"Step on a crack, break your mother's back." I think I first heard this one sometime around first or second grade and not wanting to be responsible for fracturing my mother's spine, I avoided cracks wherever I walked for about two weeks. It wasn't long before I realized that this just wasn't plausible, however. For one, how was I supposed to know exactly what constituted cracks? Was it just breaks in the sidewalk or did the grout between tiles count? If I started counting all these cracks, I would never be able to use my upstairs bathroom again. Those tiny octagonal tiles were a mine field of cracks. Since walking downstairs for every trip to the bathroom and hopping around sidewalks the rest of my life seemed an unpleasant future, I gave up on worrying about cracks. My mother's spine remained unaffected.
Although I outgrew this particular superstition, I adopted new ones as I got older and into competitive sports. I never went onto the field with my rec soccer team without my lucky scrunchy - what can I say, it was the 90s, so it was both fashionable and lucky then. Later when I played volleyball in high school, I was dedicated to a certain pre-serve ritual. Bounce nine times fast, pause, bounce a 10th time, toss and serve. Yet the funny thing about these rituals is that I continued to do them win or lose, whether or not they seemed to "work."
I've been thinking about superstition a lot in the past few days - possibly because it was Halloween weekend and I was inundated with Stevie Wonder's "Superstition" everywhere I went - and how we never really outgrow it. Sure my soccer scrunchie was discarded around the time everyone started freaking out about Y2K, but it was hardly the last "lucky" garment I owned. Even looking at my life now, sport-free and stepping on sidewalk cracks at will, my activities are still sprinkled with essentially arbitrary rituals.
Undoubtedly psychoanalysis would say something about how our faith in luck and superstition is a manifestation of the need to assert order in a seemingly chaotic world, and there is probably something to that. But as I wish to continue my record of Freud-quote-free columns, I came up with my own, slightly different, explanation.
There is no more logic in my making sure I eat black eyed peas on New Year's Day than there is in my insistence that I cannot write a good paper unless I wait until the 11th hour. I'm fully aware of the irrationality of these activities, but it seems to me that irrationality is what gives them their appeal. I think it's not the feeling of order these habits bring, but rather the sense of impending chaos which makes them appealing. There is a certain thrill to the ridiculous, as if a tiny bean left uneaten could really mean a year's worth of bad luck.
These habits are small, but they add an air of mystery to everyday life. Most of the time, we maintain them not because we really believe in their power but because it is a little bit exciting to believe in it. When we are asked to grow up in all other senses, it's fun to maintain some adult version of make-believe, to feel that by your own tiny habits you are really part of an epic battle to hold off some dark force.
Being overly superstitious is never a good thing, but a little make-believe here and there never hurt anyone - knock on wood.
Katie's column runs biweekly Tuesdays. She can reached at k.mcnally@cavalierdaily.com.
Read More
An ode to running
By Malone Morchower | 11 hours agoIn addition to providing me with opportunities to connect with others around Grounds, I really value the way that running immerses me in time and place.
Khul Ke Nacho — a celebration of free-spirited dancing
By Malaika Rehman | YesterdayThe sea of attendees wearing desi attire and dancing joyfully throughout the night was a reflection of the thriving Pakistani community in and outside of PSA.
Holding onto every grain in the hourglass
By Mai Hukuoka | 2 days agoNow that I’m back at school, I have made it my mission to take note of the sneaky passage of time.
