Happiness, Pain, and Destruction

We’re on the cusp of the curtain call for 2022.

I spent last night reading some of George Orwell’s old journals and letters (he was a prolific writer even outside of his novels). In one entry he wrote of the inevitability of experiencing happiness, pain, and destruction in one’s life.

2022 was, personally, a great year that certainly included a plethora of happiness, a cocktail of pain, and glimpses of destruction.

Happiness:

1. Hiking through Yellowstone and exploring mountain ranges outside Bozeman, Montana.

2. Attending weddings in Ohio and North Caroline, for a cousin and a friend, respectively.

3. Bikepacking along the east coast of the United States for hundreds of miles and camping in nature.

4. Exploring the San Diego, California beaches and city.

5. Completing my first (and second) half-marathon.

6. Visiting family in Fort Lauderdale, Florida and observing the insanely large numbers of iguanas in the area.

7. Exploring Northern California, particularly Sonoma County and San Francisco, seeing the various geographies including valleys, forests, and beaches, and drinking some of the best wines I’ve ever tasted.

8. Hiking through Shawnee National Forest and lodging in a cabin nicely tucked away from civilization.

9. Celebrating three years of a relationship.

Whew! All that in one year!?

I had one pain that was more obvious than all others, and it was physical. I began 2022 the same way I ended it: in physical therapy. In January I was finishing physical therapy for a damaged foot after being hit by a car in 2021.

Then, in early November I broke my collarbone in a cycling crash. I’m therefore closing 2022 in physical therapy as well (but this time I have already returned to running and most activities). I do not want this to be an annual December activity!

It’s a shame that both injuries occurred on a bicycle, but it’s a reality that I must accept. Your pain is a lonely endeavor, and the relationship between you and your pain is perfectly monogamous. Pain devotes itself solely to you, and like any relationship, only you can grasp the entirety of its severity.

I’d write that the good thing about pain is that it inevitably goes away, but this would be a lie. Various pains linger on, and some pains only gradually worsen. Orwell, for example, contracted tuberculosis, and his final years alive were spent in gradually worsening pain.

My point from writing this is not to horrify, but to note that pain shouldn’t be feared, but rather accepted as inevitable.

And what about destruction? One of my uncles passed away, which was another reminder of my own mortality. We tend to put the “ass” in “assume” by assuming that our lives will be long, but the sad fact is that many of us go too soon. What awaits on the other side I won’t delve into here. I will only note that we have no choice but to pass eventually.

If we fear the future it breeds anxiety. We should just accept it so that we can focus on today.

And that quick summary of some happiness, pain, and destruction closes 2022, dear reader. I’ve kept my online journal going for more than two years and intend to continue in 2023.

Hopefully next year brings a plethora of happiness and a minimal amount of pain and destruction for the both of us! On to the next adventure…

Fear of Finality

The morning after Halloween, I rode my Giant road bike along the Riverfront Trail as dawn broke.

The faint sun was veiled behind a dense sheet of clouds. About thirty minutes into the ride, a fog drifted in and choked out the environment. I could see nothing but gray. The animals, the trees, and the river seemed to no longer exist.

I found my mind drifting like the fog around me. I thought about Halloween and what scares people.

I think at the core of what scares people is the fear of finiteness, which is entwined with the fear of death. That one’s existence and consciousness can be wiped out in a moment is what keeps people up at night. It is what has helped conjure various religions and the stranger superstitions such as astrology and tarot cards. Their purpose is to deny this fear from being. We want to believe there is purpose for our existence and that we will continue for eternity. What is it like to not be?

I see this fear played out in every facet of the world.

Corporations and governments, like all organisms, want dominance, but empires come and go.

Modern young adults like to speak of building legacies. They expect their life volumes will be in print forever, but said volumes are quickly lost in the library archives. This reminds me of the ending to Scorsese’s Gangs of New York. The city’s greatest gangster, who spent his entire life vying for power and control, is buried in the city. Then, over the course of a hundred years, we see nature steadily ruin his grave until it is barely perceptible to the human eye at all.

Money, like the tide, ebbs and flows.

Things fall apart, and things cease to be. But, this is only scary if it is denied.

It is not “ceasing to be” that scares me a fraction as much as something else: wasting the time in which I am.

“I Would Prefer Not To”

I find myself thinking about Herman Melville’s masterpiece of short fiction, “Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street.”

In the story, a newly hired clerk named Bartleby is subjected to an intense day’s work. After being overworked he answers every task with a simple, “I would prefer not to,” and then he does nothing. He arrives at the office daily, but sits and stares at a brick wall. When pushed for productivity, he always gives the same answer: “I would prefer not to.” He enrages his colleagues, but holds steadfast with this routine to the end. He’d rather sit and think than succumb to industrialized society.

Bartleby is the hero of the story: he does not let others impose their realities over his own.

I look at my own to-do list and think that sometimes “doing” is overrated. Sometimes task completion is arbitrary.

Yet leisure, always, is underrated, especially in hustle culture. The morning ritual of drinking coffee or tea should arguably last for hours, not seconds. It should be a joy, not a chore.

We should dream when we sleep, and remember our dreams, and aspire to spend much of our lives asleep, not under-slept. Sleep should not be a hindrance to work: it should be the amplifier of livelihood.

And what about the to-do list?

“I would prefer not to.”

Running, and the Long Game

I’ve had a long and gradual running progression that began in late January and ended with a 10k event, the Summer Sizzler, last week. This phase lasted as long as it did partly out of a hellbent intent to overcome a foot injury from a year ago. I had one ambition this year: to not only heal my foot, but to run faster than I ever had before.

That’s about 7 straight months of running volume buildup. I decided the 10k race would be as good an event to end this “phase” of running as any. As July acceded to August, I realized that it was time to rest the running muscles.

The Summer Sizzler 10k took place at Forest Park in Saint Louis on a cool and balmy Saturday morning. My legs felt reasonably fresh, though I had raced a 3200 meter timed event just a few days before.

The runners gathered near the start as the announcer counted down to takeoff. The course directions seemed barely marked, with only a smattering of signs pointing which way; I hoped that I wouldn’t get lost. I settled near the front of the starting line, only allowing some younger runners (I later discovered both were under age 20) to start ahead of me.

The race started and I felt the exhilaration of being part of a large group embarking on a quest, an army of feet smacking against earth, bodies darting up and down park hills. There is an initial adrenaline rush that makes speed feel easy for the first kilometer or so.

