the safe word

My friends and I once drove an hour out of the city to a haunted corn maze in the middle of nowhere called "Corn Evil". You brought a torch, wore running shoes, and you were locked inside a walled-off field of corn stalks over six feet tall, cut through with paths and obstacles. You had to find your way out of the maze whilst being chased and terrified by chainsaw-wielding psycho hillbillies and blood-spattered mental hospital escapees. If you reached your limits, you were given a safe word to use. This was a guarantee that the actors tormenting you would instantly stop and leave you alone.

There were people in that maze who didn't use the safe word once. Meanwhile, I used the safe word like a weapon, bludgeoning people with it, peppering the air with it. I wasn't surprised. I don't like being terrified. Or out of my depth. The idea of helplessness makes my blood run cold. So, as friends pack their lives into a suitcase, quit well-paid jobs, and depart for foreign countries; I'm left in awe. I know my limits. And theirs appears to be so much larger and bigger and wider than mine. They're confident enough not to use the safe word. They know that, like that corn maze, life really is just a stage, a big pretence, smoke and mirrors. So they run through it, being terrified, being exhilarated, being hysterical. That takes guts. And I want to learn from them.

♥ Photos by Rob D. ♥ Location is our home ♥