June 28, 2011

ON "MAKING SENSE" OF DEPRESSION

The term, “depression,” has come to have many meanings in our culture. For us to be able to approach depression with a degree of helpful and applicable understanding, depression must be seen from different perspectives and also deconstructed or broken down to its particular components. We therefore approach depression from medical, historical, cultural, psychological, spiritual, philosophical, mythical, and literary points of view. Though these perspectives often overlap and parallel each other, the knowledge and understanding of them provides a broader spectrum and greater context in which to consider depression and ourselves in depression.


Each perspective on depression is related to and builds upon each other perspective to provide a kind of overall foundational structure, however, individuals have their own ways of seeing and interpreting, that is, their particular subjective philosophical and psycho-spiritual frameworks. Consequently, any particular perspective is to be questioned and put to the test by the individual, but still with a respect for its possible viability for others. We attempt to define and come to terms with depression, a state that is practically indefinable due to an understanding that must be interpreted through individual experience and is therefore perpetually changing.

An effect of treating depression with too much logic and organization based in a need to “make sense of” and rationally
understand depression is to destroy the integrity and freedom of the spirit of the depression by limiting it only to certain
boundaries, structures, and origins that provide us and the "clinical experts" with a sense of control over the depression. Clinical and scientific “factual” descriptions of depression, though valuable in their categorization and delineation, can be and are misleading. First of all, the “facts” involved are interpretations from observations which may or may not be accurate and are set within their own interpretive context or viewpoint. Second of all, those experiencing depression experience it differently than their observers and note-takers, ascribing importance to different aspects and qualities, and
interpreting their experiences differently than their observers. The “blanket” descriptions given us by the experts who do their best to provide objective descriptions do not convey what is an inherently intensely personal and subjective experience. Such descriptions are like trying to convey the beauty and experience of a sunrise in a factually descriptive news report.




Instead, consider that the depression contains and carries its own reason for expressing itself, which is combined with our own unique experience of it. Consider depression to be like the Muse who inspires the poet to write the poem by simply descending upon him or her. In our observations of depression itself and of the different ways in which it appears and through which we experience it, for now it would be most helpful to see depression as coming of its own accord upon us. The rationale for this is will be understood in due time.

There is a logic and an order in this exploration of depression;
however, it is similar to the logic and order in a work of art. The logical and orderly framework and technique are present in Michelangelo’s Mona Lisa, but what we see, are affected by, and respond to is much more than it mechanics or structure. Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony is presented by means of many
individual instruments, each producing its own particular sound
according to musical notes written on a page, however, we are moved by the power and beauty of the music as a whole.

This book in all its components, harmonious and discordant, defined by spaces of silence, may be received as a symphony that, through its wholeness, has the capacity to move and affect us as a whole, rather than just our intellect or emotions or body or soul. To accomplish this level of receptivity, experience, and understanding, we do the best we can; observing ourselves and our own personal dynamics as much as possible. And that’s as far as we need to go with our self-observation. We listen to the music or take in the painting as it is in this moment. It affects us as it affects us in this moment and we pay attention to that. We hear it as we hear it and see it as we see it. And so be it. It is never the same; our experience changes. There is no measurement or comparison to be made even if we believe we “could have done better.” Hearing the music simply as you hear it is a more authentic and enjoyable experience than wondering if you’re hearing it as you’re supposed to hear it. When I listen to Beethoven’s Seventh, sometimes I am moved to tears,
sometimes the repeated tonal themes stand out, and sometimes I hear the tension-creating gaps both in the rhythm and in the discordance. It is never the same. Nor am I the same.