More is More.

After the death of my great grandmother ("GG"), my family went to her apartment in Queens to clean it out.   This woman saved everything.  She had an unopened set of bedsheets from the 1940's.  She had saved the claim slip for a package which was sent in 1925.  She saved paper bags and "gently used" aluminum foil.  She washed and preserved sandwich bags.  This is not to say that she had many possessions.  My GG lived through the Great Depression.  People had nothing.  She saw value in the smallest, seemingly worthless thing and preserved it as if it was precious. 

Few who lived through those times in the US are still with us.  My grandfather and his peers speak of those times and of how difficult they were.  Our "depressions" today are cushioned by the sheer opulence of our lifestyle.  We complain when gas prices are high, yet so many of us still own SUV's and other low fuel efficiency vehicles.

In the Second Book of The Yoga Sutra, we find the "five observances," or yamas.   They are guidelines about how to make ones life and one's universe better.  The second yama is Santosa, or "contentment."  To use only what one needs and to be satisfied with what one has.  The first yama is Saucha, or "cleanliness."  This refers not only to personal hygiene, but to the living of an uncluttered life.

I'm not saying that it is at all easy to achieve these yamas.  They are goals;  something to which we may aspire.

Gluttony is the opposite of the first two yamas:  When one cannot be satisfied with what one has;  when one consumes more than one needs;  when one disrupts the saucha of one's life with needless clutter.  I am the first to admit that I am a "sinner" here.  I have many more clothes and shoes, for instance, than I need.   And for sure I eat and drink more than my body needs.  In fact, as "Paul from London" and others have pointed out, these traits are present in almost everyone in some measure.  When they dominate a personality, however, they can be truly deadly.

Roots

In American culture, "more" is synonymous with "better."  Unusual to find a household today with only one car or only one computer or television.  We have become accustomed to excess.  Perhaps our desire to hoard or acquire more and more is rooted in fear.  Are those who raised us severely scarred by the Depression?  Are they immigrants from a place where it is a struggle to survive?  Or is it hard-wired in the human animal to take whatever is available, regardless of whether we are content with what we have?

A simple fish, when presented with more food than it can process, will literally eat itself to death.  Not because its system is overwhelmed with food.  It will die because its tank becomes fouled with its own waste and excess food.  It will suffocate in the products of its consumption.  When we humans take the consumption of goods and services to a point where we can no longer process our intake, we become Gluttons.  All of the resources we have become dedicated towards the purpose of processing our consumption and there is room for little else.  Forget about a good relationship!

Gluttons are packaged in myriad ways.  Some eat until their bodies can no longer process sugars correctly or regulate blood pressure and circulation.  Smokers consume so many cigarettes that the lungs can no longer perform gas exchange correctly.  Some drinkers consume so much alcohol that not only do their livers become scarred and dysfunctional, but the drinker is unable to function in other realms of life. Some purchase so many goods that their debt is unmanageable.  Others revel in a "conspicuous consumption," where they become addicted to the showing off of their excess.   

We like to think these things are not our fault.  We label as disease the failure of our bodies and minds to process our excesses.

At the Start

Gluttons surround us.  In New York consumption is everywhere, and it is nearly impossible to know whether a date is a Glutton or is... well... a New Yorker.  Normally, the signs of true Gluttony are end effects of consumption.  It's easy to see, for instance, if your date is morbidly obese.  Not so easy to see if he is an alcoholic or if he abuses other drugs.  You can watch a person smoke cigarettes, but can't tell right away whether your date is drowning in debt.  What's tricky here is that your obese date may, in fact, be less of a glutton than the other, less conspicuous consumers out there.  Your smoker may be making a real attempt to quit.  But, obesity is something we see.  We smell smoke.  The other products of excess may not turn until much later.

So your first few dates, months, years with a Glutton may be perfectly normal.  Unless, as I experienced, he asks on your first date if you would write for him a prescription for OxyContin. 

Later

Since many excessive behaviors may seem harmless, it is easy to become attached to a Glutton and decide that we like or love him.  Unfortunately, we also become entangled not only in the excessive behaviors, but in treating the end results of them.  I cannot list the number of relatively young, excessively overweight patients I have treated who have end-stage arthritis in more than one joint.  When they come in for preoperative medical evaluation, the Pandora's Box of other medical conditions related to obesity is opened. 

"Did you know you were diabetic?  Did you know your cholesterol is extremely high?  Did you know your circulation is poor?"  Up until that point, none of these issues had brought that person to a doctor.  Pain did.  And who, besides the patient, has paid the price for these health problems?  The patient's spouse and family.  Luckily, most of these conditions  are treatable...

...Unlike the end results of smoking or high alcohol consumption.  Lung cancer and liver degeneration are much trickier problems.  They approach slowly and attack before one can prepare for them.  And they ruin the life of the Glutton and the people who love him.

So What do We Do?

If I could invent some sort of early warning system for dates who have tendencies towards dangerous Gluttony, I would.  In my own dating life, I have come up with guidelines in order to protect myself:

1.  I will not date anyone who smokes cigarettes, ever.  It helps that the smell of them repulses me.

2.  I will not tolerate any sort of drug use.

3.  I drink alcohol socially.  However, if my date reports that he drinks every day or if he always gets drunk when he drinks, I end the relationship. This is a tough one. 

4.  While a couple of extra pounds on a man is fine, I look for men who are conscious of their diet and exercise regularly.

