Busan Journal

As a preschooler I began having a dream about falling.  I was always standing on the second floor landing when the railing gave way to my leaning and I tumbled forward into that empty space, crashing toward the floor beneath. I don't know how that dream ever ended.  I always woke up as the railing collapsed, terrified.

I have had two major fears my whole life, that is, two beyond everyone's fear of being thought stupid, ugly, or uncool. One is the fear of heights and the other is the fear of closed spaces.

As a challenge to my fear of heights I used to jump off the high board at the swimming pool.  It would sometimes take an hour or better to get up the nerve to climb to the platform.  Even then, sometimes, I would look down at the water so far far below and climb back down the ladder.  But when I succeeded, it was with great concentration on entering the water upright, feet first.

I can relive it in my mind even though it has been years since I took that step of commitment.  There is the decision to act, which is actually the first step out into space.  Then there is the fraction of a second before gravity grabs the feet in a big way.  Then the plummet, arms waving to keep the torso from tilting forward or backward. Just when the rush in the chest signals heart attack, contact!  The cold braking embrace of the water.

And then, for a moment, I realize I am alive and I could do it again.

Nothing bad ever happened to me jumping off the high board, although the possibilities of real pain could fill a medical book.

Just to show I could do it, beat the heights, I climbed to the top of St Paul's Cathedral in London this past October following my son, who shares my fear of heights, and his wife, who doesn't.  The fear is still there, I realized during most of the climb.  As I looked out over the city from that ity bity walkabout 400 feet or more above street level, hugging the stones in sheer terror, as I fought the fear:  this view is worth the trip.  Cool!  Now let's go down.  Now!

This is roughly the situation we're in now.  My wife's fear of heading for Korea for four months is like my old fears of falling through the railing on the landing.  There is no reasoning with fear like that.
My own fears are more of the high board variety.  In a few hours we will board the actual jet that will take off for Seoul.  It is, in fact, a tin can with wings and lots of thrust.

This is the point of commitment.  We will take that step out into space and wait for the adrenalin rush to catch hold.