Grass is riz

For the first time in months, a shining beam of glorious light escapes from gunmetal cloud. The tiniest sensation of warmth tickles across bare skin and with it comes a sense of well-being and satisfaction that we had almost forgotten. We incline our collective faces to the sky for an instant before going back to what we were doing before. A circle of daffodils rise on a grass verge. We decide to leave the raincoat in the car. Spring is in the air.

And how welcome it is. On behalf of you, dear reader, allow me to raise my middle finger to rain, scream obscenities at snow and plant my metaphorical boot right in the metaphorical nadgers of winter in general. In six month's time the idea of snowy fields, cold noses and winter evenings might fill me with a wistful longing, but for now I’m happy for winter to piss off for good. It’s been a long, cold slog (I need not provide a link confirming this, you’ve all seen the flippin’ papers. We almost ran out of grit for the roads. Grit for the roads, people).

The cold months are of particular difficulty for sufferers of Seasonal Affective Disorder (known colloquially as the winter blues). S.A.D. is a mood disorder that may either contribute to clinical depression or affect people who have normal mental health through the rest of the year. I’ll give you the Wikipedia rundown to save you the time:

“Symptoms of SAD may consist of: difficulty waking up in the morning, tendency to oversleep as well as to overeat, and especially a craving for carbohydrates, which leads to weight gain. Other symptoms include a lack of energy, difficulty concentrating on completing tasks, and withdrawal from friends, family, and social activities. All of this leads to the depression, pessimism, and lack of pleasure which characterize a person suffering from this disorder.”

Doesn’t sound like much fun, does it? Although S.A.D. is a recognised condition the symptoms above might sound familiar to many more people than have been actually diagnosed. The most important sufferer from these symptoms is, of course, me, and this weekend’s worth of sunshine has done me no end of good.

S.A.D. is generally believed to be related to the amount of light (specifically sunlight) that people are exposed to, largely because of the success rate of ‘light therapy,’ a treatment involving (shockingly) very bright lights. In as many as 85% of cases exposure to bright lights for a timed period each day leads to a reduction in symptoms, a pretty good statistic even allowing for the placebo effect.

Obviously there isn’t as much sunlight around during the winter, but even the average cloudy day is normally brighter than being inside. The problem is winter being such an icy bastard, and conditions generally keeping us indoors. This means less vitamin D (normally obtained from sunlight) and crucially, less exercise.

There are multiple studies linking exercise to increased well-being. Not only does the occasional run around make you physically fitter it also releases the delicious endorphins the keep you cheerful. Anybody that regularly goes jogging knows the feeling of satisfaction and self-righteousness that kicks in after you’ve been running for a while and it’s become clear you aren’t going to die. Very few of us do as much exercise as we ought to, and the rain and cold provide a huge stumbling block even if we were so inclined.

This leads to a depressive cycle that can, in some cases, become self-sustaining. You feel like crap because you aren’t getting enough exercise and vitamin D. So you can’t summon the strength to face the weather and go outside for longer than you can get away with. But the more depressed you get, the more you crave sugar and carbs (another acknowledged effect of S.A.D). Eating more combined with less exercise leads to weight gain, which makes you even more depressed, making you even less likely to face the weather and get some exercise.

Now, running around a bit isn’t going to fix all your problems. It is, however, a good way of reversing the above trend, and also serves to illustrate the following point:

In a self-sustaining cycle, removing one contributing factor may be enough to cause the system to decay entirely.

This is often proved, much to our detriment, in the various ecosystems that humanity likes to play merry hell with around the globe. Remove one element of, say, a food chain, and the rest of the system begins to degrade. A recently noticed and popularised example is the poor old honeybee, whose mysterious disappearance could lead to a devastating effect on world food sources.

However, sometimes a system that is generally agreed to be corrosive can be upset by the introduction of only one positive element. A mixture of problems that together are insurmountable can be rendered mundane by the loss of only one one. Just one action can be enough start a new, more amiable trend.

