Reflections Around Robin Williams Passing

Today, I went to the underworld. Each time I go, there is always a little struggle involved-- but as soon as I walk through the doors, and hear and feel, absorb and heal, I am reminded every single time that this needs to be a part of my life.

The underworld is my name for a special place where people go to share and hear, heal and listen.

It's a place where people can be their rawest self or simply take in what others similar to them may be sharing.

I love the underworld. In so many ways, I wish church could be like this.

The underworld is open to all, as long as they admit they have a problem: they have been Affected.

Today, I shared that I read an obituary about Robin Williams. And how the public is being encouraged to remember him as a happy guy.

Most will.

But those I listened to today, presented a very different side than the ones with hashtags and tweets all over the cybersphere.

I was angry that I was asked to remember him as only a happy guy.  Somehow, I felt I was being coerced into denial.  He hung himself.

Life is complex and life is always made up of a host of people.

An ecosystem. Roles that we play.

I shared how on my gravestone, I wanted it to read something like: She allowed herself to feel all the emotions that a human can feel and may she be remembered by that.

But life is tricky, I'm beginning to think that life is less about the perfect conditions for life to take place in, and more about the right conditions of my heart as I go through the circumstance.

This is where I am grateful for coming across the underworld, for having my faith more integrated because of it, and for not fearing blame, ridicule, and for taking ownership and responsibility when I blame or ridicule...

I wish I could say that my church experiences were the most authentic places I've encountered. One where I am encouraged to take personal responsibility.

In actuality, sometimes I can't tell the difference between the sweetness I receive there or the sternness I experience on the street. Two sides of the same coin? Both as equally shallow, though innocently perhaps?

I wonder if this is what Jesus referenced when he talked about not losing the saltiness of life.

(But when my spirit encounters something real, I am brought to my knees and my heart feels a divine tenderness...)

It's such a tragedy that we lost someone who created laughter and lightheartedness, but even more so, what a tragedy around how he passed.

God, have mercy on us.