An Unsually Unusual Mind

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Have you ever heard someone say something so weird it shocked you? Have you ever heard someone say something that you thought not even a weird person would say? They might think it, but they wouldn’t say it. They’d fear everyone knowing how weird they were. 

“Doesn’t, he have cable?” someone asked in the aftermath of the shocking statement. We laughed. We all laughed, hard. We laughed because that line captured what we were all thinking. We had cable TV, and it shaped and molded our expectations of one another. We unconsciously expected everyone to know their station, and if one of us was unable to maintain a level of sameness, we expected them to conceal it beneath layers of shame and fear. Xavier McVie didn’t appear to care about any of that.

“He is not weird,” someone responded with some accusation in her voice. “He just says weird stuff.” She wasn’t defending Xavier. She didn’t like Xavier, so we knew she wasn’t defending him. She was implying that ‘he wishes he was weird, but he’s not’. Why would anyone wish they were weird, we wondered. There was something to it we knew, because Xavier seemed normal most of the time, but he’d drop these thoughts on us so often that her characterization of Xavier McVie seemed to be a decent category for him.

Some say that the need to label, categorize, or judge our peers is wrong, but it’s kind of what we do. Our brain is the primary weapon we have against powers foreign and domestic. It’s what separates us from the rest of the animals, and we use judgment to enhance our quality of life and in some cases our survival. If a lion slaughters a gazelle in an unorthodox manner, other lions might take note, but it doesn’t affect their perception of that lion. They don’t care how another lion takes a gazelle down. They just want to eat. Humans, on the other hand, care very much when, where, and why our fellow humans act the way they do. We want to know who to befriend, how to befriend, and if we should avoid certain people for our own self-preservation. 

Anyone who knows someone who is handicapped knows that most of us avoid them as if their ailment is contagious. We might sympathize with their plight in life, but we don’t want to be around them. We prevent our children from staring or asking questions, and we move away swiftly. We do the same with those we consider weird. “He’s just weird,” we say to explain why we avoid them. “He’s just too weird.” Why do we avoid the weird? Why do we tell others to avoid them? When they introduce weird ideas to us, we don’t want to know how they arrived at that idea. We don’t want to discuss their novel approach to living. We shield our children from them and move away swiftly. We think we have a certain hold on reality, and human nature, and anyone who introduces us to the depths of their experience provides us an outlook that if we stare too long at it, it might start looking back at us.

Most truly bent people don’t want to do this to us anymore than they want to do it to themselves. They don’t want people to avoid them. They strive to fit into our longitudes and latitudes and platitudes, but some don’t. Some don’t care what we think, and when it’s a punk ethos we respect it. When it doesn’t have anything to do with a militant need to shatter our illusions and delusions, we’re confused. We don’t know how to put our finger on it. We need something to help us understand. We develop something, such as a dartboard as a visual display, to explain it, so we don’t have to yawn our way through theoretical exposition. 

The center of this dartboard, the bull’s eye area, is absolute normalcy. For all that Xavier McVie said, we knew he was normal, so we placed him between the triple score area and the bull’s eye. Russell Hannon’s eccentricities, on the other hand, were more organic, and his efforts were geared toward being considered normal by the rest of us. This placed him between the triple score area and the outer reaches of the dartboard where the double score area lies. In each of the little boxes on the dartboard, we listed some of the characteristics that defined the individuals we attempted to categorize. Why are some people slightly off the trail? Some have minor brain malfunctions, others have brain chemical deficiencies in certain areas, and still others have such unusual upbringings that they accept certain other norms as truths. The rest of the little boxes contained a description of a different characteristic that leads to unusual thinking.

Another instrumental characteristic of the visual display the dartboard provides are the borders that divide the various rings and boxes. These borders not only helped us define normal vs. the abnormal, but they illustrate the obstacles an abnormal person must pass to achieve a more normal perception. Abnormal people know these borders well, and they’ve spent most of their life trying to overcome them. They’ve had unusual, strange, and absurd thoughts their whole life, and it takes some effort on their part to keep them unknown. They know that saying such things aloud might serve to reinforce their borders, so they learn to just stop saying them. To attempt to eviscerate the dartboard borders before them, they also exaggerate the normal characteristics they’ve learned by watching other, more normal people. Their goal, of course, is the middle of the dartboard, an arbitrary and relative definition of absolute normal, and to near it they begin to act hyper-normal. 

