A friend of mine told me about how he was spelunking and got wedged in a passage. He told me something I'd never thought of:
When you're stuck you usually panic. When you panic your chest muscles constrict, making you more stuck. The only way to extricate yourself is to relax and exhale all your breath until you're skinny enough to slide out.
I don't know if I could do it.
I'm not claustrophobic, but I know that given the right circumstances I would become so. The thought of millions of tons of rock hovering above and below me...it gives me the creeps.
All of the things that make me afraid--claustrophobia and deep water and the night sky--they all have something in common: infinity.
When I was more skeptical about God, Shasta asked me if the thought of death frightened me. I told her no and I meant it. How can I fear nothingness? Endlessness is much more frightening. Or maybe it's just me.
7 years ago
6 comments:
I like it. Don't forget, though - there are things that give the feeling of infinity without the creeps. Think of the ocean. I think the difference lies in that those others you mentioned are infinite sameness (not really, but they seem that way) -- infinite where it's YOU against IT (and it is all the same -- almost like empty space). But if you picture infinity as something organic and reoccurring and changing and not homogeneous -- and a part of you, then it's more like the ocean (to me, anyway) and not scary at all.
That picture of the foggy bridge is exquisite. If only I could take photos like that!
Except the ocean is scary...
There's a story about two men standing at the rail of a ship. One man looks out at the ocean and says, "It's so big."
"Yeah..." The other man says, "and that's just the surface."
As long as I think of the ocean just as a bunch of churning waves, it's gorgeous and fun and I like swimming in it. When I'm swimming in it and start thinking about the weight of the ocean and how far beneath my feet it drops and how cold it is beneath me. That's when it feels menacing: like it is the ocean against me.
As to the picture: I KNOW! What a find, eh? I would put a link to it so that the owner gets the credit, but I can't figure out how to do that with the new Blogger.
what does endlessness contain that is so frightening?
as for a fear of death, it has never been an issue of the end vs. endlessness for me... rather, a fear of the transition into the unknown, hinging upon our place in the universe, whether we're cogs in the machine of first-cause and part of some benevolent plan, or not.... all that sort of shit...
Maybe repetition...maybe boredom?
A professor of mine once asked if there's poetry in heaven. If there's no human weakness--no imperfection--no doubt...where's the suspense that makes life interesting?
Perfection is quite boring. Endless perfection sounds like hell.
Btw, I notice an incongruity between the first part of your comment and the last.
I know this is a late comment, but I happened upon this post and felt moved to add to the discussion. This has been a long-time fear of mine. When I was young my family would watch Star Trek: The Next Generation together. It didn't strike me at first, but as time went on I began to focus more and more on the blackness of space; reeling at its endless vastness. I remember having many discussions with my mother at the time trying to resolve my concerns. “How can things just go on and on forever?” I wondered, and feared. My mom would challenge the adverse by saying how scary things would be if they just ended. Our discussions never resolved my fears but instead created a new fear. Now I was afraid of both infinity and an end. I have grappled with the question for many years and still feel like I don’t have an answer. The only answer that ever gave me some peace was a quote I read by Joseph Smith. He spoke about how life – eternal life – was like one eternal “now.” He gave the imagery of a ring and how life always existed and never ends, the same as a ring. He noted that if you cut the ring to create a beginning, you simultaneously create an end. At times when my reflections were particularly dismal, I could always remind myself that now, right now, is not scary and that no matter when in time it is, it is now. A new fear has surfaced, however. As a mother, with kids asking me the same questions I asked all those years ago, I fear my inadequacies. My mom always had all the answers. And even though I didn’t, I felt some comfort in her steadfast resolves. As my children grow and challenge the world around them I feel a sense of urgency for answers – answers that have evaded me since I first discovered the questions. I want to comfort my children but empower them to feel secure and loved in a world of unknowns. I resist the urge to give them the pat answers that would surely tide them over to adulthood, but feel torn by a primal urge to shelter them from discomfort and pain. I try to remind myself that I was given all the answers but was still not immune to discomfort and pain. I suppose, in the end, that I am trying to prepare my kids for a world where there aren’t easy answers and where fear is a part of life that they will have to face in one form or another. This, while I continue to search for my own answers and peace…
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