We All Should Care

Accept the call for a deeper purpose.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written here. It’s not that I’ve been too busy, it’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just that I’m not as good at this as the rest of the writers on this site.

Todays topic comes from the thoughts that dance in my head just before I drift off to sleep. This one came to me three days ago.

If there was a way to stop time, would you? Would it be wise? What would you stop time for?

I would stop time for two things. Concerts and a lover.

The lover might be more understandable and accepted, so I’ll start there.

Laying in bed with the sunlight streaming in your window on a Sunday morning after a long night of lovemaking… Tell me you don’t want to stop time?

…If it were only so easy to stop time or bottle it… To sell it would be more precious than gold.

The concerts? When I’m at a concert and I look up into the lights (usually when they’re blue) I want to stop time, embrace and memorize the situation and never leave. It’s those moments that make me miss performing so much.

So what would you stop time for? If you could. How long before you would start it back up again? If ever.

[image courtesy google.com/images]

This rant is brought to you by Damien, Spider’s 6 year old son. He is the most passionate, caring person that I know. Young and old alike.

Out of somewhere (he has a train of thought, I can’t say nowhere) he says to Spider and I quote:

“Everything is made in China, and although stuff made in China is cute,the way they treat kids and other people is NOT cute.”

Do you ever think to pick up a product and look at the label, to see where it’s made?

Do you even know how badly people and especially the children, who work in those “sweat shops” making a lot of these products that we frequently buy, are treated?

Have you ever even given a second thought to it?

Damien has.

So, look forward to more posts from him, “Rants By Damien” is the newest addition to We All Should Care,next time under his name.

His mom may have to help him type it, but the tangent will belong solely to him.

Damien, you ROCK.

It’s been a while, since I’ve spoken of Spencer Bell here, and perhaps you’re wondering why, since I did, in all honestly promise a post a day for Spencer.

It hasn’t been that I’m being a slacker, it hasn’t been that I’ve lost the passion to show his legacy to the world, it’s that he deserves so much more than a lukewarm, mediocre post daily.

Quality over quantity if you will.

So why now,right? Why today?

Because after finding out that my grandmother is dying of cancer, reading Richard Bach, reflecting on so many things in this life…
I have been hit with something very bittersweet.

Bach believes, as I always have, that once your purpose on this planet is finished, that you leave this world.
Maybe to begin again elsewhere, maybe to look over the ones you love, all of that is left up to your belief system.

My point? If you’re still here, your purpose is unfulfilled.

Spencer not being with us, hurts so many,(His family, and friends that I cannot thank enough for sharing him with the world) and even though I have a harder time grasping someone being taken from this world so young, maybe he had fulfilled his destiny, his purpose.

Maybe it was to enlighten many about art, and how it should be.
Even though he was extremely talented, he was a firm believer, that music, and any art really, comes from the heart, the soul, it doesn’t matter if the rest of the world thinks you’re good at it, so long as you love it, and are impassioned by it.

That alone is inspirational.

His wit, his bravery, his unwavering sense of self that is very clear in his legacy, it is awe inspiring.

I know that nothing can bring those that were close to him comfort, that they miss him EVERY SINGLE DAY, every minute of every day, and that no reasoning in this world is good enough that he isn’t here.
That nothing eases the pain, the void that is abundantly clear every time something happens that makes them think of Spencer.

I also know that my mere words falter, so often, that if people could read solely what is written upon my heart, and embedded in my soul, that this message would come out more eloquently….

Since finding his Legacy, Spencer Bell has touched my life in ways that are hard for me to explain. He picked me up when I didn’t think I could stand, and forced me to persevere when I wanted to quit.
His legacy has introduced me to friends that I know will last a lifetime, his words, his art, his music resonate more loudly, more beautifully than the most professionally composed symphony.

Once again, Jackson Rathbone (FRIEND of Spencer Bell, human being), said it better than I could ever put it: ” my hero was much younger than I when my hero was immortalized… ” and then “…there’s no grave for the soul no vinyl coffin made of gold”

Every Friday, we have deemed “Spencer Bell Day” on Twitter.. but quite honestly, we should celebrate the life that this young man had, every day. When I started using the hashtag #spencerbellislegendary I meant it very literally.

Nothing, not even death, can hold him back from expressing the depth, the intensity, the erring human soul, that was and IS forevermore Spencer Bell.

[[image courtesy of spencerbellmemorial.ning.com]]

Why can’t I get a great job to cover all my bills? Why did my ex get over me so quickly? Why do friends move on? Why did I or a loved one spend their entire life doing nothing but give, give, give only to end up with some horrible, debilitating or deadly disease? Why must we suffer? Why? Why? Why?

