I'm tickled pink about all the photos I took of that old bridge last week partly because I don't do so well on bridges.
The old bridge was a great subject. The history was alive in the bridge, along with its personality. And the more I thought about it, the more my imagination took off with the symbolism caught in the photos.
Like this photo. Though the bottom horizontal brace was lined up, the top one wasn't, and neither was the bridge I was standing on. All the rust pock marks seem to be waiting for the day when they finally overpower the huge bolts that hold it all together. The cross braces are a good image to portray the ups and downs, and the three-dimensional depth shows that there's always more than one way to go. Behind it all is the unknown expanse of the water - infinity - the source of all; the collective.
Looking straight down like that to take that photo was brave of me, considering that's the part about bridges I don't do so well on. The height above the running water is one long free fall ending with being swept away, caught in a current that could take you who knows where. Now that I have the photo, I can think it to death like I do most things, and perhaps I'll desensitize that fear right out of me. Think it will work?
I won't think anymore about the concept I just thought: Those cross braces as the ups and downs of life would be pretty easy to fall off if you should lose your balance. My luck, I'd probably belly flop into the water on top of being swept away. One or two belly flops in one lifetime teach you really quick to either dive right or don't dive at all. No, I don't do well on bridges at all. I'm not so keen about heights either.
It's strange that these two physically specific fears/phobias should have ramifications on more than just ladders and bathtubs. I've found lately that some of my jokes seem to flop pretty heavily. Bellyflop, get it? There are some that get my warped humor with no trouble, and I worry about them.
I may start to climb up the pecking order at times, lose interest in climbing higher (fear it?), then wonder why I can't seem to stretch pennies quite far enough. That doesn't bother me; I have little interest in money beyond what I need. But now my right wrist is seriously painful from trying to pinch pennies for so many years! Even if I don't splat when I flop, I hurt anyway. Bleh.
See? There's analogies and symbolism in everything. Now, please don't tell me you understand and are laughing. I don't want to have to worry about you too!