April's CR Diary

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July 7, 2005

When Disaster Strikes

I, like most people, woke up this morning to the news of explosions in London. I'm not going to make any political statements whatsoever, out of respect for the non-partisan nature of the Mprize and CR (you can eat less whether you vote Democratic, Republican, or for Ralph Nader. And if you work for certain left-leaning non-profits, you can eat a lot less because you can't afford food!) I'm just going to share some personal reflections on the nature of tragedy.

My first thought when I heard the news this morning was to be glad that the people closest to me are nowhere near London. My mom was safe in her bed with an orange tabby cat sleeping on her tummy. My Orange One is safe in his condo far far away, and rarely leaves the house anyway. My father and step-mother are in North Carolina, my New York friends keep weird hours, and my cats were meowing at me to feed them so I knew all was well. I was relieved when Aubrey de Grey wrote to the Mprize list this morning... though I figured he hadn't been in London, I still had that impulse to write, "I know you live in England, are you okay?" Just like that pressing need Americans seem to have to ask anyone who claims to be from Canada if they know so-and-so who is Canadian. Never mind that so-and-so lives in Toronto and the person in question lives in Vancouver. I'll be glad when the sister from the UK writes in to let me know that all is well with her.

I felt horrible for the families and friends of people who were heading off to work in London. I imagined cell phones ringing, and the terror people must have felt if they couldn't immediately locate their loved ones. I worried about people of Arab descent, or even people who looked vaguely Middle Eastern, who might become the targets of violence now as people tried to deal with their anger and turned it against other innocent people. I remember how terrified my Middle Eastern friends were in New York and New Jersey following September 11th, when they were the frequent victims of street harrassment, threats, and even violent attacks. The thought of another cycle of violence, retribution and more violence made it hard to drag myself off the couch this morning. Only the thought that I had to take my Strontium an hour before breakfast convinced me to get up.

Oddly enough, just the night before I had had a conversation with a good friend whose husband has been critically ill about her fear of becoming a widow. I felt for my friend, and I felt somewhat guilty that I rejoiced for a moment that my partner is likely to live long and healthy. In the midst of experiencing concern for others, I often find myself marvelling in my own good fortune, and then suddenly feeling scared that I might be "tempting fate." I know perfectly well that happiness is not a zero sum game and that my happiness is not acquired at the price of others'... yet there is a moment in which I fear bringing some bad karma on myself when I am relieved that my loved ones are safe.

Disaster could strike at any time, and some people use that as an excuse for not preparing for the future. Like the 23 year old who says he'll die before thirty so he doesn't contribute to his 401(k), I think these people are a bit irresponsible. When I tell acquaintances about CR or the Mprize, I often hear, "Any of us could get hit by a truck tomorrow." True. So what? If we continue to eat ad lib, we can bascially guarantee that we will die of a degenerative disease much earlier than we need to. If we don't motivate scientists to work on real anti-aging therapies, we can be certain that even the most serious of CR practitioners will lose the battle with disease and death, maybe just a bit later than he would have otherwise.

The possibility of disaster should motivate us to live every day to its fullest. Some people use this as an reason not to do CR, or not to join the Three Hundred. Both entail sacrifice: when you don't eat dessert because a) you don't have the calories for it b) you don't have the cash for it cause your Three Hundred donation just came out of your bank account, you experience a moment's inconvenience. To me, this is a small price to pay for the hope of avoiding the inconvenience of disease and death for as long as possible. Tiramisu vs. youth and health? I'll go with choice b.

A commenter on Aaron's blog recently wrote about living life to its fullest, and I've got an entry in my head responding to that (Look for "CR Is For Hedonists" in the next few days.) CR is for me about experiencing as much pleasure as I can in life, for as long as possible. Part of the pleasure I experience, in fact the greatest happiness I have, is being surrounded by the people (and cats) I love and sharing my life with them. When disaster strikes, I find myself feeling much worse for those who are left behind than for those who die. Most of us would do anything to protect the people we love most from harm, and I know the power of the feeling that I would risk my own health and happiness to protect someone I love. All parents know that feeling very well. Those who have been fortunate enough to have loved very deeply know what that means. I think I have learned the meaning of that concept more from those who have loved me enough to sacrifice a piece of their own happiness for mine, than from any giving I have ever done. I can only hope to be worthy of the sacrifice, and to learn from it how to love more and better in the future.

I remember reading a book ages ago, I think it was by John Robbins, where the author said something like, "The same father who would throw himself in front of a train to protect his child is setting that same child up for a lifetime of obesity and disease by taking him through the McDonald's drive-thru." The difference is the immediacy: we see the train coming. It makes a loud noise. There are often flashing lights and railroad track signs. The clogging of the arteries is silent. We may know intellectually that our behavior will inevitably land us in the ICU, but it seems so far off... and it just tastes so good! It seems to satisfy at the time. Maybe it helps block out the pain where something else is missing.

Years after I read that passage, I would still cook gak filled monstrosities for the people I loved most. Well, not for my mom, she wouldn't eat it. But even though I really, really knew better, I felt like I was "treating" my friends and family when I made high calorie, high saturated fat meals. Bring on the tater tots! Mix up the peanut butter pie! Would you like butter with that?

I don't do it anymore. My consciousness of the effects of what we eat on our lifespans and health has been raised so much that I just can't bring myself to poison the people I care about. (It does raise a dilemma about cooking for people I *don't* like... but I don't do that often anyway.) When I cook perfectly Zoned 625 calorie no saturated fat meals for MR, it's a challenge every time, but it's also an expression of love made into food. The miracle by which our food gives us life is a source of never-ending wonder for me. And like all magick, it has a dark side. We can choose to repair our cells through our food, or we can choose to destroy them.

I can't always be there to throw myself in front of the oncoming train. I can politely suggest that all my loved ones look both ways before crossing the street though. I can control what I put into my own body, and I can control what I put on my table when the people I care about share the ritual by which food and drink are transformed into life and love.

Enough for now, dear bloggiefriends.
I've got some 625 calorie dinners to figure out.

Posted by april at July 7, 2005 8:03 AM

Comments

Posted by: Willie at July 8, 2005 4:49 AM

Posted by: Judith at July 8, 2005 11:17 AM

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