Normal is a relative term, of course, and it invites all sorts of questions about what is normal and abnormal. Defenders will suggest there is no such thing as absolute normal, as there are no absolutes. It’s a valid argument when it comes to characteristics, but for the purpose of this exercise let’s say that, at least by comparison, we’re normal.

The normal often seek anything but. We enjoy weird music, sayings, conclusions, and anything else that is weird excites us because it is different from everything normal. “Normal is boring,” we shout out to the spectators who wish they were half as normal as us. We don’t understand the plight of the abnormal, and we take our normalcy for granted. We want to escape what we consider its confining borders. 

The abnormal avoid anything weird, and they avoid it like the plague, which to them it almost is. It’s a mindset that has chased them throughout their lives. They seek an antidote in others. They watch us and imitate us, hoping that the rest of the world might consume them and confuse them with us, the more normal. They take our characteristics, the characteristics of their other friends and family, and the characteristics of that guy they ran into at the bar who seemed so normal that they almost envied him, and they stir them in a big pot and exaggerate them to display characteristics we might call hyper-normal, so someone, somewhere might accidentally confuse them with normal.  

Those of us who are fascinated by the borders between normal and abnormal among our peers don’t search for these characteristics. Our default thought is that everyone is at least as normal as we are, until we learn otherwise. The effort to achieve hyper-normal characteristics are often less than organic, however, and they have a way of eventually betraying their host when they least expect it. 

We all love music, and we use it as a barometer to gauge those around us. We use it to define who is cool and nerdy or hip and old-fashioned. We might think this is relegated to high school, but in many ways, we never leave high school.  

Our initial inclination might be that weird people love weird music, but here’s where the norms seeking the weird and vice versa come into play. This is where normal people say, “Normal is boring!” to escape their border. Weird music  satisfies their temporary aesthetic need for contrast. Those on the outside looking in, listen to more normal music with hope. By listening to normal music with normal lyrics that deal with normal hopes, they hope to keep strange and weird ideas out of their heads, because they’ve made so much progress toward the center that they don’t want to risk taking a step back, even if it is only in the arena of impressions. The music they enjoy is so normal that one might define it as hyper-normal. What is normal music? There’s no definitive answer of course, but if more people are listening to a certain kind of music doesn’t that make it more normal? It might not to you and I, but what does it mean to a person hoping to leave a more normal impression?  

The abnormal might consult Billboard charts or a listing of downloads. “Think about it, how many people listen to your favorite artist?” they might ask. “How many people listen to mine? Who’s the freak now?” The favored artist of the abnormal sell millions of albums and millions downloads. “That artist is my favorite, and I’m going to tell the world about it.” They don’t want to listen to weird music, but they also don’t want us to know they listened to it, because they fear someone, somewhere might think they enjoyed it. 

Those of us who competed with one another to find weird music grew up listening to the staples, and we eventually grew bored with them. We went through all the phases, perpetually seeking something different, until we arrived at the most unusual music you’ve probably ever heard.  

Most of those outside our tight circle of music aficionados did not enjoy the music we shared with them. They said they didn’t get it, and some of them said it was just too weird. “This is what you’re listening to?” they said with some disdain. Their rejections were mostly fun, polite, and the good-natured type of ribbing that says, “I don’t know how normal you can be listening to that. That ain’t normal.” 

Russell Hannon’s reaction to our music was not fun or polite. His reaction was so over-the-top obnoxious that he left us all silently staring at him, then one another in its aftermath. Did he just accidentally reveal everything he spent years concealing from us? We didn’t know at the time. At the time, we were left with ‘What was that?’ expressions on our faces. It was one of those type of reactions that everyone uses to connect all the various dots they saw before and after the reaction to form some sort of impression. 

“That’s the weirdest [stuff] I’ve ever heard,” he said so loud that we couldn’t help but look around to see who he was screaming at. “How can you listen to [stuff] like that?” Later, when others agreed to listen to our music, he privately warned them to avoid actually playing it in their disc player. “It’s just so weird. You’ll hate it.“

“Why didn’t you just say you don’t care for my music?” we said in the aftermath of all that. “Why did you have to make such a show of it?” 

He said some stuff that we can’t remember, but our initial inclination was to view his obnoxious rejection of our music as a personal condemnation, and that he wanted to make defamatory statements about us that he wanted our co-workers to echo. What we didn’t understand at the time was that it had less to do with the music or his preferences and more to do with his intent to use our music as a platform to inform those in our world that he was so many levels closer to normal than we were. He wanted to stand atop us in this world of perceptions and declare that he would never deign to listen to our weird music ever again, and they shouldn’t either. That music, he said through actions not words, is not for we normal folk. 