5.  If I become involved with someone, I "gently remind" him to have regular medical checkups.

Of course I monitor MYSELF for these behaviors too.  It's far too easy to substitute consumption for love or other emotional needs. I am lucky to have extraordinary people in my life who send me "gentle reminders" when they see my slipping into that pattern.

The next pass:  LUST.

 

While the "blog wars" rage on, thousands of humans and animals are faced with complete devastation after their weathering Hurricane Katrina.  I can barely keep the TV on to see the news, this is such a horror. Please click here to learn of ways to assist the victims.   And please, spread the word to others as you see fit.  Thanks!

Envy.

Sure, the grass is always greener:  If only I were thinner, richer, smarter.  If only my nose was like that.  If only my hair was blond and straight.  If only I had blue eyes. I wish my butt was smaller. 

From time to time every one of us wishes she was just like someone else.   We want a different body or different parents or a better house. Buddhism would tell us that these desires stem from our ignorance of the world.   Most of them are unattainable.  As we are entangled in the pursuit of these goals, so we remain tethered to our suffering.

Our ancestors may have more easily accepted their issues since they had neither the social mobility nor the technologic and medical advantages we have today. 

Roots: The Donna Reed Syndrome

Before television, we have only our neighbors and our community members with whom to compare ourselves.  With these parochial barometers who are usually similar to us, many people believe they are "well-off."  We see our neighbors kids, their cars, their clothes and their living spaces.  There is a limited supply of enviable people.

Then we meet the Ricardos.  And the Cleavers.  And Donna Reed.  And we scratch our noggins:  "Why doesn't my mom dance around the kitchen in a starched dress?  What's wrong with us?"  Our barometer is smashed by a little screen.  The people inside the box look great all the time.  And they have perfect jobs and model families.  Wow.  What an assault on the collective ego of a nation.  We aren't so great after all.

Actualization

As our media progresses, so does our opportunity to envy.  Technology is only a baby step behind, providing us with opportunity for "self improvement."  Want bigger boobs?  Want curly hair?  A winning personality?  Sophistication?  Want a more handsome hubby?  Howzabout a better career?  Click here!  Act now! Eat here! Read this! Sign here. Is a double D enough?

So we walk around with big knockers and smaller butts.  We crowd our bookshelves with our salvation on a page.  But does this make us happy?

In New York, both factors are present in abundance.  Not only are we barraged with media images of people who are oh-so-wonderful, we see them in person!  SoHo.  The Hamptons. Bergdorf's.  What lives these people lead! 

The Envious Date

These are the saddest dates of all.  They are not happy with who they are, fundamentally. So they read that.  They act then.  They click there.  They sign up.  They dine there. And they pay.

"Dave" is a bright man.  He holds a Ph.D. in a competitive field.  He is handsome.  Good build.  Funny.  Charismatic.  Successful in his career.  But quite tethered to his suffering.  He is what we now call a "metrosexual."  Manicures and pedicures. Serious manscaping.  And I mean serious.  He is a Manhattan restaurant encyclopedia.  Neatly stacked his bedside table are various self-help and dating books.  Although he has been working out at the same place for two years and knows the routine better than most personal trainers do, he still shells out the coin for thrice-weekly sessions.

Any man would love to have Dave's life.  Except Dave, of course.  He is restless.  Unsure of himself;  he wants to be someone else. 

First Meeting 

We meet at a coffee house.  But before we do, he asks a few times whether another place would be better.  And when we are there, he wonders whether we ought to have met someplace else.  A nice conversation.  A connection?  Except he cannot stop fidgeting with his clothes and his hair.  Are his jeans too dark? Should be have combed his hair back? He looks hungrily at the other patrons, scanning their accoutrements for guidance in how he ought to dress and what he ought to carry.

An Envious Female behaves in the same way.  She may have had some "work" done.  But she is not sure it looks right. Bigger?  Smaller?  Smoother?  Narrower?  Should she order wine or a drink?  What if it is the wrong wine?

Moving Along.

Envious dates are nice people.  They are pleasant companions once one moves beyond their insecure behavior, if that is possible.   And boy, do they try hard.  They endeavor to make themselves into the thing they believe they ought to be.  They expect that if they could just reach a certain point, get into that club somehow, they will be happy.  On the way there, they might make a partner happy with all of their trying.  Or they might make a partner crazy.  Dealer's choice.

Disengagement. 

It was tough to end things with Dave.  Every time I broke away, I was lured back by his trying.  I am frustrated for him.  If only he would figure out that he is just fine the way he is.  Being a doctor, I think I can fix anything.  How freeing it is for me to understand that I can't fix him.

The next bite:  Gluttony.

Today Sheila, the mother of my friend, Mark, will undergo surgery.  Please keep her and her well-being in your thoughts today. If you attend yoga practice, consider setting your intention for her excellent recovery.  Thank you!

Today I went to register for the New York Road Runners' Manhattan Half Marathon (takes place tomorrow).  On my way home, I browsed at a neat furniture store.  The furniture was gorgeous, but would not fit in my small apartment. 

However, the shopkeeper was wearing an interesting necklace. Her friend, the designer, is a breast cancer survivor.  The beading on the piece represents the fact that one in eight women will face a diagnosis of breast cancer in her lifetime.  Wanted to pass this along to anyone who is or knows a survivor.