Exquisite. Thank you, Chloe: That still, small, uncruel voice has almost always seemed an artifact of my free will, rather than a siren or instruction. I am grateful to have it so. The world is better with you in it, and I hope with me in it, until the day the natural order requires we aren’t.
Hello beloved Chloe, thank you for having the courage to be in all of life's conversations. I loved how you described loneliness being infused in your bone marrow. There are times when my loneliness feels as though it is beyond even my own reach for consoling. And then there are times where I forget it is there, perhaps because it finds itself in good company. You are one of the people where it is in good company, and I wonder if it is because conversation can go anywhere with you and still be safe. Thank you for opening conversation within me and reminding me of the beauty and sacredness in life, when it is a black wing that soars, a tawny wing that tells something happened here, or a pigeons wing that says something ended and something else has begun.
Another beautiful, tender, and open message from your heart and mind to ours. Thank you Chloe for sharing all that you do with us. For me, your words always help me to reorient to the enchantment and mystery of life and, despite the inner voice that also lets me know things could be otherwise, shows me that gifts that being part of it gives.
Chloe, I confess I felt sadness to read that you felt ashamed at having your thoughts. Thoughts that are, I imagine, as sacred as every other part of life and death you witness and give reverence to. In fact, I find your remembrance that you could depart, if you chose, to be rather beautiful, because in that thought - and that act of choosing - you are embracing life with a wholeheartedness that is … well, sacred. Because you are repeatedly looking at life, choosing to be a part of it, in all its complexity, and when it gets difficult you say, “yes, this too.” My god, there is no shame in that my friend. Just utter, glorious and beautiful love.
You know my dear friend, that we have both lost someone truly precious by their own hand. Despite the shocking tragedy of discovering my best friend, I knew then, that she was finally free of pain and unbearable inner turmoil. Although I am sure that I also chided her about the state of her bedroom.
What you speak of here is so courageous; I too have oddly found myself at times perhaps more resilient because this 'option' was there, because there was one thing I could do.
And yet, here we both are. Still. You finding joy in a fuck-ton of Blackbirds. Me is the boundless joy of the boy splashing through a brook. To all who struggle at times, your writing will comfort and reassure.
I loved this. It made me think that, among the reasons to love the birds and darters who fly in and out through the open end of my house in summer, is that they are probably unburdened by the weight of existence. They come, go, do, move on. This is how I prefer myself, although it's rare to achieve that state.
Dear Chloe, I do not know if you realise how much this world needs your unswerving strength to write about this mass of ice that we haul along, hidden and shameful. You show it the light and by that light, melt away some of the exhaustion. For those who hear the voice, you give solace and space to start believing, perhaps, that they are not somehow broken, that these thoughts are part of living. For those whose iceberg is of a different shape, your words grant understanding of a different kind. And for all who look below the surface at their own iceberg, this becomes a sacred space of safety to listen to the voices without feeling faulty or unhinged. I count myself lucky to be among those who have found this space. Much love xx
Such an altogether tender and insightful reflection. Thank you Chloe. A profound reminder too, that behavior is mysterious; that joy or death by one's own hand are both choices - affected by circumstance, courage and bone-marrow loneliness yes, but still choices.
The option of a way out has brought me the only comfort over many years. Until I realised that my health is getting progressively so bad that I'll likely get something terminal and die in a few years anyway. That's when it stopped because now I can just wait it out. Also, it's not so easy to make the body stop. I know many a poisonous plant growing in my neighborhood but I wouldn't know the preparation and dosing for a relatively painfree and effective demise. I wish those records and recipes weren't purposefully hidden from us. I'd might consider medical euthanasia if my state gets too bad and there's no decent care team available for me, if it's available in my country by then. Though I'd prefer to die naturally because, actually, there is no way out because there is no 'out there'. Everything happens inside of us. I suspect that we'll just get reborn and get to do it all over again until we find a way to live through everything, and you don't want to put this shit on yourself when you're just a clueless baby in a new family and a strange new life, at least now you're armed with the experience and understanding to have a chance to figure it out.
Also, there's scientific research into reincarnation after suicide, and if I'm not mistaken, it shows that people who kill themselves strive to get back asap to fix it and continue the lessons. Meaning we tend to regret it once we get to the other side and get some perspective. But we might also get slightly reinvigorated and maybe even rest for a short while. So is it worth it? I'd tend to lean towards the no, after all, it's a horrible feeling to want to extinguish ones life, for some at least.