As a result, when Xavier McVie joined our team, we were a little sheepish about lending our music to him. Especially after he and Russell Hannon made something of a connection. We expected Xavier to reject our music in the same vein Russell did. When Xavier didn’t just enjoy our music, but he tried to top it, it surprised us all. He would lend us equally strange music that he considered better. We knew music as a barometer of cool and uncool, but we never considered it an indicator of the various levels of sanity. We still didn’t consider it a comprehensive reflection on Russell’s sanity, but it was a dot in a landscape of dots that informed us Russell’s hold on sanity was a lot more tentative than any of us suspected. If a truly weird person was off the cliff, in other words, Russell Hannon was clinging to the edge screaming for us to help him before he falls. We didn’t know where Xavier McVie was in this analogy, when he not only embraced our music but tried to top it with weirder music, but we thought he might have an unusually unusual mind. 

***

We met a number of unusual thinkers before and after Xavier McVie. When we met them, we were so fascinated and excited that we developed a bad habit of interrogating them. “Why did you do that?” we would ask some, and “Why do you think that?” we would ask others. These initial Q&A’s were friendly and polite, but our innate curiosity drove us to ask questions beyond the why to the how. How did you arrive at that line of thought, and most of the insecure didn’t react well to this line of questioning.

“I’m sorry, but your line of thinking is just so unusual that I want to know everything I can about it,” we said. Most of them were still insulted that we would insinuate that they were, in any way, weird.

“You think I’m weird? What about you?” they asked.

Until we could establish our genuine curiosity, most people were combative.

In the face of our unusual brand of polite, patient interrogation, some unusual thinkers begin to wilt and eventually become insulted. Most people don’t see anything wrong with their thought processes, as it’s the only thing they’ve ever known. Some, very few, became as intrigued with their thought process as we were.  

When we found the few willing participants we did, over decades of this casual intrigue, we found that it often takes unusual thinkers a long time to find the source their unusual thoughts, if they ever do. The one thing in our favor is that most people love to talk about themselves, even if they don’t consider themselves as weird, strange, and just plain different as we do.  

Of those who responded well to our questions about the source of their unusual thinking, some suggested that a break might have occurred as a result of an incident. Two of them cited a traumatic episode in their life that they considered so shocking that it might’ve changed their way of thinking. One was a shockingly horrific car accident, and the other suggested it might be the premature death of a loved one who guided them philosophically in life. Most of the people who agreed that they had an unusual take on life, and that it might be based on some experience in life, had a more difficult time arriving at a source than Xavier did. Xavier was quick with it, though he was as suspicious about it as we were.

“I don’t think I had some psychological break or bend away from the norm, as you put it,” Xavier McVie said. “If I did, I think it might’ve had something to do with a young girl enticing me to try some LSD when I was far too young and not equipped to handle it. She was a teenage girl. Her name was Mary, and when she offered it to me, and two other guys, I was barely a teen myself. I was the only one of us with the courage,” and he said that with air quotes, “and I now say stupidity, to take it. Mary was an older girl. She was probably two years older, but she had all the things boys like. I thought a lot was on the line when she offered it to me. I thought it might change the course of our friendship, in ways a teenage boy hopes to advance their friendship with girls. When I took it, it changed me. I know it goes against the science on we have on drugs, but I swear the reaction I had lasted years. The way I see it, I was a normal, happy boy on a Thursday, and on Friday I was an angry teenager who felt so abnormal that I hated myself.

“Some called it a bad trip,” Xavier continued. “I hated those two words for years. You don’t understand, I would say. I’ve read a lot about reactions to controlled substances since then, and I’ve read that reactions are so varied that there is no consensus on how people will react. The brain is so different that some say it’s almost impossible to know how someone will react. Some are more susceptible to bad trips than others are. It took about twenty minutes for the LSD to really hit, but when it did I went through a lot. I went through every horrible experience I had in life in real time, and when I say real time, I mean real time. I relived the experiences as if I was going through them all over again. ‘That’s the definition of a bad trip,’ they said as if I should just say, “Oh!” and move on in life. “You don’t understand,” I told one of the people who said that, “I came out of that experience different.”

“My mom even noticed it,” Xavier continued. “She said, ‘What is wrong with you these days. You used to be such a happy boy.’ She thought it was the teen years, or some after-effects from my dad’s death. She sent me to a psychiatrist and all that, but it didn’t help. I never told my mom or the psychiatrist about the LSD. I probably should’ve, but it scared me so much that I wanted to put it behind me, as if it never happened. It might’ve been the dad thing, the teenager thing, or all of those things, but that experiment with LSD changed me so much in such a short time frame that I think I came out of it different. I relived so much, and experienced such nasty effects on that drug that it scared me.”   