About two miles in, I passed one of the two young males ahead of me. I sensed some of his fatigue and decided to take advantage by accelerating to a higher place. I had no real “race” goals, but knew quickly that I was already in second place, that a hundred people were behind me, and that the leader was 18 years my minor.

I kept the leader in my field of vision as my hamstrings and quads pushed me up a long hill that spanned the entire third mile. Eventually I noticed the leader slowing and I realized that he wasn’t running a 10k; he was only running a 5k and finishing for the day. I still had half of my race remaining. This also meant that I was firmly in the lead for the 10k.

I held my pace steady for the second half, only fading on the final uphill mile of the course, to claim a victory and pose proudly for the camera at the finish. I had something to be proud of: a year ago, I was not sure if I’d ever run again. Crazier yet, in college, my 10k timed run was about 56 minutes, and that was almost 20 years ago. On this day at Forest Park, one year after tearing several ligaments in my right foot, I clocked 39 minutes and won. I felt the closure from my foot injury that I desperately needed.

I am 17 minutes faster in a 10k than I was 20 years ago. Time is an illusion. That excites me more than any finish. I believe that I still have ample room for improvement. Regardless of how much improvement is in store, even if there is actually none left, I intend to keep running for many years into the future.

I remind myself that I am not striving to maximize my performance. I am in what I call “the long game.” The long game, for me, supersedes any “short-term outcomes.”

The “long game” goal has nothing to do with place, rank, or time. The aim is to continue having active adventures well into my 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s. I’d rather be the first centenarian to bike across Europe than a winner of any near-term race. I plan on signing up for plenty of events and having fun with all of them, but the long-game is where I set my sights.

Playing the long game helps put my exercise into perspective. So many people frown while they run, eyes glued to GPS watches, their banter mostly about boring adult things such as stride length and cadence.

All those things are relevant to running, certainly, but a soul tethered to a watch will inevitably miss the joy of gliding through summer air on two feet, for miles on end, possessing the ability to outlast every other animal on this earth with human endurance. It is the closest we can get to our ancestors as they persistence hunted their prey, running until their targets collapsed and their bodies crashed to the earth.

If affixed to a watch, how can one have the courage to accelerate madly downhill with a smile on the face and a childlike reckless mentality? Steady pace is the way of the watch. Steady pace can be boring, though it does have value in allowing for time to connect and chat with other people. There is no gambling, however, in steady pace. I think we need to gamble every so often. Still yet, the eyes that only see clocks will miss the wildlife that envelopes the environment.

In playing the long game one can appreciate longevity. I do not necessarily mean life longevity. How much exercise can actually extend lifespan is debatable (probably not as significant a factor on lifespan as our genetics). However, I do believe that the quality of our years spent on this planet can be extended. I’d rather be a 60-year-old still running like a 20-year-old than a 60-year-old struggling to mount a flight of stairs.

So the 10k was exciting. It was fun, it put me in a great mood, and it left me planning the next run. It brought back the adrenaline rush I always felt from competition. Winning and breaking 40 minutes were welcome surprises. To quote Ozzy Osborne, “I don’t wanna stop.”

But now that 10k is in the past. The medal I was awarded is a bit of history. Life moves on to the next event and the next adventure.

Right now, I’m resting the running legs for my birthday month and focusing on cycling. Running will pick up again in September.

Next week, to combat mortality and 37 years on planet earth, I will bike up the Eastern United States, from Virginia to Pittsburgh. It will take several days and hundreds of miles.

It’s the next adventure, and a relevant stage in the long game.

The Way Things Were

I had a dream that, like many dreams, was likely an assemblage of recent events tossed around in random order. Or maybe the order wasn’t random.

In the dream I was somewhere in the Midwest and was told by a relative that a new doctor was rising in fame with an offer to fix any physical imperfection, on any volunteer, through surgery. I thought about this proposition for a bit and then signed up to make some alterations on my face.

The doctor had a team pick me up for the surgery and place me in the bed of a pickup truck. I second-guessed my decision on the way to the medical facility (can’t I accept myself as I am?) and jumped out of the truck at a stoplight. Relieved, I started walking home until suddenly a car zigzagged through a red light and hit me.

With a newly disfigured face from the car crash, I backtracked again and took the surgeon up on the offer, wishing to have my face carved into what it was before the car crash. The dream fast forwarded in a flash to after the operation. By all visible indications I looked like I did before the crash.

However, in the dream the car crash left my mind deranged and subject to sudden and violent mood swings. I had apparently alienated myself from everyone and found myself in a state of misery.

“There is an orb, deep in space, that can alter the fabric of space and time and take you back to the way things were,” I was told. “Just let it swallow you whole. If you enter this orb you’ll be transported back to another time, a better time, and you can change your decisions.”

“Are there dangers to going through this orb?” I asked.

“Yes,” the stranger replied. “It’s guarded by space zombies.”

The next thing I knew a space shuttle reminiscent of the recent SpaceX designs propelled me at the speed of light across our solar system. Ahead, a giant orange orb that seemed like a cross between a star and a black hole pulsed and throbbed. It simultaneously glowed and sucked in matter.

The titanium exterior of the ship ripped apart as space zombies (literally just human zombies in space; hey, it’s a dream) clawed their way into the ship their incredible claws and surrounded me. Their bites tore into my flesh, but I escaped to a solo pilot pod and ejected this pod from the ship with me inside. I went through the orb, bitten by zombies and wounded but not yet dead.

I emerged from this orb and returned back to who I was, before the surgery proposition and all of the madness. I thought that going back in time would cure my problems, but I felt an emptying feeling that lingered.

I was back to the way things were, but I was no longer the person who experienced those things. Reliving past events while making better decisions did not cure me; it made me more miserable than ever. There’s something hollow about experiencing the same things twice for the sake of preferring the past to the present.

All of this surreal madness, I can only assume, was a reminder not to yearn too much for the past. The past is dead, and running backwards can bring deadly consequences.

A Yearner’s Dilemma

The boy sat at the crest of the sandy New Mexico hill and gazed out toward the pastel-colored horizon. The air was still and the sun seethed his flesh. He didn’t mind the heat. The sweat reminded him that he was still alive, that he could still feel discomfort. If I could just finish school and get into college, he thought, I will have made it. I won’t need to worry anymore.

The student waited anxiously in his college dormitory for his exam grades to appear on his computer screen. He refreshed the screen continuously, hoping for the grades that would lead him towards salvation in the form of salary. If I can just finish college and get into Grad school, I will have done what I need to do, he thought. I will have made it. I won’t need to worry anymore.

