A jam-packed day, but I'll start with the evening's events:
Into the evening, I received a text message from a friend who had reached out for help. He was fighting long-standing suicidal desires and a on Sunday evening/Monday morning I reached him as I suspected and realized it was severe. We hadn't spoken or seen each other possibly since elementary school-he was the older brother of a classmate of mine, but he reached out to me sometime during college and I accepted his invitation for the opportunity to touch base, and then between late in December and mid January I finally communicated with him.
On Monday morning (as in 03:00-06:00), he mentioned his frustration with life and his ongoing turmoil between severe anger, angst and depression. He was, sometimes maybe is still, feeling despondent--so much that he wondered if he should "take a mouthful of sleeping pills" to end his life. Yet he also expressed to me that he knew it wasn't good, knew there were people who love him, and he actually wanted to live. With a few exceptions to my circumstances, I had recently gotten over that sense of despondence. This winter, I was surprised and rather glad to realize that one who endures--and possibly the privileged few who overcome--prolonged suffering earns more than a sense of pride that comes from enduring hardship. Eventually, some find themselves endowed with a new caliber of empathy and humanity that allows them to work with others who have suffered similarly.
Today I briefly sent him a message after realizing he tended to stay up very late: I recommended ways for him to sleep earlier (research points to less severe/reduced frequency of depression for those who sleep well and earlier at night). I lost contact with my friend for approximately 6 hours, and realized he had written a confusing statement on his social network profile.
After attempting to reach him and his brother by every means I could find between phones and the internet, I finally called 911. When I called 911 to request for the police to check on him, I was asked by the dispatcher if my friend had mentioned anything about how he might have planned to commit suicide. The police do this for several reasons, part of it involves safety--for the officers to prepare appropriately--and part of it is probably to screen the severity of a case. I knew and gave a likely means: a potential overdose on sleeping pills. My friend later (around 11:30 pm) sent me a message to inform me that he was well and that he appreciated my concern and initiative. Ironically, he told me he was sleeping--early during all of the commotion until the police came to his house!
Had anyone asked me in December through March of 2012 where or what I would do a year from then, meaningfully empathizing with people who'd trust me enough to express their concerns and anguish was far from my imagination.
I also wouldn't have thought I'd be fit to participate in swing and blues dancing either.
. . .
As another poetic loop, I realized that the elements of the earliest ballroom dances I had ever learned trace their steps to Lindy Hop (dancing with my mum at Eastern University when I was in second grade) and the Tango (dancing with a South American friend at a time that I had never been so close to a female before, not to mention in a situation where I was attempting to learn dance steps from a very competent dancer).
From performing with Amanda Palmer as part of the Grand Theft Orchestra, I learned a valuable nuance about professional rock stars: they know and live all-out at the times that it matters most. In other words, they recognize their "greatness", and can tap into it in relatively short order so that they operate at their best by burning through any anxieties almost right away. The music they (professional celebrity musicians in general) play might not be the most intricate or thoughtfully crafted, but they know how to "maintain the energy" throughout the performance (as articulated by the ladies of the phenomenal Norwegian band Katzenjammer in some interview seen online).
With blues/early swing dance, it's very similar. Even though I was brand new and was content to hang out at the edge of the dance floor to watch and learn the history of the dances, I was pleasantly--warmly--greeted and asked to dance by many people, several of whom were outstanding dancers in their own right. In many cases I had long since lost track of the steps and made up my own motions. Because I've long appreciated the goofy and exaggerated swinging motions and bounce of dances like Lindy Hop and Charleston (there exists a more subtle form of Charleston), I had some exciting moments doing things that seemed like they would make sense. That said, I suspect it's similar to the principle gleaned from the Amanda Palmer gig I played at St. Andrews hall this past November. Within reason, I remained rather energetic throughout and probably spent over 4 hours doing dance related things.
At the same time, I realized that I occasionally had no conception of what I could/should/wanted to do next with many of my motions. This can be scary--I recall realizing that the biggest differences between those on the politically conservative/liberal identity spectrum was their degree of exposure and emphasis of value to possibilities--when we refer to a conservative disposition, it sometimes happens because we really have no way of imagining/conceiving the possibility of an alternative opportunity and/or reality.
With both events said and examined, I think it's really important to know the people in your community--especially those whom might consider you a friend--well enough that you can help
I started this day at 06:28, had a brief but powerful nap, and it's now 02:15. Easy day, onward to the next!