Three other willing participants of our polite interrogation cited an experience with drugs, similar to Xavier’s except one suggested it was the morphine a doctor prescribed and the other suggested she had a “bad reaction” to the lidocaine a dentist used before a dental procedure. The last one we talked to before he met Xavier, cited a shocking moment when an authority figure betrayed their relationship with them in a life-altering way.  

As we wrote, most of those we grilled in polite, casual, and lengthy Q&A’s didn’t think there was anything wrong with them. Most of those who agreed that they were unusual thinkers didn’t think there was ever an incident or episode that drove them to think different, but some of those who did eventually arrived at an answer. Whether or not it was the answer is debatable, of course, but they thought they had an answer. The idea that these people exaggerated the effect these episodes had on them is probable, as it’s difficult to imagine that one incident, no matter how horrific or traumatic, can change a person so completely, but they thought it did. The first question we asked ourselves was, what if it didn’t? What if they exaggerated their reaction to an incident, an episode, or a drug, for an answer? The question we ask ourselves now, looking back on all of these Q&A’s is, is it better and healthier for an Xavier McVie to have an answer regarding his break from reality, even if it’s not 100% accurate? Should we have informed him that his suspicions were correct and that the myth about a 20-year flashback is just that, a myth. Russell Hannon, would’ve never sat down for a Q&A. He was so convinced he was the absolute center of normalcy, the bull’s eye of normalcy, that it would’ve been pointless to even ask him about his mindset. Russell and Xavier were both unusual thinkers, but does Xavier have a better chance at maintaining a relative level of normalcy, because he lists an incident that led him to some bend in his way of thinking? Even if it could be proven untrue? Is it better for him to have answer to explain it, because if he knows the trail from, it might put him back on the path back to.

Everything from Z to A: Hating the Hypocrite

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“‘He’s a hypocrite, and I hate hypocrites!’” Z said imitating a woman complaining about someone. The tone Z used to imitate the speaker informed A that Z had no respect her complaint. “Wait a second, so you’re philosophically pure? Let me guess, this hypocrite is someone who won’t let you do something. I’m also going to guess that the two of you know that you’re going to do it anyway, because you’re a grown woman who can do whatever she wants, but you know you’re going to feel guilty about it. Calling them a hypocrite is your super-secret way of breaking them down, so you transfer to him whatever guilt you might feel for doing it anyway.” 

“You said all that to her?” A asked. 

“Of course not,” Z said, “but I wanted to, and she seemed like the type of person who needed to hear it.”  

“I no longer ask who is hypocritical,” A said. “I now ask who is not? Seriously, it’s such a malleable charge that we’re all vulnerable to it. The idea that anyone practices what they preach 100% of the time is just silly. Some might be more hypocritical than others, of course, but we’re all vulnerable to the charge. Anytime I hear someone say something like, ‘I hate hypocrites!’ My first thought is, I know I could nail you on something, and I know you could nail me. It’s such a situational charge that I just don’t take it serious anymore.” 

“Hypocrite.”

“Funny.”

“If we had a third party sitting here,” Z said. “You couldn’t, ‘No, you’re a hypocrite’ me. That would be childish, and you’d know it, so I’d win. By accusing you of being a hypocrite first, I would insulate myself from the charge.”

“How many of us evaluate the person making the charge?” A asked. “How many of us analyze their motivations? We’re more apt to get behind the indignant and righteous raised fist of the speaker.” 

“We might call this psychological projection, and we might also wonder if the projector suffers from some faulty wiring that could lead to a fire if we don’t inspect for narcissism?” 

“Narcissism is another charge I hear bandied about.” 

“How do we lose contact with external realities?” Z said. “Narcissism lines most low-level impairments, and they can be resolved with some acknowledgement of narcissism.”   

“Narcissism might be as situational and malleable a charge as hypocrisy,” A said. 

“It could be,” Z agreed, “but wouldn’t that put us in some kind of obscene circle.” 

“With everyone labeling the person to their left a synonym of imposter?” 

“The imposter synonyms,” Z said, “or the imposter syndrome?” 

“The imposter syndrome is more of an internal psychological concept we use to explain those who feel guilty for achieving something,” A said. “Who am I to achieve this level of success? Everyone is going to eventually find out that I’m a fraud. A syndrome tends to be more internal, but when we project it outward to others, we might want to call it a phenomenon. The imposter phenomenon.” 

