First of all, don’t panic–this is not, and is not helpful if it is interpreted as, some sort of cry for help.
Second, by any means anyone can use to evaluate it, I am running out of time; I will not have sufficient time left in my life, independent of how long it may last after writing this, and totally without regard to how my life is lost, to accomplish enough to feel I have made sufficient progress on “saving the world.”
But, when it’s over for me, it will be over. So I’m running out of time.
Therefore I must speak with total abandon. Sometimes that will scare you, and sometimes outrage you, for I may show assuredness where only I am certain of its appropriateness. If I have anything I regret, it is that I had to run out of time before I began to express what I have to say with authority.
I don’t want to leave an impression that my suicide is just a case of being depressed. Not that there isn’t plenty to be depressed about. I’m not really much on being depressed. As I’ve said, I have M.S. and, for many years was on drugs (first betaseron, then copaxone). I quit taking them when I came to understand their side effects were worse than the evils they might be holding at bay. In particular, they were very likely the cause of a prolonged depression.
I’m doing well now, and especially since the M.S. hasn’t particularly advanced since I stopped the meds. But let me tell you, I’d much rather be able to smile than walk in any case. Life is so much better now.
I was so depressed, in fact, that if suicide hadn’t been forbidden me years ago, I’d surely have exercised that option. You see, I was almost killed by a train moving at very high speed in 2001, and, when I survived unscathed, I realized that I couldn’t “give up” on getting my Message out. No suicide allowed. Sorry.
So, if I actually carry out this threat on myself, I’ve got to be able to see it as one more way–my last possible way, actually–of “getting out the word.”
This way of thinking, though, is terribly confusing:
if I gain attention, but continue on the (slow) downward M. S. spiral, the suicide becomes a more appealing option, for the heightened attention, combined with declining ability to accomplish stuff, make the act more likely to be my last chance of “getting the word out.”
If I’ve been ineffective, and have no following at the time of self immolation, it’s a greater leap of faith that such an act will further the goal (always an imponderable), so taking my own life is all the harder. The moral question–moral in the sense of “best serving Gaia”–is clouded by the push and pull between am I “getting the word out” or am I “giving up.”
If this is unclear to you, rest assured it is no less so to me.
Gaia is condemned to death if we don’t do something soon. I’ve been shown both that fact and the consequences of not doing that something soon enough. But our action must be directed at saving Gaia, not ourselves.
Bizarrely, perhaps, the insight depended on the most horrific of all realizations. We are not talking here about mankind not making it: We are talking about the Lifeforce we see all around us, all the time, not making it.
It is the Lifeforce itself that I’m referring to when I use the term “Gaia.” And it is that Lifeforce that I am referencing whenever I speak of “God.”
The biggest barrier most people have against hearing me–truly hearing me–is that, at its core, my Message is that humanity is both capable of, and already deeply committed to the task of, killing God.
Not in some metaphorical sense, but in a very real and physical sense.
For most, because of our historical myopia induced by our extraordinary tininess relative to the planet, we cannot conceive of our species being capable of bringing about the death of Gaia/God.
But remember, we had no tools while we tried to define god. We do, now. The living being that we’ve always been trying to describe is what “god” is. As any living being, god is mortal.
Yet the bottom line for most people is the firm belief that She is not. At the very least, that nothing human beings can do will kill Her.
But here is where the cancer metaphor is most useful and telling. Cancer cells, which is what we are, never conceive of themselves as being potentially fatal. Fatal to themselves, perhaps, the way we sometimes visualize our own worst impact being humanity’s extinction, but never fatal to the larger body itself.
Nor, usually, do cancer cells do anything which directly would bring about the death of the overall being. It is, purely and exclusively, their own success which proves to be fatal to the larger individual. They crowd out everything else until the absence of some unrelated function provided by the something else does the trick. It is never cancer’s intent.
And so it is with humanity. Our very concept of sustainability, for instance, is all bout sustaining “us.” So long as our concern is only about the well being of our own species we continue on our march toward the eventual destruction of Gaia. The death of God. I don’t hate people. Or blame them. I love people.
One of the greatest things about them may be their potential to realize the impact their growth is having–to enlarge their concept of “we” to include all living things–to go into spontaneous remission. People can be really great–if they’re not being too stupid.