I almost got hit by a car today. For those of you who have ever seen me cross the street, this should come as no surprise to you. Additionally, I have often pledged that it is in the pedestrian’s better interest to avoid the car, more than that of the car to avoid the meat-popsicle. Under that pledge, I have vowed that I will not be overly bitter should I someday be run over while crossing the street, as it will almost certainly be my fault. Today, however, I was not crossing the street, I was on the walking path, and cars should not have been hitting me there.
I’ve almost been run over on many occasions, in fact. It doesn’t phase me. It should, and the last time it happened, it did affect me, though not in the way that you might think. Today, was just a curiosity for me. I was walking along the designated walking path, which was on the same piece of asphalt as the road. An SUV was approaching me, and as I was walking against traffic I had the opportunity to make eye contact with the driver. I did not, however, as she was looking at her passenger. I don’t know where the passenger was looking since I was looking at the driver, in much the same way the driver didn’t know where she was going, since she was looking at the passenger.
Where she was going, was right for me. Well, near me in fact, which is the odd part. I didn’t even stop walking. I just kept going, watching this Ford Explorer come right at me, at about 40km/h (she was doing the speed limit, or close). Instead of stopping, or moving, or yelling or flailing, I just kept walking and watching. Had the driver been over about another 1.5 feet, I would have been hit squarely by the bumper. At the time that would have happened, the driver noticed me in her periphery, and simultaneously swerved and nailed the brakes. The side view mirror passed about 6 inches from my shoulder as I watched the driver panic.
It was kind of strange, since I was the one that nearly got killed, but she was the one who got perturbed by it. It gave me cause to look at the inner workings of my little walnut-sized brain. Why didn’t I move? Why did this not even bother me? It could very well be, that after years of driving and walking and seeing things collide or not collide, that I was reasonably confident that she’d miss me. It could be that I was so overcome by the shock of a possible collision that my brain siezed up and I wasn’t able to react normally. It could be that after 30 odd years of life and many near misses, this one just wasn’t that impressive.
Was I ever seriously perturbed by almost getting hit by a car? Not really. Just once, the last time, in fact… Maybe I am exhibiting the psychological process of the Death Wish, first described by Freud (or maybe Jung or someone. John, give me a hand here.) If I recall correctly, the hypothesis was that all humans, to some extent have a death wish that causes them to do things that provide no tangible gain, yet endanger them. The endangerment can be real or perceived, and accounts for such behaviors as roller coasters to russian roulette. The death wish stems from a deep basal desire to return to a state of mental quietude that is remembered from the formative days in the womb or some other such nonsense. I had a bad habit of cutting my “Modern Western Thought” class back in school, and while I could look up the theory now, I didn’t have it at my disposal while walking to lunch this afternoon.
What I do recall is not being terribly impressed by the theory at the time. Since I’d just had a real threat of death, and what I felt to be an interesting response, I decided to think about it on my own and see what I came up with. I do think that a death wish exists for most everyone, and that it manifests in a variety of ways. I think the reality of the situation has more to do with risk and reward than with any existential yearning. In life, the majority of our existence could be reduced to transactions. I trade money for lots of things, of course. I also trade trust for security. I trade honesty for sincerity. The transactions are often complex and may involve a number smaller possibly recipricol transactions to constitute a single action.
Inherent in any transaction is risk versus reward. In the transaction, I am seeking something, and the risk is what I’m willing to lose to attain that. In the case of a voluntary transaction, the risk is small, since the perception is that both parties will profit from the exchange. On a deeper level, we can’t necessarily count on the altruism of others. Even in a voluntary transaction, there is a risk inherent to the exchange. Think of it crudely this way. If I am going to buy a TV, it is easier to buy a smaller, less expensive TV than a larger more expensive TV. There is always a chance that the TV will fail to meet my needs/desires, or fail outright. The vendor might not give me a refund or a repair. The larger the investment, the more likely there will be fear associated with a failure of the exchange.
Well, how does this relate to a death wish? Quite simply, in my opinion. If we’re going to talk about deep subconscious psychological needs and perceptions, we have to strip away the effects of modern culture and society. It is fun and cute to describe our affection for roller coasters in terms of a subconscious urge, but perhaps not wholly fair. I think the Death Wish more likely spawns from the fact that in a simpler existence, mutual trades were far less prevalent. If I want to eat something, I need to take food from someone/something. I could find a stash of vegetables gathered by another person and take it. I could try to barter, but they have food which I want, and I likely have nothing to offer that is commeasurate to the food they have. They’ll naturally want to defend their food, so my expression of interest in the food would naturally appear threatening since in the absence of a fair trade, there is a strong likelihood of an attempt by force.
