Reason is Balance

Ntseh sat in his chair, staring at the bottle of whisky that sat on his table. It was way past office hours and was such an ungodly hour. His office was no bigger than a boxing ring. Or so it seemed…

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You Are What You Eat

A eulogy for Anthony Bourdain

Anthony Bourdain in Naxos, Greece toasting “Γεια μας!” which means, “To your health.”

From psychedelic microdosing to turmeric coffees to CBD gumdrops to silent meditation retreats to infrared saunas, it seems as though we are not just enjoying but suffering from a preponderance of “wellness.” “We’re in a ‘wellness epidemic,’” A friend of mine named Kathryn noted, at a book party where guests were expected to sip custom drinks with names like “Intellectual Humility,” a thick liquid containing “long stalk cistance,” described as a “Mongolian extract for libido boost.”

Words no longer have to mean things, and this is a perfect recipe for authoritarianism. All over the globe, bad men (and some women) have taken advantage of the blurring of facts and fiction. They’ve got a front row seat to watch the world burn: Real reality TV.

We are not well. Or even “well.” The Internet is breaking humans.

This is me buying a hotdog at the Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur hotdog stand in Reykjavik. There’s no picture of me eating it because I was too hungry to take one.

Could being in it together be enough to stave off the desire to quit this life? There are worlds in other people. There are strings that connect us that we can’t fathom or see. “If humanity ever captures the energies of love, it will be the second time in history that it will have discovered fire,” Reverend Michael Curry declared at the Royal Wedding, itself the union of a colonial figurehead to a descendent of slaves. Love did that.

Anthony Bourdain spent much of his life traversing these worlds, more than most of us ever can or will. He bridged the distance between us with the most immediate form of art: food.

I’ve never felt cooler than when I felt like him, an explorer of the great, uncharted landmass of my life and the eater of a humble Icelandic hot dog or a scorpion deep-fried in Chiang Mai, no turmeric lattes in sight.

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