Physical Intelligence - Day 77

The edible irrationality that befalls me as it does so many others is our lack of resistance to how the food has been first designed by the canny food scientist and then sold by the equally devilish marketer - and I can't think of a movie clip that states that so well then the movie clip above.  Even if I know what is being said has some home truth behind it, I remain edible irrational - in other words if it looks good enough to bite and swallow, I still do it.

It is after all what the family cooked and served as our family meal, which as communal tribe we partake together, without fail, regular as regular can be and as I am finding out a little bit more rare as a social practice with each passing decade.  What trumps my knowledge of how badly those sausages are ladened with artificially created fats that breaking bread together and sharing a family meal is more important as a principle than knowing I am clogging my arteries.

Nor will I produce a video screen above my coffin if I should ever die of a heart-attack that recites this buzz, which will only add unnecessary guilt to the grief that comes when one of us dies from the act of eating.  Food if it does not suit our disposition and genes is apt to eventually kill us and more than just we are what we eat - we can consider ourselves lucky if we carry the body type that is resilient to our irrational choices.

The good news is that thoughtful people do put up video's that contain sufficient grains of truth that we should become savvy to, or we can of course roll the arteriosclerosis dice and hope that we don't get blockages in our arteries that lead to the point where we first need to reach for an aspirin and then if we are not dead immediately - go to the local hospital to have us rushed into surgery and then our chest sliced open like a cantaloupe and veins stripped from our legs to replace the damaged connections to our own heart.  That we end up looking like a stitched up zip-lock bag that has zips lining our bodies in stitched red marks is a sight that most people should visit a heart-patient recovering from surgery and see.  Yet I have had that lecture from another middle aged guy who was lucky enough to be stitched back into working order.

Now it is not as if we need to visit a friend who has had a heart-attack to see what I am possibly investing in if I keep gambling that my body will keep me out of trouble - and for sure it did in the first 50 years but once one has tested the limits of our bodies resilience beyond a certain point, that may be a sure way of knowing we won't have another 50 years, let alone 5 years.  So if a reminder is necessary, I decided to watch for myself what heart by-pass surgery really involves, not in the finished form when my friend is showing me the highways of staples used to put everything back after surgery, but the graphic view of what that surgery actually involves :