what of the followers themselves, imagining chaos and despair without a religion? Worse, some use religion as a crutch to run away, delude themselves into a simpler, clean-cut, sugar-coated reality – “God, not chance, made the world,” “we all have a purpose in existing,” “all sinners will get their punishment,” “Through God’s Will, have I succeeded through trying times and ended up with a cushy job and a comfortable existence,” “All are equal under the eyes of God.” And what of these that a religion labels good and bad? What is “good” or “bad?” That is one of religion’s many potentials for abuse and injustice – an imposing of beliefs onto others.

5. Choice & Freedom
Good allows people to think, investigate, conduct experiments make their own decisions, and bad doesn’t. Life, however, introduces many situations that call for exceptions to such generalizations.

When people believe they can speak for others or a whole population, I’ll make the line very, very clear with the following example: I believe we must provide women with the choice for abortion, and have that choice easily obtainable. Each of us have our own voice that tells us right from wrong. Granted, this voice differs in everyone, and to people who believe life exists the moment a sperm cell enters an egg cell, abortion is morally unacceptable. For others who value women’s rights over the proposed infanticide, abortion must exist. But the option itself must exist. I want the government to fund the option to kill babies. When have I seen pro-life supporters give babies considered for abortion a loving home, or a home at all? Where have I seen them help out the new family if the father bails like a bank? Where have I seen the pro-lifers combat the social stigma associated with teen pregnancy? And I haven’t even talked about education and employment and health care insurance costs after pregnancy, what about those? Where have I seen large majorities of the new, unplanned families get back to their feet and survive their forever changed lives in this Land of Opportunity? Where have I seen this become so common people worry more about the father’s role than the economic aspects? Where have I seen any of this? Where have I seen the benevolence, the forgiving nature, the thoughtfulness, the kindness that the oh-so-Christian condition sells itself and themselves as possessing?! I might start to accept a pro-life movement if anyone tried to do this, and made real, noticeable, country-wide change. If I was still Christian I would pray to God that somewhere I am horribly wrong, and I just haven’t read the mountains of success stories, just hidden from my middle class life-obstructed view. Now I just hope, because ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the fact of life is: girls can get pregnant, guys can’t. What if both sexes could get pregnant? Would that make guys bedding down women like sodas on hot days not cool anymore? Giving them a bit more responsibility with their own bodies, would that change the whole of society, would that make society wake up from its dream? No? Than girls shouldn’t have some sort of guilt over killing their babies. None at all. The advantage that we men have because of our inability to get pregnant, should not make women unable to use us as freely and frequently as we use them. Yes I said use, go on and call me cynical. I wish you would. Or serve the godforsaken.

Sorry, I was in a happy place. I’m back now. Let’s talk about freedom! What is freedom?

I thought about freedom inside the silly house’s room. I thought about the idea of freedom, looking at cars from barred windows, watching the other patients play volleyball in our roof…surrounded by 8ft-tall fences. Maybe this is how a prisoner feels like. Al Capone could smell the culture and the food from Chinatown, drifting into his Alcatraz cell…I remember thinking about how we are all limited by imagination and social rules and impulses and fear, and what would we be without rules, watching clothes falling forever in the washing machines. My world view expanded that day, and for once, I didn’t think about myself that day, my condition, or my future. I saw how the idea of freedom defined people’s goals and personalities, making them cynical, optimistic, selfish, and depressed.

Freedom to me is choice of the individual to choose freely how to exist, but can people have that much responsibility over themselves? And what of education,  critical thinking, social norms, and terms of engagement? Would that die too, with absolute freedom? Can society benefit from such a setup? I do not know these answers yet. I know the anarchists believe that people do not naturally want to do nothing forever, and this makes sense. To them, we always realistically dream the impossible. We wouldn’t have spread from Africa if we weren’t infected with some sort of curiosity, nor would we innovate so many useful and useless tools. The anarchists believe that the human spirit will constantly seek to learn and discover. And maybe, maybe that’s why we chose to go to the moon. But we had a government when we went to the moon, and so did the Soviets with Sputnik. And so the discussion within continues.

6. Human Nature

We are naturally inclined to…what? We’ve seen herbivores live together peacefully, and we’ve seen carnivores fight against other carnivores and scavengers for food. But we are smart omnivores, so what does that make us? To look at our chimpanzee ancestors, they’re not so different. So does some sort of control, some set of rules have a place in “human nature?” What will we be, truly free from all chains of conformity? The id side of our personalities represents the side of us that desire immediate pleasure and happiness. The superego desires a realization of our inner dreams, derived from living among others, a moral perfection. The ego desires a compromise between the two that will result in eventual longterm happiness. So…if if the ego and superego appear after social interaction, will the id enslave us once free from everything? Bonobo monkeys, who are “behind” chimpanzees, use sex along with or accompanying negotiations in everyday, bisexual life – different societal rules. These behaviors are technically older than chimpanzee behavior, so maybe that’s what we truly are! Why? Because it feels good, that’s why! And when I thought about it, ultimately, all of our exploits around the world, from understanding the universe to understanding one’s lover, reward in pleasure. Maybe we aren’t hiding our human nature at all, and this is who we really are!

