The light of reason

 A post a day in May 6/31

Fiction that serves up an interesting protagonist involved in a well-paced plot wrapped up in a story that includes some smart social commentary and (or) that intelligently explores human relationships is a recipe for a good read in my books. And, if I can learn something useful that I can apply to my own life, well, that’s an appreciated bonus.

A good example on my (friends) shelves is the series by Harry Bingham, featuring Fiona Griffiths. On the autism spectrum, Fiona makes her way through the world doing her job while trying not to get too involved with the people around her. Despite her personal challenges, her work as a police officer in Cardiff, Wales is exceptional and her passion for unusual cases is legendary among her peers.

The clear-cut process she uses to solve those cases strikes me as not only sensible but transferable to my own life when faced with a puzzling situation —

1. Know the facts
2. Make some assumptions based on those facts
3. Develop some reasonable hypotheses arising from those assumptions
4. Ask questions that arise from the hypotheses
5. Act so as to find the answers to those questions

Equally sensible and transferable to my own life is her mantra “F*ck feelings. Trust reason.” In times of great stress in her work, Fiona prioritizes logic over emotion and, usually, manages to sort things out in her favour. While I don’t think I could be considered timid, I do, at times, feel fear — for things big and things small.

I like Fiona’s step-by-step approach to problem solving and I really like her mantra about reason over feelings, among which is fear. While there is much to be afraid of in our world, if we can pull back from our fear and stay grounded in reason, we stand a better chance of screwing our courage to the sticking-place and facing whatever is before us.

Many years ago, before I had met Fiona in her stories, I experienced the value of focusing on reason rather than succumbing to the fear I was feeling.

It was a new moon, so the sky was velvet blue-black without much light to guide us through the trees. It was late and there was no turning back, but were we in the right spot?

We had left the city late, had parked the car on the side access road, gathered our bags and headed off down the path. The darkness made staying on that path a real challenge, but I had absolute faith in Val — I certainly wouldn’t be on this particular adventure on Trout Lake, if it weren’t for her. She was Wilderness Woman personified, so any trepidation I felt was mitigated by her experience and leadership.

But then she came to a stop and told me to wait right there; she had to figure out which way was the right way forward. She would go ahead and come back for me, leaving me alone, solo, in the dark, in the middle of the trees, on the edge of a lake with who knows what or who lurking in the shadows.

So, I pulled myself together, stood firm with my back against a high ridge of rock-solid Canadian Shield, and told myself firmly that being afraid of the dark was ridiculous or, if not ridiculous, then not helpful. And, anyway, there was no way around it: I was there and Val was up ahead, finding our way to the cottage. I had no option. Whatever was going to happen would happen and, eventually, Val would find our way to the cottage. Which she did, of course.

I remember the yin and yang I felt in the moment of standing against that solid rock, in the dark, waiting: I had the fear, and I also had the courage to just feel it and to simply bear the waiting in the dark.

Reason over fear: It worked back then, and it continues to work today. I still don’t like the dark of the forest or those corners of the basement where who-knows-what might be lurking, but I channel Fiona and f*ck fear and trust reason and go into the dark anyway.

———

Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.

Photo by Taylor Wright on Unsplash