The young graduate sat at his newly purchased office desk and stared at a phone that wouldn’t ring. Any day the company’s HR department would call to let him know whether he was selected for the position. If I can just get a good job I will have done everything I set out to do, he thought. I will have made it. I won’t need to worry anymore. I’ll have a salary.

The young professional calculated his new retirement plan to gauge whether it was trending towards his financial goals. These goals were fed to him via his company and told him whether or not his life would be secure in old age. Four years into work and he was still far off-target. He wouldn’t have his annual health insurance, life insurance, or vacation savings at an adequate level to keep from going under. Heart attacks are on the rise, after all. So he stared at his financial figures. Numbers floated in the space of his computer screen, but the numbers were not high enough. If I can just have another one hundred thousand dollars, I will have made it, he thought. I’ll have everything I need. I can finally stop chasing.

Having suffered a mid-life crisis in spite of a generous salary raise, the newly anointed executive stared at his newfound gray hairs and furrowed brow. Who is this balding and debilitating thing staring back at me through the mirror, this creature that was once a child? Now the kids have expenses for their sports. The family food bill is a flood that’s drowning his hopes and dreams. Damn their carnivorous appetites and their needs for toys. I was supposed to have made it, the executive thought to himself. But I’m falling farther behind. He couldn’t even begin to think about college expenses for the kids, nonetheless retirement. He’d be bound to virtual work as an octogenarian, crippled in a nursing home yet still reviewing spreadsheets. But if I can just get another two hundred thousand dollars, he thought, maybe I’ll have what I need. Maybe I can stop worrying. I will have made it.

The newly retired corporate careerist left the office at noon a free man. He was scared: hopefully Social Security would be high enough to cover his future costs. He had no benefits. And to make matters worse he had crippling anxiety from the past decades of work, and his fears steadily debilitated his cardiovascular health. He had enough, but did he have enough to truly be free? His dreams of European vacations still seemed out-of-reach. Maybe if I work part-time, he thought, I’d still have time to get there. He just needed an extra hundred thousand dollars. Time was ticking. The males in his family have a history of strokes and most of these strokes hit in the late 60s. He was 67. And yet he hadn’t done anything but try to get ahead. None of it felt fair. He didn’t have anything that he was entitled to.

Still, he thought, just another hundred thousand dollars and I’ll truly be free. I’ll have what I need to cover my bases. I will have made it. I can finally stop worrying.

He thought of the little boy on the New Mexico hill and wished he’d learned to stop yearning sixty years prior.

The Burden of King Sisyphus

Greek mythology tells us that the Gods punished King Sisyphus for his vanity.

For all of eternity he must heave a heavy boulder up a hill, only to have it roll back down, so that he must repeat the task. His existence is an eternal loop of a burdensome action.

According to Wikipedia, modern tasks that are both laborious and futile are considered Sisyphean.

What is the modern Sisyphean fate?

I wake up and manically check my phone for urgent emails and urgent messages. Rinse and repeat. Urgency ends with a funeral.

I lie in bed and watch TikTok or YouTube or SnapShit, late at night, the glowing screen frying my brain. I lack sleep but I am up-to-date. I can’t miss the latest, I can’t miss anything, the dopamine is so lovely! I must constantly check. I must constantly unlock the phone. Rinse and repeat.

I will compare myself to my social media network. They’re traveling where!? How did they find the money? I need better photos to keep up with the Joneses. I need better statements to show my social value, to be up to par again, to have “likes.” To have the most “likes” when I’m dead… will that have left behind a legacy? Will I have made my mark?

Our media and mundane tasks can deliver us a Sisyphean fate if we are not careful.

The Sisyphean fate ensnares the victim in a reactive state. One reacts to a boulder too heavy to manage. The boulder taunts with weight and gravity and the lifter cries eternally, determined to try again and again. To post again, to work again. I’m so close to having enough. Lifting gives dopamine. “I moved it a little and it felt good.” The lifter is merely a programmed response mechanism, constantly lifting, constantly checking the boulder, constantly exasperated that the hill is just too damn high.

How does one escape the Sisyphean fate?

Seems easy to me: stop trying to lift the boulder and own your own time!

A Last Time for Everything

As the first gray hairs settle in just above my ears and my ankle heals, it dawns on me that I may be approaching the midpoint of my lifespan. Who’s to say with certainty? We have no control over the future, but if considering the median age of a male life, I’m nearing the midway marker.

The car hit last year struck me more mentally than physically (and that’s saying something because it struck me with pretty good force). By this I mean it spurred a number of realizations about mortality. The chief realization among them that is on my mind today is that there will be a last time for everything.

I was fairly certain upon feeling my foot bend the wrong direction against the road that I had ran for the last time. That was it, and suddenly it was gone like the rabbit in a magic show’s disappearing act. I was lucky enough that it wasn’t the case. Nonetheless, that day will eventually arrive, and I must accept this.

If that day did mark my final run, I did not get to wish my running days goodbye. There would be no “festive final run” or “emotional farewell to the act.” It’s simply there one day and gone the next. I suspect that most final acts end the same way and that most of us in the west do not realize this.

One day, there will be a last hike. There will be a last dream, a last bike ride, and a last beach trip. There will be a last glass of wine, a last kiss, and a last act of love. There will be a last dessert and a last witnessed sunrise. There will be a last hug. Mothers will see their babies become adults for the last time. Fathers will play catch with their kids for the last time. I will see a last colored hair fall from my face and see this city for the last time. I will write a final blog and a final story. I will read a final book. I will share a final joke. And of course, there will be a last breath of oxygen.

I suspect these moments happen, they pass, and we often take them for granted. We don’t expect the end of any to be near, but each day likely presents the final time we will ever do, or feel, or think something. Every day is in some way a final act.

In the daily rush that modern culture attempts to sweep me into I find that the act of “hurrying to what’s next” makes these final acts even less apparent. They are hidden by the greatest magician of them all: industry. In the chase for something better, for fewer problems, and for perhaps a glimpse at immortality, we lose something important today and are unaware that we ever lost it.

I don’t think this to put myself in a gloomy or nihilistic mood, but to note that it’s worthwhile to pause and appreciate what I have, and what I’m doing, at this moment. And to appreciate what I’ve done and where I’ve been.

