Friday the 13th has come and gone once again, and we all, or most of us from what I can determine, are still here and in reasonably good health. The sky hasn't fallen, and I see no signs of Armageddon on the horizon.
While many of us suffer from paraskavede-katriaphobia (try saying that one 10 times in succession), it seems that it's more about talking about the fear of Friday the 13th than anything really happening.
Triskaidekaphobia (there's an-other mouthful) is the fear of the number 13, and the root word for the other biggie, which I will spare the reader having to try to pronounce again.
Triskaidekaphobia came to us from the Greek, treiskaideka, triskaideka, thirteen (treis, three + kai, and + deka, ten) + phobos, fear.
It seems that we get many of our phobia definitions from the Greeks: claustrophobia - fear of confined spaces; agoraphobia - fear of open spaces; acrophobia - fear of heights; hydrophobia - fear of water; nyctophobia - fear of the dark; gynophobia - fear of women (this one is near epidemic) ... and the list goes on. It would appear that the ancient Greeks spent a good deal of their time hiding from some- thing.
The number 13 was considered unlucky in Christian countries because there were 13 people at the Last Supper of Christ. Fridays were also considered unlucky because Christ was crucified on Friday. So it would follow that Friday the 13th would be especially unlucky according to Christian legend.
There is a Norse myth about 12 gods having a dinner party at Valhalla, their heaven. A 13th, uninvited guest, the rascally Loki, the god of fire, crashed the party. Loki set about convincing Hoder, the blind god of darkness, to shoot Balder the Beautiful, god of joy and gladness, with a mistletoe-tipped arrow.
Balder succumbed to the mistletoe and the Earth became dark. The whole Earth mourned the bad, unlucky day of Balder's demise. From then on, the number 13 was considered bad news.
Some better-known triskaideka-phobes were Napoleon, Herbert Hoover, Mark Twain, Richard Wagner and Franklin Roosevelt.
According to Donald Dossey, founder of the Stress Management Center and Phobia Institute in Asheville, N.C. (where do they come up with these enterprises?), "It's been estimated that $800 million or $900 million U.S. is lost in business on Friday the 13th because people will not fly or do business they would normally do."
Superstitions have been around as long as ... well, as long as humans, it would seem. Where they originated is often hard to determine, but they persist, and some can be interesting if a bit weird.
Some good-luck superstitions include: a robin flying into the house; sneezing three times before breakfast; meeting three sheep (I'll leave that one alone); looking at the new moon over your right shoulder; and of course, the four-leaf clover.
Bad luck can visit you if: a bat flies into the house; an owl hoots three times; you notice three butterflies together (a ménage à trois?); you look at the new moon over your left shoulder; and/or you find a five-leaf clovee - who knew?
I suppose what I find fascinating in all this, besides the fact that I don't buy any of the nonsense, is that in such an enlightened age, surrounded by technology unimaginable even a few decades ago (Space Shuttles hurling into orbit to visit the Space Station, advances in science and medicine), we still cling to ancient superstitions, legends and myths.
I guess you can take the boy (or girl) out of the Dark Ages, but it's a bit more difficult to take the Dark Ages out of the boy.
Our marvelous brain that has produced so much around us harbors a dark side that can't seem to shake the feeling that there is something supernatural going on in our universe.
Perhaps one day we will let go of the ghosts, goblins, fables and fairy tales, and live a more fearless life.
Well, I have to go now. I heard a cricket singing, and a ladybug just landed on me - all harbingers of good luck, so I'm going to get my bag of found lucky pennies and go buy some lottery tickets.
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