“Whatever the name is,” Z said. “When we project it outwards, we’re saying everyone to the left of us is a fraud, an imposter, a hypocrite, everyone except me.” 

“And that comes equipped with its own level of insecurity,” A said. “I might not be much, but at least I’m not an imposter, or a fraud, like you. Then, we have those who get behind us when we make these charges of hypocrisy or narcissism, and we form groups against the other. Divided we stand. Divided we fall.” 

“But we prefer to fall strong,” Z said, “we fall stronger than we would be if we stood alone. Charges like hypocrisy can unify. Let’s say you didn’t get a promotion because another was more qualified. We could sit around and be sad, or we could get righteously indignant, and what better way to get angry than to have a group get behind us and all the charges we level.” 

“And they don’t have to be true.” 

“They have to be so true to us that we believe it though,” Z said. “That’s essential. We can give excuses, but most of us don’t believe our own excuses. We need something we know to be true, in our hearts, even if it isn’t. Why did Gene hire Joel over me, because Gene is a fraud, hypocrite, imposter! “Sing it sister!” the group shouts, and that vindication and validation gives us a sinister smile.

“I’ve seen it too,” Z continued, “They weave some powerful yarns that they believe. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be so convincing. The yarn they weave is so beautiful that I would love to believe it too. I don’t want to think anything is my fault. I don’t want to think I didn’t receive that promotion because I didn’t have a quality resume, or I didn’t perform well in the interview. I don’t care who you are, rejection hurts, and it’s a painful reminder that I have to improve. Rather than go through all that work, I would much rather believe that there is something wrong with them. There was something wrong with my parents that led me to be the person I am. There’s something wrong with all those girls who rejected my advances. Wouldn’t we all love to live in a world where none of our faults were our fault?”

“I don’t know if it’s because our boss has bosses, and an employee handbook to back him up, but these accusations are less effective in the work place,” A said. “They’re much more effective in the home though. I’m not entirely sure what drives it, but parents seem to care when their kids comment on their performance.” 

“It’s the parent trap,” Z said. “Some parents feel handcuffed by it. I don’t know if it’s repetitive messaging from the movies or what have you, but some people parent their child with a fear that they might one day call them a hypocrite. Who cares, I say. I know I’m different, but I don’t care if my kid calls me a name. I actually relish it when my kid floats his trial balloons. “I hate you,” he says. I laugh, because I know he’s feeling me out and seeing what works best for him. I know I’m different, but I cannot view it as a serious condemnation. Some parents do, they stop the music and say things like, ‘Don’t say you hate me Johnny that hurts mommy’s feelings.’ Screw your feelings, Eloise. Your job is to raise a child into a decent adult.”  

“If it’s in the child’s best interest to follow your rules,” A added. “Your conviction should be solid.” 

“Exactly,” Z said. “You mean to tell me that because I abused alcohol in my youth that I can’t tell my kid not to, because he might hear some stories about my years of drunken debauchery one day and call me a hypocrite. I have no problem with that. I’ll sleep with the same grin I do every night. My experience with alcohol abuse leads me to believe it’s destructive. They say alcohol abuse is genetic, others argue that it has more to do with the climate we were raised in. I don’t know the answer to that, but I want my child to end that legacy. Why wouldn’t I do everything I can to end it, regardless the short-term taints it might have on my presentation? Alcohol abuse is not a divisive issue as most people aren’t against it, but when these parents who abused alcohol in their younger years, debate whether to tell their children not to do the same, do they think their integrity is on the line? If it is, what’s more important, your integrity or your child’s health? 

“Are you going to let your kid talk back to you, because you talked back to your parents?” Z continued. “Ok, she’ll grow up with no respect for authority. You’re going to excuse your child for misbehavior in school, because you misbehaved in school. All because you fear them calling you a hypocrite? As I said, the arrows eventually arrow back to narcissism, and in this case, it’s narcissist to try to achieve some sort of philosophical purity at the expense of your child’s mental health and well-being.”  

“If you need a device, and some parents do,” A added, “tell them what alcohol abuse did to you. Tell them the stories of what happened to you, how many stupid things you said and did while loaded. Tell them about how many days of your life you missed due to hangovers. Tell them how at one point, you couldn’t picture hanging out with friends without alcohol.” 

“Don’t worry about being a hypocrite, a fraud, or an imposter,” Z added, “because you’re going to be all of the above when they want something.” 

