Cornelis Anthonisz:
Allegorie met Waarheid, Kennis, Haat en Vrees
[Allegory with Truth, Knowledge, Hatred, and Fear]
(1507 - 1553)

"I seem to chase off worst case scenarios …"

I prepare for each of my adventures by practicing Dread. Over my lifetime, I've fed myself so much anticipatory doom that it's a genuine marvel that I have somehow survived. I might have succumbed to the effects of pre-living my demise. My salvation might no longer be possible by any means. I might have doomed myself by conjuring visions of my end whenever I even consider engaging in anything. If we get what we expect, I should rightfully expect Hellfire and eternal damnation coming, for that's surely what I have been expecting, though every damned time so far, I've somehow sidestepped that sure and all but inevitable fate. I suppose that it's never too late to fail, but my long string of successes has so far delayed the reckoning. I feel certain each time, though, that this time, I might finally be destined to succeed in failing, and so I dread anew.

I invested much of the week before this latest excursion, denying it would happen. I imagined scenarios whereby I might sidestep the obligation to engage. My fantasy life all but supplanted my primary experience as I actively imagined how I might counter my otherwise regrettable encounter with my fate. I failed, of course, to successfully blunt the engagement, and despite discouraging weather reports, The Muse and I departed into what promised to be the jaws of a terrific winter storm. The storm didn't materialize, as these anticipated things rarely do. It might be that properly anticipating wards off the worst that fate might otherwise present, for fate depends upon more surprise than any anticipated experience ever allows. In this way, I might have been successfully warding off my fate with mere Dread. This seems like it might have been a good investment and a wise use of my time.

Now, my Dread appears as more of a reflex reaction than a strategic response. It's just something I do without usually thinking it through. I might even consider it a positive feature of my overall pattern of living. I can imagine living differently, but I seriously doubt I could ever successfully come out of this particular closet. I might finally be precisely who I am and, therefore, no longer be in any need of becoming anybody different. If encroaching age offers any benefit, it might be the benefit of a lifetime of doubt that anything will likely turn out right. Wrong's my milieu by now and one that has somehow successfully guided me past what I have always expected to deliver worst! I cannot seriously complain about any such backhanded successes.

So I Dread. It's what I do and a habit that has proved a reliable warder of worse. I seem to have prevented the emergence of what I expected and kept myself safe from what many have experienced. No boogieman can ever successfully creep up behind and scare anyone expecting a boogieman to try to creep up behind and scare them. I seem to have become startle-proofed by the diligent practice of pre-startling myself. I admit that this might be one Hell of a way to live, that I might, on my better mornings, imagine myself imagining much better than this, but I don’t, and I haven't, and I have no real complaint. I paint my glass darkly and still usually end up brightly engaging, whatever I catch myself anticipating. I seem to chase off worst-case scenarios by simply expecting worse than worst-case ones.

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