I watched in anticipation as the mass of participants trudged their heavy boots and uniforms through the sinking sand of San Diego Mission Beach. Focused in coordinated effort, they moved heavy wooden logs from one end to the next. It must have been around 3 or 4AM with darkness shrouding a dimly lit shore and tides lapping in the background.
The camera cut to a close up of the facilitator's face as he quipped to the group in an authoritative, sadistic announcement:
Time to go get wet again!
The candidates to the Phase 1 of the BUD/S Navy Seal qualification program looked at one another in a state of misery: a wave of consideration to throw in the towel in their gaze - the thought of another humiliating bath in the frigid Pacific followed by rolling in the sand for several minutes after seven grueling weeks of physical, mental and emotional adversity weighed on their shoulders; the moment lasted only a still frame, as the candidates resolved to haul their panting, cold and ragged bodies into the ocean once more.
Two months after seeing the events in the BUDS documentary for Navy Seal recruits unfold, I dragged my tired body outside into the cool San Francisco edge of night. Not quite close to the conditions experienced by BUDS participants (an apartment pool doesn't instill the same rawness as 3AM sandy beach), I sat above the water for my second week of Stewarts Smith's self-directed 12 Weeks to BUDS (1) general physical preparation course. I had no intention of applying to the BUDS program, but, was curious about the fitness levels and challenge to "train like a Navy Seal". As I descended into the cold pool, three words bubbled into my head:
"Cold. Hungry. Wet."
I have a difficult time avoiding Darwin in the hallways of my mind. His evolutionary mental model seems to jump out from every janitorial closet and in-opportune moment to influence my thinking and understanding of the world. Human physiology, from the facilities of the mind to basic metabolism, is a product of millions of years adaptation - challenge and response to the environment; remixing and refactoring in pursuit of differentiation and higher fitness. Curiously, however, natural selection, the engineering mindset will be disappointed to learn, isn't an optimizer but a satisficer (2) - preferring to find what is "sufficiently better", rather than optimal. This history of selecting "sufficiently better" outcomes leaves us with a breadcrumb trail of delights to look back on fondly, like a elderly man investigating his youth-filled vintage time capsule. The appendix is single example of something that continues to exist in our bodies despite a general (incorrect) conclusion of serving little to no use (3). As operating table survivors of appendicitis lead us to believe: we can live without our appendix. With this information the mischievous intellect, whom we ought to both revere and beware, concludes it useless, the executioner sharpens his cleaver in preparation to hack it off. This, of course, is a hasty conclusion. Some research suggests that the appendix may serve an important purpose as a reservoir for beneficial gut bacteria - a hidden benefit to be careful in taking for granted.
Figure 1: An anatomical image of the arteries of cecum and apprendix (labeled as Vermiform process) via Wikipedia
I sort of struggle, in my noncommittal nature, between wanting to believe in heroic enlightenment rationality and yet feeling drawn to the optionality offered by skepticism and empiricism. Western culture, the economic system in particular, seems particularly obsessed by rationalism - to nauseating levels at times for the individual. The public market investor, for example, pursues a company to "trim the fat" - and these pressures lead it to amputate parts of the business. At times, the operation succeeds: the patient lives and the gangrened limb born of idealism and opportunity dies a quick death - resources are re-allocated as needed; in other circumstances, the business endangers itself by running "to-the-edge" of efficiency... my mind wandering to the highly publicized failings of Long Term Capital Management detailed in Roger Lowenstein's When Genius Failed. The PhD-run American hedge fund attempted to squeeze every bit of inefficiency out of market - profiting short-term, but leaving it massively exposed long-term. This obsession with rational performance improvements becomes intriguing when the culture rediscovers its tail, not unlike a dog, leading itself back in circles to reclaim what is old as new.
The three words "Cold. Hungry. Wet" seem to capture three major environmental challenges our ancestors might have lived and evolved under for millennia, and therefore conditions which the physical body operates well under. Moreover, these words might help explain the trend in rising adoption of “new” practices (or “rituals”) claiming higher performance and wellbeing. Alternating periods of abundance and scarcity of food is simulated through intermittent and extended fasts; 'Wetness' is recreated through brief intense periods of exercise or exposure to saunas to increase heart rate and perspiration; 'Cold' is recreated through cold plunges and showers (not without its critics either). All of this taken for granted, our ancestors having potentially lived with these conditions all along. But these behavioural adaptions may just be in response, at least in the developed world, to different environmental challenges: over-abundance of calories, sloth and comfort, et cetera.
I'm left to wonder, in search of reliable improvements to wellness as a human being: what old-practices will soon be new once more, what part of culture (5) remains 'un-mined' for its rich nourishing benefits?
Footnotes
(1) See Stewart Smith's 12 Weeks to Buds blog
(2) See Satisficing on Wikipedia
(3) We (read: the author), ought to humble ourselves, however, or a least prepare our balance sheets for the eventual moment that time will make a fool of us. Optionality is an advantage (4) and we do not know when, what or where nature will make use of some obscure trait for it's advantageous selection. Moreover, we know our knowledge of biology remains, while with some improvements, generally opaque.
(4) See Antifragile on Wikipedia
(5) i.e., persisted collective experience