Tough Guys

If you rabbit-hole into health news and advice on the internet, you would think that humans are snowballs in hell. So many terrible things can happen. A new problem discovered daily. Any of which are certain to cripple or kill you slowly or suddenly, at any time .

I remember that I am on the far end of millions of years of evolution. Admittedly, some luck was involved, but humans did not take over the world because they were soft and weak .

Lately we tend not to give ourselves enough credit. People can eat anything, and throughout history, they have done so. A lot or a little, in conditions from charred to raw to spoiled. We automatically vomit up most poisons, we purge bad bacteria. Anything that makes it through the first line of defenses faces almost certain oblivion from a fearsome immune system. As for injury or damage – most organs usually repair themselves .

Admittedly, we do die eventually (although that might be another aspect of evolutionary toughness). And also over half of us now survive childhood when we would have once been dead before adolescence. No matter. With or without technology we’re the baddest life form that ever existed .

Okay. We need to avoid getting hit by a truck. Eat sensibly. Follow a relatively careful lifestyle. But the parameters in that lifestyle are immense, regardless of what some nerd with a microscope “discovered” yesterday .

So swagger a bit. It’s useful to play the bully once in a while. And all advice isn’t good.

Bugs and Features

When I was writing software and something unexpected would result, we’d laughingly claim “it’s not a bug, it’s a feature!” I’ve often applied the same logic to my own life, rather than complaining about things that usually cannot be fixed.

For example, I’ve always been nearsighted. I actually enjoy taking my glasses off to view the world in a different way. Lines and shapes may be blurred, but other things such as colors are richer and I often notice different focal points .

Being short is hardly fun in this culture, but it did keep me out of trouble since I knew I would lose any fight I was in. My genes fit my size well to keep me mostly healthy, and lately it’s been a blessing to be small in cramped spaces like airplane seats. And, often, it is useful to be unnoticed and non-threatening .

The various degradations and pains of advancing age are never any fun, but if they are minor and temporary they do remind me to appreciate whatever remains. Nothing makes one appreciate normal teeth more than a toothache .

Admittedly it is a shallow, pollyannish or Panglossian view of “the best of all possible worlds” But like many philosophies, when it fits it works very well. Why waste time cursing fate, or gnawing outlook with envy? Some ambition is useful, some anger cathartic, some pain unbearable. But for the rest – well I prefer to try to change perspective .

Features, not bugs!

Tick Terror

Lately a litany of ills has people around here huddling inside in fear. Deadly fevers from mosquitoes, flesh eating bacteria in the water, invisible plagues in the air. Ticks with strange and horrible diseases .

The common denominator is that the culprits are tiny or invisible. Also ubiquitous if you are in the wrong area. It’s quite difficult to avoid water at the beach, air on the patio, or grass in the park.

Ticks are my favorite public overreaction. Mosquitoes invisibly come from anywhere and bite you right away, germs are generally thinly dispersed, flesh eating is quite rare. Ticks cannot run, jump, nor fly. They’re quite slow and deliberate, and take a pretty long time to climb to wherever they want, dig in, and begin to feed. Lots of opportunity to find and get rid of them if you look.

But folks imagine them as some miniscule land variant of the great white shark. Stalking the grasslands ready to pounce. Dropping from the sky on the unwary. Cleverly racing up legs to hide under socks or shorts. Evolving to be impervious to insect repellent .

The good news for me is that most park visitors remain on paved road. To them, grass is toxic, woodland trails forbidden. I ignore the signs and check now and then, always when I have finished my hike. No problem. But – well – the trails are lovely and empty for us adventurous types, apparently courting death or worse . I often receive incredulous stares from the crowds on the macadam.

As I often tell my 10-year-old grandson, the great thing to be really truly afraid of here on Long Island is not ticks, mosquitoes, bacteria, or sharks, but cars and the impatient maniacs who drive them.

