My Strangest Superstition

I believe even the best skeptics are known to have the occasional irrational belief - a "pet woo"- now and then. (Is it irrational to even believe all skeptics have such beliefs?)  I think a bit of magical thinking is part of what makes us human.  To believe that there is some form of order in the universe, that we have control over events, or at least an idea of what is to come, brings a sense of order to a chaotic universe.  It's not enough to believe in natural laws.  We want supernatural laws.

I admit to not being immune to such trains of thought.  I did a recent blog post about my zodiac chart.  Logically I know it's all made up, and logically I know there are better explanations for why my personality is what it is, but I still will chalk up my hypersensitivity or love of cooking to being a Cancer, and my stubborn nature is due to being Taurus ascendant.  It's easier than taking complex dives into my psyche.  It's also a way to makes excuses for my less desirable traits.  I can say my personality is written in the stars and it out of my control.

Superstitions and omens are another way to feel control.  At best if you believe if a certain ritual or phrase or talisman is invoked,  then you believe you are insured against catastrophe.  A bad omen may make you feel prepared for the upcoming disaster it portends. I think of religious people who feel they must say "God willing" if you mention something that will happen in the future, or "Praise God" when they receive happy news for fear God will punish them if He is not given His due.  I think of sports fans who always wear the same shirt when watching games because changing the shirt means their team will lose.  It makes you feel more protected.  Superstition can also justify fear.  For example, fearing black cats and then experiencing something unpleasant after seeing a black cat is a way for cat haters to justify hating cats.

A common superstition in our culture is a fear of Friday the 13th.  The origins of this superstition are murky, and it is unique to the United States, but the myth is pervasive regardless.  Americans feel a little funny, maybe feel a little dread, when they day approaches.  That fear provides a sense of preparedness.  If we think something bad will happen on Friday the 13th, then we can be ready for it.  We will know not to go to remote campsites at night to avoid serial killers with machetes. Then we can be pleasantly surprised when nothing happens.  

Personally, I don't fear Friday the 13th.  In fact, some of my most treasured memories took place on Friday the 13th.  

I fear April the 8th.  

What is it about April 8th?  It's hard to say.  The origins came from when I was in high school.  I noticed that significant events, some of which felt transformative at the time, happened on April 8th.  Some were more significant than others, but I seemed to remember they happened on that date.  Using the magical thinking of my young mind, I came to believe April 8th had to be a magical date.  It was a date I believed anything could happen.  The events could be positive or negative, but they would always be memorable.  

I carried this over into college when I told my friends April 8th was always going to be a mysterious day.  When my more skeptical friends asked me why, I explained I had some beautiful and tragical events happen on that date for a few years.  They responded that it was mere coincidence and I was only seeing a handful of situations in my short life that made me believe there was a pattern.  They were right, but I still stayed vigilant.

Sometimes strange experiences happened on days near April 8th, but not on it.  I would say, "April 8th happened on April 9th."  Sometimes an incident would happen to a friend and I would say, "I give April 8th to you this year."  April 8th was more like April 5th-10th, but I still persisted that something unusual was likely to happen at the very least near April 8th.

Has anything happened on April 8th recently?  Most of the theater productions I do with the Harrison Players happen around that time.  Last year opening night of Priscilla Queen of the Desert was April 8th.  That was my first time doing live theater since before the pandemic.  That was an example of a good April 8th. 

In 2016 the Tech Week for the play I was doing at the time fell on the week of April 8th.  I remember trying to go home after work to get ready for rehearsal, but was stopped by a fire in my building's laundry ducts.  My building was without laundry rooms for the next nine months.  That was a bad April 8th (although the fire happened on April 5th or 6th and the play had its successful opening on April 8th).

I can't remember what did or didn't happen on April 8th for any other years in recent memory.  Why do I persist in believing something important - for better or for worse - will happen on April 8th?

I believe it has to do with the nature of springtime.

Spring is the mirror season to fall.  Like fall, many people feel it's a season of perfect weather and positive energy.  Also like fall, it's doesn't live up to the hype. (I am at least grateful there is no springtime equivalent to the Autumn Industrial Complex.) There may be a few balmy sunny days in April and May in the same way there are a few balmy sunny days in September and October, but most of March and April are chilly and rainy in the same way November and December are nasty and cold.  May and June are often quite hot (I love hot weather, but many people don't).  

On the positive side, while fall starts with pretty leaves, it quickly descends into a bleak and barren landscape, but Spring transforms from bleak and barren to lush and fertile with flowers blooming.  Fall days grow shorter and descend into darkness.  In springtime the days grow longer and brighter.  While fall is a transformative season, it's a season that transforms quickly from good to bad to even worse.  Spring may start badly, but it promises longer, warmer days eventually.

The downside of spring is I sometimes become too hopeful.  When April hits, I am tired of winter and cold weather.  I want to see flowers blooming.  I want to stop suffocating my body in sweaters and boots.  I want to put on a dress and paint my toenails.  I want to take walks in the evening without a coat on.  I want to pick a bouquet.  All too often I am left waiting for those nice days to arrive.  The buds take forever to appear on the trees.  The days are longer, but the weather is either too cold or too rainy for a sunset walk.  I want to put on a dress, but I'm covering it up with a  parka when I head to work in the morning.  Springtime can take me from the extremes of hope and disappointment.  

The first week or two of April can be anything weather-wise.  The temperature can soar into the eighties or it could snow.  The branches could still be bare, or they could start showing some buds.  The sun could shine or the clouds could dump all over us.  I want so badly to have warm weather and sunshine, but they take so long to arrive I fear winter will last until summer and even summer will take its time arriving.

Maybe that's why anything happens this time of year stands out.  It's a metaphor for the season.  This is the time I want everything to change.  I want the world to be different.  I want nature to transform.  I expect everything to transform.  Every positive small happening is magnified because I am looking for a bright side.  Every disappointment is magnified because this season is likely to disappoint me.  

I'm not saying there haven't been times when springtime events haven't shaken me up. That laundry room fire was a doozy.  I have fallen in love in the spring and have had my heart broken in the spring.  April was the time for many cherished vacations, but was also the time when I was going stir crazy in pandemic lockdown.  

My attitude of "anything can happen" seems to be a reflection of the patterns of the season.  Everything is unstable and there are no guarantees.  In this transformative time of year, the scene is set for something to come along and surprise me with unexpected fortune or unexpected calamity.

I am writing this on April 6th.  April 8th is this Saturday.  I have no plans out of the ordinary.  I will wake up early, do laundry, go shopping at the farmers' market, and go to the barn where I will spend time with my pony who has been woefully neglected during these last two near-consecutive theater seasons.  The Bellvale Creamery opened for the season last week, so maybe I will stop for ice cream on my way home.  Saturday night Kevin and I will go out to dinner as we always do on Saturday nights.*  None of that seems out of the ordinary. 

Maybe April 8th will happen another day.  I don't know what will happen tomorrow.  Maybe Easter Sunday has something in store.  Time will tell - or not.

*I am giving away my whereabouts for the day on a public blog.  Maybe some psycho stalker will read this post and track me down.  It would be just my luck - and appropriate for the date - that someone would read my audience-free blog on April the 8th.