Six Feet Under & Tevet

Since October 7th, until a couple of days ago, I would say I have been truly depressed.

I have been constantly on the verge of tears, all day.

Simultaneously, I began obsessively watching the show “Six Feet Under.”

It took me out of the horrors of the world for a couple of hours a day, into someone else’s problems.

I don’t know about you, but I generally love dark humor.

Especially about death, and talking ghosts.

The show is about a family with grown children that lives above a funeral home, their family business, in a beautiful old Victorian house.

The first floor serves as the funeral parlor.

The basement is where they prepare dead bodies for burial or cremation.

Throughout the show, different characters have conversations with the dead.

The ghosts spontaneously show up and begin interacting with the living.

It’s pretty obvious that the various characters are working through their own issues through these conversations.

But it’s a fine line between being sure it’s simply their own imagination, fears, and struggles, and the ghosts really being there.

It’s deeply spiritual in that it begs the question, “Why are we here, and what happens after death?”

While the interactions are often funny and quirky, they become increasingly serious.

And it’s stressful to watch as the various characters make bad choices over and over.

They fail to communicate with each other effectively, walk away when things get hard, and are self-destructive.

Just when you think maybe things are taking a turn for the better, they don’t.

In fact, circumstances go from bad to worse as the show progresses through the seasons.

It is truly depressing and hopeless.

Everyone is deeply lonely, disconnected, and unhappy, whether they have partners or not.

They struggle just to get through each day.

All yearn deeply for love and connection, but can’t quite seem to reach it.

As I watched each night, I kept wondering if the show was making me feel worse, or simply reflecting how I was feeling as the weeks progressed and the world news got worse.

The show takes place in the early 2000’s in the Bush years, just was the Iraq war is beginning.

It reflects the era we are in now, proclaiming the need for destruction in order to make peace.

It reflects the anger, the fury, the frustration.

A neighbor told me, “Wait ‘till you get to the last episode! What they did...! It’s incredible.”

But he wouldn’t tell me if it was good or bad.

So I was bracing myself for an ending so horrible, it went beyond my wildest imagination.

And during the last episode, even until halfway through, things did not bode well.

But suddenly it all changed.

You got a window into the future, and it was shockingly a heartening one.

The characters freed themselves from their inner constrictions and restrictions.

They reached out and freed each other.

They healed old wounds.

They learned to offer and accept love and help.

They took chances.

They grabbed opportunities for adventure and exploration.

They found joy, despite the daily struggles.

The night I finished watching, I went to sleep smiling.

Though I woke up sad again, crying agin, I went on my daily walk through the North Woods of Central Park.

I came upon a flock of well-camouflaged mourning doves.

Startled, they took flight, which is when I saw them, and they startled me, filling me with a sense of joy and freedom.

I thought, maybe this means I’m coming to the end of my mourning, despite the bad news and the state of the world.

I mean, how can I go on like this?

What good am I to others in this state?

Then, a few days ago, I went to visit my friends on the beach.

Just the 32 hours I was there pulled me out of it—at least for now.

It’s not that my friends were any more hopeful than I was.

But they share the more nuanced view I have of the situation, with true compassion for all involved—for all sides.

I had realized how alone I felt.

Besides finding comfort in connection with friends, I found joy in nature.

The night after a big rain storm came across the northeast, the weather turned cold, as it should be for this time of year.

Standing outside on the porch in my pajamas and a sweater, looking up at the constellations in the sky, breathing in the crisp, clean air, I was energized.

In the dark, I broke into a run along the pathway in front of the house until my nostrils froze.

In the morning, I ran on the beach and dipped my bare feet in the freezing water, and reconnected with the Earth.

We all desperately want to know how this will all end.

We might be asking existential questions like, “Why are we here?” and “What’s it all for?”

We want to know that the wars will stop, and that people will make peace with each other despite differences.

We want to know that we will learn to communicate with each other and not walk away when things get hard.

We want to know that we will wake up before it’s too late for our children, and their children, and start taking care of our planet.

In the meantime, we need to remember that we are not alone.

We must remember that our fears are not necessarily reality.

We must seek out connections with others that give us strength, and offer it to others.

We must notice that the idea of “nuance”—that things are never black and white—is spreading.

We must not only notice joy and gratitude when it happens, but create opportunities for it to flourish.

We need to find a degree of acceptance for what is, and learn to better live with uncertainty.

At the same time, we need to look for places and times where we can make a difference, to one person, or to many.

Until we are six feet under the ground, we each have the power to bring more love and peace into the world.

Let’s use it. Let’s do it.

One step, one foot, one word, one conversation at a time.

May it be so.

And say Amen.