Month: May 2012

I woke up curled in a faceful of vomit. But even that was better than what I deserved: a tall glass of dookie, with nuts. I had ruined my summery shirt and been nursed by friends who were just trying to have a good time responsibly. It was a metaphor for what my life has become. The shame and embarrassment are mine to bear alone.

Just when I thought I was turning things around and taking control, I do this. And to think that earlier in the day I was making fun of Wisconsinites for their bingeing problems. And I got all righteous the other day about people smoking on the patio at a restaurant and near the doorway of my building. And now this, an even worse violation of my own promises to myself.

I am sick. But sick people at least deserve sympathy. In addition to being sick I am like a fat-headed child. A person born with love and privileges but who nurtures a secret malice toward almost everyone. Good deeds, justice, compassion, achievement – none of these outward traits can wash away the shame because the defect is inside me. "Imbecile rapacity," that’s the term for it (thank you Conrad). I have a blind impulse to smash and grab. I am a looter in a place built with love and care.

I think of my co-worker: he is loud and domineering in conversation. He smells like armpit and he has a dumb haircut. But because he is good-natured, outgoing and sociable, people like him. I however, am aloof, grim, distant. I have all the condescension of Sherlock Holmes but none of the charm or intelligence. I offend the people I like and ignore those I don’t. I am a jerk, a liar, a recluse, eager to put people down or lash out.

And another full day devoted to "recovering." A day lost to daytime TV and sipping on Diet RC Cola. Both of these things signaled my diminished expectations in life.

If I stumbled and had to be walked home, it was because of reversible damage to my cerebellum. If I failed to encode memories later on in the night, it was because of reversible damage to my hippocampus. At least I can drink my fluids and floss a little more thoroughly the next day. But when does the damage cross the line and become irreversible? And when will I have brought the standards low enough to fall through the bottom? Obviously I won’t recognize that line when I cross it. Better to avoid it altogether.

I saw black tulips with astonishingly delicate and feathery petals.

I saw an old man waiting on a bench for his wife to finish chatting with someone.

I saw a fat bride with sunburned shoulders and neck.

I saw little boys in tuxedos and I heard toads trilling, treefrogs croaking and western chorus frogs clicking.

I saw a huge garter snake. Nearly stepped on it, in fact.

This all made me think: what makes you notice something? What is it that makes something cross the filter from sensation and into perception? Having been perceived, what brings it into cognition? Individuals are bombarded by stimuli of varying quality, duration and intensity all day long, but only some of them break through. And only some become incorporated and remembered – become, in a word, part of one’s mind.

That black tulip, for instance, was so unusual I couldn’t help but notice it. But on another day in a less receptive mood I might have passed it by.

The old man looked patient and content, like he was the quiet one in the relationship and was used to waiting.

The robust bride I passed by was so pink on her sun-exposed parts I couldn’t help but notice, and having noticed, I thought: She is going to be so red and sore in the morning her new husband won’t even be able to touch her. Hopefully they will get their fill with the fucking that night.

And the frogs and toads. I used to think those noises were from bugs. Only after listening to Stan Tekiela’s “Reptiles and Amphibians of Minnesota” did I learn they came from distinct amphibians. This made me more attuned to them and allowed them to “break through” the barrier.

And that snake. I only noticed it when it fled. A biologist once proved that a snake with speckled coloration is more likely to freeze when approached, while one with stripes, like this one, will flee and cause its pursuer to misjudge its speed and miss it when it strikes.

Yet as much as I love noticing things like these, I am grateful that I am not constantly aware of the hum of traffic outside, for instance, or of the clothes over my skin. And that I can usually control what I think about instead of being pushed and pulled by intrusive thoughts. And that I can think without the input of any sensation at all.

How can I spread wellness? I think of this as I sit here, after one hour of my daily exercise as prescribed. I feel great as self-generated opioids wash over me. The mind brims with possibilities. Later in the day I will, as research has shown, do my dishes earlier, make my bed more often, be more productive, get better sleep, and so on. My muscles feel warm and strong, my appetite is hearty but satisfied. If a discrete activity such as exercise can bring me joy and other advantages, maybe I can help bring that kind of thing to others.

Wellness is a broad state. Many things contribute to it. Just consider my workout today:

– Well-marked five foot wide bike lanes got me to the Cedar Lake Trail with its beautiful and open views of downtown.

– The excellent air quality in Minneapolis leaves me with no fear of being outside at midday.

– A supportive culture of outdoor activity prevails here in Minneapolis. Even though it was gray out there were lots of people on bikes, jogging and walking. There were men in Spandex from head to toe and bronzed goddesses running with sporty ponytails and Kegels like a vise, no doubt.

– I had my iPod shuffle to reduce the monotony (not while biking of course). This little device was practically made for workouts.

– I have excellent trail running shoes available for cheap. They are perfect for the former train tracks that were converted into unpaved trails in that area.

– I have a book: a Dorling Kindersley strength training book with lush illustrations and effective and safe directions, available at my sunny downtown library with its excellent county-wide request system and its interesting assortment of slumbering homeless people.

– I have dumbbells from a sporting goods store, courtesy of a gift certificate from my parents for Christmas.

– I have fresh fruits and veggies I bought at Rainbow for cheap, along with boneless skinless chicken breasts for a dollar a pound.

– I have the benefits of nutritional knowledge from school and other resources. And more important, eating habits ingrained from childhood.

All these things have benefited me. So how do I contribute? How do I spread wellness? How do I infect others with a love of the outdoors, or a taste for veggie sandwiches, or a fondness for trail running? The best way to start is to set a good example. Then to invite friends and family to exercise with me and share healthy meals. Then to support and validate people in everyday interactions. And finally to advocate for bike trails, education, a healthy food system, and all the other things that have helped me be healthy thanks to the efforts of so many people before me.