From Paul, June, 2001
I'm 52 years old and in good health. I have enough energy and vitality to make it through the day, or at least until cocktail hour. Like many people I try to watch my weight. For example, when called to the dining room for dinner, I no longer detour through the kitchen to pick up a sandwich on the way. But I've rarely given much thought to body work, that is, to nurturing my physical, mental, and spiritual health.
Until now.
My concern started with last week's trip to the dentist. I have excellent teeth and gums, never a cavity, never any dental work. My brothers and my sister all have good teeth; I figure we have good teeth genes. But my dentists never seem to see it this way. I remember one dentist in San Francisco, thirty years ago. He had long hair with beads, lived in Haight Ashbury. Vicki and I called him the hippie dentist. After cleaning my teeth and pronouncing my mouth in excellent shape, he said, "Come in again in six months."
I said, "Six months? Is it really necessary to come so often, with my excellent mouth?"
He shrugged and said, dismissively, "Well, it's only your teeth."
Last week's dentist here in Thailand took a far sterner approach. After marveling at my perfect teeth and gums he asked me how often I brushed. "Once a day, in the morning," I said cheerfully. "I have good teeth, good genes, I figure once a day is enough." My dentist got a distorted look on his face, as if trying to decide whether my grip on reality was twisted enough to recommend psychiatric help. Was I was a schizo, perhaps, or on day release from an unlocked ward?
He let me have it. "Brush five times a day, first thing in the morning, before bed, and after meals. Floss, at least once a day, more often if you can. Massage your gums. Buy a water pik and use it. Get SERIOUS, Paul!"
I stumbled out of the office, thoroughly chastised. I determined to take body work more seriously, and already knew the first step. Teeth care: an hour a day.
I thought about other body work I should add to my new list. Ten years ago I hurt my back in an accident. I did exercises until the pain went away, but I was sure Doc would want me to continue the exercises now. I put this as number two on my body-work list. Back stretching: half an hour a day.
My family has a history of cardiovascular disease. For a healthy heart I figured I'd better walk, play tennis, skip rope, or otherwise get a daily workout. I added this to the list. Exercise: one and a half hours a day.
Now that I had my body-work list started, I decided to concern myself with mental and spiritual, as well as physical health. I took a transcendental medititation course some years ago. We were supposed to meditate for twenty minutes, three times a day. I added it to the list. TM: one hour a day. This was a minimum. If I wanted to levitate, for example, I'd have to take more courses and meditate more. But I was beginning to realize that my schedule was getting crowded; I'd only have time for minimal body work. Besides, why would I want to levitate? I'm a retired accountant, not an acrobat.
I figured I'd need Hatha yoga, for movement, breathing, stretching, and the like. In Argentina in the 1980s I'd been introduced to a walking/ movement/ energy technique that I should probably do as well. Yoga and energy movement: one hour a day.
I live in Thailand, home of the famous Thai massage. Tiny Thai girls walk on your back, bend back limbs, push pressure points in your feet, and so forth. Thais advertise a one-hour massage, but suggesting such a short treatment is like stopping your antibiotics halfway through the course, a big no-no. And I certainly wanted to avoid the heartbreak of re-stiffening joints. Thai massage: two hours a day.
Studies point to attitude as a key factor in longevity. You need to feel happy, be happy, and know you're happy. You need to laugh with friends. Laughter and gregarious affiliation: one hour a day. After reviewing my lengthening body-work list I began to wonder, in an abstract way, what I was going to find to laugh about and who would laugh with me. I didn't feel like laughing, I was beginning to feel like the world's dullest man. But at least I was getting SERIOUS.
I'm less religious than most, but by all accounts religion makes for longer, happier, healthier lives. But religion takes time. Christians pray and read and study the Bible. Hindus chant and do special meditations, with the gods as symbols. I had to get started in this area. Religious practice: one hour a day.
Bottling up anger ruins one's health, especially if heart disease runs in the family, like it does in my family. I'd need to do fair fighting, have healthy arguments, maybe even build a primal box if I was going to have any chance at all of living to, say, 53. Anger release: one hour a day.
At this point my schedule was filling up fast, and I had yet to include sleeping and eating. I could be limber of body and mind, stress-free, and at peace with the afterlife. But if I didn't get something to eat now and again, that afterlife would come sooner rather than later. Meals: two hours a day.
Now, before you object to the idea of galloping through three meals in only two hours, consider just exactly what I'm going to be eating. Beer and wine raise my blood pressure. Starch and sweets raise my blood sugar. Fat, especially dairy, raises my cholesterol. Vicki's a vegetarian, so I eat less meat. Besides, meat is so far down the food chain, so politically incorrect, so loaded with hormones and mad cow disease, I feel guilty just thinking about the sizzle, never mind the steak. So my diet includes no wine, no bread, no pasta, no cheese, no ice cream, no meat, no dessert. Fit For Life says it all: seeds and raw vegetables, including avocados, yum! according to Harvey Diamond. Well, I happen to hate avocados, maybe I can replace them with something equally succulent and exotic, like turnips.
With a diet like this two hours for meals seems leisurely. But I'll need to search and shop for organic produce, natural vitamins, and loads of dietary supplements. I'll have to chop and prepare with love, careful not to damage the soul of a single green bean. Food shopping and preparation: two hours a day.
With the amount of iron and fiber in this diet--did I mention sprinkling psyllium husk over every dish?--I can count on more frequent trips to the toilet. More frequent, and more urgent. I'll also have to shave and shower as usual. Bathroom chores: one hour a day.
Finally, I need to sleep. Researchers say that eight hours is no longer a standard, it's a minimum. I'm advised to settle down before going to bed, to turn off my stressors with pre-sleep exercises, and to get up more slowly in the morning. Sleep: nine hours a day.
Here, then, are my daily body-work totals. Teeth, back stretching, exercise: three hours. TM, yoga, massage, laughter, religion, anger relief: seven hours. Eating, including food preparation, and sleeping, bathroom: fourteen hours. That's 24 hours a day for body work. There are no naps here, no sex even, although experts recommend both. The schedule permits no work, no play, not even any daytime TV. Essential daily tasks, like handicapping the feature race at Santa Anita, drop out, as do vacations, reading the paper, and enjoying the fine arts, like Survivor or Police Academy MCMLXXVI. But I understand that if I cut something, my life will spiral downward. I'll be circling death's drain within a fortnight. Then again, I'm an American and haven't any idea how long a fortnight is, although in this case it sounds a lot shorter than I'd like it to be.
But wait. I've only considered daily body work. Doc wants me at the Mayo Clinic for a three-day physical every year. My dentist wants to see me every six months, my homeopath every month, my analyst every week. I suppose I could learn to brush my teeth with two hands, two brushes, to save a little time. Maybe I can learn to control my dreams, and combine dreams with, say, anger release, although I doubt that body-work experts would go for the idea.
I finally went to my local pub, got a beer and a platter of sausages, and reviewed my list. Compliance seemed impossible. I knew what my hippie dentist would say. "You know, Paul, it's only your physical, mental, and spiritual health." He's right. Maybe some things are more important than health and longevity, like getting a life worth living in the first place.
I'm still working on this. In the meantime, at a minimum, I think I'll get a new dentist.