Immunity - 11/1/19

Last week, my older sister and I ventured into Great Smoky Mountains National Park in an attempt to capture the changing colors of autumn, something we don’t get in Los Angeles. Entire mountainsides were covered in reds, oranges, and ambers. The park has so much history, with remnants of 19th century living present in the form of log cabins, barns, and wagons, left behind for us to witness. 

I imagined their daily struggles. Having to go to the outhouse to do your business. Feeding the horses and hogs, Building a fire to cook food and brew coffee. Dealing with the cold and wet. There were no flushing toilets, no electricity, no plumbing, I saw more graves of newborns and those murdered than I cared to remember.

Life was tough.

But as I read more about the people that lived in these cabins and the long lives they still endured, I thought about how tough they were. They raised children, sold goods, did daily chores that would outshine any gym rat at bootcamp. 

Grit is a word I rarely use today, but the more I learned about life in the 1800s, the more I pictured a life of grit and survival.

It was on this same trip that I had an allergic reaction. My sister and I pulled over to visit a fudge store. I sampled a salted caramel fudge… with pecans and pralines hid deep inside the caramel. I’ve had a walnut, pecan, praline, macadamia allergy as long as I can remember. I remember hovering over a toilet vomiting since I was 2 years old. My sister was concerned, but I tried to assure her as much as I could while my mouth filled up with saliva, that I had it under control. It was almost routine. 

As I described to her my relationship with my allergy, I realized that I over my life dealing with this allergy, I had developed an ability to separate the pain of my body with the pain of my being. Anytime I feel sick or uncomfortable, I remind myself that the pain is temporary. I go sailing while seasick. Snowboarding while experiencing food poisoning. Pulling through a GoRuck Challenge with bronchitis. 

And I still have a great time!

What does this have to do with living in the 1800s?

Repeat struggles and routine hardships make us tough. Having a nut allergy is still minor compared to daily life in the 1800s, but the concept of micro-dosing pain helps us level up. Even by the measure of fractions of a percentage, we continue to grow stronger and more resilient in our painful experiences.

The trip has made me humbled and grateful. We are living in the best time in human history, yet we still complain. Discomfort and pain are temporary. While we ventured into the forest, I made it a point to mentally record the peacefulness of the forests of East Tennessee. I had to draw from these memories as I was promptly dumped back into the mayhem of rideshare at LAX. 

When we encounter good pain, the pain that makes us stronger, or discomfort that may be temporary, look forward to the tolerance you will gain. It makes us more resilient with the daily bullshit in our lives and also more grateful for the small pleasures in life.

Hope you had a Happy Halloween!

Fuck yeah, it’s Friday!