Growing up in a Russian orthodox household meant there was holy water in the cabinet, a prominent painting of the last supper in the dining room, and a somber picture of Jesus in my grandmother's bedroom that was supposed to be uplifting and calming, I'm sure, but never failed to freak me out.
I didn't realize it at the time, but it also meant that I was afraid of many things: the devil, ghosts, the dark, and almost anything you could think of that was considered "supernatural".
I also had a thing about eyes--if they weren't your basic blue or brown they also freaked me out. The thought of looking out the window at night to see a pair of glowing amber eyes was almost too much to bear, but that is another post: Click here for more about EYES
Needless to say everyone went to church on Sunday, but I protested too much after about the age of ten. My fussing got old and it wasn't worth it for the rest of the worshipers, and I got to stay home. I bounced back and forth from being a lukewarm believer, to an atheist.
Studying religions was my attempt at finding meaning, and I did learn quite a bit about Buddhism, Christianity, Taoism, and many more, but the only thing I truly gleaned from the endless studying was a bit of self-discovery.
I did not believe in the God of the bible.
Yet, like so many, the things we learn when we are young are difficult to unlearn. I realized I was still afraid to "sin", so I would occasionally attempt another shot at church or bible study. My husband is Catholic, and I always ended up in the Catholic church by default. Although the masses always left me cold, for me it was deeper. There was some kind of disconnect, and after reading the bible, really reading, not listening to what someone else said about it, I knew I not only disbelieved in the god of the bible--I did not like the premise.
I'm not going to get into the whole thing here, but when I finally let it go, when I really allowed myself to not be afraid a giant holy ghost was going to strike me dead and send me to hell for saying the lords name in vain too many times, I lost my fears.
I no longer had the feeling that a malignant force was ready to get me, I was no longer worried that the devil had me in his sights and had dark and dismal plans for my soul, and I no longer believed some bigger force in general was the ruler of my destiny. And most of all, I was no longer afraid of myself for trying to worship a god who gave over his own son, for people he created, then destroyed, twice...but I digress.
A few nights ago I woke at 3 am. I checked the laundry downstairs and shut the lights off in the hall. I realized, ridiculously enough, that up until about a year ago this would have bothered me.
My long winded point is this--when we stop doing the things that make us afraid of ourselves, we stop being afraid of everything else, too.
xo
About a week ago I was driving over the George Washington Bridge. Traffic slowed for a few seconds and I was able to look at the steel girders, beams, rivets, and thick wires that held the bridge together. My eyes followed the construction upwards and my mind put me somewhere out there about 100 feet up over the Hudson.
I could see the sparkling water below me and a seagull passed close to my right ear, and I could feel the grip of my left flip-flopped foot loose its traction--I could feel myself start to fall.
Just like in my dreams of falling, I jerked myself back to reality before I hit the chilly water, cursed aloud in the car and again wondered why my brain insists on playing these messed up games with me.
These odd moments do not happen infrequently.
When I was in Washington, D.C. I was strolling next to the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting pool. I did not want to get wet, my balance is very good, yet as I walked hand in hand with my then boyfriend I was pretty sure if I stepped up onto the edge I would have a hard time keeping myself from jumping right in. Of course I would not drown there and most likely not even get hurt, but again--strange urge!
I have never wanted to kill or injure myself, and I do not fancy myself much of a physical daredevil with urges to climb slippery mountains or jump out of planes.
Then why, oh why do I have these odd urges and thoughts at such inopportune times?
Seems there is some real science behind this urge. A team in Florida State's psychology department gave this freaky feeling the name "high-place phenomenon." Over 400 people in the study were asked if they ever felt the urge to suddenly jump from a high place, and although people who had considered suicide in the past answered positively more often, over 50% of non-suicidal participants said they had experienced the phenomenon also. (Complete article from NBC News here: http://bodyodd.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/03/13/10657767-that-weird-urge-to-jump-off-a-bridge-explained?lite )
Imagine you have just ascended the 217 steps to reach the top of the Barnegat Light House in Long Beach Island, NJ. You step onto the completely enclosed catwalk that encircles the top-most portion of the structure and you look down and panic. Even though it would be impossible to squeeze through the iron bars you find yourself stepping away from the edge, or even retreating to the perceived safety of the inner light room.
You look back outside and realize you would be 100% safe walking around out there and enjoying the view--so why did you run in? Possibly because we had some type of urge to jump?
We test ourselves in many ways. Some climb Everest, or base jump, or search for paranormal activity with EVP equipment and infrared cameras, some use Xbox for vicarious wars and battles. We want to feel brave and get a thrill, and we all do it differently.
When I was younger I used to go to graveyards at night with my camera and some friends to try and capture something otherworldly on film. We did see some other darkly dressed characters that we called grave robbers, and we were chased away by the police, but the only thing we managed to get on film was each other.
So my personal "thrill" is discovering and exploring the dark and scary. I do NOT like heights, yet I'm sure I will find myself once again daydreaming about being far to high above my comfort zone of sea level.
I would love to know if you have ever experienced the high place phenomenon, or anything like it.
I also like to stir the pot in conversations a bit--but I think that is something different... :)
