More time for reading was a small source of light in a dark year. These are some of the books I enjoyed. The first in each section is my favorite. You’ll find some commentary, added where it might be enriching. Other books need nothing more written about them.
Read MoreRequired reading for the Struggleverse: “What Doesn’t Kill Us,” By Scott Carney.
The human body has changed little since homo sapiens first appeared on the planet about 100,000 years ago. What has changed is the presence of and our reliance on technology. Nowhere is this more apparent than in our daily interactions with the environment.
We, as a species, have used technology to put space between us and the environment. As a result, modern humans do not see themselves as a part of the natural world.
“We divide the planet into two categories: things influenced by human action and things that are untouched.” Carney writes. “This distinction is false.”
Our standoffish relationship with the environment is perhaps best illustrated by how we cope with cold. For many of us who live in the northeast, a winter morning might look something like this: We rise from our downy blankets, prepare for our day with a steamy shower, gird ourselves in high-tech, insulating fabric, then ride to our heated offices in our heated cars. The human body experiences little variability.
Carney delves into the consequences of ubiquitous comfort by going straight to the research, and the results aren’t pretty. Aside from obesity, the most obvious disease of affluence, our relative lives of ease, when compared to those of our ancient ancestors, may be to blame for a litany of autoimmune disorders.
So, what’s to be done? Essentially, be more human.
Carney, who writes with the seasoned skepticism of bullshit-detecting journalist, enters the orbit of Wim Hof, the Iceman, at first looking to reveal him as yet another new age huckster. The only problem is that Hof’s methods work. Moreover, the more the methods are researched, the more scientific support they earn. Through breath control, Hof can regulate his immune system, increase tolerance to cold exposure, and boost muscular endurance. And apparently, he can teach just about anybody to do it.
Cold is a central character in this work of nonfiction.
“The sense of fear that comes from the cold reaches down into some dark, primordial core inside every one of us,” Carney writes.
Through his work with Hof, Carney discovers that perhaps this innate fear isn’t as well calibrated as it should be. With enough practice, we can tolerate much more in the way of environmental and mental extremes than we give ourselves credit.
The book also explores the appeal of obstacle course racing. These so-called suffer fests, such as Tough Mudder and Spartan Race, seem to provide people with a certain amount of deprivation that’s lacking in their daily lives. Once again, Carney is no bystander, but plunges headfirst into this world of physical extremes by taking part in what is considered the toughest OCR in the world, the Tough Guy.
In this entertaining read, in addition to finding inspiring stories of people who have kept symptoms of autoimmune disorders at bay, or who have turned their lives and health around, you will perhaps discover as the author did, that struggle is the ultimate cure for what ails us as individuals and as a society.
On a recent episode of Tim Ferriss' podcast, author Seth Godin said -- among many thought-provoking things -- that a book is the ultimate bargain. Few $30 purchases have the power to change your life. One book that's changed mine is The War of Art, by Steven Pressfield. For about $10, this book might be the ultimate bargain for anyone looking to create anything, or be more effective.
I've been revisiting WOA when I have a few minutes. Pressfield, a Marine, gives the enemy of creativity a name: Resistance. His book is a manual to knowing that enemy. I refer to WOA in times of self-doubt, or when I need a double shot of motivation. My often-stalled attempt at a novel is the most frequent casualty of Resistance. But there are other casualties -- casualties I'm only beginning to notice.
I ended up in a newsroom management by happenstance at young age and with comparatively minimal experience. One of the most difficult aspects of leading, one that I still struggle with, is communicating expectations, especially communicating when expectations aren't met. That works both ways on the chain of command. Subordinates need to be able to communicate their expectations, questions and concerns.
Why do I suck at it? Resistance. Pressfield points out that you can use Resistance as a compass: the more Resistance you feel when contemplating whether or not to act, the more important it is that you act. Resistance can be a compass for communication in this way. The more difficult the conversation, the more Resistance I feel, and the more important it is that the conversation be had immediately.
In all instances, I strive to prioritize what is difficult, what exudes the most Resistance. I say strive, because I often fail. But everyday, I'm working to improve. And the lessons I encounter along the way might be useful to you, too.
That said, I've been thinking a lot about improving the format of this blog. Inspired by Godin's appearance on Ferriss' show, I'm tweaking things. You can expect short posts daily, with a few longer posts thrown in during the week, all filled with observations intended to be useful to you. Ammo for the fight against Resistance.
A few years ago, I read Greil Marcus' The Old, Weird America: The World of Bob Dylan's Basement Tapes, another one of those life-changing reads. Marcus posits that there's an American collective unconsciousness lurking in the folklore of Dylan's music, and it's especially strong on The Basement Tapes, the record he made in 1975 with The Band in Woodstock, N.Y., while recovering from a motorcycle accident.
I contextualize Marcus' thesis like this: Have you ever heard a song, especially an old song, that you have no recollection of hearing before, but it gives you a sense of familiarity? It's a part of an American collective unconsciousness.
As a child, I remember looking at the cover of The Band's self-titled LP and hearing the music and thinking, for years, that it was from another time in America. That time was the 1960s, not the 1860s like I imagined. But the experience that record created was another place and another time -- the American collective unconsciousness at work.
I get the same feeling from places in America, too. Everywhere I've been, I try to absorb as much of the local folklore and history as possible, try to connect the dots to reveal the greater mystery of what it means, on a psychological level, to be an American. I'm sure I'll be doing the same thing in Louisville tomorrow.
Lucky for me, bourbon, like baseball, is exclusively our invention.