Equilibrium

Balance and equilibrium are often regarded as synonymous, but I regard balance as more static, equilibrium as dynamic. A rock perched on a pinnacle is balanced. A healthy pond is in equilibrium.

That boulder will not move until something disturbs it. A tightrope walker, on the other hand, maintains equilibrium with constant adjustments or plummets off the wire.

So when we are told to balance our lives, it’s not very useful. Maintaining dynamic social and personal equilibrium is what’s essential. Work, friends, wealth, health, and so – all the usual suspects in constant movement, tension, countertension, and adjustment .

I realize that I’ve exaggerated somewhat. But my point is that whatever one labels it, the condition is fragile and when lost hard to regain. Once that boulder rolls into the valley it would take stupendous and often impossible effort to put it back. As far as a tightrope walker …

We live in a crowded world of homeostasis where we usually take equilibrium for granted. Sometimes that causes us to do rash things with consequences far beyond what we intend with one relatively minor effort. Once equilibrium is destroyed it may never return in the same form. Just review any ongoing ecological or social disaster .

I’m grateful for the massive, seemingly effortless, equilibriums in my own life, and try to be conscious of how fragile they are .

Aging Sitcom

One of my semi-schizophrenic personalities has always enjoyed viewing my life as an ongoing situational comedy. Sometimes an office nerd, sometimes a “father knows best”, sometimes a secret Van Gogh. Currently, I play the star role as a bumbling senior gradually losing his edge .

Surely it’s helpful to laugh at the minor problems that come with age, rather than raging against the inevitable. Not finding the right word is common with anyone, but frequent as I near eighty. I walk in a room and wonder why I am there. I miss the usual moves in the kitchen. I stumble when I stop paying attention. And I often sit, doing little, not even wanting to do more. All that can only make me smile. Another cute episode .

Fortunately, I’ve been spared real tragedy so far. That will require a different viewpoint, I suppose. Although media long ago learned to twist horror into entertainment . Perhaps my secret selves will be able to do the same .

In the meantime, the laugh track adds spice and softens fear. I regard it as part of the glorious ability to enjoy a constantly changing existence . So I am more forgetful, clumsier, or less ambitious. Hopefully not too dull. Each day, hopefully, to be continued. Not at all ready for the grand finale yet .

Now, exactly where was I? And what was I trying to say?

No matter, chuckle and move along .

Medical Mess

Social systems, like organisms, are often insanely complex and convoluted. “Simple” things like an animal taking a step invoke nearly infinitely complicated signals, even after we discount the infinite underlying reactions keeping life going.

Any crackpot or “normal” person tends to believe if we “just keep it simple” we could clean up a social system such as medicine and make it cheaper, more responsive, and more robust. After all, how hard could it be?

Ask a biologist what’s involved in a deer strolling across a meadow. And don’t forget things like all the trillions of ATP cellular reactions.Fixing a social system is even worse. Like organisms, social systems are not isolated but exist in an ecology.

Reform may, in fact, be impossible. What often happens instead is extinction or replacement by creatures invading the territory.

I suspect we are in such a situation. Most of our cultural systems are complicated ancient relics that still work but are increasingly susceptible to extinction or replacement.

Not “fixing them up”, not “evolution”, but vanishing into irrelevance.

Medical coverage and practice among them .

In such cases, it seems better to concentrate on “why” rather than “how”. Presumably our AI masters will produce all the answers necessary.

Not sure we will like those much .

Self Limits

The young have sharp genius, grand ambitions, keen senses, and a clear mind. Those of us fortunate enough to age a long time find all the facilities dimming and eroded. We claim to be more experienced and wiser, but (even if true) it is not a great trade-off .

Visual artists generally notice these problems acutely. Sight is not as sharp, arthritis limits actions, muscles tremble. We notice the “decline” in the late works of most of them. Renoir with brushes strapped to his hands, Monet with nearly abstract water lilies, and oh so many who just stopped when they could no longer produce quality work .

