arithmetic by counting M&M’s, using lesson plans supplied by candy companies. When they walk though the hallways of their high schools, they may see a series of brightly colored mini-billboards, cheerfully telling them that “M&M’s are better than straight A’s” and instructing them to “satisfy your hunger for higher education with a Snickers.”
Government figures show that American children now obtain an incredible 50 percent of their calories from added fat and sugar. Many health-conscious people criticize official U.S. dietary guidelines for not taking a stronger stand for more nutritious foods, but even as it is, less than 1 percent of U.S. kids regularly eat diets resembling the guidelines.
A few weeks ago I had dinner with relatives of mine who are in their seventies. They typically eat lots of meat and sugar, and their dinner that evening was no exception. Meanwhile, their conversation consisted primarily of complaining about a long list of aches andpains and about how bleak their lives were becoming. Finally, trying to look on the bright side, one of them said, “Well, old age isn’t so bad, I guess, when you consider the alternative.” He meant, of course, that it is better to grow old, even if you are miserable, than to die.
I appreciated that he was trying to be positive, but I found myself wondering how much more satisfying life could be if we could understand that there really
is
another alternative, if we could recognize that there are ways of living and eating that lead toward a more healthful and fulfilling life than many of us have ever thought to be possible.
WHAT WE CAN LEARN ABOUT OURSELVES
There are, of course, real challenges in Vilcabamba, as there are in Abkhasia, and as indeed there are wherever human beings exist. It would be a mistake to be blinded by our nostalgia for a pure and unspoiled way of life and to romanticize life in these regions. Neither Abkhasia nor Vilcabamba is a Garden of Eden. It would be both emotionally self-indulgent and intellectually indefensible to project our own fantasies of an ideal society onto these people.
But at the same time we would be remiss if we failed to notice that there is indeed something inspiring and beautiful about life in these special places. If we want to understand ourselves better, if we want to understand why some people grow old in sickness and despair while others grow old with vitality and inner peace, then we have much to learn from the simplicity and good-heartedness with which the residents of these places live. If we want to understand the factors that are at play in our lives that can produce on the one hand a person who at the age of sixty is already debilitated, defeated, and depressed, or on the other hand someone who at ninety is energetic, alert, and happy, then I am sure their examples have something to teach us.
As in Abkhasia, there is in Vilcabamba an abiding and profound appreciation for the natural transitions of life. Aging is celebrated, and elderly people are held in great respect. How different this is from the modern world’s youth-obsessed culture, where we tend tolook with horror upon aging, as if the goal of life were to remain perpetually twenty-five.
All too often, we seem as a culture to be at war with life’s transitions, viewing death as the failure to stay alive, and aging as the failure to remain young. We do something grievous to ourselves when we buy into this cultural ideology.
The myths and stereotypes we have about old age are so deeply entrenched in American society that they can insinuate themselves into our psyches without our even knowing what they are. It is difficult to escape the messages that our culture sends about the aging process. From birthday cards that decry the advance of age to the widespread use of demeaning language about the elderly (“geezer,” “old fogey,” “old maid,” “dirty old man,” “old goat,” etc.) to the lack of positive images of the
Government figures show that American children now obtain an incredible 50 percent of their calories from added fat and sugar. Many health-conscious people criticize official U.S. dietary guidelines for not taking a stronger stand for more nutritious foods, but even as it is, less than 1 percent of U.S. kids regularly eat diets resembling the guidelines.
A few weeks ago I had dinner with relatives of mine who are in their seventies. They typically eat lots of meat and sugar, and their dinner that evening was no exception. Meanwhile, their conversation consisted primarily of complaining about a long list of aches andpains and about how bleak their lives were becoming. Finally, trying to look on the bright side, one of them said, “Well, old age isn’t so bad, I guess, when you consider the alternative.” He meant, of course, that it is better to grow old, even if you are miserable, than to die.
I appreciated that he was trying to be positive, but I found myself wondering how much more satisfying life could be if we could understand that there really
is
another alternative, if we could recognize that there are ways of living and eating that lead toward a more healthful and fulfilling life than many of us have ever thought to be possible.
WHAT WE CAN LEARN ABOUT OURSELVES
There are, of course, real challenges in Vilcabamba, as there are in Abkhasia, and as indeed there are wherever human beings exist. It would be a mistake to be blinded by our nostalgia for a pure and unspoiled way of life and to romanticize life in these regions. Neither Abkhasia nor Vilcabamba is a Garden of Eden. It would be both emotionally self-indulgent and intellectually indefensible to project our own fantasies of an ideal society onto these people.
But at the same time we would be remiss if we failed to notice that there is indeed something inspiring and beautiful about life in these special places. If we want to understand ourselves better, if we want to understand why some people grow old in sickness and despair while others grow old with vitality and inner peace, then we have much to learn from the simplicity and good-heartedness with which the residents of these places live. If we want to understand the factors that are at play in our lives that can produce on the one hand a person who at the age of sixty is already debilitated, defeated, and depressed, or on the other hand someone who at ninety is energetic, alert, and happy, then I am sure their examples have something to teach us.
As in Abkhasia, there is in Vilcabamba an abiding and profound appreciation for the natural transitions of life. Aging is celebrated, and elderly people are held in great respect. How different this is from the modern world’s youth-obsessed culture, where we tend tolook with horror upon aging, as if the goal of life were to remain perpetually twenty-five.
All too often, we seem as a culture to be at war with life’s transitions, viewing death as the failure to stay alive, and aging as the failure to remain young. We do something grievous to ourselves when we buy into this cultural ideology.
The myths and stereotypes we have about old age are so deeply entrenched in American society that they can insinuate themselves into our psyches without our even knowing what they are. It is difficult to escape the messages that our culture sends about the aging process. From birthday cards that decry the advance of age to the widespread use of demeaning language about the elderly (“geezer,” “old fogey,” “old maid,” “dirty old man,” “old goat,” etc.) to the lack of positive images of the
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