Tuesday, August 12, 2014

And If There Were No Darkness, We Could Not See The Light

I just realized I've been misspelling "Robin" and I don't even give a shit it's gray today and listen- the universe is carefully balanced, I believe that, not through divine intervention but through the laws of nature and today it's not carefully balanced, but tipped because that force of love and humor and joy and sweetness (just pure fucking sweetness) is not here among the living on planet earth, you know, his energy is still out there because energy is neither created nor destroyed but it's not here, here.
You know what I mean.
When you yourself suffer from (have suffered from, most likely WILL again suffer from) depression and something like this happens, when such a bright, bright spark of human flame is snuffed by its own hand you have to acknowledge the reality of the disease and there are those dark moments where you think, "well, look- it got him" and not in a selfish this-is-all-about-me way but in a sorrowful way beyond ken because you know how he felt, you know he leapt, as David Foster Wallace said, from the burning building not because he wasn't afraid of the jump but because the flames were too high and there was no choice.

Let's not dwell there or perhaps we should?

No one knows. Perhaps not even we ourselves.

There is no let's-remember-him-and-the-great-joy-and-light-he-brought without the (now obvious) exquisite balance within him of the darkness.

One this dark, one this bright. We have to acknowledge.

So did the darkness win? Well. No. The light won over and over and over again, so bright that it burst from him and he gave it to us like a machine gun made of joy, like soft candle light, like a chandelier, like a nuclear blast, like the light from a mother's eyes, a lover's eyes, a father's eyes, a brother's eyes, a friend's eyes.
A child's eyes.
Over and over again the light won it was so strong!
It escaped him, he let it out and sometimes he let out a little of that darkness and that was when we saw his soul, he allowed us to see his soul, the soul of a human who has known such pain but he didn't let us see the depth of that pain, that darkness.
That he kept inside, that unfathomable darkness.
Until he couldn't.

There. That's what I have to say.
Look- a "normal" brain could never reside inside the head of a Robin Williams.


Balance upset, world wonky for right now. All will be restored I suppose, I suppose, unless somehow it won't.

I do not pretend to know shit.

Although sometimes I like to think I do.

Sometimes there is no knowing. Sometimes there is nothing but the acceptance of what is.

It is gray today.

I am not surprised.


  1. Sometimes you just don't have the strength to fight I guess.

  2. No, you don't have the strength to fight it. This I know.
    Had those thoughts, but put them away.
    The question that always comes to my mind is, "Was there anything someone could have done?".

  3. Amen, sister. This is one beautiful piece of writing...thank you. I read this quote last night which might explain something...

    "You look at the world and see how scary it can be sometimes and still try to deal with the fear. Comedy can deal with the fear and still not paralyze you or tell you that it's going away. You say okay, you got certain choices here, you can laugh at them and then once you've laughed at them and you have expunged the demon, now you can deal with them. That's wat I do when I do my act."

    I believe the world was too much with him. It sure is for me sometimes. You were right last night, we will never see the likes of him again. What a sad loss. It is indeed a grey day.

  4. Behavior similar to his (the light and the dark, all of it) kinda runs in my family, so maybe that's why I'm not really feeling this one--maybe not allowing myself to. I'm grateful for what you've written here, it is such a beautiful and worthy tribute. I'm sorry for your sorrow. I hope tomorrow will be kinder.

  5. Sometimes living seems much harder than dying. I suppose that is where he went. Maybe a few people knew his deep despair. I hope that someone reached out a hand. But even that doesn't do any good at times.

  6. Ms. Moon, I can't even begin to wrap my head around this. Sunday morning The Black Dog showed up and now the death of a brother on this planet. Yes, he was a celebrity but he was a brother of this disease and those that live with it. He had access to all the best counselors and medications. He had the life that many of us dream of. And yet. Oh, dear god. And yet.

    This is not because Robin Williams died. It is because a man named Robin felt so sad, so hopeless and so alone that he had to take his own life. A man. A 63 year old man with a wife and kids. He just couldn't do it anymore. Fuck.

  7. There is something about Robin's death that is so painful. Maybe it is that so many of us have flirted with depression and been spared going off that edge and if it happened to him... It feels like a selfish thought but there you go. He was brilliant beyond brilliant and his light will forever be bright in my world. Sweet Jo


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.