These and countless others are questions we ask ourselves in our many, and quite varied lives. It seems sometimes that life becomes far too much a burden to handle. Even I, the great and powerful Damij sometimes gets overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of all the unanswered questions and endless fall-backs and shortcomings that permeate the foundation of our existence.

We are matter made conscious by whatever means. Particles that formed together to become aware and to identify as “self” and as amazing a process as it is, it often leaves us empty.  Our individuality often leaves us feeling lonely or scared.

A great many people choose some religious or spiritual method in trying to cope with the harsh reality we face every day. There are many others that choose more secular methods and I imagine that there are probably still other who simply never even think that deeply and don’t really care one way or another.

I do realize that I ramble so I will get on with it.

The point that I am trying to make is we are trapped inside these human bodies and with our human consciousness, we have only a very limited perception of what reality actually is. It is difficult for us to understand that sometimes things go on the universe that is not only outside our understanding but also outside our ability to be aware of it. I feel that we are all connected in some way or another, since we are all a part of this universe in which we live. When you have all those questions going through your mind, just go outside and look up into the sky and just think about how even though we are but a blip in the existence of the universe, what choices we make determine the impact on the people that are with us in our lives.That makes us important, I think.

There is simply so much in our lives that we cannot change.  If i could heal all the sick and feed all the hungry and answer all the questions that we all have in and about our lives then by damn I can guarantee you that I wouldn’t be busting my ass all day for minimum wage. With as big of a geek as I am, I’d probably go to the trouble of getting a really cool cape if i could afford it but  for all those things we cannot change, there are many things that we do have the ability to alter. Do your best, that’s all I ask. I may not know you but I have faith in you. I may be walking a different path than yours but I know we have probably often taken similar steps along the way.

I’m going to be thinking about you…yeah you *points*

So what are some of the questions that you all have out there in internet land? Sometimes it feels good just to get it all out, ya know?  Just don’t ask what I’m on, I swear I’m sober. lol

So all of you that read this blog, know by now that Damij writes for We All Should Care, but did you know that he’s a musician as well?
If I don’t show my love and support for my friends, and their passions, their talents, then everything I do in my life, all the soap boxing, it’s all in vain.
Supporting my friends is what I do. Although, if you ask Damij, he maaaay just tell you I’m a tad, pushy. *Laugh* Regardless, it’s because I know he houses greatness. It’s true. Don’t believe me?
Check it out! :

Scroll over it, and it will allow you to play the music as well. It’s quite, what’s the word he used? Nifty. Yeah, that’s it.
I love it!
In fact it will find it’s way to my myspace page as well, I’m sure.

We’re all very proud of you Damij, for taking that step off the curb, even though it’s scary. You’re meant for greatness, remember that.

Rid yourselves of the preconceived notions that you have about suicide, and just try to read this objectively.
I know how hard that is, but please try.

I have often heard that suicide is a cry for attention.
Perhaps, in some rare cases, that is true.
More realistically? For those that honestly intend on taking their own life, it is a lot more involved than just wanting a hug.
And it happens among all races, sexes, and ages.
It is not exclusive to one type of person.
It’s only requirements? That you’re broken, scarred, hurting, aching, agonizing and wanting OUT.
You want the pain to stop.
You don’t stop and think about what will happen in the morning when the sun doesn’t rise for you, all that matters is that hollow in your chest will be gone.
You’ll no longer have to put forth effort to merely breathe, and put one foot in front of the other.
No more auto pilot.
No more pretending.
You’ll be free.
So see, there is someone who DOES understand.
But you know what?
It’s not true.
It won’t make the pain go away, it will only cause more. It will hurt people that love you, and I can promise you, even if you don’t talk to them daily, there is someone that can’t live without you.
There is someone that loves you so much, that their lifeline is connected to yours.
Do you want to be responsible for THEIR hollow? Their pain?
If you’re reading this and you’ve been there, I may not know you (or I may) but I CARE.
If you let me, I’LL REACH BACK when you’re extending your hand.
Nothing may ease your pain, but by damn, I’ll share it with you.
But ending your life? Stupid, inconsiderate, selfish, cowardly.
You’re above that.

