The below poetic text of this post is made available in its original English only, that is without translations into French, German, or Italian. Due to its special nature, this post is not widely distributed, announced, or listed by Tonalibus. Thus, besides “Spirtualibus”, it is also assigned to the post category “Extra”, similar to the post “Misrepresentation to the public” of March 6, 2024.
Suicide taboo
Not talked about
For well over fifty years
Last time on Shivapuri peak
In early April nineteen seventy-three
Where two very slim, small sherpas
Carried all the heavy backpacks
Of over a dozen foreigners
Larger than their bodies.
Then, there on this foothill summit
Psychedelics put the wind in his hands
And afterwards he told the friendly lady
Whose feet they washed later that day
How he now loved life in every way
After having almost thrown it out
Actually over a long year before
Along ancient Roman patterns
Of letting one’s veins empty out
After falling out of emperor’s grace
While listening to one’s favorite music
Maybe patching the drain briefly still
To hear the end of a sweet song.
For him it was his parents’ firm refusal
To allow him to exit from his education
That triggered the fatal poison swallow
But his mother saved him nevertheless
“We have to go right now — not later!”
She told the father and was in time
But barely for his body to wake
Once more with its will to live
And exit education freely.
Thus he stepped out on his own
And kept the silence on that phase
As long-hair hippie and cannabis gourmet
Like others would relish precious wines
Including some psychedelics as well
That opened his perception beyond
Though some may call it distortion
But there are indeed further realities
As he saw the past lives of individuals
The causes and effects in many things
Like with weather and consciousness
The life-giving energy of inner sound
That actually balanced him ever again
But tended to fade in rushing crowds.
Exceptional folks wanted to hear
Some of what he saw and had to say
And offered to teach him their paths
Astrology he rejected as too fickle
But a spiritual teaching on the light
And especially the sound he relished
As close enough to his own experience
Though fifty years later that did expire
Was no longer pure enough for him
And once more he stepped way out
On his own, indeed all on his very own.
Having survived this new demise
Without notable harm to himself
Nor to others and their teachings
He radically depersonified the divine
Thus entering in a new consciousness
Rather uncommon it seems to humans
In this age of continual personality cults
As people appear to have a great need
For various kinds of leadership figures
As indeed teachings are very necessary
To find and develop functional practices
And ever further unfold consciousness.
Now his determination is his experiment
To be detached from all personifications
Focusing at linking directly to the divine
Allowing all room for their intermediaries
Respecting and acknowledging them all
But leaning on or needing none of them
Thus standing on his very own feet now
Well anchored on this earthly ground
The head high above all the clouds
And spirit or soul in pure heavens
Some call ocean of love and mercy
But names come and go with time
While the essence remains the same
As his mother taught him when a tyke
“All religions have an element of truth!”
Thus respect and relish them fully
And flush the remainder entirely
Like the taboo of suicide.
May we all enjoy life
And God-given freedom!
“Tears of joy” — mantra of soul
Suicide taboo — repair and prevention