“Time heals all wounds,” A said. “I hate to use a cliché here, but it’s really true. There will be times when you are all of the above. You’re flawed and I’m flawed, and we will make mistakes. If we spend more time with them, it will more than make up for any mistakes we make along the way.” 

“And don’t obsess over those mistakes,” Z added. “Don’t worry about being a philosophically pure parent, a cool parent, or their friend. Just be a parent to them.”

Everything from Z to A: How’s Life Treating You?

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“Did you stop and smell the roses today?” Z asked.

“I smelled a lot of coffee,” A said.

“I ask that because I’m amazed by how many people fail to take stock of their lives,” Z said.

“I know it,” A said. “Life is a series of moments, good and bad, but how many cycle through the good in preparation for the bad? They’re onto the next moment soon after a moment.”

“Some of the times, they’re preparing for the next moment while in the moment,” Z said. “It drives me crazy. Flowers stress them out. “I need to buy a vase now that you gave me flowers. What vase would be most appropriate for this particular flower?” Did you know certain vases don’t highlight various flowers very well? I know nothing about flowers apparently. And if you don’t buy the proper pot for a plant why bother purchasing it in the first place? I have no idea about this stuff. I’m not ready for primetime. They don’t even smell the flower. They smile, and all that, to be polite, but they’re not there when they accept them. They’re in some place where this whole flower thing will somehow go horribly awry. They don’t live in moments. They worry about them.” 

“I’m guessing this is probably based on something from their past,” A said after mmm hmming Z through his description.  

“Oh it is. There are some matters from their past that lead them to constantly prepare for the future,” Z said. “The minute after they complete a project, they’re onto the next. There is no appreciation of a completed task. They’re onto the next one while they’re doing this one, and when they prepare, they over prepare. They do that because they want everyone to enjoy the moment, which is an admirable quality, but they forget to enjoy it themselves.” 

“They actually sound pretty normal,” A said, “and normal can be annoying, but it’s not as annoying as abnormal. My rule of thumb is if people don’t annoy me, they will, eventually, when I’m done digging deep enough. Your job, if you choose to accept it, is to find annoying flaws and determine if you can live with them.”  

“It’s probably a good rule of thumb,” Z said, “especially since I annoy the people around me by trying to find what might annoy me. Add to that the fact that I’m not getting better looking with age, and I probably shouldn’t be as picky as I am. Most men age well, I have not. I don’t know if I was ever attractive, but I’m pretty sure I’m not as good looking as I once was. Do you still find me attractive?”  

“I never did.” 

“Speaking of rules of attraction,” Z said. “Do you ever consider how lucky we are that our body continues to operate, at a healthy level, every day?” 

“I appreciate that more and more as I age,” A said. 

“All right, but you didn’t ask me the question I expected,” Z said with a smile. “Which is how does good health make us more attractive? Since you didn’t ask, I’ll just launch. Some people are just naturally better looking than others, but those of us in the mid-to-lower tiers look for indicators in a mate. The first, and most obvious,  are found in the skin and hair, but they’re so obvious that we make conscious decisions on who to date based on what we see in them. Our subconscious decisions focus on other, not so obvious indicators. A great set of teeth, for instance, are an unusual trait to seek, but we all do it in subconscious ways. We all love a great set of teeth, but how many people say I chose to date Amy over Teresa, because Amy has better teeth? And the indicators in her eyes and lips suggest greater hydration practices, and we all want to kiss a healthy set of moist lips, even if we don’t consciously make note of the difference, unless there are exaggerations.”

”I’ve never thought about it with that much focus,” A said, “but I’ll grant you that a person with healthy features is generally more attractive than someone who has something like frayed hair, and poor dental hygiene.“

“What about those people, and we all know one, who can eat anything, drink to excess and smoke, and they’re healthy as an ox?” Z asked. “I live with the notion that God is fair, until I meet those who watch what they eat, exercise 2.5 times a week, and then on Tuesday they come down with liver failure. “What the hell? How did that just happen?” we ask. It just does. It’s the cold water, cruel answer. We can go crazy when it’s our loved one, trying to figure out why, but the point blank, inarguable answer is that some of the times it just happens. What’s the difference? Why does it happen to some and not others? Is it all about genes and genetics, or is it some measure of luck that it doesn’t just happen to us?