But times change. Visual art is less bound to “reality” and any clumsy effort can be advertised as what was planned. I’ve taken a slightly different approach. I am drawing what I see and how I can do, not what anyone else sees and can do . I’m not in competition. My glory is in being unique, including accepting all the limits of being elderly .

Sure, that’s a self-serving rationalization. Pretending to be talented is not the same as being so. But the other thing about being old is that none of that really matters. That is simply a joyous activity filling time with art .

Finding my current limits, and using them as well as possible rather than concealing them or pretending they don’t exist is a kind of fun game. And I happily use it in other areas of life as well

Micro Placebo

We believe in the massive effects of the tiny. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.” One vote can change an election. One dollar off a pound of meat will help our finances. “For want of a nail …” Eating a bit more of this or less of that will make us healthier .

After all, we live in a culture of microtolerance. A random raindrop can destroy a cell phone. A rogue cell can begin a fatal cancer tumor. Split seconds win or lose contests. Every little thing counts .

Perhaps it’s a reaction to our true powerlessness. Rationally, we are well aware that a single vote is symbolic. Most of the time micro-effects are frankly swamped by macro situations. A single step does not mean much on a thousand mile trip. After all, everything we do (except maybe jumping off a building) depends on an ongoing series of decisions .

It’s easy to forget in an era of science that glorifies the small, and in which experiments at the most miniscule level breathlessly report a new discovery or linkage. But most actions taken are placebos. The smaller the initial impulse, the tinier its action on a large scale unless something also (such as our mindset) provides a good result .

Unfortunately, microscience is often wrong in a complex real world which continues to adjust and change itself. An awful lot of recent health results are not repeatable. We ping pong from avoiding eggs to eating many, and piously think we have taken off on a better path.

Overprep

We each have at one time or another encountered the phenomenon known as beginner’s luck. A naive person tries something for the first time and succeeds beyond the dreams of the more experienced. And then, the luck mysteriously goes away .

On the other side of the curve, suave experts can suddenly lose their magic. A baseball pitcher can’t find the strike zone. A musician can’t craft a salable tune. Usually, such events are short-lived, but unnerving .

Ours is a culture of perfectability, where everyone likes to believe that with hard work they can do anything. For that reason overpreparation is almost a disease. If a certain behavior is good, more training should make it better .

Except – often it doesn’t. There is a golden patch for anyone doing anything, beyond which extra exertion yields actively declining results. The mood can quickly turn to frustration and anger (and in these times, blame) .

I’ve often tried to invoke the counter-mantra of “just good enough”. That used to suit American pioneers. Not more and more perfect, but adequate to accomplish the task. Anything beyond, however elegant or pretty, would be superfluous waste of time and energy. It fit nicely with my other belief that “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it” .

Nice to call it a philosophy. Honestly, more likely just innate laziness

Joy

In my same moments, I simply rejoice in being conscious and aware. A perfect enchanted unity. I reject the artificial division of body and mind, and the still more degraded notion of defining mind as logic. Down that useless path wanders the progress of AI .

We need not celebrate life itself so much as awareness. True awareness, of course, is built on life. An organism that is aware in any sense possesses consciousness. Without running off to deeper metaphysics, I find my own consciousness the ultimate glory of all I am .

Logic, after all, is a barren brittle construct. The joy in solving a puzzle has nothing inherently logical about it. The joy is an awareness of having achieved a solution .

My heresy is to claim that awareness – enabling that joy – requires life, requires a body. Whatever we’ve constructed without life will lack that. No joy. No awareness. No consciousness. Logic will exist, but never the actual exuberance of being .

I have a short “objective” window of existence as measured in years, although my subjective time feels infinite. During that opportunity, I joyfully seize the world and myself in the universe .

I pity those unaware of their own precious gift.

Science has value, as does logic, but that value is hardly logical. Without resort to dry ancient or futuristic metaphysics, I am free to expand into infinity.