April is the cruelest month

Breeding Lilacs out of the dead land 

Mixing Memory and desire 

Stirring Dull roots with spring rain

The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot

Spring is the celebration of nature’s obedience; a charming bride compelled to wed. From plants to animals, everything slaving away at coupling and mating, giving a moan of determinism.  Slumbered to the dream of death, the trees’ root should unwillingly awake to buckle down to suck and grow. The awakening bell of the winter’s soft dreams stirs up and the vacation of the river in ice terminates. Everyone shall be sober again to delve into what they don’t know its essence and cause.

Craving for the epilogue of this absurd play, our miserable and adrift planet has finished another turn of her. The sun turns off the the world’s lantern later than before and everyone does overtime. The nightingale's throat shall be injured of love, beautiful antlers of elks shall be broken and the mane and shoulders of weaker lions shall be gory bloody. People will be sneezing and coughing because of dispersed semen of trees in the air; they are one year older and should still endure the tedious repetitive scenery similar to the last passed years.

Is there anything more tragic than the boundless repetition? Winters and autumns are also being repeated, but painful and obedient nature of us humans, plants and animals is closer to nonexistence then; closer to the revenge we do not dare to take. With its mighty but tedious light of life, spring breaks apart the sweet lethargy of ours, and makes us more adamant than ever to distract this futile order. Spring is the best time to flip over the lustrous colorful table of life party with the theme of determinism.

While I was looking out the window at the cemetery trees with their growing small green leaves, a question came to my mind: in which season do people commit suicide the most? I was sure about the answer which I found only a few seconds later. I opened Wikipedia and found out, that despite the general believe that most people commit suicide in winter, psychological researches all around the world show that it is obviously in spring that most people are ready to end their lives. This text is the abstract of my thoughts in those few seconds, which led me to the correct answer. Thoughts that don't belong necessarily to my personal mental condition, but is the result of my instant identification with some of the people who decide to leave this life during the most beautiful days of the nature. I think even more tragic than their death itself is the fact that their revenge from the life’s determinism obeys another determinist pattern.

Alireza Labeshka, April 2020