One who by living is of use to many has not the right to choose to die, unless by dying he may be of use to more.
I can never quite wrap my head around how cheaply we often treat human life, allowing people to die alone and uncared for, and yet we simultaneously get on our moral high horses to condemn anyone who might willingly choose to die.
I suppose it has something to do with our assumption that he who freely surrenders his life must be doing so out of laziness, or weakness, or cowardice. Yes, some people may, out of despair, think it best to throw themselves away, though I also wonder if compassion and concern are then in order on our part, not harsh words.
Whole volumes have surely been written about the difference between a suicide and a sacrifice, and I must be careful not to make the definition a merely semantic one.
What is in the heart and the mind? That death will come is certain, though how I choose to go about facing it, and even, in certain cases, when I choose to go about facing it, will depend on the integrity of my own judgments.
Many years of walking with the Black Dog have taught me that though he can be a nasty biter, he can also be a charming seducer. I am no longer as ashamed to admit that there were times I listened too closely to his words: “You know you’re not worth it, right? Just end it now, before you embarrass yourself some more.”
How can reason, as an arbiter for powerful feelings, help me to come to terms with this? Musonius offers a simple and effective solution.
Is there still more good that I can do by living instead of dying? Then I must stay.
Is there, however, far more good that I can do by dying instead of living? Then it is time to go.
Perhaps it is enough to remain of use to a few, or even to one, and not just to very many, and it may not require a grand and dramatic scale. Is there more love left to give? Then Providence hasn’t yet called me. Does the giving of such love also demand the end of me? Then that is as it should be.
Consider the story of Captain Lawrence "Titus" Oates, who, knowing he was now far more of a burden than a blessing to his suffering comrades, walked out of that tent into a bitter Antarctic storm.
“I am just going outside and may be some time.”
I can never quite wrap my head around how cheaply we often treat human life, allowing people to die alone and uncared for, and yet we simultaneously get on our moral high horses to condemn anyone who might willingly choose to die.
I suppose it has something to do with our assumption that he who freely surrenders his life must be doing so out of laziness, or weakness, or cowardice. Yes, some people may, out of despair, think it best to throw themselves away, though I also wonder if compassion and concern are then in order on our part, not harsh words.
Whole volumes have surely been written about the difference between a suicide and a sacrifice, and I must be careful not to make the definition a merely semantic one.
What is in the heart and the mind? That death will come is certain, though how I choose to go about facing it, and even, in certain cases, when I choose to go about facing it, will depend on the integrity of my own judgments.
Many years of walking with the Black Dog have taught me that though he can be a nasty biter, he can also be a charming seducer. I am no longer as ashamed to admit that there were times I listened too closely to his words: “You know you’re not worth it, right? Just end it now, before you embarrass yourself some more.”
How can reason, as an arbiter for powerful feelings, help me to come to terms with this? Musonius offers a simple and effective solution.
Is there still more good that I can do by living instead of dying? Then I must stay.
Is there, however, far more good that I can do by dying instead of living? Then it is time to go.
Perhaps it is enough to remain of use to a few, or even to one, and not just to very many, and it may not require a grand and dramatic scale. Is there more love left to give? Then Providence hasn’t yet called me. Does the giving of such love also demand the end of me? Then that is as it should be.
Consider the story of Captain Lawrence "Titus" Oates, who, knowing he was now far more of a burden than a blessing to his suffering comrades, walked out of that tent into a bitter Antarctic storm.
“I am just going outside and may be some time.”
IMAGE: John Charles Dollman, A Very Gallant Gentleman (1913)
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