“How many people do you know who’ve had their whole world upended due to some devastating malady and injury young in life?” Z continued. “It leads me to think those of us who woke up healthy today are a marvel of science. We’ve all heard the line that everything we do in our younger years catches up to us eventually, and some people abuse their body with food, alcohol, and drugs, but some don’t. Andy Kaufman claimed he didn’t have any vices in life save for chocolate ice cream, and he died of lung cancer at thirty-five. Thirty-Five! How did that happen? It just does. He said he never smoked a cigarette in his life. If that’s true, how unlucky is that? How many people die thinking it was the chocolate ice cream that caught up to them? Andy thought that. Why would he come up with such a ridiculous notion? Because he had no other explanation. He probably went crazy trying to come up with some answer to his devastating situation, and that’s what he came up with.”  

“We are lucky on the big things, the life and death issues,” A said, “but we’re also lucky with the little things. A friend of mine started getting ulcers that were so painful they affected his quality of life. He said he practiced good health before, but the ulcers made him a fanatic. How did they pop up in the first place? He and his doctor went over his diet, and they couldn’t find anything in particular. As you said, it just happens to some people. Others have earaches, toothaches, and all the other aches and pains that seem trivial until you’re the one suffering from them. You’re right though, some people abuse their body, and some don’t, but I’m inclined to think that the separation between good and poor health is something as unfair as genes. Those of us who aren’t suffering from some ailment based on genetic predispositions don’t know how lucky we are.” 

“Do we have a genetic predisposition to a chemical imbalance in the brain that results in depression?” Z asked. “I knew a guy who became depressed at fifty. As far back as anyone remembered, he was relatively normal, happy, healthy man. Then one morning, he didn’t want to get out of bed. He didn’t have a mind-shattering, life-altering moment that brought on the onset of depression. “It just sort of happened,” they said. The idea that it makes no sense to anyone, including his doctor, is frightening, because if it can happen to him why wouldn’t it happen to us? What’s the difference between him and us? How do we prevent it? Does it just happen to some of us, or are there years of neglect and abuse that lead to it? Is it based on age, a midlife crisis of sorts, diet, lack of exercise. We don’t know. They don’t know. They can’t pinpoint when the depression began, but one day, one month, or one year they find themselves either marginally or clinically depressed. If he experienced some indicators younger in life, we could use genetic predispositions to explain it, but why did the onset wait until he was fifty? 

“At one point in his decade long battle with depression, they had to switch his medication,” Z continued, “and they say that his reaction to the medication was such that he took his own life. Did the medication over balance one chemical, or fail to balance the way the first medication did? Is the whole process of balancing chemicals one that once we become more familiar with them, we’ll be able to regulate the stew better? Will further study of DNA and RNA help us understand it better? Is a high functioning liver genetic? What about the pancreas, and the lymphatic system? How do all of our systems work in harmony, day after day, to maintain good health?” 

“We have a miraculous machine no doubt,” A said, “and even though I believe the difference between good health and poor health has a lot to do with genetics, I question that too. I question it only because I’m overwhelmed by the idea of it. You mean to tell me that one of the primary reasons my friend died of lung cancer and I didn’t is based on the lungs the two of us received from our respective lineage? I’m not saying it’s wrong, but it’s difficult for me to grasp. I don’t know what I’m talking about in this area, and as I’m about as far from a geneticist as one can be. I understand how understanding our gene code better can unlock a number of these mysteries, but can it explain everything? Atheists complain that the religious use God, and His mysterious ways, to explain the current gaps in the explanations our modern science provides, but do modern scientists use the gene code in the same way? The science we have now suggests that genetics plays a major role in good health, but will we believe the same thing 100 years from now? Will future science embolden and strengthen this concept, or will future scientists laugh at our present reliance on DNA to explain gaps in our current knowledge?”   

“It’s way above my pay grade too,” Z agreed, “but what about those who do make that money? What do our current minds of medicine do to cure the body of its ailments? They prescribe pain pills to help us deal with the pain of healing. “No wait, I’m really hurting here, and all you’re giving me is a pain pill? I want you to fix my organ and get it working again.” Our best course of action, they say, is to let the body heal itself. But, I’ve seen supplements in drug stores that suggest that it can aid in restoration. “Those claims are mostly crap,” our doctors say. Our marvelous machine often heals itself better than the most brilliant minds of medicine can. They also know that it’s better for the body to heal itself. Healing hurts of course, and some of the times the best plan is to take pain pills that help us deal with that pain, and “call me in two weeks if the pain persists.” Relying on the body to heal itself doesn’t always work, of course, and when it doesn’t they go to the next course of action, but it works so often that most brilliant minds of medicine know that the best course of action is to simply sit back and wait for the miraculous powers of the human body to heal itself.” 

