You can remember a time when you wouldn’t. You can remember when the risk wasn’t worth the reward. What changed?
This scenario is familiar to almost everyone. Well, maybe those over 30. You likely saw it on TV if you didn’t encounter it directly. Either way, you can see it in your mind’s eye.
You were probably around 10. Your friends were doing something ridiculous, irresponsible, or even a little dangerous, and you were taunted into joining in. Something happened, immediately introducing the reality that you should not have done that. Your parents find out, and you are in for a “talking to.”
You explain how it wasn’t your idea. You explain how your friends put you up to it. You explain how everyone does it. Then it happens. Your parents default to a phrase that even your undeveloped mind can parse out its true meaning:
If all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?
Neither of your imaginations envisions a small bridge. Some small drop into a safe, deep water landing. No, we are talking Golden Gate Bridge expectations — big, dangerous, with no safety net. You immediately can say, “No, I wouldn’t.” This is your first real warning of the dangers of peer pressure.
Something happens as you get older. You start to realize people are jumping off bridges everywhere. Sometimes out of desperation, more often for entertainment. These people do a lot of work to do it safely, including nets, bungee cords, and parachutes. Entire industries are dedicated to safely taking giant falls. Jumping off a bridge doesn’t seem so ridiculous now. After all, everyone is doing it.
You hear a story of how someone jumped and died, but the story lands cold and distant. Seeing so many people jump and safely walk away, you have built up a sort of survivorship bias. One person dying out of the hundred people that you have seen jump, the odds of failure seem so low. 1% chance of catastrophic failure couldn’t possibly endanger you if you chose to jump, too. Besides, they probably did something wrong. They probably didn’t follow the checklist, properly check their safety equipment, had too many drinks, or didn’t fully commit in the right way. It had to be a self-inflicted fluke. That would never happen to you.
As you got older, your friends got better. They are no longer taunting you to jump. They would support you if you did, but wouldn’t force you to do things you didn’t want to. Still, they do and talk about all the thrills and impact it has had on them. They wax poetic on their methods and how it makes it safer. They boast that they do it the right way. Jumping seems safer than ever, and you have tons of recommendations on how to do it from experienced and trusted sources.
Your parents’ warnings don’t seem to be informed anymore. They are out of touch, from a different time, and don’t understand how the world is today. The social proof is there. “If your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?” now seems like an outdated fable, with tortoises and hares. Things you tell children to keep them from enjoying life. Would you? Sure. After all, you now have success stories, examples, and instructions.
You decide to jump. As you walk onto the bridge, you feel alive. You feel a part of the social fabric, like you are walking towards your own rite of passage. You feel late to the party, but are excited to finally be a part of what everyone has been doing for so long. You are ready to have your own jumping story to tell. You don’t know why you waited so long.
As you approach the edge and peer over, fear sets in. Your vision struggles to take in the distance to the ground. Your heart races, as does your mind. In this moment, you ask yourself a sobering question:
Why would anyone jump off a perfectly good bridge in the first place?!
It doesn’t make sense. You think about that one person who died. What did they die trying to get? Is it just the thrill? Because you have experienced thrills? Is it overcoming fear? Because falling off a bridge seems like a logical and perfectly normal fear to have? Even if this is the greatest thrill of your life, and would rid you of this healthy fear of falling, what is the point? Such reckless abandon makes about as much sense as a caucus race.
So at that moment, do you jump, or step away from the edge?
There are plenty of good reasons to take a leap of faith, none of which require practice, only purpose. Jumping out of a burning building as a means to save yourself from certain demise warrants such a leap. Sometimes that leap is the only way to get you where you need to go. Either way, there is a purpose, a payoff, even if there is risk and fear associated with it. In these instances, you aren’t jumping simply for the sake of jumping.
Many of us are jumping off bridges simply because everyone around us is. We don’t question the reasons or the efficacy; we just go along with it. We constantly ignore the timeless advice and what we know with certainty is right. We simply default to the herd to choose the direction we go, and never stop to ask who is leading, where we are going, and why. Sometimes running your own race simply feels like too much.
The herd is bigger these days, with all the same navigation problems. Choosing not to think too much about where all this is heading is preferable. It’s just more comfortable. Questioning the meaning of actions scary, because it seldom returns good answers. Being intentional is unsettling because you start to see how most people are on autopilot. Resisting doing the things that don’t make sense, simply because everyone else is; that is exactly what we need more of. Others seeing you step away from the edge empowers them to do the same, slowly shifting the herd in a better direction. They knew jumping was pointless, and they were scared, but they were more scared of being the only person left standing on the bridge. That is all the inspiration to do the right thing needs: one person to stand with.
Are you jumping with purpose, or are you just afraid to be left behind? With all this in mind, let me ask you.
If all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?
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