Whoever finds love beneath hurt and grief
Disappears into emptiness
With a thousand new disguises
What is the soul?
What is the soul I cannot stop asking
If I could taste one sip of an answer
I could break out of this prison for drunks
I didn’t come here of my own accord
And I can’t leave that way
Whoever brought me here
Will have to take me home
- Rumi
According to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, suicide rates in the US increased 30% between 2000 and 2016. Depression, drug and alcohol abuse, social isolation, financial setbacks, and relationship problems all have contributed to suicide rates rising—the tenth leading cause of death in the US and one of three that is still increasing. In 2016, there were more than twice as many suicides as homicides, and it was the second leading cause of death for young people. What surprised the experts most of all was that more than half of people who had committed suicide did not have any known mental health condition. Plus prevention has been elusive, even as rates of psychiatric treatment and diagnosis have greatly increased.
What explains this feeling of despondency and an inclination towards relinquishing the battlefield of life? The late-Charles Le Gai Eaton, British diplomat and one of the finest religious scholars of our era, asked another, perhaps more important question, “What is it that makes us so unwilling to look at ourselves calmly and objectively?” I excerpt the answer from his book, Reflections, which I am currently reading.
Fear, I suppose, and defensiveness. If we admit our weaknesses to ourselves we would–so we think–be weakened in the face of the world and less able to cope with the dangers and the problems that surround us; and, if we don’t build up our own “image,” no one else is going to do it for us. Of what use is a deflated balloon, even if there is a fierce-looking face painted on it? We must blow the balloon up and present that face to the world.
But there’s a problem here. The more we try to live a lie, the more vulnerable we become. We’re afraid of being caught out by other people; above all, we’re afraid of being caught out by ourselves. A lie always needs to be supported by further lies, and then by still more lies, until we find that we have constructed a house of cards that may be blown down at any moment. What happens then? A nervous breakdown, perhaps, or what the psychiatrists call an “identity crisis”. Self-deception has its dangers, to say the least.
But, to be able to do without self-deception, we have to feel secure, and, I believe, that this sense of security can come about in only one way. That is from the knowledge that, even here and now, in this turbulent world, we are living in the presence of God, who sees us objectively, and yet with mercy and loving-kindness. In that all-seeing Presence there is no longer any point in lying or in pretending to be other than we are. This, surely, is what we call “serenity”; to be oneself, to recognize oneself, in the calm certainty that He sees us as we are and accepts us as we are.
The tragedy of modern man, in the midst of his riches and his technological achievements, is that he has lost the sense of the sacred and lives in a world drained of light. Those who have told us, over the past century, that “God is dead” should have had the honesty to complete the sentence: “God is dead, therefore man is dead!” When nothing in our surroundings reminds us of Him, then He does—in a sense—die in our hearts, and all that makes life worth living dies with Him.
The diminishing role of religion, which has long provided the institutional and social scaffolding to establish harmony, balance, and order within the individual personality as also in society, is in great part responsible for our suicide crisis. Studies have shown that suicide rates are lower in religious countries than in secular ones, and that people with no religious affiliation perceive fewer reasons for living, and particularly fewer moral objections to suicide. If nothing else, religion convinces us that there is light at the end of the tunnel, providing meaning and much needed relief from the corroding existential anxiety which afflicts so many people in our time.
“Woe be to a nation which stands far removed from the Truth (God), and hence has died but is not aware of her death,” said the poet Allama Iqbal. Breathing-dead bodies on foot, that’s what we have become, with no soulful activity. We have sacrificed our spiritual wellbeing to trivial pursuits, and nothing we have gained in this world—absolutely nothing—can compensate for this devastating loss. In truth, we are spiritual beings having a human experience. The real struggle, then, is the entanglement of the soul in the material world. When will we, if ever, move from identifying with the ego to identifying with the soul?
From the moment we realize God’s scattered signs all around us, we start living in His divine presence. Our soul discovers itself, and we don’t just drag our corpses anymore, but walk as viceregents of God on earth. Our breathing is no longer evaporation into emptiness, but rather a process to remember God constantly and praise Him under all circumstances. For we know that, “with hardship cometh ease.”
This being human is a guesthouse
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
Some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
Which violently sweep your house
Still, treat each guest honorably
He may be clearing you out
For some new delight
Which violently sweep your house
Empty of its furniture
Whoever brought me here
Will have to take me home
The dark thought, the shame, the malice
Meet them at the door laughing and invite them in
Be grateful for whatever comes
Because each has been sent
As a guide from beyond.
- Rumi
