Robin Williams gave his all when he stepped before a camera. He didn't hide his shadow traits or protect his vanity. We, the public, got to experience the extremes to which we all might yield if we hadn't chosen to separate our private from public, unconscious from conscious selves.Most of us hide our immoderate aspects. We rein in our indulgences and excesses (at least, in public). We take the customary routes to being respected or, at least, accepted.
We use our performers to do what we are afraid to do ourselves. We live safely through them for a few hours at no more cost than the price of admission. And then we go home and leave them to themselves.
Williams was a wounded healer. He brought laughter and empathy to millions, but he could not heal himself. Some people are born that way, porous, unboundaried, deeply connected to the world. What we call inspiration must have felt to him like a barrage of feeling without a turn-off valve.
And what a world he was channeling at the end. Everywhere, people fighting, distrusting, betraying, hating, abusing, and killing. These days, it seems like everyone is somebody's enemy, and the only way to deal is war. I don't have to name the global conflicts; we all know them. Too many are yielding to their basest instincts. This is our zeitgeist in 2014, and it's sickening to us all, whether we know it or not.
Our media rushes to explain Williams' suicide in terms of financial pressures and substance excesses, but that's just our culture reducing the pain of an extraordinary being into the most simplistic, ordinary terms. We want a rationale so we can put the disturbing to rest, and we don't want to work too hard or stretch our imaginations too much to achieve it. We're anxious to move on and forget.
