This is the first time I have ever tried to write about this experience. It may even be the first time I've talked about it at all now that I think of it. I also learned today that this crazy terrifying urge has a couple different names. *The French call it L’Appel du Vide, or "call of the void". Jennifer Hames, a clinical psychology professor at University of Notre Dame calls it the “High Place Phenomenon.” It's that sudden urge I feel when I'm standing at a great height to jump off the edge. I'm not a suicidal person. But suddenly it's there and I want to take flight even though I would surely plummet.
The first time I remember having this feeling was when I was 15 years old at Niagara Falls. The beauty and the power of the water and the dizzying height were overwhelming, which is an overused word to be sure, but the only one I can think of that's apt. I was on a high school trip and I didn't dare tell my teachers or the other students for fear someone would call the looney bin or worse my parents and send me home. But then a young lady I'll call "Julie" who was standing near me whispered in my ear, "doesn't it almost make you want to jump?" I felt a kind of relief. It wasn't just me. She felt it too.
The next time I recall feeling this way was in my early twenties visiting the Grand Canyon on spring break. The colors of the canyon rocks were burnt orange, red, and gold. The sun setting in the distance turned into a spectacular light show, bouncing colors of pink and purple off the canyon walls. My college boyfriend and I stood as close as we dared to the edge to see the fading sunlight splashing off the river below in waves of sparkles that were nearly blinding. Eventually he crawled to the very edge, laid on his stomach, let his head and arms dangle off the edge so that he could fully take in this dazzling display. He looked over his shoulder at me, inviting me to do the same. I couldn't speak; I shook my head. He turned back, immersed himself in the experience. I stepped back several feet. I was terrified. In my mind's eye I visualized over and over running into the great expanse of the canyon in a kamikaze cannonball into what would equal certain death, all the while yelling, Yahoo!
The very first time I visited Fall Run Park around 2002, I was delighted to find a 30-foot waterfall so close to downtown Pittsburgh. A series of wooden stairs allowed me to climb all the way to the top of the waterfall, to see the exact point where the water cascaded down into the small valley below. I remember that it was springtime and the valley was all lush greenness, trees bursting with luxurious leaves. I wanted to catapult with the stream, full of the riches of spring rain, dance with it off the edge of the rocks. Suddenly I understood what this urge was telling me to do. This wasn't about death, suicide, or sudden mania: this was about wanting to be one with the experience, joining with the Majesty of my surroundings, being a part of it in a way that I couldn't just by seeing it alone. Once I understood, I knew I could trust myself. There was no danger here. I wouldn't get carried away. I stopped being afraid of heights.
*The information listed in the first paragraph was sourced here: http://m.nautil.us/issue/46/balance/why-you-feel-the-urge-to-jump
Yes! I have felt this way so many times. And I just heard Anne Lamott speak and she was talking about this very phenomenon. When she is traveling she will lean next to someone and say, "I feel like jumping. I won't, I just need to say it". Invariably the person next to her will say, "You, too?" But how you have transformed that sensation and desire is into a positive joyful feeing is wonderful.
ReplyDeleteI mentioned in your last entry that I thought you had the seed of something larger, and I think this could also fit in with that longer narrative. I find this phenomena fascinating, because it is so unfamiliar to me. I'd love to see Fall Run work to complement these larger ideas.
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