Big ideas are often borne out of only the silliest of circumstances.

Tonight was one of the few times I have had this thought: “Are you going to die?”

These are truly important moments in life, so I want to put them in better context now while my own narrative details are still fresh. I place thoughts about mortality in three fairly distinct categories with an acknowledgment that specific experiences differ greatly within them. The first is when one knows they are badly hurt or diseased. This is the one I felt tonight. Some only have to deal with it for a few moments, others must make prolonged considerations. I felt it for an hour or so after I was hit by a car at the age of 15 and woke up being restrained on a stretcher. Still, in my case, there were all kinds of people around me instantly telling me that I was going to be OK... and they were people that I trusted (perhaps naively) because it was their profession to make such predictions (honestly or not). Still, they scared me anyway because they were so intent on keeping me awake, which I knew as a strategy use to keep dying people alive. In my case, it was to try to limit the effects of concussion. The time spent consciously contemplating your death as a virtual certainty is most interesting to me. I wonder when (or if) my mother finally knew she was going to die. Do people who die in their sleep or in instant obliteration really never experience this knowledge? We will probably never know.

The second category is when you know that your life really hangs in the balance. We get shades of this when we look down from cliffs or realize that any sleepy driver could cross the lane and kill you instantly in a head-on collision. I have felt this variety many a time during my stupid free climbing antics. Some people live for this feeling and can control it to the point where it is transformed into physical and mental advantage. This “skill” is taught in many self help books for extreme athletes and workers in the most violent occupations. However, is reportedly quite difficult to learn and perhaps only latent in holders of particularly risk-seeking genes. To do so, one has to realize that they are solely are in control of their fate. There is little they can do alter the basic conditions of the situation surrounding them. Thus, they must think clearly about strategy and performance to decide how to best use the existing possibilities to maximize their survival chances. An important subset of this category is suicide. I have no experience with attempting it or keeping others from it, so I can only say that I know enough of its scale and uniqueness to greatly respect it.

The third category is the saddest and most difficult of all because it combines the mostly irreconcilable aspects of the first two. This is when you know that someone else can and may kill you. This happens in mortal combat, in execution rooms, on the street, and in many homes everyday. During my younger years, in a few separate instances, I really pissed off certain dangerous individuals. I didn't know these people or their past behavior patterns very well, so I couldn't accurately gauge their threat to my life. Most people do not spend too much time thinking doing complex assessment unless they have had extensive experience with such situations. I know that when someone points a weapon at me or insinuates that they and their comrades might kill me, I am scared in a unique way. Some people have the right disposition for defusing such situation, some people are trained for such encounters, some people are impossibly (stupidly) proud, others are just drunk. I have pleaded for my safety, but I have also egged on aggressors... I have been lucky. An important subset of this category are people who are almost certain they are going to be killed, but wait with hope and fear until the last instant to find out for certain. I don't know if anyone has ever been truly been able to defer such thoughts for something most cultures consider ultimately noble in such a place: acceptance and love.

Enough of the big ideas, here is the account of my recent experience (written first to preserve details).

I went to the biggest spa in Asia (well, at least in Korea) yesterday and I overindulged myself. I was given a dozen different kinds of baths and climate controlled rooms to choose from and I instead chose them all. However, I really only enjoy their heat if I take a dip in the cold bath in between each one. Some say this shocking your body in this way is good for your health... it may be, but probably only in moderation. Anyway, I had felt the beginnings of a cold coming on the next afternoon and thought it would be best to dose up on vitamins and fruit juice as soon as possible. Folk medicine tells us that we only successfully intervene in the development of a cold early on. So, I went and bought this great milky fortified pineapple drink they sell in the convenience stores here and promptly headed back to my host's place to medicate myself further. Boy did I luck out! This is a healthy guy, so he had some great supplements in his cabinet: Vitamin C, Centrum, Vitamin E, a B vitamin complex, and a vegetable supplement. I thought the last items' pills were a bit tiny, especially given the horse sized ones I've seen in people's cabinets back home, but I didn't think much of it. Anyway, as is my custom, I boiled water for a nice cup of tea and went ahead and downed my cocktail in full. This is probably a bad idea in general because I am not a pharmacist and do not know the interaction effects of different vitamins, but being slightly obsessive compulsive, I take the such risks to satisfy my demons.

A half hour later, as I'm getting ready to leave the house, I suddenly felt incredibly light headed. This is when the first category of death thoughts hit: Fear of the Unknown = foreign country, unknown illness, unknown foodstuffs, language barriers, not even knowing where the nearest hospital is located. Bad situation, right? As it got stronger, confusion and desperation seized my thoughts. I considered grabbing my bag and running down into the street, phrasebook in hand to beg for help. Then, for some reason, I stopped thinking about my own potentially impending doom and started thinking about the implications of such behavior. What if I this was just a momentary panic attack or other minor condition? I had no idea what was wrong with me and I didn't speak a lick of the local tongue. Who would I ask? Would I just go down into the subway and get a transit officer? Would they understand? Would I make it or collapse in the stairwell?

