Death, Despair...and Life.

The following was actually written by myself in May of 2017.

I have recently discovered myself feeling a deep, heavy and soul-deadening sadness after hearing of the death of the great musician Chris Cornell, most likely by suicide.

On the same day, while clearing out old cupboards, I found an old- very old TDK tape: Roxette's 'Crash! Boom! Bang!' album from the 1980s! A curious internet search then revealed a bit of news new to me: that Roxette's passionate and glamorous lead singer Marie Fredriksson had been battling a malignant brain tumor since the early 2000s. One Youtube music video search later showed a clearly determined yet physically weakened and diminished Marie still performing live in 2015.

These events triggered a reflection particularly as to why I was so morose about Chris Cornell's passing. I mean, it wasn't as if I knew him personally or even was a Soundgarden total fanboy. I did however, particularly love their Louder than Love album.

I think and feel his death triggered a mourning, long suppressed, of the halcyon days as a single, free university student with only an ounce of the responsibilities I have now. Good times characterized by committed studies, the drowning of consciousness in beer, the opening of consciousness with LSD and Ecstasy (episodic qualifier!), explorations in intimacy and friendships, moshpits.... the list goes on. All the while the background soliloquy of Seattle and its Grunge was the soundtrack emotionally infusing that part of my life, and amplifying my experience of it.

Cornell's passing, and the maladies of Marie Fredriksson perhaps served a bittersweet reminder to me of the temporal, transient nature of all of our existences, and a reminder therefore that is in fact, up to US to live it meaningfully and purposefully. And that means developing our capacities for connection and trust despite the troubled world we find ourselves in, and resisting the pull to suspicion and dismissiveness. For the latter can inexorably suck us into an existential vacuum characterized by the swirling and exhausting vapours of despair, for which no amount of fame or material wealth can cure. What can disentangle us from despair is again, acts of seeking connection and nurturing from trusted others, who may one day then become a sustaining 'Internal Chorus' (a term I learnt recently). If you are indeed despairing, please do not hesitate to seek help.

And this brings me back to Marie Fredriksson. There is a poignant quality to the melancholia I am feeling after learning of her cancer. While I feel a deep sadness for the suffering she has had to endure, I then feel that this is partially influenced by a selfish, paternalistic quality. This is because once again, the illness of a childhood idol (and let's be perfectly honest, 'crush' haha) served up another painful reminder that no one is immune to the transience that defines our lives. However, I then take heart in her apparent will to continue living a highly meaningful, purposeful and enjoyable life with full acceptance of her limitations. That to me, is the embodiment of joy and hope. And this is something we may all aspire to. I am reminded of the Japanese concept of "Mono no aware": depicting the beauty found in transience, and the accompanying pervasive, gentle sadness about this state being the unquestionable reality of life.