“We shouldn’t neglect the healing properties of water either,” A added. “My doctor asked me about water one time. “How much water are you drinking?” he asked. Now, I knew water was a good thing, and I tried to drink more of it for better health in a more general way, but he added, “It can cure what ails you.” I considered that a throw away line. I thought it was something he said so often, to so many patients that it didn’t have much meaning, but I know enough about myself to know that such lines will stick with me if I didn’t badger the doctor for more details.

“What do you mean water can cure what ails you?” I asked.”

“Well,” he said, “drinking enough water can cure muscle pain, it can make you feel better in ways that can aid in achieving better mental health, and it can balance out salt in the body.” He’s all about the word can, because he knows how much we love our absolutes and the resulting unrealistic expectations that follow.”

“Most of us have heard that cure-all stuff,” Z said, “and we all know that this simple element is the best prevention for dehydration, but how many of us sit back and think about the depth of a line like what your doctor said, it can cure what ails you. Drinking more water can promote greater wellness and prevent some of the debilitating conditions we’ve talked about today. When people talk about good health, they all go to food and exercise, you are what you eat and all that, but I drill down deeper to the fundamentals of good health, and laying at the bottom of that well is water and sleep. 

“Yeah, don’t forget about sleep.” A added. “Water and sleep. Body builders are always looking for that magic elixir to greater muscle development. They seek brightly packaged supplements that aren’t shy about selling their brand of nirvana. How many supplement stores do you have in your area? They’re everywhere. They’re like the stagecoach charlatans of yesteryear rolling into a town square to sell their miracle cures to unsuspecting customers. Are their claims entirely fraudulent, probably not, but they’re not nearly as over-the-top effective as they claim. I’ve heard some, who are not in the supplement industry, claim that you can throw most of those supplements and protein shakes out the window and get an extra hour or two of sleep for similar and sometimes better results.” 

“We would much rather buy good health than rely on fundamentals like water and sleep,” Z said. “Imon Point says, “I have a product that helps the muscles heal 30% faster after a workout.” “That’s interesting,” Mary Quite Contrary, interjects, “but did you know that my product has the capacity to also build muscle while aiding in the healing process? You simply must try my product.” I have product, do you have product? We want better health, and to get there we think we have to spend money on it, so we buy machines, products, and gym memberships.” 

“How many gym memberships are purchased and rarely if ever used?” A asked, nodding in agreement.

“It’s an incredibly profitable industry,” Z said, “because the no-shows do not put the wear and tear on machines that they would if everyone showed up. You would think that if people decided they were not going to enjoy the fruits of their membership that they would cancel their membership, but cancelation rates are extremely low.” 

“Because canceling a gym membership is like canceling your quest for good health.” 

“Exactly!” Z said. “My dad was an interesting character. He purchased a series of books on the lives of saints. They were leather bound and lined with gold flint. They were beautiful books. As a kid, I was not permitted to touch them. My dad didn’t touch them either. My mom said something shocking to him one day, “It’s not enough to own them, you have to read them.“ The fact that my dad repeated that line so often suggests that the thought never occurred to him. I think he thought to own them is to own them. I think he thought the purchase, and the careful preservation practices he employed made him more holy. My guess is he thought St. Peter would greet him at the gates with, “I saw that beautiful collection you bought on us. That must’ve set you back a couple paychecks. Come on in my friend.“ Gym members might be equally shocked to learn that purchasing a gym membership is not the key to good health. You have to use it.“  

“It is fascinating to think how much we complicate matters by trying to buy the products that promote greater health, better well-being, and some marketed form of absolute serenity,“ A said. “When if we just concentrated more on the age-old fundamentals, like drinking more water and getting more sleep, we might be able to cure more than we ever dreamed possible.”

“As with everything else in life, some of the times it’s not that simple,” Z said. “That’s the line you hear most often from complicated people who complain about complications. If you dare to propose to them that their complicated problem could could have a simple solution, they treat it like a personal insult. “It’s not that simple for me, I have an ailment that defies your age-old fundamentals. Trust me, I tried them.” Some of the times, it is more complicated, but some of the times, the solution is so simple that most people disregard it, because it can’t be that simple.”

“The complicated people who love to complain,” A said. “I know them well. I was raised by one. They might know as little about their problem as we do, but they know the wrong when they hear it. You spent your whole life complaining about various health problems, trying to make them appear more severe than they were. Now that you actually have a severe health problem, does it validate all of your complaints, or does it nullify them by comparison, and when you’re finally laid to rest, what are you going to talk about?” 

“In the absence of something to complain about,” Z said. “We will find something to complain about.”