Too afraid...

Certain things in life can lead you to come to some very startling – or not so startling – truths about yourself, about others, or about life in general (heh, “General Life”). Often, these things are not pre-orchestrated or coordinated; you just happen to be at the right time and place to experience it. But sometimes, coordinated activities or events bring out these epiphanies in such shocking clarity you can’t help but wonder if this is part of the coordinator’s plans from the get-go. To be honest, I really wouldn’t blame you if you thought that way – I know for a fact I thought so when I attended the KKP Community-Building event on July 29, 2012, in Mapawa Nature Park. It all seemed rather typical – activities revolved around their goals as a group as well as in their efforts to build bonds between volunteer members. We discussed, we talked, danced, sang, ate, and had more fun than was normal in a regular work-week. But that’s not what got me seeing things clearer than the guy singing like crazy after the rain is gone. What got me was this blindfold maze activity.

What was the blindfold maze? Well, people were grouped in pairs – one wears a blindfold, the other helps the now blind individual to pass through a maze. The only catch was that the “blind” person had to ask questions to the potentially helpful partner that could only be answered by “yes” or “no”. In practice, this is far harder to do, especially for those who rather valued their eyesight. Placing your “life” in someone else’s hands is a high calling and not many want to take that call – throw the phone out the window ‘cause this guy ain’t answering. Needless to say, I was the guy not answering.

When the preparations for the activity were finished – that is, everyone was properly blindfolded and the maze set up – I initially thought that I would have no problem asking my partner the directions through the maze. I was anxious, of course, but it was merely because of the fact that I wasn’t able to see anything and could only rely on what I could hear, feel, even smell. We waited somewhat impatiently for our turn at the maze; when I began, I soon realized I could not place my trust on my partner. I would ask questions merely to figure out basic directions but anything else – anything a bit more creative in mind, like say, a table I had to crawl under – I couldn’t ask properly. I couldn’t ask it immediately either, I felt I could handle it on my own when it was blatantly clear my lack of eyesight is seriously impeding my ability to do so. I had to place my trust on my partner or I would go nowhere.

After what felt like forever figuring out I had to crawl under the table, I still could not shake off the overwhelming feeling that I was incapable of realizing my dependence on my partner, who was only trying to help to the best of her ability. My anxiety and panic grew steadily as I kept going. I became heavily aware of it when I somewhat figured out I had to get over a stick, but failed to go over it properly (I actually went over the boundary chair). My state of anxiety pretty much went into red alert when I was at the last stretch (believe me when I say I didn’t know it at the time); everyone seemed to be speaking at once, like some legion of demons from hell. I remember clearly hearing someone say “There’s a cliff!” and I literally stopped. No matter how many times my partner kept telling me to keep going, I couldn’t keep myself from stopping. I could not trust my partner – I was so unwilling to place my life in the hands of another, and it showed through the most in this activity. The feeling I felt most when I was allowed to take off my blindfold was shame and embarrassment. It seemed as though I’ve slighted my partner’s efforts to help me through by not relinquishing my pride and allowing her to lead me through it. I know it doesn’t seem that way in real life but that’s what it looked like from my perspective.

I thought I had it together – that I could just as easily let someone show me the way as much as I depend on myself to find it. But I was depending on something that wasn’t there. I had no such ability to leave my life in someone else’s hands; I simply could not do it. I’m a Seventh-Day Adventist Christian who has lived his entire life believing in God and thinking he knows what it’s like to place his own life in Someone else’s hands. Turns out I wasn’t really depending on Him so much as I was depending on myself and expressing dependence in name only. It’s like realizing you’re adopted and your parents never bothered to tell you. It was clear as day to me, and equally painful.

I’d love to say I finally understood what it means to place my life in someone else’s hands and that I could do it again if circumstances require it, but I’d be lying. I’ve got a lot to learn about depending on others. The only way I can learn is by practice I suppose. So hopefully, I can learn to place my trust more on others, even if it means I’ll lose my sense of security. Frankly, I’m scared out of my wits to do that, but if it means I can become a better person and a more willing individual who aims to follow God’s Will, then it must be done. It must.

How’s that for some coordinated reality check?