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gaudiorI was in the T-stop yesterday when I heard shouting. Loud voices, young, and I couldn't tell whether they were shouting in play or in anger, so I decided to go investigate (there were a fair number of people on the platform, and one man was already moving that direction). I found a girl sitting on a bench, bent over in obvious exasperation, and swearing at two disembodied voices. I looked around, confused-- they weren't next to her on the bench, they weren't on the lower platform... and then with a cry of "Oh shit! Oh shit!" two kids ran out of the subway tunnel, just seconds ahead of the train. They were sixteen or seventeen years old, tall, Black, baggy-clothed and laughing their heads off. The girl glared at them, relieved. I was already right there, so, laughing friendliness, I yelled at them. "Do you know," I shouted over the roar of the train, "how much it would suck if you'd gotten hit?" One boy blinked at me. "What? Police?" I shook my head. "Don't get hit by the train!" He shrugged, smiling. "Don't worry," he reassured me. "We won't get hit by the train."
And what I find myself wondering is-- how does he know that? I mean, I'm sure part of it is bravado (can't admit you were scared, after all, not when you're seventeen...), and maybe part of it is the same sense of foreshortened future some of the kids I worked with last year had. But I imagine that a big part of it was simply the belief that no, of course they wouldn't get hit by the train. They were too lucky for that, too smart, too quick-- too, very simply, themselves.
The thing is, most people do that. I don't have to be a stupid teenager to believe, when I get up in the morning, that I'll get through the day just fine. I won't be hit by a car, I won't be knifed by a crazy person in the subway, I won't have a heart attack or a seizure, no meteorite will fall on my head. I wake up in the morning with a sense of safety.
This is, according to some psych theories, because we all carry the illusions of our specialness and our invulnerability, all the time. Even though these illusions go against all rational sense. We know, intellectually, that we'll all die. We know we're vulnerable to illness and accident and other people and plain bad luck. But somehow, we're able to put it out of our heads. We're able to trust that we can walk out the door and face the world, and be fine.
So my question is, how? How do we do that? What gives us the belief in safety in such an unsafe world? Is it faith in God? Our loved ones? Ourselves? Is it just that we've never died before, so why would we now? Where do these illusions come from?
And if we lose them, can we get them back?
--R
Reading: Hellspark, Janet Kagan. An Empty Spoon, Sunny Decker.
And what I find myself wondering is-- how does he know that? I mean, I'm sure part of it is bravado (can't admit you were scared, after all, not when you're seventeen...), and maybe part of it is the same sense of foreshortened future some of the kids I worked with last year had. But I imagine that a big part of it was simply the belief that no, of course they wouldn't get hit by the train. They were too lucky for that, too smart, too quick-- too, very simply, themselves.
The thing is, most people do that. I don't have to be a stupid teenager to believe, when I get up in the morning, that I'll get through the day just fine. I won't be hit by a car, I won't be knifed by a crazy person in the subway, I won't have a heart attack or a seizure, no meteorite will fall on my head. I wake up in the morning with a sense of safety.
This is, according to some psych theories, because we all carry the illusions of our specialness and our invulnerability, all the time. Even though these illusions go against all rational sense. We know, intellectually, that we'll all die. We know we're vulnerable to illness and accident and other people and plain bad luck. But somehow, we're able to put it out of our heads. We're able to trust that we can walk out the door and face the world, and be fine.
So my question is, how? How do we do that? What gives us the belief in safety in such an unsafe world? Is it faith in God? Our loved ones? Ourselves? Is it just that we've never died before, so why would we now? Where do these illusions come from?
And if we lose them, can we get them back?
--R
Reading: Hellspark, Janet Kagan. An Empty Spoon, Sunny Decker.
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Date: 2006-12-07 04:56 am (UTC)Of course, the last thought of night is, "When I wake up -if I do- will I still be able to walk?"
I've never really held any illusions of safety. In fact, sometimes I hope not to be, because to me my life sucks so bad that I wouldn't mind getting hit by something. Of course, I'm also one to say, "Don't worry, I won't die. I'm not that lucky." Seeing as I've had many spots in life where I should have, but didn't, so this makes me think there must be a reason I'm alive. Something that makes me special enough to not have died at birth like I should have...
But I'm also someone who leans on her angels, spirit guides, other divinities, and God almost consistantly through the day. I know they won't let anything happen to me unless God wills it, so I know I'm safe because of this strange inner knowledge that I have at least two good years left in me. Past that...I'm not so sure.
You know, I was never reckless enough to jump in front of a subway. There's not any around here for one, and for two, think of the people who'd have to clean you up. Or the child who's on the subway looking out, and suddenly gets a window covered in bits of human. That's got to be highly traumatic. I couldn't do that to someone. Also, they'd have to stop service to investigate and scrape you off the walls and that would make everyone's life hell that day.
Gaudior-san, you have to stop making me think. I ramble too much when you do that. Tsk tsk. :)