Scars and Wrinkles
May 8, 2024
Current location: Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA
Reading: Not the End of the World by Hannah Richie
Listening: Funeral by Tele Novella(if you have a moment, reply with your own 3-item status via email or in the comments)
Scars and Wrinkles
The more years I’ve accrued, the more obvious it’s become that I can’t take anything for granted.
My physical capacities, my mentality clarity, the way I look, the things I crave, the activities and inputs that fuel me—all are prone to ebb and amendment and declination.
With time I’ve learned that figuring out how to accomodate my specific pattern of scars and wrinkles is a worthwhile investment, as understanding this fingerprint-like, topographic self-portrait helps me anticipate my future needs, while also making it more likely I’ll notice these foibles and thus be capable of establishing stable footing on the uncertain surfaces I’m treading, today, and those I will traverse in the future.
Sometimes the essential effort is simply allowing myself to accept that something is different, and will remain different, and that I consequently must let go of previous understandings, assumptions, and self-definitions.
In other cases, the primary labor is figuring out how to account for these differences while still moving in a direction I’d like to go; that direction still relevant, the path I walk still important to me, but the mode of transport, the ease of locomotion, the time it takes to get there (and consequences for doing so) a little or dramatically different than before.
I find it’s useful to think about this process as an attempt to gift my future self the resources he’ll need, offering that future-me more freedoms and options by investing in internal and extrinsic assets, today: my health, my relationships, my skills and knowledge, my financial security, and so on.
This is distinct from merely “preparing for the future,” though, in that part of this effort—the heaviest lift, at times—is incorporating an abundance of new data, new realities, and oft-uncomfortable realizations and weaknesses into my intuitive sense of self.
Growing older is partly about growth, and that’s relatively easy to recognize and celebrate.
It’s also about the aging of one’s physical and mental mechanisms, though, and the accumulation of verdigris and rust upon our formerly familiar surfaces.
There’s plenty we can do to make this process less debilitating and inherently lossy, emphasizing that growth and dampening the pummeling impacts of time on our bodies and minds.
But it’s not a passive effort, and simply recognizing that such considerations are necessary can be a struggle (and victory) unto itself.
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My new book is about growing older with intention, if you’re interested in reading more about that sort of thing :)
Interesting Links
“The Airbnb charges you a $150 cleaning fee, but insists the place needs to be left spotless. There will be a fee if the bedding hasn’t been stripped and the dishwasher hasn’t been emptied. Your Uber driver is lost because his app hasn’t updated and keeps telling him to turn down streets that no longer exist. You still give him five stars. Your mother sends you a link to a breaking story, but the article is behind a paywall, so you switch to the website where you do pay for news but there’s no mention of it. You buy a microwave and receive ads for microwaves. You buy a mattress and receive ads for mattresses.”
Variations on the Theme of Silence
“Later I would learn that Gregorian chant is based on the cadence of human breath. At the time, all I knew was that no other sound came this close to silence. The words felt like a prayer that could go on forever, old monks dropping dead and new ones slipping into their place, only God to hear their song. In its peace, space and time stood still. The silence outside the chapel was just the opposite: alive and tingling, tuned to something deep inside me. I had expected an absence, a mortification, not this electric energy. It felt charged, like those seconds at the end of a magnificent symphony just before the audience jumps to its feet in a thunderclap of applause.”
In an Unfocused World, “Listening Bars” Demand Our Complete Attention
“Inside, by tawny lamplight, a subdued host runs through the rules. We may sit at the bar and listen to the records. We may nod to the bartender when we’re ready for another manhattan or negroni, but we may not chat, we may not pull out our phones, we may not do anything that could distract from the enjoyment of the music.”
Outro
I checked my PO Box for the first time in too long yesterday, and there were several birthday cards from folks who read this newsletter (and my other missives)—thank you! That was a really nice surprise.
About a year-and-a-half ago I was going for a run each day (and loving it), but I had to stop due to a health issue (exercise induced bronchoconstriction) I’d tempered a bit with an inhaler I puffed-on before going out, but which was still making my throat and lungs (and thus, voice) basically inoperable for the rest of the day, which isn’t tenable for someone who hosts podcasts for a living.
I recently read a research paper on the subject, though, and learned there’s a refractory period after the bronchoconstriction is triggered, which meant I might be able to work out a bit, trigger it, wait for it to subside, and then have an hour or two window during which I could work out without fear.
I’m about a week into experimenting with this model, and my theory has played out as anticipated, so far. I’m still taking things slow, but I’ve been able to get back out for (currently very moderate) every-other-day runs around the neighborhood, after doing a quick kettlebell workout and resting for 30 minutes to activate the refractory period.
This is an imperfect counterweight to a (stupid) inherited problem (that I resent), but that’s how a lot of these things work, and frankly I feel incredibly fortunate to be able to run at all, after worrying (and coming to accept, over the course of a year-and-a-half) that I would no longer be able to do so.
Do you have a regular workout routine? If so, what’s it entail? Any weird health issues you’ve figured out a way to account for or counterbalance in some way? Let me know, and/or take a moment to introduce yourself—I respond to every message I receive and would love to hear from you :)
Prefer stamps and paper? Send me a letter, postcard, or some other physical communication at: Colin Wright, PO Box 11442, Milwaukee, WI 53211
Or hit me up via the usual methods: Instagram/Threads, Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, or explainer site.