Statistics to back up what I’ve said:

• Males take their own lives at nearly four times the rate of females and represent 79.4% of all U.S. suicides.1

• During their lifetime, women attempt suicide about two to three times as often as men.5

• Suicide is the eighth leading cause of death for males and the seventeenth leading cause for females.1

• Among males, adults ages 75 years and older have the highest rate of suicide (rate 37.97 per 100,000population).1

• Among females, those in their 40s and 50s have the highest rate of suicide (rate 7.53 per 100,000population).1

• Firearms are the most commonly used method of suicide among males (57.6%).1

• Poisoning is the most common method of suicide for females (39.1%)
Among American Indians/Alaska Natives ages 15- to 34-years, suicide is the second leading cause of death.1

• Suicide rates among American Indian/Alaskan Native adolescents and young adults ages 15 to 34 (21.7 per100,000) are 2.2 times higher than the nationalaverage for that age group (10.0 per 100,000).1

• Hispanic female high school students in grades 9-12 reported a higher percentage of suicide attempts(14.0%) than their White, non-Hispanic (7.7%) orBlack, non-Hispanic (9.9%) counterparts

• Suicide is the second leading cause of death among 25-34 year olds and the third leading cause of deathamong 15- to 24-year olds.1

• Among 15- to 24-year olds, suicide accounts for 12.3% of all deaths annually.1

• The rate of suicide for adults aged 65 years and older was 14.7 per 100,000.1 Nonfatal, Self-Inflicted Injuries*

• In 2005, 372,722 people were treated in emergency departments for self-inflicted injuries.6

• In 2006, 162,359 people were hospitalized due to self- inflicted injury.1

• There is one suicide for every 25 attempted suicides
In 2007:

• 14.5% of students, grade 9-12, seriously considered suicide in the previous 12 months (18.7% of femalesand 10.3% of males).4

• 6.9% of students reported making at least one suicide attempt in the previous 12 months (9.3% of femalesand 4.6% of males).4

• 2.0% of students reported making at least one suicide attempt in the previous 12 months that requiredmedical attention (2.4% of females and 1.5% ofmales)

You can read the full post of statistics HERE

Remember, when you think you have nobody, that nobody is there.
Look a little harder, a little deeper.
If you can’t talk to someone you know, if you can’t talk to me, then please ASK FOR HELP HERE
It’s a site with all the numbers you’ll need to find someone to help.

I notice the things that so few do.
I go about my daily life in a plethora of emotions because I can honestly almost feel what others do. I call it extra empathy, in reality, I have no idea if there is a name for it.
I know that there are so many people that are perceived incorrectly by society.
They are thought golden, untouchable, happy, simply because they hide behind a facade. A mask of smiles, though it never truly reaches their eyes. You never see their soul, because it’s dark.
I know that look because I have that look.
That “empty, longing, soul searching, I’m never going to be fixed, but I wish I had someone that could relate, and accept me no matter how many neuroses I may have” look.
Sometimes, it isn’t a matter of being fixed, but merely, of having someone hold your hand in the dark, and walk quietly alongside you, to quiet the shadows, if only a bit.
Sometimes, we just want someone to hear what we aren’t saying, but we’re silently screaming.
I think Charles C. Finn can sum it up better than I can, so I’ll let him:

“Please Hear What I Am Not Saying”

Don’t be fooled by me.
Don’t be fooled by the face I wear
for I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
masks that I’m afraid to take off,
and none of them is me.

Pretending is an art that’s second nature with me,
but don’t be fooled,
for God’s sake don’t be fooled.
I give you the impression that I’m secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well
as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water’s calm and I’m in command
and that I need no one,
but don’t believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don’t want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.

But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope,
and I know it.
That is, if it’s followed by acceptance,
if it’s followed by love.
It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It’s the only thing that will assure me
of what I can’t assure myself,
that I’m really worth something.
But I don’t tell you this. I don’t dare to, I’m afraid to.
I’m afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I’m afraid you’ll think less of me,
that you’ll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I’m afraid that deep-down I’m nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without
and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that’s really nothing,
and nothing of what’s everything,
of what’s crying within me.
So when I’m going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I’m saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m not saying,
what I’d like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can’t say.

I don’t like hiding.
I don’t like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you’ve got to help me.
You’ve got to hold out your hand
even when that’s the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you’re kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings–
very small wings,
very feeble wings,
but wings!

With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator–an honest-to-God creator–
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.

Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me
the blinder I may strike back.
It’s irrational, but despite what the books say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.

Charles C. Finn
September 1966

If you feel this way, even if you never contact me, understand, that when nobody else does, I hear what you’re not saying, and I see YOU, not your mask. I try not to pry, but oftentimes I can’t help what I see without looking.

For everyone else? Please, do everyone a favor, never place anyone on a pedestal. We are merely human, no matter how pretty and golden we are, we are not made of marble, we cannot sit still for an eternity, and we will fall.
The higher the pedestal, the harder the fall.
Remember that the one hurting, may atypically be you, but genuinely wounded will be the one you chose to deify.