“If I were you, I’d feel good about my odds. That’s a small box you’re holding. How big of an item could be inside of it?”
Bifocals bobbed his head.
I removed my arm. “Open it.” I walked away, and waited with my back to him, a grin spreading across my face as I watched the tense audience.
Bifocals did as he was told, prying off the lid. When he saw what was inside, he nearly dropped the box. His quivering unsettled the audience, hushing them to silence.
I returned to Bifocals’ side, patting his arm. “Share with them the contents.” I held the microphone to his mouth. He was so scared he couldn’t speak.
“Spider.”
“How many?”
“Two.” He wiped his forehead, hand shaking. The cameraman zoomed in on the box’s contents so the audience could see the two spiders scurrying around.
A shudder rolled through the crowd. In the front row, a spectator covered her eyes, then peeked through the gaps between her fingers.
I took the box from Bifocals and squeezed his hand. “Consider everything I’ve told you about pain. It’s exaggerated by worry.”
He relaxed some once the box of spiders was no longer in his palm.
“Dread is more painful to the brain than the thing you are actually dreading. Let me repeat that: dread is more painful to the brain than the thing you are actually dreading.”
With that, I plucked a spider from the box, held it up for the audience to see, tilted my head back, dropped the spider in my mouth, and swallowed.
Dozens of spectators screeched. Several clamped hands over their lips.
Again I showed the audience my empty mouth. Again they roared.
Anyone who claims she wouldn’t revel in the face of adulation is a liar. But performing these feats myself was far from the toughest part of the show. Convincing perfect strangers to do them was the real trick.
Over the course of three minutes, through a combination of coaching and taunting, I coaxed Bifocals into eating the other spider. He appeared not entirely pleased with me afterward, and more than a little queasy, as did many of his observers. I often wondered as to their ruminations by this point in the show.
Thank God I didn’t raise my hand.
Imagine all the spiders crawling around the broken glass and drill bits inside her.
She couldn’t have pressured me like that.
I could and would have, by the way. The average person vastly overrated their own willpower or vastly underrated mine. Let us also credit the power of public shame and the lengths to which individuals will go in order to avoid it. In 650 shows, the second spider had not once gone uneaten.
I asked the crowd to give Bifocals a hand, then sent him back to his seat. Once the group had settled, I spoke in a hushed tone. “Close your eyes.”
Rousing music played from the theater’s loudspeakers. I boomed over it. “I want every one of you to envision the person you are. Watch yourself move through a typical day: you wake up in the morning, go to work, gather with friends or family or whatever it is you do in your free time.” I paused, let them conjure the vision. “Now picture the person you want to become. What would be different? Would you seek a new job? Spend more time with your spouse? Find a new partner altogether? Run that marathon you always swore you would?”
I waited again. The silences were as crucial as the address. “Visualize what’s been holding you back. Focus on the parts of your minds and bodies in pain. Has an achy knee stopped you from running? Shyness prevented you from pursuing new love? What is the obstacle that stands in your way?
“Helplessness is self-invented, a matter of perspective. Internal organs and tissues are insensitive to pain. Your brain is telling you the pain is there. I am telling you that if you can change your mind about the pain, then you can change the pain itself.”
I knew it to be true, had experienced such a transformation. How else could you explain all the glass I’d swallowed without so much as a scratch? How else could I have severed my father’s grip? Pain was an illusion, a crutch.
“When you open your eyes, I will release you from the hold of that pain. You will be ready to start a new life. A life of fearlessness.”
Naturally this speech would not cure what ailed every audience member. Hypnosis worked only if you wanted to be hypnotized. The skeptics would claim haughty immunity to my sorcery. Then again, they’d return home with the same hip pain and crushing anxiety they’d hobbled along with for years. Who had been outsmarted?
The music stopped. “Open your eyes.” The audience obeyed, blinking slowly, dazed. “Roll your head from side to side. Stretch your arms and legs.” I paused. “If your pain is gone, please stand.”