Minimalist Chronicles: Money

The philosopher Diogenes was eating bread and lentils for supper. He was seen by the philosopher Aristippus, who lived comfortably by flattering the king. Said Aristippus, "If you would learn to be subservient to the king you would not have to live on lentils." Said Diogenes, "Learn to live on lentils and you will not have to be subservient to the king." 

Chasing money for the sake of having more money, I believe, is a losing game. One only chases money as a means to the end if there is a genuine feeling of lacking. In situations of extreme poverty, one chases basic living necessities that money can potentially provide (but in these situations it is not a fat wallet one craves, it’s the food that a fat wallet would immediately be transferred into).

However, the vicious cycle of chasing money for the mere sake of having more tends to require labor for someone else in some fashion. A higher paycheck requires a higher ranking, and that may entail more hours, worse treatment, and more work drudgery.

Worse yet, money without purpose can never fill the void in the chaser. I would know. I’ve chased money to the top and consequently hit the bottom.

One chases for more money, and maybe gets more, and believes that with this extra cash there are added options, or even added freedoms. And the human tendency is to use this better income to spend more, to “upgrade.” Maybe in an acquisition the spender experiences a moment of euphoria; it feels as though the gaping wound is finally stitched together.

But the stitches don’t hold and the wound’s bleeding slowly accelerates. The feeling of inadequacy returns, and the wound requires more money, better stitches, a better doctor… just to slow the bleeding.

Consumerism breeds feelings of inadequacy, so it seems inevitable that more spending breeds more dissatisfaction.

Without purpose, money is a means to damnation. With purpose, I believe it’s rare that heavy spending (and with it, subservience) is necessary.

I do not say this from observation. This is my experience, from personally attempting to solve my problems via spending.

Similarly, I believe that chasing money for the sake of “total stability” is a losing game. One can never have true stability; life is too short and too volatile to allow for permanent sailing on calm waters. A quest for stability will inevitably deplete a person of happiness, and possibly of sanity. Life begins and ends with a struggle; a struggle with other sperm cells at the beginning, and a struggle for one final gasp of oxygen at the end. It’s only natural that struggle would be a prevalent human condition through the middle.

There will always be a disrupter of stability lurking in the mist ahead. A heart murmur, a disease, the death of a loved one, the loss of a home, the collapse of an economy, the drastic changing of an environment. Having a higher income may alleviate some symptoms, but life is ultimately a fatal condition. In my opinion, it’s more merrily spent avoiding the quest for immortality.

I believe there is a certain relief one can have by accepting chaos as a necessary condition to the human experience. Doing so minimizes one’s paranoia over the future, as well as an unhealthy dwelling over the past. A few deep breaths, bereft of technology and external voices, are all it takes to realize that the present is quite likely okay.

Money is not the cure for chaos, nor is it the bridge to stability.

I think of a recent article I read in which Paris Hilton stated she’d be “satisfied when she finally becomes a billionaire.” Therein lies the problem with money: there’s no actual such things as “enough of it.”

And I think of all the people who told me that they’d be satisfied when they reached a tiny fraction of that number, only to reach that number and decide that their problems would be solved with twice that amount.

Money tends to move goal posts.

Worse yet, it tends to be external forces who convince us that more money is necessary.

I’m not a life coach, but I suspect we would be healthier to prioritize our purpose. Relationships, family, friends, contributions. Money, to me, is an effect of contribution.

Purpose in itself is a difficult term. The modern western world often defines purpose as “career”, or a “dream job”, or “the perfect degree.” That seems to me to be complete nonsense, a corporate illusion.

I believe one can find purpose through many occupations and interactions, through many tasks and puzzles, through many hobbies and activities, through many travels, and many conflicts.

I think of a Chinese traffic conductor on a busy Changchun street I often crossed. Day in and day out, he smiled and said hello in Chinese. And if he saw me, he said hello in English and waved. He had such a mundane and draining job to most observers, but he approached it with zest and passion.

His purpose was to make people smile, and he seemed infinitely happier to me than any successful corporate type I’ve met. The job, to him, was just a vehicle for his purpose.

I therefore don’t think it’s a matter of “minimizing” money, but rather deemphasizing its importance in our lives.

To make people smile like that Chinese traffic conductor is a purpose that would fulfill a lot of people in search of meaning, many of whom likely have much more money than the conductor.

He was happy because he had something that many seek but never get: enough.

To accept ourselves today as enough…

In the Rain

The Saint Louis skies quickly turned overcast yesterday afternoon and the apparently sunny day abruptly darkened. The boiling tarmac of the downtown streets cooled and the flags that hung outside a nearby government building flapped wildly in warning.

I had planned to attempt a walk to the nearest Post Office to drop off some outgoing mail. It was not so much about the necessity to send a package out as it was the ambition to walk. Each day I’m attempting to walk, with the aid of an ankle brace, a little farther than the day before. Each day the walk is a little longer and the pain is a little less, though I still need the brace and I still cannot maneuver steps or curbs without significant pain.

I decided to risk the rain, as I wanted to walk more than anything, so I brought my one umbrella, an old relic of an umbrella that was a gift to me when I was living in China. I strapped on my ankle brace and prepared to stagger to the post office. The umbrella has been through many storms now.

I got to the post office before the rain started. Inside, the only customers were me and a young African American boy of about 8 years old who must’ve been dropping something off for his parents. He had a shaved head and the chubby cheeks of youth that I find endearing.

As we stood in line, sheets of rain suddenly slammed into the street outside. Lightning flashed intermittently in the skies and thunder made its familiar peal. The boy’s eyes widened and I noticed he had no umbrella or rain jacket.

We left the store at about the same time and I could tell the boy was nervous; the streets were flooding quickly and it would require only a few seconds of outdoor exposure to get fully soaked.

“I’m going that direction,” I said, pointing across Tucker Boulevard. “Just three blocks ahead is where my stop is.” I didn’t want to seem like a creep, but did want to offer to share my umbrella for those three blocks. It turned out he was going to the same apartment building. So off we went.

So I held the umbrella in front of us, practically using it as a shield against a charging enemy, as the rain hit from a slanted angle and the wind whipped the rain into us. And what an adventure it was! Braving forward, into the belly of the beast, busted ankle or not. The boy was filled with joy and his grin spread ear to ear; he was loving this adventure and he wanted to move faster, to run. I was enjoying the storm too and wanted to charge ahead as fast as my ankle would allow. The umbrella did little to protect from the rain but neither of us gave a damn.