What I’m trying to say is, is that there might be no single definition of human nature that circumscribes the whole of human activity yet. We are not all greedy pigs. We are not all altruistic angels. We are not all degenerate psychotics. We are not all cold calculators. We are not all idealistic artists, dreamers, revolutionaries. We are not all depressed.

I started thinking about human nature during primary school and middle school, watching those labeled strong exploit others labeled weak. Perhaps personality is predetermined, to some unknown factor. I forgot the discussion when seriously contemplating suicide. In high school, I discovered several facts of my personality that stretched back into the first few crushes I had on people, that made me return to this current idea of human nature. Whenever I crushed on people, I used to assume (or more accurately, fantasize) my crush having similar personalities. The more probable opposite, the simple fact of life, didn’t come to me until…well, very recently, during winter break, 2010. Worse, when I crush on the physically attractive, my behavior changes to gain their favor, as if I already knew them, and exactly why I liked them. I feel disgusted for treating pretty people so shallowly, but it feels bitterly redeeming that at least I am aware of things, now. Luckily for me, I have other weird, depressed, cynical, emotional, twisted individuals I like to call my friends, to bring such matters to light, and a handful to sit with me as I change. There is no single human nature.

7. Society

Sometimes, the ego may consider “eventual longterm happiness” as happiness a few years later, instead of decades or possibly even millenia later. In corporations controlled by their shareholders, what once might’ve existed as a well-intended group of individuals has turned into a slave for those viewing the stock market as nothing more than a rigged casino. In other words, anyone who views the stock market’s share prices as just an opportunity, and not a company employing actual people, assists in companies acting they way they have.

Or perhaps I give the masses too much slack, and people who desire nothing more money that truly exist. In middle school I felt depressed enough to believe that, to ignore wealth’s ability to compensate. And yet, the amount of billionares grow – if I had just one of a billionare’s money, I could do so much better than they could. What is American society build on? Short bursts of gratification. That makes money. That rules our world. But does that truly rule everyone? With the advent of the internet, people nowadays can exist in and stay simultaneously connected with several societies at one time, some with different ideas than others. Different people traveling different paths to different pleasures, as a whole superorganism, or as fractured factions interacting, evolving. Traveling around, these groups of similar-thinking people, with variable amounts of tolerance for individuality search for new recruits, for immortality, like a meme. All thoughts are naught but viruses, for viruses require a host to reproduce.

What are words without a reader?

What are emotions without a soul, heart, or pathways in a brain, immortality?

After the initial shock and awe of the suicide note, Mom took me to some kind of clinic, where doctors called me clinical depression. There they sent me to a silly house, and inside I began treatment. You would expect staff inside there loving and thoughtful. No, they stiffly followed their rules, schedules, papers, made sure nobody broke anything, suggested medication more than conversation, and gossipped about which patient proved more obedient. Most or all of my treatment from the other patients themselves. Coming from all different backgrounds, people just started to open up and talk with each other. The staff took all of the credit, and we let them; our pride didn’t really matter…or did it? Soon I observed the same behaviors I sought refuge from – we ostracized “different and weird” members, seriously humiliated each other, thought one superior to another, and even grew materialistic with the little materials given to us – what were we doing? What sort of recovery is this? Some of us helped the more physically attractive ones. We seemed desperate to feel good. Perhaps that caused our ruination – the clinic degenerated from an ideal and open group, into an apartheid condition, divided by freaks and somewhat normal, with neutrals and extremely socially awkward people truly without a home. I don’t know what else to call this behavior, this sort of society. The burning desire to such useless games in the face of trying times? Panic?

8. Humbleness & Debate
Humbleness, or the idea of reacting calmly, assertively, without violence, during conflict, certainly seems powerful, but to what extent of assault must one tolerate before launching into aggressive action? Should I even think of humbleness as a strategy to win an argument and more of an expectation? Discussions flow smoother when one does not react as the id does, defending against any all perceived threats against self-confidence and self-control. People find humbleness so hard to adapt, because of the weakness people imagine, ignoring that humbleness takes much more energy and effort to maintain. Strength and decisiveness seems to rest in more visible, aggressive actions, than controlled beings. Perhaps, individuals go through a path of realization, where little details push people along a path of patience and humbleness, forward, to eternal calm.

