Would You Fear For Me? | 1.6.21
Confession here: I watch bad TV while exercising every day. Sometimes it’s only slightly bad, sometimes it’s very bad, and right now I’m trying to decide where the last show I watched during said workouts fits. I watched, and please don’t judge me, The Wilds on Amazon Prime, and while I won’t spoil anything by saying the ending really chapped my buns, I will say, it was fun, it was escapism, and it actually had me asking myself some questions. One of these actually popped up and started a conversation between Sarah and I, and it was this: What would you do if I was in need, how far would you go? As I’m clearly more romantic and sweet, I immediately answered that I would in fact face any fear if it meant helping her, she was a bit more hesitant as some of her fears (some that were shown in the show itself) run pretty damn deep. I jest, I jest, as I do think if push came to shove, she’d face any fear if it meant saving my life, but alas, the hesitation was there.
This was the birth of this haiku, this question, this wondering. How far WOULD you go for those you love? A bigger, more interesting question is this: How far would you go for a stranger? Would your fears prevent you from helping? Would they propel you forward? I think we are often defined by our actions in trying times, and I’m not sure if this is fair, but it does highlight the constitution of our mettle.
So I ask you, today…what fears would you be willing to face in order to save someone you love? Then, what fears would you be willing to face to save a stranger?
Would you swim for me,
risk the monsters in the deep?
Would you fear for me?
Haiku on Life by Tyler Knott Gregson
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Tyler, you're not alone; I watch bad TV when exercising too 😉. I love this line of questioning, because I think when we consider it as an abstract intellectual exercise, the answer comes with reflection. But in the moment, we just act. I know from personal experience, there was no thought for my own safety; I stepped straight into danger to stop a violent interaction because the humanitarian in me followed my instincts. In hindsight, it seemed foolish...but then there was a perverse sort of pride that I was willing to put myself in harms way for peace and justice. I think the answer lies at the heart of who we are, because instincts do kick in.
First of all, TV is not that bad - if we were going to a play every day, everyone would say it was fantastic! I know a lot of playwrites who also write for TV, so in my book, it's very close to same-same. Also, I once saved my dog from a pit-bull who was attacking him. It's a long story about how the pitbull came to be in my backyard, but once the two saw each other, they immediately got into a fight. My dog outweighed the pitbull by 20 lbs, but it was no contest. I was really, really scared as the pitbull dragged my dog across the yard and my dog was actually screaming. Still, I just couldn't let my dog die thinking I hadn't helped. So, I tried prying the pitbulls jaws off my dog (as they tell you, that really doesn't work), and then I tried poking his eyes out (that was too gross of a concept), and then I tried kicking him a lot (my shin was bruised black and blue for weeks afterwards), and then I just thought "welp, I hope this hurts as much as all my male friends says it does!" and I reached behind the pitbull and squeezed his balls as hard as I could. This actually worked for a second - the pitbull released my dog and looked behind him as if to say "What's going on back there?" but then my dog realized he had help! So, he re-engaged and re-attacked the pitbull, who of course, re-attached to my dog's neck. I got smarter and I grabbed the pitbull by his neck and his balls at the same time so that when he released my dog I lifted the pitbull so that I was between them and was able to swing the pitbull into a dog carrier we happened to have in the yard. THEN I looked up and saw about 20 people watching the whole thing over our fence - none of them thought to help or call the police or anything! It was double-trauma later because when I took my dog to the vet (half his face was hanging off him), he wouldn't leave my side to go to the surgery room and the vet wouldn't let me in the surgery room, so they had to drug him enough that he could be led away against his will. I was traumatized for a long time over the whole thing (as was my dog, who ended up having a bit of fear aggression for the rest of his life). But that was the scariest thing I've ever had to do for anyone I loved.