Omnivore

We had friends over for an afternoon lunch. As often happens when people in their late ’70s gather, talk tended to center on ailments and medical attention. Lately an awful lot of medical discussion – and not just for the aged – relates to diet .

When I grew up in the ’50s, there was much less concern. We ate anything we could afford. Our parents, having lived through depression and war, were grateful for simply having enough to eat. So maybe there was a little too much meat, and not much worry about new snack foods except cost. 

Now – oh how different. Diet is life for so many. How they begin the day, what they must include, what they must avoid. Not only the obvious like salt and fat, but hidden issues like pesticides, GMOs, hormones, bacteria and a host of issues concerning invisible components like vitamins and fiber .

I’m slave to my upbringing, and still tend to think I can eat most anything in moderation. Humans are omnivores, after all. Our ancestors ate anything they could find when they had to. Additives, like high salt content, have been around since ancient times, and massively present not long ago. “Fresh” during most of the year in winter was a fairy tale until the late 1900s .

We talk and dream and think that at least by controlling our food we can control our health.

But. omnivores are tough creatures, well-equipped by evolution to handle almost anything. 

We should always remember that .

Locally Infinite

I’ve always admired William Blake’s poem “To see the world in a grain of sand”. Although it has helped guide me through life, I find it more and more useful right now. How heaven, I discover, really is in that dandelion brilliant yellow in my lawn .

Our consumer culture has few advocates for common local miracles. No money in that! You must buy some exotic bloom, visit some distant garden, watch a feature on TV. The farther you travel, the more you spend, the more rare something is, the more the universe will smile on you.

But that grain of sand is composed of star stuff, the end result of billions of years and massive forces, just as much as any mountain, however high. In the proper frame of mind, just as inspiring. With proper regard, just as beautiful and meaningful .

And importantly for elders –  more confined than we were in youth – that dandelion and that grain of sand are right here, right now. I need go nowhere. Simply open my mind and appreciate existence. The best things in life may not be free, but the definitions of both are flexible .

I’ve gradually become able to focus on the local. To be grateful for anything I can sense or think about. To truly appreciate “eternity in an hour” .

Mortal Moment

In a Roman triumphal procession, a slave rode the same chariot as the honored general, constantly whispering “remember, you are mortal”. Useful tradition. Perhaps we should reestablish it for our politicians and plutocrats. Death is still the great leveler .

I have both elements residing inside me. Logic is my general, domineering all it surveys, proud and glorious and quite imperiously smug. My body, on the other hand, plays the part of the slave and constantly reminds me of my true condition. Sometimes, like those slaves of old, it rises up in revolt to make me take notice .

For example, yesterday I had a couple of small bowls of potato chips for lunch, breaking my normal diet. The grease and salt combined for excruciating pain in the afternoon. These days, If I overdo a bit too much, I will strain joints, pull muscles, ache, lapse into a tired semi-consciousness.

Logic plans brilliant maneuvers and says “why not?” Body has the tragic answer .

I’ve learned to accept it all as part of the messaging of my universe. An easy (or relatively easy) way to control dangerous hubris. Even painful reminders can sometimes help put other good things into perspective .

The battle of the potato chips is over. Perhaps not a victory, but a good lesson in strategic dreaming .

Instant Coffee

I have never been a food snob. In my ancient commune days, I successfully resisted diets of buckwheat groats and miso. Having grown our food as a child, I don’t believe in the fantastic flavor of heritage vegetables. I don’t subscribe to organic gardening because I’ve seen what bugs can do to a crop. And I tend to think antibiotics in things like beef are probably good for me

Part of it, I suppose, is my upbringing. Referring to the title, my parents were both world war II veterans. They made “navy coffee” which was a percolated tar kept boiling all week. That remains my reference .

A good deal of it is genetics and age. I’ve never had a remarkable sense of smell or taste, and even that has deteriorated over time. Bitter black coffee is fine because at least I notice a hint of flavor there .

I admit that over time I’ve gone for convenience. I really like the “instant” aspect of instant coffee. No matter what, the fact that I can get caffeine magically in a minute or so at home in a microwave is one of the great miracles of science .

Of course, it’s largely habit. I suppose in this new world I’d be sipping energy drinks, although maybe not because I’ve always hated sugar or sweeteners. Once in a while cream, but I prefer simplicity – coffee as coffee, milk as milk .

I know that’s a dying culture, mostly kept alive by us elders. I just hope it continues for longer than I do .

Mount Ultralympus

The Greeks imagined a pantheon of superheroes who had enormous power, but were fairly dumb. Those gods fought each other over petty annoyances, and let their anger spill onto mortal reality. They were, in fact, a pretty good explanation of how fate works .

Mount Olympus failed to hold up to a vision of heaven ruled by a just Middle Eastern absolute monarch. Everything then could be explained as ineffable divine will, with rewards for the just in the eternity beyond death .

Now we have come full circle. The ultrawealthy are just as powerful a clique as the Olympian gods ever were. Also just as stupid and petty, bickering amongst themselves, scattering mortals into misery as they work out their indulgent irritations. Some are more powerful than others, some true colossi, some mere half breed god/mortals .

To understand the ultrawealthy it is simply necessary to be fluent in ancient Greek mythology. The parallels are quite amazing, and would be amusing if they did not terrify us quite so much. But abuse of power comes with the territory .

Like those Greeks, we know we cannot control the gods. We can only try to placate them. In the good old days it was by offering sacrifices like oxen, today it is an equivalent cutting of taxes .

Like the Olympic gods, the ultra wealthier are having their moment. We shall see if anything arises to replace them .

Bartleby

Melville’s office clerk began to increasingly tell his employer “I would prefer not to”. Eventually he became unemployable. I find myself in a similar frame of mind. Although the “employer” side of my brain is equally horrified .

There are an awful lot of “terrible things” trying to gain our attention each moment. As massive as a dinosaur asteroid, as ultimate as a bioengineered plague. As tiny as residue cellular pesticides. As improbable as effects by electromagnetic environments. Partisans keep screaming I must know about these things! “We must do something !”

“I would prefer not to”. I don’t mind so much learning of people’s fears. They can be entertaining. Perhaps some are true, perhaps fewer have any importance. But I am convinced there is little I can affect. So I let them slide by without impact on my emotions or daily happiness .

It’s an old philosophy, encountered at all times and everywhere. Stoic acceptance and withdrawal. Religious mystics from ancient India to Catholic monks. Sit quietly as the world turns and burns.

And yet – life is magnificent and precious, and what we do can matter locally. Each moment counts in our universe. Not caring or moving at all is death, and early rejection of the gift of life. 

That’s my employer mind talking, of course. It is right. 

Sometimes.