This I gathered through constant humiliations. In arguments against wittier folk, against my parents, against tree and building, I constantly seem to fail. Depression clouded my judgment on the situation but after, I realized I was fiercely defending my id and ego.  When I understood this I understood the true purpose of discussion: to benefit all parties. 8 1/2′s Catholic Cardinal spoke truth: “Why should you be happy? That is not your task in life. Who said we were put on Earth to be happy?” A line exists where selfishness ends, and humbled, serious discussion take place, where participants concede and reject ideas after analysis of facts presented, not arguments presented.

9. “Basic Rights.”
Throughout the recovery process directed by the excellent counseling from a Dr. Frances, I thought about people in less fortunate situations. When people find themselves into such a situation with absolutely nobody to relate to, how many return from that place alive or happy? When people find themselves in situations where only money can  save them, and that they watch whip away in the wind? When governments promise to serve and protect in times of strife, and fail to prevent or encourage the opposite? What and where are our basic rights now? I think someone else said it much better and eloquently a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away:

It is our duty now to begin to lay the plans and determine the strategy for the winning of a lasting peace and the establishment of an American standard of living higher than ever before known. We cannot be content, no matter how high that general standard of living may be, if some fraction of our people—whether it be one-third or one-fifth or one-tenth—is ill-fed, ill-clothed, ill-housed, and insecure.This Republic had its beginning, and grew to its present strength, under the protection of certain inalienable political rights—among them the right of free speech, free press, free worship, trial by jury, freedom from unreasonable searches and seizures. They were our rights to life and liberty.As our nation has grown in size and stature, however—as our industrial economy expanded—these political rights proved inadequate to assure us equality in the pursuit of happiness.We have come to a clear realization of the fact that true individual freedom cannot exist without economic security and independence. “Necessitous men are not free men.” People who are hungry and out of a job are the stuff of which dictatorships are made. In our day these economic truths have become accepted as self-evident. We have accepted, so to speak, a second Bill of Rights under which a new basis of security and prosperity can be established for all—regardless of station, race, or creed.
Among these are:

The right to a useful and remunerative job in the industries or shops or farms or mines of the nation;

The right to earn enough to provide adequate food and clothing and recreation;

The right of every farmer to raise and sell his products at a return which will give him and his family a decent living;

The right of every businessman, large and small, to trade in an atmosphere of freedom from unfair competition and domination by monopolies at home or abroad;

The right of every family to a decent home;

The right to adequate medical care and the opportunity to achieve and enjoy good health;

The right to adequate protection from the economic fears of old age, sickness, accident, and unemployment;

The right to a good education.

All of these rights spell security. And after this war is won we must be prepared to move forward, in the implementation of these rights, to new goals of human happiness and well-being. America’s own rightful place in the world depends in large part upon how fully these and similar rights have been carried into practice for our citizens.
-President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s “Economic Bill of Rights” – January 11th, 1944′s State of the Union

10. The Future

On the day of my planned suicide I mindlessly wrote a note explaining my hatred for the world and my plans to kill myself. I say mindlessly because I did not plan to leave any note; I believed that my tormentors knew their crime, and I needed no such attention-whoring article to win any people over to my side. I didn’t care about who went to my side. No people existed anymore to me, only futile exercises in restraint. It’s been about 6 or so years since then, and I still feel the irony burn – I am a much changed person now, with a different set of ideas of the world. I believe cynicism, especially the denouncement of others’ attempts to prolong life or a complete lack of trust in people, have no place in me. That serves only to depress further and paint me an asshole or someone in desperate need of help. Who wants to befriend one who never reciprocates trust and suspects betrayal, despite all efforts towards friendship? I believe a more matured person takes the leap of faith, the gamble, knowing the future remains uncertain, and works towards the positive, despite all of this.

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So that’s it. I still wonder why the hell I thought so much about such silly things. I suspect this was my way of trying to find purpose, trying to save myself. Or maybe I was bored. My therapist tells me nothing can cure the background noise -  Dysthymia, but it’s the mark of an “intellectual.” She’s probably saying that because she has dysthymia as well. A friend of mine recently reminded me that depression attacks, regardless of economical standing. And suddenly, I know I wasn’t frustrated at a richer friends’ petty inconviniences they labeled as depression; I was jealous of their material wealth.

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This is my personal reflection on the challenging topic of Self-Preservation vs. Self-Mutiliation. Our entire group has contributed to this SHIFT (our written symposium on challenging topics), and we would love it if you read through each of our reflections, and added your comments, experiences and perspectives to the discussion. We also encourage you to reference our list of Resources, should you or someone you know need help.