Semen Retention: The Intention
As aforementioned, here is where I relay the story of my dad committing suicide.
Lust was the devil inside; my dad could not outwit it. Thus, being led by his other head, he got caught up in a sting operation, and his mugshot was publicized. It appeared right on the front page of the local paper next to the other jailbirds who couldn’t slay the beast, which is none other than animalistic sexual urges.
Although the details of dad’s story, suicide, and arrest are fundamentally irrelevant, as it doesn’t change the fact that he was no longer with us, at least, not in body and mind, I will nevertheless convey some anyway.
The same feelings of shame, guilt, and apathy, which personally paralyzed me upon my release, were recognized in dad when he came home from the penitentiary. Just as I naturally blamed myself for ratting on an acquaintance, he too must’ve experienced a sort of psychosis or paranoia for his negligence. Just as I experienced what could be called a ‘self-imposed banishment’, as I was anxious to leave the house and show my disgraced face in public, he too must’ve felt like staying cooped up in a room, feeling isolated and ashamed.
However, unlike my dad, who could no longer live with the idea of himself, I learned to look within, where the necessary personal, mental, and emotional cleansing process unfolded. I learned to compassionately accept my own humanness and thus that of others, which rendered me no longer subject to self-inflicted humiliation. That is the result of internal purification: genuine, unconditional acceptance of oneself—that one is an eternal spiritual soul—and thus, acceptance of life as a whole.
In short, without being too articulate, dad didn’t learn such acceptance; instead, he put a rifle in his mouth, blowing his brain out. Some may call it unfortunate, but every unpleasant event has a lesson behind it. Every seemingly displeasing happening has a purpose. Pop’s story is an example of this. It teaches us that acceptance of ‘what is’, no matter the circumstance, is the key to true peace. It reminds us that, truly, it is only by accepting our current reality that we can see clearly what to do next. It shows us that some ephemeral or initial reluctance or resistance is no reason to give up on the life process, for one is not just a consequence of the past.
Due to the circumstances of his arrest, dad was likely unable to look himself in the face. He was a very proud individual, and with pride comes inevitable disgrace, as well as vulnerability to others’ opinions and perceptions. He wasn’t grounded in who he was as a man with a definite purpose, which meant minimal to no spiritual connection. Without that guiding foundation, he was easily swayed by the opinions, criticisms, and judgments of those around him. A lack of self-assurance, self-acceptance, and self-respect meant unnecessary pain and misery.
Pops wasn’t always miserable, but things took a turn for the worse, in his mind, on account of a failed relationship with the mother of his offspring, whom we’ll call Cheryl. She, being the target of projected blame and animosity, reveled in delight as dad continued to supply her with psychological and emotional energy, of course, not realizing he was perpetuating his misery due to his inability to accept ‘what is’. As the unconscious continued to dwell on the negatives, his unruly imaginings led him further and further into a regrettable state, one which, being overrun by emotion, undoubtedly led to his arrest, and thus his self-administered death. It can be said then that, towards the end, my dad allowed Cheryl to get the best of him.
Although there was minimal transfer of wealth or will, the responsibility of being the executor helped the grieving process as it kept me busy and focused as opposed to dwelling on the inevitable. It allowed me, in honor of his memory, to write a eulogy, which also assisted and expedited the mournful trail.
When it came time to take the stand and read the eulogy, the jam-packed funeral home seemed not grand but heavy. Nevertheless, I took a deep breath, followed by several moments of silence. Tears wanted to break free; I felt my nose stuffed, and when I said the first word, my voice cracked. Although I said I was allowed to, really, that I chose to write the eulogy, part of me felt like I had to; and, now that I was up on the stand, I had to follow through.
I gathered myself and felt loose after the first couple of sentences. As I read along, I felt like I was talking to myself, lost in the story, and, although unanticipated, reliving the moments depicted. I was so dialed in that it took a few chuckles from the crowd to remind me that I was reading the eulogy out loud. The laughter alleviated some of the atmospheric tension, and as I continued to read, the more lighthearted I felt. Upon reading the last word, I became overwhelmed; it was witnessed as an immense sense of relief, as if, in an instant, all the energetic mourning potential had been released. I could feel the air in the room change as the heavy energy subsided. As I looked around, some people were smiling and others were crying. I am sure that we all felt a sense of closure, as if the words had brought us all together and allowed us to process our sorrow. It felt like, for the most part, the grieving process was over.
Although, ironically, a part of me sees that committing suicide is inherently a coward’s way out, I also recognize that it must take tremendous courage to end one’s own life. From a certain standpoint, suicide is a difficult decision and requires absolute conviction. It is often an act of last resort and, although not an optimal option, as it doesn’t permanently solve any situation, it can be viewed positively as an act of rebellion. Hitler, from a forgiving standpoint, may be viewed as exhibiting serious determination; despite his irrational values, principles, and actions, he demonstrated the courage to stand up for what he thought was right.
Upon reflection, perhaps pop’s carnal obsession inspired me to commit to semen retention and wholeheartedly embrace the opposite end of the spectrum. Or perhaps it was my own arrest.