« Health is wealth » – 14th Dalai Lama

As the 14th Dalai Lama said, « Health is wealth ». We can define health as being free of any kind of illness (stress, anxiety, chronic diseases…), feeling happy, or even having a good lifestyle and eating healthy. However, the notion of wealth is more complex as it implies different meanings: we could talk about wealth in terms of money and power, but also in terms of overall happiness and well-being. This raises the question: does health really bring wealth? Although being healthier could mean we could work more and earn more, being wealthy to a certain extent is necessary to be happy. We will then discuss the argument that wealth is necessary but not sufficient to happiness and health, and that wealth can be more than just money.

Firstly, being wealthy largely contributes to good health, as treatments for some diseases (especially chronic ones) can be very expensive. In Africa for example, it is difficult for patients to have access to an AIDS/HIV treatment because of its low availability and the lack of medical staff and infrastructures, researcher Lynne Wilkinson says. In addition to that and across all countries, healthy food is more expensive than junk food. A Harvard study found out in 2013 that eating healthy food costs on average 1,5$ more per day and per person. This leads to a higher rate of obesity among socioeconomically disadvantaged population according to researcher Mayuree Rao. In the United States of America, the price of social security means that some people can’t afford vital treatments such as insulin replacement.

Nevertheless, necessary does not mean sufficient. It is possible to be unhealthy whilst being wealthy if we talk about health as happiness and well-being. Social interaction can improve our mood but being wealthy cannot buy happiness and can even lead to social isolation. A study by the Columbia University even showed that rich children are twice more likely to suffer from mental illnesses compared to the average US population. This is probably linked to higher stress and anxiety due to high expectations and pressure to succeed.

Finally, one thing to consider is that wealth has different meanings. Wealth can rhyme with power and economic success, but also with academic knowledge, or valuable relationships. In this context, the definition of wealth can and will change according to factors such as personality or more broadly, the culture we were raised in. In the United States, wealth is strongly linked to success and fame whereas in India, wealth is a combination of money and a strong family. Thus, it could be possible to be wealthy without money in a culture that favours family, relationships and personal growth.

In conclusion, « Health is wealth » is a statement that is not applicable in many cases because of the high costs of medical treatments, the mental illnesses that can come with being rich or because of the very definition of the words « health » and « wealth ». However, it can be true in some situation, as physical and mental health allow to be more efficient at work and be more successful.

Feelings

How could you love and hate someone like this at the same time?

Feelings are confusing. I have too many of them. Maybe that is why I used to never talk about them. Because I was afraid that if I expressed them aloud, they would become real and swallow me whole.

But now I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t let them out, like I’m going to burn from the inside out. How strange.

A wanderer’s mind

I’ve decided to set myself a challenge. As the NanNoWriMo ends and the Christmas count down begins, I figured I should combine the two and go on my own Writemas -or whatever you can call it- and write an article everyday until December 24th. Now I normally don’t write a lot, and one thing to know is that my finals are in two weeks, so I’ll try to keep up as best as I can but no promises right?

As I sit down in front of my computer and open a « New article » tab, a single question arises: what to write? Truth is, I have ideas, I am just not in the right mood to write them. But then I saw this video « Going on a roadtrip with a stranger » and I thought: this is it. On this melancholic Sunday evening, this is what I’m in the mood to write about.

I want to write about fantasies, about dreams of wild adventures, sunsets painting the sky in warm hues, frozen grass in the early morning. Of cartwheels in the open, meaningful conversations with a loved one at unbelievable hours, in an old-fashion diner at the corner of the road. I sometimes wish my life was different, that I wasn’t born in the city in this decade and country. I feel like I’m missing some part of life, but that might also be the influence of american television imposing standards of life to other cultures (wow what). Still, I wish it was summer and I could take my bike and go stargazing in the middle of a field near my grand mother’s house. I wish I could share this with someone other than my family, someone I would feel so comfortable with I wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing I say.

Instead I’m sitting on my chair, a shawl wrapped around my shoulders, painting my nails red and staying up to write this (future-self will hate me when the alarm will go off in the morning). Worrying seems to be what I’m the most talented at these days and it is tiring. Much less pleasant than dreaming, which I’ve not even had time to do lately. Life is crazy. Maybe this is why I’ve decided to write everyday. To remind me of what I am going through and what was and still is important to me above all else. So yeah, school is lowkey hell, my days are endless, but at least now I know what I work for and what I dream of and that is priceless.

Never surrender your wanderer’s soul.

Traffic lights and flickering stop signs

As someone I knew once wrote, « bus people and subway people were of a different breed ». And that was true. Bus people rhymed with pigeons, smoke, foreign languages, sunrises and sunsets, traffic lights and flickering stop signs. You could never know what to expect from the bus before leaving the house. I guess that applied to subway too, but I never took the subway during commute hours.

Spending approximately 2h commuting per day, I learned to appreciate the beauty in it. I couldn’t simply stop at complaining about the smell, the crowd and the lateness. So I found a loophole. Used this time to discover new music and observe people, to empty my mind and focus on the little things. There was nothing like the sun rising behind the buildings in a pink and cloudy sky, the bus empty, soft music playing in my ears. It was almost a religious experience.

There were also those late rides, when I had studied all day and took extra time after my classes to work on something or teach the first year students. Those rides when the night had already settled on the city, and the word was beginning to finally quiet down. Those rides where the bus was a moving capsule of light in the dark streets, and the stop-sign flickered, at once eerie and peaceful.

And then there were the moments in between, the waiting at the bus stop while your breath formed tiny clouds of fog, the tree leaves projecting large, moving shadows on the building walls.

People took the bus, and I seemed to recognize more and more of them as time went by.

You had the young man in the red hat, always listening to music and sitting in the very back, impulsively crossing the road. The blonde lady with her stroller and her baby. The other student from the school next to mine who never seemed to share the same schedule as mine but somehow ended up in my bus. The kids from my old high school. The small man in a hoodie. The lady who hopped off the bus at the hospital stop suggesting she was a researcher, but definitely looked like a ballerina with her hair up and her straight back (not that it was incompatible though). And the families, the fathers, the workers and students, the tourists and friends, the grandparents and children that I only saw once and never again.

So much life was happening inside the bus.

Source: http://www.incidentalcomics.com/2019/11/iridescence.html