Into the evening, I received a text message from a friend who had reached out for help. He was fighting long-standing suicidal desires and a on Sunday evening/Monday morning I reached him as I suspected and realized it was severe. We hadn't spoken or seen each other possibly since elementary school-he was the older brother of a classmate of mine, but he reached out to me sometime during college and I accepted his invitation for the opportunity to touch base, and then between late in December and mid January I finally communicated with him.
On Monday morning (as in 03:00-06:00), he mentioned his frustration with life and his ongoing turmoil between severe anger, angst and depression. He was, sometimes maybe is still, feeling despondent--so much that he wondered if he should "take a mouthful of sleeping pills" to end his life. Yet he also expressed to me that he knew it wasn't good, knew there were people who love him, and he actually wanted to live. With a few exceptions to my circumstances, I had recently gotten over that sense of despondence. This winter, I was surprised and rather glad to realize that one who endures--and possibly the privileged few who overcome--prolonged suffering earns more than a sense of pride that comes from enduring hardship. Eventually, some find themselves endowed with a new caliber of empathy and humanity that allows them to work with others who have suffered similarly.
Today I briefly sent him a message after realizing he tended to stay up very late: I recommended ways for him to sleep earlier (research points to less severe/reduced frequency of depression for those who sleep well and earlier at night). I lost contact with my friend for approximately 6 hours, and realized he had written a confusing statement on his social network profile.
After attempting to reach him and his brother by every means I could find between phones and the internet, I finally called 911. When I called 911 to request for the police to check on him, I was asked by the dispatcher if my friend had mentioned anything about how he might have planned to commit suicide. The police do this for several reasons, part of it involves safety--for the officers to prepare appropriately--and part of it is probably to screen the severity of a case. I knew and gave a likely means: a potential overdose on sleeping pills. My friend later (around 11:30 pm) sent me a message to inform me that he was well and that he appreciated my concern and initiative. Ironically, he told me he was sleeping--early during all of the commotion until the police came to his house!
Had anyone asked me in December through March of 2012 where or what I would do a year from then, meaningfully empathizing with people who'd trust me enough to express their concerns and anguish was far from my imagination.
I also wouldn't have thought I'd be fit to participate in swing and blues dancing either.
. . .
As another poetic loop, I realized that the elements of the earliest ballroom dances I had ever learned trace their steps to Lindy Hop (dancing with my mum at Eastern University when I was in second grade) and the Tango (dancing with a South American friend at a time that I had never been so close to a female before, not to mention in a situation where I was attempting to learn dance steps from a very competent dancer).
From performing with Amanda Palmer as part of the Grand Theft Orchestra, I learned a valuable nuance about professional rock stars: they know and live all-out at the times that it matters most. In other words, they recognize their "greatness", and can tap into it in relatively short order so that they operate at their best by burning through any anxieties almost right away. The music they (professional celebrity musicians in general) play might not be the most intricate or thoughtfully crafted, but they know how to "maintain the energy" throughout the performance (as articulated by the ladies of the phenomenal Norwegian band Katzenjammer in some interview seen online).
With blues/early swing dance, it's very similar. Even though I was brand new and was content to hang out at the edge of the dance floor to watch and learn the history of the dances, I was pleasantly--warmly--greeted and asked to dance by many people, several of whom were outstanding dancers in their own right. In many cases I had long since lost track of the steps and made up my own motions. Because I've long appreciated the goofy and exaggerated swinging motions and bounce of dances like Lindy Hop and Charleston (there exists a more subtle form of Charleston), I had some exciting moments doing things that seemed like they would make sense. That said, I suspect it's similar to the principle gleaned from the Amanda Palmer gig I played at St. Andrews hall this past November. Within reason, I remained rather energetic throughout and probably spent over 4 hours doing dance related things.
At the same time, I realized that I occasionally had no conception of what I could/should/wanted to do next with many of my motions. This can be scary--I recall realizing that the biggest differences between those on the politically conservative/liberal identity spectrum was their degree of exposure and emphasis of value to possibilities--when we refer to a conservative disposition, it sometimes happens because we really have no way of imagining/conceiving the possibility of an alternative opportunity and/or reality.
With both events said and examined, I think it's really important to know the people in your community--especially those whom might consider you a friend--well enough that you can help
I started this day at 06:28, had a brief but powerful nap, and it's now 02:15. Easy day, onward to the next!
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