When Life Comes to an End

Those who suffer from depression dwell close to hell. Just as cancer slowly conquers and devours the entire body, depression gradually destroys the whole mind. Those who survive do so not by virtue of physical health, but through the sheer force of mental strength. Human beings live primarily by the power of the mind.

When the mind's strength is exhausted and depleted, no matter how robust the body's power may be, a person can no longer live as a human being should. Those suffering from depression are much the same. Some unknown parasite seems to gnaw at every cell of the depressed person's brain like a merciless demon!

When the intensity of such mental anguish crosses all limits, people desperately seek ways to escape it. Some then suddenly make the drastic decision of suicide. People don't decide on suicide to destroy themselves, but to escape unbearable suffering. Everyone has an attachment to life. It's only because living becomes limitlessly painful that some no longer wish to live.

Those who suffer from depression don't actually want any solution to it. They know the solution to their problem themselves, but cannot accept it. When someone comes to offer solutions, they become annoyed instead. People only want to speak; no one wants to listen. In this world, there's no shortage of people ready to offer solutions to sorrow, but there's a great shortage of people willing to listen to sorrowful words.

I have so far brought seventy-six depressed individuals back from the path of suicide to normal life. This work is terrifyingly difficult! It requires enormous labor and time. The task demands infinite capacity for patience and endurance. My experience tells me that during depression, people want someone beside them who will listen quietly to their words with attention, who will try to understand their sorrow even a little, whom their pain will touch even slightly. They then want the company of someone compassionate, they want time. They don't want someone who will repeatedly discuss their mistakes. Even the most foolish person on earth keeps some account of their own errors. A depressed person doesn't want to hear a catalog of their mistakes. During depression, if one finds the companionship of a kind person, the knots of the complex problems that arise begin to untangle one by one.

A depressed person wants only a hand—a hand that will cast a compassionate gaze toward their eyes and say, "Take this hand! Nothing has happened, get up!"
A depressed person wants only a shoulder—a shoulder that will come within breathing distance and say in a loving voice, "Here, rest your head on my shoulder, hold me tight and cry as much as you want!"
A depressed person wants only an ear—an ear that will agree not to judge them at all and say, "What happened to you? Tell me everything openly! I'm here beside you!"
A depressed person wants only a broad chest—a chest that will open itself at the place of their trust and say, "Don't be afraid! From today this is your home, your heart, your window, your shelter, your refuge—everything!"

There are many such people around us. Come, let us listen to their words a little, feel their sighs a little, hold them close to our hearts and sit quietly for a while! If we can do this much for them, we'll see that all their depression melts away and becomes tears that moisten the ground of our hearts. The main suffering of those who remain depressed is that despite trying hard, they cannot cry their hearts out. If we can make them cry with joy or relief, their depression decreases considerably. When one can cry at will, the stones in the chest come out one by one. People want someone beside them in whose presence they can cry without hesitation. Many people find those who accept their friendship, but how many find those who accept their tears?

Perhaps this small act seems like nothing in our consideration. But this slight effort of ours can save a life. A little sincere time, a couple of compassionate words, some reliability and the touch of hope—for a depressed person, there's no medicine greater than these, no greater benefit.

Today we lack neither food, nor medicine, nor shelter, nor clothing; today we lack only compassionate people. Today we have everything, except human beings who are truly human. Today we have become very poor indeed!

Our small selfless acts unknowingly save a person from certain death. This slight effort of ours will give them courage to live, show them reasons to dream. In the magical afterglow of our simple, honest smiles, that person will find the strength to laugh, will find the pillar to stand up anew. This is a deed of great virtue! Even visiting all the pilgrimages in the world cannot earn the merit of saving one human life.

Very close to us, yet hidden from view, there are perhaps many who have been silently gasping and dying for a long time, constantly thinking, "Enough! I can't take it anymore! Now I want freedom from all this suffering!" It's even possible that the person is in our own home, and we never noticed. Once they're gone, there's no point in noticing. What's the use of crying so hard after someone leaves, when we didn't value their pain while they were alive!

Come, let us stand beside them. Let us set aside some time for them from our leisure. Let us shake off all our ego and, with infinite patience and tolerance, listen as attentive listeners even to their seemingly unnecessary words. In the virtue of saving a life, even our great sins will be forgiven. Our night's sleep will be better, our daily life more peaceful.