Knowing is, of course, half the battle, and the above realisation sure comes in handy. It certainly isn’t going to be blue skies from here on out (it’s only March) and there’s always the next winter to come. But taking one single action might prove to be the tipping point on a slide that is positive in nature. I would suggest using that as a motivating factor the next time the weather’s getting you down. Every run around, every visit to the gym, every minute spent out in daylight, every healthy meal you eat is... well, it’s nothing, on its own. But it’s the start of something else, a tiny part of a positive process, and I think remembering it makes things easier. When the weather outside is draggin' you down, it might make it easier if you think to yourself:

“Every moment spent outside is a bit more vitamin D, a bit more exercise, that will make me marginally fitter and marginally happier, and I’ll eat marginally less crap and so be more inclined to exercise, and if it keeps going like this I’ll be a fucking supermodel in six week’s time.”

Spring is sprung. Go outside and see.

The decay-dance

I plan to wax a little philosophical in this post, largely because I can’t think of anything funny to write about today. I ask two things in return: your thoughts on the topic below in comment form, and something amusing to talk about next week, I’m drowning here, people.

*****

It turns out, if you’re planning on staying out all night, doing a load of drugs, drinking a load of beer and dancing till you feel faint, a gurglingly spicy curry is not the best repast to begin with. I worked this out on Friday night as I boogied away to Jack Beats, trying to ignore the ominous rumblings from my protesting insides. Luckily the music was tip-top, enough to distract me from the A-level chemistry experiment taking place in my tummy.

I wasn’t the only one suffering, although my friends seemed to be coping better than I. It’s no secret that I have the stomach of a beaky pensioner, and I wasn’t particularly surprised that out of a fairly large group, only I had donned the garb of Sir Burps-alot. It got me thinking, though. (I get introspective when intoxicated. I can also dance and ponder at the same time, a talent of which I am immensely proud but am yet to successfully incorporate into a job interview.)

I was ruminating on the subject of decay, specifically wondering why my body chemistry was being less obliging than other peoples. Your digestive system is largely based on decay, as the bacteria that reside in your stomach tract happily get to work on your victuals. Although the concept of your meals getting progressively more mushy inside your intestines is not necessarily pleasant, what struck me is the necessity of decay in creation. You get the good stuff out by breaking other stuff down (hence why I was getting drunker by the minute).

This concept is hardly new. So says Wikipedia: “Decomposition refers to the process by which tissues of dead organisms break down into simpler forms of matter. Such a breakdown of dead organisms is essential for new growth and development of living organisms because it recycles the finite chemical constituents and frees up the limited physical space in the biome.” Even Wikipedia is quick to point out the positive aspects of decay, as basically there’s not enough shit in the universe to go around, and so recycling of resources is necessary. Plenty of people take comfort in the fact that even in death, their constituent atoms will find a new arrangement as another part of the universe. Not me though. I never plan on dying.

The fact that we are here at all is also down to decay. Every atom that exists in your body has existed for millions of years in thousands of other forms. All the heavier elements that currently reside in you were formed under intense heat in the hearts of stars, and shot out into the universe in the violence of a supernova. To quote Bill Bryson (as everybody should), “You are literally made of stardust.”

Decay is part of creation, therefore, but it’s not all gin and roses. The sad fact is that no system is immune; nothing is impervious to the forces of entropy. Everything breaks down eventually, and this means that no beautiful thing will last forever. Every object, every shaping of matter sentient life can devise will eventually fade away, which is a sobering thought. Nothing is permanent. And some things, clearly, are worth preserving, and existence will be all the poorer for their eventual loss. It seems increasingly likely that even our universe will one day sputter out, leaving nothingness behind. This is more of a bugger for me than for you, because as previously mentioned I plan on still being around at that point.

On the other hand, plenty of things do not deserve eternity. The universes tendency towards atrophy means that anything evil also has a limited shelf-life. Dictatorships need to be toppled, evil challenged. But if light ever truly goes out in the universe, what is left will not last forever. And maybe next time things will work out for the better. Decay means that we have a chance to try again, if not as individuals than as a species, and if not as a species then as a universal collective. 'Nothing last forever' could also mean 'nothing ever ends,' depending on how you chose to look at it.


Speaking of wickedness disappearing, I finally managed to sweat off the curry, and busted moves of increasing freshness till the sun came up. Something wonderful ended, was replaced by something slightly iffy, and provided the fuel for something even more wonderful (seriously, you haven't seen me dance). If that’s not an inspiring message, I don’t know what is.