And the boy sped ahead a little, almost at running speed, and I wanted to will my busted ankle to speed up as well, I wanted to run for this fleeting moment, this brief adventure! And I limped forward a little faster, though I couldn’t run. “Forward march!” He proudly declared. And I did what I could to keep pace.

And in the moment I forgot about the other mundane bullshit that I had left behind, the crap that I hoped would die yet still loomed ahead: the Virtual Meetings, the appointments, the Conference calls, the emails, the adult nonsense that people say is important but really isn’t. For that moment the ankle pain subsided, and I moved faster, into a storm, just me and nature getting to know one another! Though I couldn’t run I felt close, very close… it felt tangible again, running… like it was creeping around the corner, the surprise guest at an upcoming party.

The European pirates of the world, those nomads of a world before technology and the Industrial Revolution and our phones and all of the communication toys that distanced us with their conveniences, those pirates must have lived a much more fulfilling life than the cocooned masses of today.

And what a fun crossing of the street that was for me. I felt joy from being soaked in a storm and relief that I didn’t give a damn about it. It was fun to just maneuver over a flooded street while nature inflicted its chaos upon the overly sanitized masses!

We arrived and went our separate ways and I thought about what I wanted to tell the boy but didn’t say: “Don’t listen to others when they tell you money is everything, college is everything, good grades are everything, nice things and educated jobs are what fulfill you. None of it will make you happy. Experience is important! Connection is important! Don’t follow the herd, pave your own path, be your own person, let herds ignore you or follow you as they may, enjoy adventures, enjoy storms, enjoy walking and running and sunshine and rain! To hell with retirement plans! They are spoon fed to the sheep along with the lie that they will live forever, they aim to destroy the moment and cripple your youth, don’t let those crocodiles devour you, as they only feed on your youth! To hell with anyone who tells you that you can’t exercise without a calorie counter, or that you can’t love someone without first showing them a nice car!”

What joy it was to be caught in a storm for that fleeting moment, and how amazing it felt to have that joy erase my ankle pain. The pain did not return with a vengeance as I feared. Conversely, I feel a little better today.

I am thinking of the ending to Stephen King’s It. Bill’s wife is rendered comatose after looking at It, the devourer of children, an immortal entity that I interpreted as a metaphor for the death of childhood. So in an attempt to save his wife, Bill finds his favorite bicycle from his childhood, Silver. He places his wife on the bicycle with him and they ride down a steep hill together. Bill shares with his comatose wife his favorite pastime. And in the adventure it seems that some life returns to his wife, a sign that maybe there is still some life inside of the vegetable that her body became. Perhaps It can be conquered after all.

I also thought of my grandfather on that Florida beach, many years ago, when he supposedly couldn’t walk, yet somehow managed to run in order to throw a football with the grandkids. What a strange thing the human body is.

Sometimes you just have to embrace the rain.

Healing with Water

It is believed that we came from the ocean. After an ancient molten earth cooled and solidified, oxygen was born. Our newly physical planet then withstood the battering of meteor showers, which pocked the earth but did not destroy it, the original acne scars. From the chaos of meteor crashes, surface solidification, and a newly emergent sun, more chemical compounds emerged, and eventually seas were born. And within the seas, single-cell organisms eventually became multicellular.

Millions of years later, some fish emerged from the seas, the original mermaids, and they dared to crawl on land.

Perhaps it can be argued that this first fish to venture to land was the original Eve, the first organism to yearn for a new world, the first pilgrim to eat the forbidden apple. Look at a fish closely the next time you see one. It is your ancestor.

We came from water. Though we departed from it, we still need it. It comprises most of our body, including our mind. It transports our blood to the necessary extremities that interact with the world around us. It transports our wastes out of us. It sustains our life, which is at its core a constant cycle of renewal and depletion. Physically, there is no element more powerful than water.

Water cleanses metaphorically too. Baptisms require water to expel our sinful nature from our souls. Hot baths relax the mind and body. They say that as water crystallizes, its formation can vary depending on external stimuli. Play heavy metal music as the water crystallizes, and the shape of the crystal will appear different than it would had one played classical music.

Despite all of our cleaning products infused with chemicals, the simple fact is that warm water kills more than 99% of harmful bacteria. What remains is the bacteria that our body can accept, or could before the Western obsession with sanitization. Yet we shower with a million products.

Water is the line in the middle of the yin/yang symbol. It is a unique chemical compound in its natural state, literally existing between two worlds, between solid and gas. Too cold or too hot and it transforms to one or the other.

It seems fitting that for now, while walking is a bit of a struggle, I should turn back to swimming. I enjoy running; we learn to run before we learn to read. However, it will be awhile before I can run again.

Swimming was our original activity, if you trace our evolution to our most ancient ancestors.

I’ve heard that it’s useful to pray to water, that water is malleable enough and amorphous enough to absorb the prayer and manifest it into something tangible. If water can transmute itself, perhaps it can similarly shape intention. If so, the next time I take a swim, I’ll pray to be absolved of not only my foot pain, but my own drive to consume more. We were not born with a thirst for more; we learned it. I hope that the next time I swim, I will realize that I already have enough.

36 Random Thoughts for 36 Years

Since I turn 36 today, I’ll share 36 random thoughts. Don’t take these for advice! They are only my thoughts.

1. Anger is useless. I’m not angry at the driver who hit me last week and proceeded to drive away. It’s the past, and anger won’t change history. I’ll focus on today.

2. Fashion is the anathema of freedom. To follow fashion is to accept that you aren’t enough as you are. Fashion renders you an eternal purchaser, a runner in a marathon that leads nowhere and accomplishes nothing. Fashion raises prices beyond their material worth. It renders products dead before the end of their actual lifecycle.

3. I’ll need to return to the water soon. It’s been awhile since I swam. I think the last time was in the Bahamas last year. The time before that was in China, two years prior. Swimming is the ultimate low-impact activity. I think my ankle will be able to handle swimming long before it can handle running.

4. Movies are total crap these days. Some artists are interesting; Nicolas Cage is one of them. A few others are crafting good stories outside the studio system. For the most part, it’s drivel.

5. Critics are bought and sold. RottenTomatoes is just a hype machine that showcases Twitter blurbs and teases looming brilliance that never arrives.

6. An industry is bred from every remedy. And most of the industries are scams. Even the barefoot shoe industry is beginning to look suspicious to me. The whole idea behind it is that we don’t need cushioned shoes. So what do these companies do? They make a million types of “barefoot style” shoes that you need instead. I guess if they only sold sandals, they couldn’t make as much money.

