Put on the New Man
The people who
think they know say that given a second chance a man will make
the same mess of his life he did the first time. Playwrights and
novelists over the years have never given us hope that reliving
our lives would have any different result the second time around.
Our scientists and psychologists seem to agree. Even such disparate
thinkers as Bucky Fuller and B.F. Skinner are together on this.
""We shouldn't try to change people," wrote Skinner.
"We should change the world in which people live." It
is a thought Fuller often expressed.
Some,
of course, take an opposing view. The people who deal in Faith,
Hope, and Charity seem to think that one day is as good as another
for changing your personal history. Philosophers since recorded
time have recommended it. From Pindar to Emerson they have told
us to become the thing we are, to fulfill our design, to choose
our own reality, our own way of being a person. What they didn't
tell us was how to do it, or how difficult it would be. When Paul
said to put on the New Man, he reminded us of the unlimited potential
of man, but the lives we lead constantly remind us of the obvious
limits to this potential.
Clearly
the Good Life is not as accessible as the books say. And yet it
is not from want of trying that we have failed. We start our new
lives with almost as much frequency as Mark Twain gave up smoking
(thousands of times) and with about the same success.
Can
tomorrow be the first day of the rest of our life? And can that
life be completely different from the mess it is today? The answer,
of course, has to be yes, or all those great men wouldn't have
said so. But how do you go about it?
The
first thing to do, it seems to me, is to retrace your steps. To
go back to that period of your life when you were operating as
a successful human being (although you most likely weren't aware
of it). To go back to those times when your soul, your self, was
not what you possessed or your social standing or other people's
opinion but a totality of body, mind, and spirit. And that totality
interacted freely with your total environment.
Somewhere
past childhood that integration of self and that response to the
universe began to dissolve. We came more and more to associate
who we were with what we owned, to judge ourselves by other people's
opinions, to make our decisions by other people's rules, to live
by other people's values. Coincidentally, or maybe not so coincidentally,
our physical condition began to decline. We had reached the fork
in the road. We took the well-traveled path.
One
who took the path overgrown with weeds and rarely used was Henry
David Thoreau. The world knows Thoreau as a man of intellect,
a shrewd observer, a rebel against conventional values. What has
not been emphasized was that he was an athlete, and a fine one.
He was, of course, a great walker. This kept him in prime physical
condition. "I inhabit my body, " he wrote, "with
inexpressible satisfaction: both its weariness and its refreshments."
It would not be too much to say that Thoreau's other activities
derived their vitality from the vitality of his body. That the
self that was Thoreau depended on being as physical as he could
be. And that no life can be completely lived without being lived
completely on a physical level.
If
Thoreau was right, the way to find who we are is through our bodies.
The way to relive our life is to go back to the physical self
we were before we lost our way. That tuned-in self that could
listen with the third ear, was aware of the fourth dimension,
and had a sixth sense about the forces around it. That tuned-in
self that was sensitive and intuitive, and perceived what is no
longer evident to our degenerating bodies.
This
may come as a surprise even to physical fitness leaders. Physical
fitness programs have long been based on the desire to lead a
long life, to forestall heart attacks, to feel better generally
or to improve your figure. No one ever told us that the body determined
our mental and spiritual energies. That with the new body we can
put on the new person and build a new life, the life we were always
designed to lead but lost with the body we enjoyed in our youth.
Now,
common sense will tell you that you'll never see twenty-eight
again, but the facts on fitness show that almost anyone can reach
levels of vigor and strength and endurance equal to most of the
twenty-eight-year-olds in this country. Given the good fortune
to find an athletic activity that fits him, a man can recapture
his youth and a second chance to listen to what his total self
held important at that time.
If
you think that life has passed you by, or even worse, that you
are living someone else's life, you still can prove the expert's
wrong. Tomorrow can be the first day of the rest of your life.
All you have to do is to follow Thoreau. Inhabit your body with
delight, with inexpressible satisfaction; both its weariness and
its refreshments.
And
you can do it if you'll just go back to that fork in the road.
Book excerpt: Running & Being