Our dangerous selves

We all court danger, it’s inherent in us. All dangerous things seem desirable to us—irrespective of age. Which probably explains why as babies we were drawn to buckets of water, power sockets and barrels or as children to finding out what happens when we stuck peas and assorted things up our nose, took a dive from the flight of stairs, raided our parents and siblings’ stuff when they weren’t around.  As we grew older the curiosity didn’t ebb; we needed and wanted all things that were forbidden, were taboo. The denial was the bait that lured us in. We had to find out for ourselves. Our adolescent years saw us playing truant, chasing after the objects of our obsession, experimenting with drugs, drinks and sex, rebelling because it gave us a high and made us stand out and feel powerful.  Then as adults, we get cynical, slower, jaded with the experiments. We crave for more, to push the danger envelope a bit more, just to feel the original high. So we cheat in relationships, lie some more and about bigger things, embezzle, cut corners and play dirty.

Each time we flirt with danger, we feel empowered. Like a siren calling, it’s hard to ignore. We ask ourselves, “What is the worst that can happen?” So, we take our reckless selves and do stupid things. Things we wouldn’t do, if we didn’t like to tempt fate, to play with fire. If we get away with it, it’s a license to do it some more and more often. If we fail, it’s a lesson well learned and we exercise caution till we feel the itch again.

This attraction to danger is addictive. It makes us irresponsible, it makes us egoistic, it makes us dangerous people to be around. Yet we pursue it. Why? Simply because by chasing after danger we are fanning the desire for importance, we are acknowledging the arrogance within us, we are feeding our ego with our conquests. With every successful venture, we find ourselves getting bolder, undefeatable, indestructible and insatiable. Nothing else can substitute.