Exquisite. Thank you, Chloe: That still, small, uncruel voice has almost always seemed an artifact of my free will, rather than a siren or instruction. I am grateful to have it so. The world is better with you in it, and I hope with me in it, until the day the natural order requires we aren’t.
Hello beloved Chloe, thank you for having the courage to be in all of life's conversations. I loved how you described loneliness being infused in your bone marrow. There are times when my loneliness feels as though it is beyond even my own reach for consoling. And then there are times where I forget it is there, perhaps because it finds itself in good company. You are one of the people where it is in good company, and I wonder if it is because conversation can go anywhere with you and still be safe. Thank you for opening conversation within me and reminding me of the beauty and sacredness in life, when it is a black wing that soars, a tawny wing that tells something happened here, or a pigeons wing that says something ended and something else has begun.
Another beautiful, tender, and open message from your heart and mind to ours. Thank you Chloe for sharing all that you do with us. For me, your words always help me to reorient to the enchantment and mystery of life and, despite the inner voice that also lets me know things could be otherwise, shows me that gifts that being part of it gives.
Chloe, I confess I felt sadness to read that you felt ashamed at having your thoughts. Thoughts that are, I imagine, as sacred as every other part of life and death you witness and give reverence to. In fact, I find your remembrance that you could depart, if you chose, to be rather beautiful, because in that thought - and that act of choosing - you are embracing life with a wholeheartedness that is … well, sacred. Because you are repeatedly looking at life, choosing to be a part of it, in all its complexity, and when it gets difficult you say, “yes, this too.” My god, there is no shame in that my friend. Just utter, glorious and beautiful love.
Thank you for your beautiful words and honest thoughts. You are a light in the darkness of convention.
You know my dear friend, that we have both lost someone truly precious by their own hand. Despite the shocking tragedy of discovering my best friend, I knew then, that she was finally free of pain and unbearable inner turmoil. Although I am sure that I also chided her about the state of her bedroom.
What you speak of here is so courageous; I too have oddly found myself at times perhaps more resilient because this 'option' was there, because there was one thing I could do.
And yet, here we both are. Still. You finding joy in a fuck-ton of Blackbirds. Me is the boundless joy of the boy splashing through a brook. To all who struggle at times, your writing will comfort and reassure.
Thank you for writing this beautiful piece.
I loved this. It made me think that, among the reasons to love the birds and darters who fly in and out through the open end of my house in summer, is that they are probably unburdened by the weight of existence. They come, go, do, move on. This is how I prefer myself, although it's rare to achieve that state.
Dear Chloe, I do not know if you realise how much this world needs your unswerving strength to write about this mass of ice that we haul along, hidden and shameful. You show it the light and by that light, melt away some of the exhaustion. For those who hear the voice, you give solace and space to start believing, perhaps, that they are not somehow broken, that these thoughts are part of living. For those whose iceberg is of a different shape, your words grant understanding of a different kind. And for all who look below the surface at their own iceberg, this becomes a sacred space of safety to listen to the voices without feeling faulty or unhinged. I count myself lucky to be among those who have found this space. Much love xx
Such an altogether tender and insightful reflection. Thank you Chloe. A profound reminder too, that behavior is mysterious; that joy or death by one's own hand are both choices - affected by circumstance, courage and bone-marrow loneliness yes, but still choices.
The option of a way out has brought me the only comfort over many years. Until I realised that my health is getting progressively so bad that I'll likely get something terminal and die in a few years anyway. That's when it stopped because now I can just wait it out. Also, it's not so easy to make the body stop. I know many a poisonous plant growing in my neighborhood but I wouldn't know the preparation and dosing for a relatively painfree and effective demise. I wish those records and recipes weren't purposefully hidden from us. I'd might consider medical euthanasia if my state gets too bad and there's no decent care team available for me, if it's available in my country by then. Though I'd prefer to die naturally because, actually, there is no way out because there is no 'out there'. Everything happens inside of us. I suspect that we'll just get reborn and get to do it all over again until we find a way to live through everything, and you don't want to put this shit on yourself when you're just a clueless baby in a new family and a strange new life, at least now you're armed with the experience and understanding to have a chance to figure it out.
Also, there's scientific research into reincarnation after suicide, and if I'm not mistaken, it shows that people who kill themselves strive to get back asap to fix it and continue the lessons. Meaning we tend to regret it once we get to the other side and get some perspective. But we might also get slightly reinvigorated and maybe even rest for a short while. So is it worth it? I'd tend to lean towards the no, after all, it's a horrible feeling to want to extinguish ones life, for some at least.