7. Revenge, jealousy, and envy are useless. I used to want to “punish” people for their ill intent towards me. This is the worst sort of mindset; it gives your enemy power over you. It renders you beneath them. And it makes the world a worse place. It stems from the lowliest of positions. It’s better to forget than it is to envy, but it is important to always be on guard. A scorpion doesn’t dwell on those it’d like to strike, but it does strike those who trespass, and it strikes without hesitation.

8. The library is one of the most sacred of places.

9. Nothing heals better than water. It’s where we all came from. It’s what we’re made of. It’s what heals our wounds and baptizes our young.

10. There is beauty in every nook and cranny of the world if we are willing to look at it with the eyes of the young and the naive.

11. There is more earth to explore than a lifetime of exploration would allow; pigeonholing ourselves in one small area seems tragic. If you don’t see something, you’ll die having never seen it.

12. Camels really like me. I don’t know why.

13. There’s a great scene in the Nicolas Cage starring film Pig where the protagonist, a former master chef, confronts an old student of his, who sold his soul to make food he doesn’t actually care for. “None of this is real,” Nicolas Cage declares (I’m paraphrasing). “The critics, the audience, this restaurant. None of it is real.” And his student proceeds to have an emotional breakdown. What is real to me? What is real to you?

14. Cells are constantly dying and regenerating. Therefore, parts of us are constantly dying and being reborn. A part of you died, just now, and a new “you” took it’s place. The eyes with which we view the world change, as does the mind that sets our priorities. What skin have we shed lately?

15. Sometimes I miss Chinese food. I never thought I’d say that. There was a spicy pork dish I especially liked. There was also a sweet fried chicken dish, “Guo Bao Rou”, that I ordered pretty consistently. Their dumplings with pork and soured vegetables were also pretty awesome.

16. Flying is overrated. Have you been in an airport restroom? It is proof that the Westernized diet is terrible. Flying is more stress than adventure, more waiting than doing. Flying is waiting in line, and the wait is overpriced. There are a million great things that you can do locally. There are a million great places you can get to with a bicycle, or a car if necessary. Airports suck.

17. Smartphones are the modern version of the succubus. They tease you with their pretty images and their useful tools and their gateways into the lives of pretty people (or people who manufacture themselves for perfection). Then the phone bleeds you dry, and drains your mind into a desiccated and withered thing that once had useful thoughts.

18. Who did the sound mixing on the latest Iron Maiden album? The new singles have TERRIBLE sound mixing. Bruce Dickinson’s voice sounds muffled. The production value just isn’t there. They are the biggest metal band in the WORLD, but the songs sound cheaply mixed. The mixer should be ashamed! Maiden deserves better.

19. I don’t write short stories often, but I have two on the way that I’m pretty excited about sharing. They’re dark, of course! Very dark. If they haunt you, they’ve fulfilled their purpose.

20. Reddit is a pretty cool online community. I’ve made a lot of friends via Reddit; many of them I share a strong connection with. One of them collaborated with me on getting some state-of-the-art winter cycling jackets reduced in price (we bought two together for a discount on each). Then he shipped the second jacket to me. I’m gonna be warm this winter!

    Sometimes you have to go out on a whim and give a stranger some trust. Not always, but sometimes, it pays off. We evolved from ancient “barter and trade” based cultures. Therefore it’s barter and trade that strikes the truest friendships.

21. I started reading Born to Run. I’m looking forward to digesting this book. My own journey in learning to run without the need for cushioned shoes has been a very fulfilling one.

22. I just read Love People, Use Things. It’s the latest book by “The Minimalists.” I poured through it quickly and thought that they had some good insights on life and relationships. I sold a lot of my clothes as well (but not my favorites… only those that could be construed as fashion items). By doing so, I was enlightened as to what I actually desired and what I was manipulated into thinking that I desired.

23. Colors can be beautiful, but they can also deceive us. Colors in nature can be appreciated. Colors in material things are another means to convince us that we “need” something. It is the color scheme of our phone screens that sends our brains signals of pleasure and comfort. Remove the color and ask yourself again: “Do I need to purchase this?” If everything in your wardrobe was black, what would you like to wear?

    Colors in a wardrobe are another thing to stress over. “What color goes with this top!?” We ask ourselves each morning. You are only allowed so many choices in a day. Liberating yourself of wardrobe choices allows room for more important decisions.

    I like color but I try to minimize it these days. Most of my jackets and shoes are black for this reason. Most of my pants are in earth tones or black, and likewise with shorts. I do keep colorful shirts. This makes pairing colors easy, as it means my colored shirts go with pretty much everything.

24. We shouldn’t be more productive as a group, we should be less productive. But we should output with more vigor and intensity when it is time to be productive, for the things that actually matter. The life of the idler is ironically more meaningful than the life of the industrious worker. One could argue that the lion and the crocodile are two of the greatest idlers that have graced the planet.

25. Grocery stores are mostly scams. Going through the food aisles, all the food is cancer-breeding crap. I should start going to places that sell locally grown food.

26. Sleep is underrated. I used to think there was value in rising early. One always reads stories of famous people who “wake up at 4 am and output work with intensity”! No! Their brains are mush by noon. Sleep in! I am learning to sleep in. It’s a work in progress. My mind can be a little overactive at times (this is an understatement).

27. Naps are a gift of the Gods. “Powering through” lunch hangovers is annoying and taxing. It’s also unnatural. Watch a lion. It’s one of the greatest predators to walk the earth. It slumbers and toils on its side through much of the day. It stores its energy. Then, when it needs to attack, it does so with unbridled ferocity.

28. Truth is a difficult thing to discover. It tends to be the opposite of what we are told it should be. Or at least, the opposite of a presumption may lead us to something closer to the truth. Snakes are often among the gentlest of animals to interact with. Dolphins are among the most vicious and barbaric. Gyms can make us fatter. Cushioned shoes and beds can make our bodies weaker. Beware what you assume. The word “assume” begins with “ass” for a reason!

29. People who are competitive at work are annoying. I think of a nice quote from Tom Hodgkinson: “The competitive principle applied to work means that your success is achieved at the cost of someone else’s failure. Big companies are hotbeds of intrigue and plotting for this reason.”

