From January through March I participated in a daily writing challenge – each day the people participating were given a new prompt and asked to produce a new piece. This is one of the selections from that project. The title is the prompt.

Old Chicken sees Still Fox. Dew glistening as dawn light falls on red fur. Still Fox is inside fence. Still Fox has crept through hole Old Chicken saw last sun. Old Chicken knows: first bird to leave coop today will die.

Unless Old Chicken squawks. This is the chicken way. Then other chickens squawk. Then Farmer comes. Then Still Fox becomes Running Fox. 

But Old Chicken makes no sound, instead turning to look at New Cock.

New Cock has been here five suns now, arriving a few suns after Farmer pulled Old Cock’s neck. 

New Cock, who already acts as though it is his coop. New Cock, who told Dappled Chicken she did not scratch for worms the right way. New Cock, who took Young Chicken, his beak pushing her neck to the ground, before Young Chicken was ready. New Cock, who clucked to Old Chicken, ‘old ways are gone ways,’ when she told him this was not the coop’s way.

So Old Chicken does not cluck loudly.

Old Chicken thinks.

Then Old Chicken rises. She walks to where New Cock is sleeping, pecking him gently from behind.

“Away, crone,” says New Cock.

“Sun coming. You must crow.”

“Leave,” he says, flinging hay back at Old Chicken.

“Sun coming. You must crow. Old Cock did not crow. Farmer did not wake. Farmer killed Old Cock. You must crow.” she clucks, deferentially. It is hard to humble herself. She does this anyway.

“Be gone, crone,” says New Cock, this time swinging his ruby cockscome to the other side as he pecks hard at her breast. She feels it. But she has seen many cocks, and knows to lower head. She knows to show submission, even if she does not mean it. 

It works. New Cock rises, and waddles out the henhouse door.

Then Still Fox becomes Haunched Fox. 

Haunched Fox becomes Leaping Fox.

Leaping Fox becomes Snapping Fox.

Snapping Fox becomes Sated Fox.

And Old Chicken, satisfied, ruffles her feathers. She sits back down in the hay. She knows old ways are the best way.

From January through March I participated in a daily writing challenge – each day the people participating were given a new prompt and asked to produce a new piece. This is one of the selections from that project. The title is the prompt.

San Francisco is a city of four sides and three edges, the ocean and bay capping the sides and top making clear “thou shalt go no further”. Travel south though and the city continues, dense housing giving way to less dense housing, compact shopping streets turning into malls and then strip malls, until the spaces between the buildings grow larger, and without realizing it, you are now driving through gold-brown hills dotted with infrequent mansions. On the journey there is no obvious point where the transition occurs, but eventually you acknowledge you are no longer in the city.

Break out the map though – society’s view of the city – and the edge is there. Stark. And all the imaginary things change at that point.

Zipcodes change.

Taxes change.

Supervisors or councillors change.

Society has defined an edge where landscape demurs to be so impolite.

I do not feel old. My body can still run. My hips can still sway. My mind remembers yesterday, and the day before. Yet I’m closer now to the final country than ever, and the face that stares back at me in the mirror is my father’s not mine. There was no moment in reality when it happened, no true demarcation. 

Alas yesterday, when the AARP invitation showed up in the mail, my wife laughed and said, “Now you’re old.”

A life passes in an instant
A death takes eternity to pass
Your life showed me how to live
Your death shows me how not to die

Warning: Do not read this if you do not want to think about death or suicide. Some people may find this content disturbing. If you are thinking about death or about suicide though, I wrote this for you (and for me).

I think about death. I think about death a lot. Those who are closest to me know this. For years now, I have had an app on my phone that five times a day reminds me to think about death.

I find it comforting.

In moments where the intensity of life can overwhelm me, thinking about my eventual death reminds me that everything passes. In moments where I am experiencing comfort and joy, remembering I will die nudges me to savor the now as, again, everything passes.

Normally I don’t publish what I write about death. I learned years ago when I do that people who love me will be concerned that I mean to do myself harm. Do not worry: I am not at risk of self-harm right now.

That said, today, I am breaking my rule of not publishing about death. 

I am writing about suicide because yesterday I found one of my dearest friends, and one of my strongest spiritual advisors, dead in his home by his own hand.

Let me start with this: some people say only the weak commit suicide. This is absolutely untrue. Weak people do not commit suicide.

In fact I believe it takes great strength and courage to end one’s life. Those who do it inevitably do it in the face of overwhelming pain and suffering – they find strength to perform the act.

I have seen some of my dearest friends (in their capacity as doctors) help some of the bravest people in the world end their own lives and I know it can be a sad, beautiful, but ultimately brave thing.

Nor will I say that committing suicide in the face of mental anguish (as opposed to in response to a fatal physical diagnosis) is a weakness. I know the attraction (and horror) of living with an assassin in my own head, who at any moment can rise up with the seductive suggestion, and I also know that the pain caused by the chemicals that run amok through our meat-filled-skulls can be unbearably real.

Suicide is an option. It is a lie to say it is not. 

I say if you’re feeling that way, that’s ok.

It’s normal (for at least a set of us) to feel that way.

You are not weak. 

You are not abnormal. 

You are not a freak. 

You are a worthy human on a vast spectrum of humanity. 

Feeling suicidal is a response (in some times the best response) to an unimaginably hard set of circumstances as life sometimes attacks us with adversity.

Now that said, for those of us who sometimes feel suicidal in the face of mental anguish, I implore you – remember part of what may be happening is (possibly, just possibly) our own brains are running amok. 

While suicide may be the right choice, consider talking to other brains to check, as it is possible, maybe, that our brains are misfiring in some way and we are not making the best choice.  As my friend who died would have said, the odds that other brains are running amok at the same time and in the same way as our own is pretty low. Logically, it’s a good idea to check with another brain.

I know in the past when I’ve been suicidal being open, honest and direct with another human being helped me figure out suicide was not the right option at that time. This is a conversation I’ve had multiple times in my life. I know what I’m talking about.

Having these conversations was hard. 

I had to be explicit, I had to say exactly what I meant, and I needed people who would not freak out when they heard it. I’m lucky to have many of those type of people in my life (way more than I thought I had) but it required bravery to tell them.

I encourage you, if you have the strength to end your own life, you also have the strength to tell someone to at least check the logic.

For my friend who died, I wish you’d talked to me, or anyone of the many people who love you and understand that suicidal ideation is normal. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not, but we may have been able to help you check your logic. But also know that I understand why you did it, that I loved you before you did this, and I love you afterwards too. I am in so much pain today because I did not have the opportunity to help you check your logic, not because I think suicide is wrong.

But I’m not writing this for him.

I am writing this for any one who is still alive today and is considering ending their life.

Fuck everyone else who reads this – this is just for you!

There are people in your life who have had similar thoughts to you, I guarantee it.

Consider talking to a trained professional, but if you cannot for any reason, try reaching out to someone else. If you’re worried the person you will tell has to report you to the authorities, I get that. I really do. If you can’t think of anyone, just dial the number that shows up in Google when you research methods and don’t tell them who you are if you don’t want.

I promise you there are people who know that suicide is a rational response to some situations, will not judge you negatively for considering it, and they may help you determine other options.

You’re not alone. Talk to us.

– Art