Fear and Principle

Over the July fourth weekend, I spent my first weekend with Barrett's family. He is the youngest of 4 brothers and 1 sister. We stayed in the lake cabin that he and his family literally built with their own hands. While I was spending my every middle school and high school weekend playing soccer all over Texas, he and his family spent every weekend commuting from the mega-metropolis of Houston to built this home and subsequently utilize it as their base when hunting, fishing, horsing around on their adjacent ranch. Having never done any of these activities nor met this family I've heard countless stories about, it turned out to be quite a weekend.


Much of the weekend was spent enjoying the cool breezes on an adirondack while reading "Into the Wild" by Jon Krakauer, a story about a idealistic young adventurer who dies in a bus in the Alaskan frontier. This book along with the setting spurred my curiousity for primitive survival techniques. I would lump the Cromeen family skills into this category, so I joined whenever they headed out to the ranch. The most interesting (probably because I think I could easily replicate it if need be) endeavor of the weekend was putting out 'trot lines' to catch catfish in the river that runs through their land. I view fishing as an altogether lazy activity so when Barrett confessed that trot lines are the lazy-man's way of fishing, I chuckled. The basic idea of this form of fishing is to string bait over the width of the river by tying rope to trees on opposite sides of the river and hanging small fishing lines along it. Over the course of a day, you'll come to check on the lines multiple time to see if you've caught anything and to restock the bait. The best times to check are at dawn and early night. I joined the boys for a few of their runs to the trot linea. Of note, I joined them during their night run.


Before leaving the cabin to check the lines the first evening, Barrett asked me to not stand right at the shore line when we got there. I said ok in that way you do when you want an explanation as to why, and he replied sheepishly, "Now I don't want you to be scared, but this river is known to have aligators, and at night, they can see you but you can't really see them, so, I just want you to be safe." At this warning, I grew a tiny bit wary of going at all but refused to let on, so I said fair enough and headed out. We made our way to the river via pick-up truck then traversed the small wooded area leading to the water by the guidance of our lone flash light. Once we reached the small boat used to check the lines, I was instructed to hand over the flashlight so they could see while on the water. I was reluctant but did so. Ben, Barrett's brother, then said in a very matter of fact way, "just yell like crazy if anything happens." Then they left.

It was pitchblack, stars littering the sky magestically. Natures orchestra hummed with birds, frogs, and rustling of trees. And, I was all alone, with no tools, and 5 yards from an allegedly aligator infested river. Every new sound or change of barely distinguishable shadow made me back up a few inches toward the steep ridge. As Ben and Barrett moved further from me, my fear grew more and more. I have never been as scared as I was that night.

My imagination went wild and I considered the worst possible scenarios...death by aligator, being forced into the river by a rabid wild pig, snake attacks, etc. I cursed myself for choosing reading material that had enhanced my knowledge of the ruthlessness of the wild.

I prayed and tried logic to relieve my anxiety: I've lived in a neighborhood known for crime and prostitution, and travelled through foriegn countries alone, and I've never had a problem. God has protected me everywhere I've wandered. But I began to realize, my logic cannot calm an aligator nor can it always calm fears. In those moments of intense internal panic, without skills or sight, I wanted a gun.

On principle, I generally despise weapons. I become really nervous just being near them. These days, weapons are too often used to violently injure another human being and have all but lost their utility for protection against or hunting of animals for food. Watching Barrett and his brothers kill wild hogs and poisonous snakes gave me a new respect for the guns, though I still hesitate to endorce them because it is all to easy to use them against humans when they are readily avaliable. More even than my fear on the shore, the direct attack by someone or something has the ability to negate principle and lead to violent self preservation in even the most passionately non-violent individuals. This is a troublesome truth to discover present in oneself. I am humbled by this discovery and continue to work it out.

Within a few minutes of my deepest fear and deepest prayers for protection, Ben and Barrett returned with a couple of catfish and grins on their faces. I had never been so happy to see two people in my life.

The light (literal) and companionship they embodied relieved my fears the way that vision and knowing you're not alone always do. These two things along with divine provision are more life sustaining than elimating threats.

I survived the river. I survived the weekend. Now, I must survive myself as I ponder just how capable I am of violence.