30. I was telling someone that practically all of our modern inventions are a waste of time, particularly “career-oriented living” and social media. “But we need them if we are to move forward!” Was a response when I stated that social media is a waste. To that I say, moving forward for the sake of moving forward is as pointless as moving backward for the sake of moving backward. And more often than not, this thoughtless version of forward movement… is metaphorically backward. Another Tom Hodgkinson quote:

    “Progress is a tyrant. Freeing yourself from a career-based model of working means freeing yourself from other people’s expectations.” 

31. There is little worse than a watch, but I do know one thing worse: a “smart watch”. If the watch was a handcuff that binds you to someone else’s rules and schedule, the smart watch additionally binds you to their advertisements, manipulation, and emotional control (“Read this alarming headline! Don’t you feel offended!?”).

32. Most people don’t know how to listen to music. They blare music via earbuds while they exercise, but that’s just music as medication for their boring routine. If the activity was fun, they wouldn’t need music to drown out its blandness. Sit back, breathe! If you go to the gym you see lines of people with earbuds, endlessly running on treadmills yet literally going nowhere fast. This is not “listening to music!” Nor is it empowering. It encourages banality and a lack of spirit.

    In the modern world, music is mostly medication. It distracts from crap jobs and crap exercises and a lack of personal inspiration. Play! Is the civilized adult truly capable of such a verb? Let the world’s ambience be your music. Then when you get home, sit on the couch, idle, and put on some music. Sip wine and let it stir the mind. Yes, you have time!

33. Being able to say “No” is one of the greatest strengths an individual can ever have. If you do not learn to say “No”, the masses will trample you. One must say “Yes” very selectively.

    Say “Yes” to opportunity, say “Yes” to adventure, say “Yes” to live music shoes, say “Yes” to laughter with friends. Say “No” to the herd and their tricks to belabor you and drain you of your wallet.

34. I have four plants. I learn a lot just by watching them. Their life is a lesson in the power of moderation. I think it was Aristotle who said that there is a balance to everything. The gluttonous and the ascetic receive misery in equal doses… even an abundance of moderation can cause issues. Just enjoy the light and the dark as they hit naturally.

    Too much water and the plants drown in it. Not enough water and they wilt. It is the same with our own earthly pleasures.

35. If you write for critics, you aren’t writing. If you write for money, you aren’t writing. Writing for me is primarily an exorcism. I don’t aim to make a penny with this blog.

36. 37 is not a guarantee, it is a gift. So 36 should be spent intentionally.

Today’s Injuries and Tomorrow’s Healing Process

I was hit by a car while riding my bicycle today. It was the second time in my life that a car hit me while I rode a bicycle. The first time was in college, about 16 years ago.

I had a long streak of days without an injury, and was beginning to think again that I was invincible. This is usually how the universe gets notice that you’re overdue for a little pain. The universe can only stand so much pride before it says, “Okay Virgo dude, enough with the cockiness!”

I had a nightmare the night before that had eerie parallels to my collision today, though I was driving a car in the nightmare instead of riding a bicycle. In the dream I had pulled to the side of an Interstate to answer a phone call. When I drove back into the Interstate lane, another car roared out of nowhere and hit me at an intensity that sent my car tumbling over the edge of the Interstate, which was about a hundred feet above ground.

As my car crashed into the grassland below, I realized that I had a “Rewind” button for time itself. It was sort of like the remote in the Adam Sandler film Click, but it could backtrack time when necessary (how wonderful if we could all have such a remote for the things we say and do!). I aimed to rewind my life in hopes that I could do so before my death. Maybe I could backtrack an hour and re-route my drive home.

However, I accidentally hit the “Pause” button on my time remote, not the “Rewind” button, and I did so too late. I hit “Pause” at the very instant the collision eradicated me from existence. So there I was, trapped in eternal darkness, a millisecond before my final demise, too weak to hit rewind. Time itself paused and trapped me in that instant. I was in a crouched position and completely immobile. I couldn’t move and all I could see was darkness. I was in a purgatory, stuck between life and death, between free fall and collision. It was not the first time I’ve had a night terror involving purgatory.

I woke up from the dream screaming. It was a legitimate night terror that had convinced me that I was in hell.

But there I was, awake. Wow was I glad to be alive. Fast forward a few hours.

I was riding my bicycle home from the UPS store a few minutes before noon. I stayed within the bicycle lane and wore a helmet. It seemed like it all happened at once. A car swerved in front of me, only yards ahead of me, and then maneuvered to turn right onto a side street. The car decelerated suddenly for the turn, too suddenly for me to use my brakes. The driver was likely texting and driving and had no idea I existed.

I crashed into the side of the car, hitting it with my left ribs. I ricocheted backwards and hit the road with my right ankle first, then the rest of my body. My ankle collided and twisted against the road at an unnatural angle, and I knew immediately that it would be a pretty significant injury. My bicycle then crashed on top of me.

An agonizing pain immediately swept through my ankle. I waited there, sprawled on the road, expecting the car to stop and return to where I was and perhaps call for help.

The car drove off.

I knew my ankle was in bad shape because I’ve had some significant injuries, including bone breaks, before.

I was about to give up on humanity, but I heard voices calling me, asking me if I was okay. A family (a father, wife, and daughter) rushed to my aid. I told them that I was fine, as I hadn’t hit my head, the most important of my body (Virgo, remember?). Thanks in large part to the adrenaline, I slowly managed to stand up and limp off the street.

The family asked to drive me to the medic. No, I said, I’m fine. I think I can walk home. Don’t mind the scrapes. They’re just flesh wounds.

We didn’t manage to get the license plate of the car that hit me. That was unfortunate. But people who didn’t know me tried to help me. I’ll remember that. It just takes one. We aren’t all rotten.

My shoes got destroyed from the collision. That was unfortunate too. My bike wheels got bent out of shape and will need replacement. That too is unfortunate. My shirt got torn to shreds from when my back scraped the road. Hey, like the other things I mentioned, that’s unfortunate. I liked the shirt, shoes, and bike wheels. But they are things. Things can be rebuilt.

I was mostly worried about the ankle. Walking is everything to me. Walking is life. Movement is life. I use the word “love” selectively, but I love being mobile, navigating, and thinking while on my feet.

With the adrenaline surging through me, I somehow managed to limp three blocks back to my apartment. I can walk, I thought. And thank God for that.

The ankle swelled up over the next few hours and I lost all mobility in the foot. It was not long before the adrenaline wore off and the pain flooded in. Any pressure on the foot caused agonizing pain. I decided a visit to Total Access Urgent Care was warranted.

