I read that "reading Proust requires extraordinary extra-cognitive perception," and that about sums it up.

He's weaving another dimension into his writing. I probably only really caught about 5% of what he was talking about, but that 5% stands as one of the greatest experiences I've ever had.

If you catch on, you'll start falling in love with his prose. This isn't something to barrel through and read for the sake of reading. I found the best I could do was something like skim it, but that was enough. It's like reading a poem, where it's not literary devices that are the object, but poetic essence.

Hah, yeah, I think I've heard of him. One of those Terrain Model folk. It's a mad, mad world.

I don't mean to dissuade you from thinking there isn't a consensus on many things. Like the mood stabilizers and antipsychotics, there are things that are prevalent in many disciplines.

The books these are in may not be as glamorous as the shiny, edgy books with bold claims. One way is to find out what they're talking about: how does a psychotherapist help a patient? What's the day in the life of a nutritionist? When doctors do talk about vaccines, what do they say? How do Olympic athletes train?

Getting a sense of something may be just as, if not more, important than factual knowledge.

Like I said, think of it as exploring, not fact-checking.

It's a hornets nest in there. Vaccines specifically, you could get trapped in an endless web of definitive sounding self-proclaimed gurus, all privy to some deep, dark secret that no one else knows about. Some of them even have "MD" attached to their name, making it all the more confusing.

I came to the conclusion that vaccines are safe, not by a book or article, but by witnessing the silence of the medical community. If adverse reactions were happening at the rate antivaxxers were saying, the entire medical establishment would be clamoring about it from the roof tops. Instead, nothing, and that nothing speakers louder than any reactionary website or YouTube video or book.

Moreover, I know the medical community is very aware of and responsive to any anomalies in vaccine programs. That none of those alarms sounded was very telling.

You have to be the gate-keeper here. I think the resolute and ultimate fact you're looking for in these subjects just doesn't exist. Weigh what you learn against your conscience and experiences.

For example, my favorite nutrition advice ever is from Micheal Pollan's "In Defense of Food," that ends with the simple thesis, "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants."

There are thick volumes of antivaxx books chalked full of citations. I steer clear of them, because the medical community has come to the resounding consensus that vaccines are safe. If that doesn't tell you the state of medical science, I don't know what does.

In terms of psychology, there is rarely an idea or a law that can be pointed to as being absolute. Most of it is just what works, and that's very often different for different people. But I do know the protocol for someone experiencing an onset of schizophrenia is to try mood stabilizers first, and if that doesn't work, switch to antipsychotics.

I recently read "Just like someone without mental illness only more so" by Mark Vonnegut. In it, he asks rhetorically, "Whats the difference between someone who recovers [from schizophrenia] and someone who doesn't? The answer is not much."

Think of this all as exploring, not fact-checking. Often I'll meet someone who read a shady health blog that presented an alluring possibility, and the person goes head over heels and declares they've found the holy grail. It just doesn't work like that.

It brings to mind Atomic Habits by James Clear. He presents a simple formula for fostering new habits. I've heard it worked for many people. Is it scientifically backed? Not necessarily, but you can try it out and see for yourself. If it works, it appears Clear knew what he was talking about.

If all of this is too exhausting, read some poetry or philosophy. The human heart craves truth just as much as the brain, but only our heart sings it.

One time when SparkNotes is more than justified: Dostoyevsky

Put on a good album and let yourself listen.

Can you recommend some pads?

r/tipofmytongue should be able to find it for you.

The Guns of August. Great narration and fascinating topic. I breezed through it.

It was Russia who fired first. When Finland and Sweden were formally admitted to NATO, the Free World began militarizing their borders and funneling in masses of armed forces. We never thought Putin was crazy enough, but we were wrong. Russia declared war, China and Iran quickly followed suit, and the world was dragged into a hopeless war. 

The mobilization of US armed forces created an intractable political divide in the country. Spouts of violence started. First between individuals, and then small militias, and finally entire states. California voted to separate from the Union, followed by New York, then Oregon, then Massachusetts. An already thinly-stretched federal force wasn’t enough to stop them.

Still, the World War raged on. For four years, major battles were fought on every major continent, involving nearly every country on earth. Finally, it seemed the end was near, as NATO forces neared Moscow and Beijing. 

We should have known. Maybe we did, but what could we do. The non-nuclear pact signed at the beginning of the war would never hold. On Christmas eve of the year 2029, a deranged Putin launched every nuclear missile in the Russian arsenal. 

Washington D.C., London, Paris, San Francisco, Seattle, every major city in Europe and North America, was leveled in a matter of days. The retaliation was even worse. Russia, China, and Iran were demolished. Estimates say at least seven hundred and fifty million people died instantly. 

And just like that, the war was over. None of the nations could hope to muster enough forces to continue to fight, and if they could, couldn’t risk the possibility of another nuclear attack. And on New Years day, 2030, a non-aggression pact was signed.

But in America at least, the damage was already done.

I was a nurse before it all happened. I enlisted in the Red Cross, and was deployed, first to a hospital in Germany, and then to a combat hospital in Henderson, Nevada, just outside of Las Vegas. California Separatist and the Federalist would clash frequently there, and it seemed there was no end to the wounded streaming in.

It started when a Separatist, wearing combat fatigues and sporting a rifle slung around his shoulder, walked in with his two young children, a boy and a girl. He seemed confused at first.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Their mother is dead and I have to fight. I’m leaving them with you.” And as quickly as he came, he was gone.    

They rarely talked, didn’t like to play, and had to be taught how to clean themselves. They were the only ones the first few months. Then we got a wounded Colonel. I was administering an IV when he pointed at the two children.

“Who are they?” He asked, in a grizzled military tone. The children looked at him sheepishly. 

“Their father left them. We’re looking after them.” I whispered. He humphed. A week later, he was discharged.

And then they started to come. First it was two Separatist soldiers, with five children following behind them, all looking like they were from different parents.

“Our Colonel said we could leave them here.” We now had seven children. Then twelve. Then seventeen. Then word got to the Federalists. By the end of 2032, we had forty two children.

Every month, it seemed there were less wounded and more children. Reserve forces for both sides were drying up, and neither side could risk an assault. Gradually, and not necessarily by choice, we became an orphanage rather than a hospital. 

It wasn’t easy. Food rations from the Red Cross were scant, and many of the children had faced untenable trauma. Supplies always seemed to be running low. Fortunately, the doctors and nurses who had been treating the soldiers found a new calling in the kids.

We did the best we could, but it was hardly ever enough. Sadness and hopelessness seemed to seep in at every corner. Even the staff would break sometimes. These children had grown up in war, seen the bodies and the injuries, had never had a stable home. Many of them didn’t talk, and many liked to fight. They’d often be caught stealing. 

Still, the civil war raged on. We don’t know how long it will be until it ends, or what the world will look like. It’s hard to say the children can even imagine a world that isn’t war. But we soldier on, hoping one day, for peace.