The rationale will extend naturally for my interest in a recent kill by my peer or another critter. Likewise, any animal I might want to eat will naturally be wary of me since that sort of exchange will turn out poorly for the critter. Ultimately, almost everything on the planet that I’m apt to eat, has features that exist specifically to prevent me from eating it. Claws, teeth, fur, pointy spines, poisons, beaks, thorns, thermal tracking lasers and so forth. So, in order to eat anything, I need to take a risk. Either I brave the pointy mean things that want to stop me from eating, or I risk the wrath of one who has already taken such a risk.
Which brings us to the basic premise in that all I really ever have to risk is my life. In modern society, I can risk my savings or my possessions, but really, those things are secondary, one keeps living and risking long after those other things are gone. I think another basic truth is that bigger rewards generally require bigger risks. That is not to say that bigger risks generate bigger rewards. However, willingness to take big risks will often lead to the taking of such risks. Taking bigger risks will offer bigger rewards, when the risking party is successful. So, I am inclined to think that manifestations of the Death Wish are actually the brain’s way of keeping our mind and body in shape so that we might earn the big rewards when they do present themselves.
When I was younger I used to have what I think is likely a common fantasy of dying heroically. At the time I chalked it up to recognition that I will one day die, and that if I can’t avoid death, I may as well be heroic about it. Inevitably, these death fantasies involved me saving some girl I was “in love” with, from some predictably stupid danger, and dying in the process. One would hope that I’d have envisioned saving her from death and only getting moderately messed up myself. However, that denies the virtue of my act. If I save her from something that just injures me, obviously I haven’t saved her from a big enough threat. Only a threat that kills me would sufficiently demonstrate my adoration. The fact that I don’t get to survive and enjoy the fruits of this labor are unfortunate, but we’re talking about true love here.
I think the arguments about seeking food extend quite easily to seeking love (or sex or reproduction if you want to go that route). Ultimately we have to risk ourselves to engage in those acts, and hopefully the risks we take will be rewarded by beautiful love, great sex or great kids. Ideally, all three.
A key point worth noting is that it may be possible to have all three of those while taking comparitively small risks. In reality, the greatness of a love isn’t built upon self sacrafice or heroic gestures. It is a much more complex beast, and while willingness to take extreme risks may be a hallmark of a strong love, strong loves can exist without them. Additionally, huge risks may be taken to preserve a small love. The risks don’t necessarily improve the love. By the same token, running naked through the savana, leaping, hooting and shouting while chasing down a humming bird doesn’t improve the meal you’ll get out of it. (Well, it might taste better that way, I’m not a chef so who am I to say?)
Which brings me back to that last near hit, and what was different. I was in Cyprus, and crossing the street with a girl I had become friends with there. She was ending her trip there, and we had gone out to dinner so that I might “see her off”. In truth, I had a devilish crush on her, but given the circumstance (which isn’t really essential to this story), I had not made any overtures.
So we were walking across the street, and as I was escorting home a person I cared about, I didn’t go running pell mell into the street as I normally would have. We crossed the street to the center island at the crosswalk, and waited for the green man to let us pass the rest of the way home. When he arrived, we stepped out onto the crosswalk, but like a good little New Yorker, I still looked both ways. This was when I saw the tiny compact car approaching us at about 100km/h.
She didn’t see the car, since she was turn to speak to me and the car was coming from her side. I stopped abruptly and grabbed at her arm, but she had momentum and took another step into the lane. For me, time almost stopped and while I know I reacted out of reflex or instinct, I remember very clearly contemplating each act, and calculating each move I took.
I quickly stepped forward and pivoted in front of her. I placed my arm around her waist and gently pushed her, bodily, back onto the curb. I couldn’t see the car anymore, but I knew that I was just about out of time, and I was still in the street. So, the last thing I did was move my arm from around her waist to just barely providing pressure on her hip to keep her on the curb, and stepped back slightly, so that if the car did hit me, that I wouldn’t inadvertantly drag her under it with me.
Truth be told, I was momentarily bitter as I was in the freaking crosswalk.
Then the car came to a shuddering halt about a foot from me.
She and I shared a slightly “Whoa” look, me more than her, and then I turned to look at the driver who was visibly shaken.
And that was it. We double checked traffic and crossed the street where I escorted her home and that was all. We didn’t talk about it, and I’ve only ever told one or two people what happened. It is kind of a non-story, on its own. We were nearly run over, and regardless of what I did, the car stopped short of us.
It was a weird experience, but a lot of what happened in Cyprus was new and interesting for me. Today’s entry isn’t about that, today I’m writing about now, so the trials and tribulations that happened while I was over there will have to wait.
That’s all for now. I hope you’re well, and I’ll try to write more again soon.
P.S. This took way more than an hour to write!!!