The brain is a tricky beast. I tried to find the name of the phobia of the unknown, but apparently there isn't a name for it. Which seems a bit ironic to me, to be perfectly honest. Anyway, back to the topic at hand. New things can be scary. Or exhilarating. Or a combination of both. But the mind tends to compensate for the unknown, filling in details from past experiences, including personal experiences or movies or images, as a way to try to prepare for what the future holds. This could be positive and beneficial preparation, or possibly induce more anxiety. Perhaps a mixture of the two, especially if you can find humor in the way your brain compensates. I have an example for you.
Imagine you work at a zoo as an outreach educator. The educational programs that are reserved occur at various times of the day, including into the late evening. This means that sometimes you return to the zoo after dark and put the animals back into their happy homes when nearly everyone else is gone. The zoo does have staff on grounds twenty four hours a day, but late at night it's usually only one or two park rangers, whom you don't tend to see. Now let's say you have a very active imagination, one which keeps you highly entertained generally, but frequently thinks up some interesting scenarios when you are alone in the dark. (Quick aside: it's not the dark that's scary, but what you can't see in the dark...the unknown...) But one evening you are returning to the zoo after a late program, you don't see anyone else, it's dark, and you are finishing the duties of putting the animals away before going home for the night. As you exit the animal building you see the van sitting on the back road and you walk toward it. The scene from Jurassic Park begins playing in your mind, you know, the one where Nedry gets back into the Jeep only to find a dilophosaurus was also inside. You chuckle. Then you realize that there could be a tiger in the van, because dilophosaurus are extinct, and you are at a zoo. At night. Nearly alone. It's perfectly logical that a tiger would get out, walk across the zoo, find the van when you are not in it, open the door, get in, close the door (CLOSE THE DOOR), and wait for me...I mean, you...to climb back into the van. You chuckle again. At this point you are close to the van and about to open the door. Still chuckling, you open the door just a crack, enough for the light to come on inside, then visually scan the inside of the van to verify that there is not a tiger inside (or a dilophosaurus, for that matter) before opening the door all the way to get in and drive back to the office. And you continue to laugh at yourself, while feeling a bit relieved that the scenario in your mind did not come true (it's possible that could happen. Really. Don't doubt the ability of extinct dinosaurs to make an appearance or tigers to close car door behind them.).
So as I pack and plan to drive a couple hours north of the city where I live to start my new educational journey tomorrow, I consider how I can prepare for this program to which I am excited to dedicate the next four years, but of which I am not yet aware of what to expect (except lots of hard work). First item on the list is to always check for wayward dilophosaurus. And tigers.
No comments:
Post a Comment