fear's creation

i was just feeling restless and stifled just now. i thought it might help to write a bit. i just published this very raw first draft for the hell of it. if i get the time and energy i'll revise it - but no guarantees. .

a few summers back i was a counselor at a little Y camp out on the olympic peninsula. i worked in the beautiful woods each and every day and night that summer, sheltered from the storm of life, just as our inlet beach was sheltered from sweeping oceanic tides.
one weekend early in the summer the camp hosted a special family retreat where parents and children both shared the camping experience. i was accustomed to dealing only with children, so teaching middle-aged parents how to partake in camp activities like singing "the elephant son" or making bead necklaces, was certainly a different experience. not that much from that weekend was terribly fascinating, but there was one particular moment which nags at my memory, and is probably the only reason i remember the whole family camp experience at all.
i took a small group to the camps climbing wall. the wall is designed for teaching the very fundamental aspects of climbing and (when run properly by a trained staff person) is absolutely the safest climbing environment. everyone wears a helmet and harness that is hooked into a belaying system. truly, the purpose of the wall is to allow children the experience of challenging themselves, reaching goals they have never before imagined (like climbing 40 feet into the air and smiling down at your cabin buddies with pride).
i had been belaying children climbers for weeks and had grown accustomed to the simple procedure of safely helping climber to the top of our rudimentary wall. i remember the simple task of hooking up the handful of children that had gone up to the wall that day, congratulating them when they were couragouse, encouraging them when they were not - all in a day's work for a simple camp counselor. but is was when one of the children's fathers decided to climb, that the situation became horribly memorable.
while primarily used by children, the wall was capable of safely facilitating almost any adult climber (i had climbed it dozens of times for fun - sometimes even barefoot!). the father, a slim and tall man with short curly black hair had been so kindly enjoying his nature weekend with his son, and wanted to share every camp experience with his little boy. naturally, after his six year old son scrambled eagerly to the top of the wall and proclaimed proudly how much fun he had, his father decided to climb also.
strapping the man into his adult-sized harness, checking his helmet, reviewing safety guidelines, i wished him luck on his climb. i remember his nervous exhalation as he stood facing the wall in front of him, he slowly placed his hands onto the grips and his hesitant knees shook and fumbled as they reached out to holds on the wall.
with the naivity of youth, the boy cheered on his infallible father, just as his father had warmly and paternally cheered him on just a few minutes prior. but where the boy had shone down beaming smile of self-confidence from the top of the wall, the father was no more than a few simple steps from the ground before i keenly yet distinctly heard the waiving falsity of fear underlying his tone as he called back to his son, telling the boy how much fun he was having.
his muscles were tense and moved in jerking rigidity. he second guessed his own grip constantly. worst of all, he looked down. whereas the son had gazed excitedly up the wall, aware of the possible glory ahead of him; the father was deeply-shaken with terror with every small progression he made away from the earth.
standing on the ground below and belaying his line, i overheard a million whispers of worthless inability roaring hotly against his sweating face. distracted by his own the all-consuming thoughts and the high-pitched calling of his little boy - the father classically misjudged his grip. the rope jerked hard in my hands, and with emergent speed and i instinctivly held the braced line - his heavy body dangling fifteen feet off the ground.
an audible yelp escaped his lungs, the last sound he made before his chest was crushed with the weight of shock at having suddenly realized that was no longer in control of his own body. he slid no more than a few inches, as common happens when a climber looses their grip. but the impact of realizing his own vulnerability was greater even than his imagined impact of hitting the pine-needled floor below.
"how ya' doing there, friend?" i tried to gauge his resilience.
nothing.
"you wanna keep going? your about halfway there - your doin great." i checked again.
"i.... uh.... well, i..." his heaving chest and heart racing, he released only quick panicked mumbling.
"you can come down now, if you like." i gave him an out.
"yes. yes. yes. i think, i. i think i, would like to come down now." in his own mind, i could see that he felt he must have crashed down and shattered into a million irreconcilable pieces in the eyes of his son. but i could see that the boy was clearly unphased. with the innocence of youth, the boy distractedly thinking about the upcoming swim session, than his father's now exposed fear of heights.
i slowly lowered the man, unharnassed him, smiled at him with a maternal warmth and sent him back down to camp. i watched the two dissapeared down the wooded trail. father's outstretched hand griping onto the boy's bouncing shoulder; father shaken, son skipping.
i thought then, and remember still today... fear is developed emotion. staining each and every inch of how we view ourselves; fear is not a birthmark, but a tattoo we give ourselves - one prickling stab at a time.