September 2008 Archives

This October EL is doing it's first ever issue on the politics of health. What's political about health, you say? The better question is: what isn't?

The thing is: we don't stay healthy (or unhealthy) in a vacuum. We are influenced by the world around us and the laws and regulations that help shape it.

Take government nutrition guidelines. They attempt to establish how much of certain things we should eat or not, and whether to classify certain foods as healthy or unhealthy. And most of us (having been forced to memorize the now-abandoned food pyramid as children) have a vague sense of these guidelines and try, almost by reflex, to follow them. But come to find out (on page 22 of the October issue of EL) that many government-backed dietary recommendations have been influenced by food-industry lobbyists. In 2007 alone, food-industry interests spent more than 70 million dollars to ensure that government recommendations were "friendly" to the processed-food industry. And, sure enough, just a few weeks after an industry "grant" to the American Diabetics Association, the organization's chief medical and scientific officer claimed that sugar has no influence on weight or diabetes. (Gasp!)

 But politics doesn't just content itself with food. Another interesting fact: our economic system is based primarily on consumption -- by design. The rise of the rabid consumer was planned by the folks who wanted to usher in a period of unparalleled economic growth after World War II. They saw constant consumption of goods and services as the only way to sustain large-scale economic growth. Some devilishly clever marketing here, a bit of planned obsolescence there, and, voila, fifty years later consumption has become the single sustaining force in our economy as well as our national identity. (One of the troubles with this paradigm, of course, is that consumption has been shown not to promote lasting happiness or life satisfaction. It can also lead to money troubles. In fact, therapists are now starting to classify and treat "money disorders.")

The list of ways that health and policy intersect is endless. Flip through the October EL for a closer look at some of the key issues. Meanwhile, tune in for the presidential debates tonight. No matter what your political bent, the sparring should make great TV. In fact, I pre-emptively declare the upcoming series of debates the best new show of the year.

Okay, I admit it: I tried the deep-fried chocolate chip cookies. Whatever negative impact that had on my arterial health was offset by the pure joy of spending the day at the Fair. 

The State Fair was fantastic. I still can't exactly explain the Fair's appeal (see my previous post), but on my recent visit I took note of some factors that, I suspect, contribute to it's fantastic-ness. I also tried to find some wisdom hidden in these factors -- some bit of advice we can extrapolate from the State Fair experience and apply to the remaining 50 weeks of the year. Here's what struck me:

No one at the Fair is stressed out. The Fair is a celebration -- of summer, of hard work (prize-winning preserves, anyone?), of agricultural dexterity (the biggest pumpkins and the sweetest apples!), of giddy, rollicking fun (the rides, the games, the prizes!) -- and stress has trouble gaining traction amid so much joy. In fact, I have begun to suspect that stressing out at the Fair is a physical impossibility. So what's the take-home wisdom? Feeling relaxed isn't just the opposite of avoiding stress. It's about the active pursuit of joy -- and, of course, the celebration of the world's best strawberry jam!

You can't be ironic at the Fair. The Fair is full of kitschy stuff and it's tempting to take an ironic view: "This crop art is good precisely because it's soooo bad!" But irony dies at the State Fair entrance gates. For whatever reason, the Fair is something you can't help but genuinely love, kitsch or not, and I think that authenticity of feeling contributes to the joy of the Fair. Take-away wisdom? It's important to be passionate -- without qualification or apology -- about the things you enjoy and genuinely take pleasure in. Love cross-stitch and quilting? Embrace them! Think weeding the garden by hand is the most satisfying way to spend a Saturday afternoon? Be proud! Prefer alone time to the company of others? Don't apologize! Just because contemporary culture can find the joke in any situation doesn't always mean it should. We're allowed to love what we love -- and when we're out and proud about what we love, we tend to enjoy our lives a lot more.

The Fair is real, interactive and shared. At the Fair, we participate: we're a foot away from the cow giving birth; we walk through and touch the sustainable fabrics and earth-friendly flooring in the eco-building; we're on hand to watch a sculptor standing in a room-sized, glass-walled cooler carve the bust of Princess Kay of the Milky Way out of a 90-pound slab of butter. We're not watching it happen on TV, or reading about it on a blog, or playing it in a video game. Part of what makes the Fair magical is that we're really there, experiencing the experience --smelling the deep fried everything, touching the cotton candy, petting the baby piglets -- in a way we can't electronically. Thousands of other happy people are there, too, which only heightens the joy, in so much as joy is contagious and most things are better shared. In a world where electronic diversions and passive entertainments often rule the day, real experiences enrich our lives that much more. The takeaway? Turn off the TV, take off the ear phones, log off the computer and go do something. Adopt a community garden. Go hiking at the nearby park. Make friends with neighbors at the local coffee shop. Volunteer at a pre-school, or animal shelter, or art museum (whatever most inspires you). There's a joy in being part of something -- of participating -- that can never be replicated in pixels.