Both myself and many other people better than I have offered the following bit of wisdom before, but I feel I must reiterate it again. The thoughts that arise in situations where we sense our own impending mortality are perhaps the best source of honest self assessment humans have. They must be cherished and utilized if they are survived. I would argue that they are our most the base instincts and impulses that remind us more than anything else (transcendental mediation, death of a loved one, giving birth, etc.) who we really are. Yet I know there are people who do not deeply consider them. I have the inclination to call them foolish, but I should not judge. Some would say that the gross indignities often suffered through violence and prolonged illness are often too painful and harmful to recollect. It may only hurt these people further, perhaps permanently scarring them by laying bear something which we could potentially repress. For instance, I do not remember the moments before my accident and some people say that is our mind's natural defense. I would never try to recall this time through hypnosis or other psychological therapy. However, I can never forget my disgraces in their many forms and instances. I am certain there is a good reason for this too, but let me return to my experience while I can still remember it.

At the moment of greatest uncertainty about my fate, I wondered whether I would end up making a fool of myself over something that might turn out to be minor. Ashamedly, I must admit that I even thought about the possible monetary costs that could be involved. Still, seeing as I was able to write these words in the hours immediately following, I can attest for the impermanence of my condition... or more accurately, my intense fear regarding it. Perhaps I made the correct decisions, but likely not the ones most people would agree were smart given the limited information I had. Regardless, realizing that I was willing to risk my life to avoid cost, inconvenience, or shame brought immediate feelings of indignance towards myself. The next thought was, “You may look dumb to people who don't even know you, but at least you will have a better shot at assuring your survival... you stupid narcissistic bastard.” My rational impulses had already (thirty seconds in) caught up with this frantic debate and began to weigh other options. They said, “Just calm the fuck down and keep thinking while you still have some of your wits about you.”

I pulled out my map to see if I could find out where the nearest hospital was. I found one three subway stops away and at that point had began to reassess my condition. The feeling had plateaued and I thought, “Maybe if I just lie down for a bit, I'll feel better.” Then I thought, “No, that's a terrible idea... what if you pass out and never wake up!” I still had no idea what my problem was... but I had two immediate suspicions, heart attack or food poisoning. Neither seemed likely, but I still thought, “damn that spa and/or the fish lady outside!” I had eaten seafood, but I didn't have any of the usual symptoms (vomiting, diarrhea, cold sweats, fever). I had no tightness in my chest or arms and was breathing pretty regularly. Still, my father has major heart problems and I regularly have bouts of tachycardia (elevated heart rate). Medical students and nurses tell me not to worry too much about it, but I still do, mostly because I convinced myself some years back that I indeed do have a heart problems that will shorten my life. Ironically, I never have gotten it checked out, which also tells me a lot about myself: intense aversion to unwanted personal news, short-sightedness, and love of a well-played Tupac/Biggie-style self demise prophesy. This last, mostly latent belief helps me be melodramatic with with myself and others when need be... and it generally plays well with in the imaginary world of my ego.

I still had no settled plan of action and was still really scared. However, the impulse to reflect on my thoughts was strong and I became increasingly disgusted with myself. This eased the fear and prompted me to do a truly odd thing. I did nothing. I tried to just accept the possibility of impending doom and gain some kind of control over it. I dropped to my knees, closed my eyes, and began to control my breath. I could do that, but under such circumstances, it is near impossible for one to control their thoughts. The American guru Ram Dass attested to this in a movie about his recent stroke and paralysis. He acknowledged that when he was “stroked” (that is the term he uses), he was unable to “align his soul with Godhead.” He was too busy thinking about other worldly things. Sad but true... but validating for those of us who don't trust the enlightenment assumptions regarding such well esteemed figures. Anyway, that new age/Hare Krishna phrasing is his way of being ultimately humble. Even an allegedly accomplished spiritual being such as himself could not alter their first impulse when faced with mortality: fear death and a world without you in it. I stayed down for a couple of minutes, fighting my thought and fears some more.

Then the right thought hit me... you're probably high! If it was a blood clot in your brain or something else quick and serious, you would already be dead. The music does sound different... better even! The vegetable pill contained no vegetables at all, but recreational chemicals of an unknown, but benign sort. I promptly went downstairs and called my host on the pay phone. He laughingly confirmed my suspicions. I apologized for my stupidity, for taking things I hadn't asked for, and for wasting his drugs. This should be a life lesson for you folks too: Don't EVER take anyone else's vitamins without first asking. If you can't be patient, either carry your own (as I have in the past) or find a way to get foreign labels translated. I won't make this mistake again, but I probably will find new ways to reconsider my mortality in the near future.