I got some X-Rays. The muscle ligaments in the foot and ankle are severely sprained on both sides. It might take a few months to fully heal. But my foot isn’t broken.

It could’ve been so much worse.

Some time with an ankle brace is a blessing. I am fortunate. All in all, I’m in good spirits.

It sucks that it happened just before my birthday, and it sucks that I’ll probably be sitting on my ass for the next few days.

But my bike will get repaired. My foot will heal. I’ll walk and run again. I’m glad for that. I don’t know what I’d do if those abilities were removed from me.

The foot seems like a nice metaphor for life and growing up, and what it takes to maintain integrity and goodness and go out into the world and just be you in spite of those who will despise who you are to the core.

Sprained, but not broken. Swollen, but not torn. Willing to stand up when others are willing to run you down with a much bigger machine than the one you own.

I’m relieved that by chance things did not go worse than they did. I landed at what I’d consider a pretty lucky angle. I’m also grateful that my partner was willing to drive me to the doctor and look after me when it wasn’t at all necessary.

I’ll remember this birthday for awhile.

I’ve got a nice foot brace. Good news: it fits within my sandals!

Rule: Don’t Chase

Being told I have to obey rules can give me an ill feeling, maybe because I usually associate rules with school. The modern school system is more focused on molding and shaping thoughts than enhancing them. It’s also more driven to produce perfect workers than to produce modern intellects and abstract thinkers.

Rules, however, can add value to our lives. Rules are required for any civil contract to form between people. Without civil contracts, we devolve into a form of Darwinian savagery. The constraint brought forth by rules can allow for liberation; rules can focus us on what matters while blocking what doesn’t.

Give a film a time limit and the story can be told concisely.

Tell a classroom of students to listen and respect one another, and each individual’s thoughts can be expressed freely, and contribute to the search for a greater meaning.

Tell an employee not to work on weekends and this person’s wellbeing will be extended.

Sometimes, but not always, rules should be unmalleable. The Ten Commandments provide moral tenets that universally prevent the inner destruction of a culture. It is the absolutism of them that has brought forth much of modern civilization. Some rules, therefore, must be permanent.

If an individual does not set forth personal rules and boundaries, that person invites others to set rules and boundaries for him or her. And these rules will likely not be to the benefit of the individual. Therefore, by neglecting rules, one invites tyranny into his or her life.

I have a rule for myself, a primary rule, based on my own experiences and struggles. Maybe it can or should be a rule for you. It is not a rule I have always obeyed. In fact, it’s a rule I’ve often neglected, and when I’ve neglected it I’ve paid severe consequences.

Rule: Do not chase unless it’s for fun.

• Do not chase material things, because even ownership is ephemeral. At some point in the future, a time you cannot possibly determine, you will die, and a loved one will be forced to either rid your belongings, take them, or sell them to someone else.

• Do not chase material things because the chase will carve a hole in you, and the hole will only widen as the chase continues. To chase a thing means to assume that ownership of said thing will fix something broken in you. After a time, you will realize that you are no better or worse off with your newly aqcuired object, and you will chase another. The chase will drain you of time, money, and individuality. The objects you purchase will not relieve you of any burden, but rather will add new burdens. You will fret over them breaking and degrading, and you will scramble to find places to put them.

• Do not chase status, because to do so assumes that status brings you self-worth. It assumes that your current status is not worthy of being. Because there is always a higher status than your own, this chase cannot possibly satisfy you. Social media presents the epitome of this danger. One can never have enough likes, and there are illimitable people to compare yourself to, if you choose to compare yourself to others.

• Do not chase the validation or approval of people because you subject yourself to their judgment. The basis of this mentality is that your own wellbeing is dependent on the whims of another’s opinion of you. There is nothing more dangerous than giving someone else this sort of power over your health. If you chase a job promotion to the extent that you subject your sanity to the whims of a boss, you enslave yourself to that boss. If you chase a lover to the extent that you place your livelihood on the whims of their approval of you, you invalidate your own self-worth.

Games are another matter entirely. To chase for fun is to enjoy a moment and accept a potential thrill. What, then, is it okay to chase? Some examples:

• Chase the queen on a chess board.

• Watch a child chase butterflies and rabbits. Can you do the same?

• Chase green lights while cycling through a city.

• Chase your dog if it won’t give up a ball in a game of fetch.

• Play tag, or baseball, or basketball. All involve a chase of some sort.

To ease the sense of lack in your life requires you to stop chasing material things. Chase something if it’s fun. Be brave enough to let others chase the rest.

A Schism Created by Cushion

We enjoy comfort far too much. Sometimes it seems to me that for most, finding a higher degree of comfort is the meaning of life.

Maybe linked to our obsession with comfort is a fear of death. Or at the very least it could be an obsession with security. Maybe a fear of death and an obsession with security overlap to some degree.

We want the most “ergonomically comfortable” office chairs so that we can sit still for hours without our backs aching. We want the densest amounts of foam in our shoes to prevent soreness or injury. We want the most plush mattress to sink our bodies into at night when we sleep.

Indoors, I am always amazed by how Americans in particular blast their air conditioning. God forbid we form a little armpit sweat.

I often wonder how much weaker we become due to our obsession with comfort. The foam in our shoes prevents the nerve endings in our feet from feeling the ground, and over years our feet weaken. Our office chairs encourage a state of inertia in which no part of the body can form a semblance of struggle, and over time our blood stops flowing. Our beds make us soft, mentally and physically, and our backs ache more with age, requiring still plusher beds.

And all this foam, all this cushion, creates a schism between us and the world around us. As our foam technology improves, the schism widens. We become unfeeling, overly sanitized forms with casts, going through corporatized motions of how a human should behave.

And as the years pass we become pale shells of our younger selves; yet ironically, our younger selves had a more intimate connection with the world and therefore a greater understanding of eternity. Where we once embraced a little dirt and a little stench and a little ache here and there, we now obsess over eliminating all grime, all smell, and all pain from our lives. We foam at the mouths over the latest cleaning products to sanitize our homes and ourselves, and our self-induced paranoia makes us think every little exercise requires six rehab tools and a chiropractor.

We seek some sort of overly sanitized utopia in which pain is a distant memory. Death is something beyond the horizon entirely. We buy dozens of products to make life more comfortable, and then we buy a dozen more to ease the weakened body caused by the first round of products. And thus we become perfect consumers, and our purchasing cycles repeat until death.

Yet there is another option: embrace struggle rather than seek a product to ease it.