What’s Good? What’s Wellness?
In another life, I worked for a large-scale tech entity that sells wellness. We had to wear beliefs like a uniform, believing meditation, alone, could cure job stress, burnout, strained marriages, anxiety, depression, addiction, and even gun violence. Frequent questions failed to disappear from my mind: At what point does striving for wellness make it not wellness anymore? If it’s a product, is it selling a good life or a blameless one? And how much is it supposed to cost?
How many markers of privilege does one need to have in order to have it?
I would meet with so many folks who approached me in automatic apology, expecting me to take a disciplinary edge with them when goals took longer than expected, when targets weren’t reached, or tasks were incomplete. I could understand why. When you expect your mental health coach or therapist to bully you, what does this say about the general attitude of the wellness industry?
This isn’t to say that meditation isn’t helpful, or that a focus on health is futile. For many, these are essential parts of balanced and whole life. We, in many ways, are still equating health with goodness though, aren’t we? Our collective well of shame for all of the ways in which we could not do everything “right” enough to be happy, to be full, to be financially safe, to be physically protected from abuse, or from death, is overflowing.
If it isn’t us creating that equation, it’s made for us. Oh, you’re feeling sad and apathetic? Did you go for a hike? Have you tried [exercise fad]? Did you eat a vegetable? Do you meditate everyday? Here are 15 targeted ads promising to fix your posture, your diet, your hormones, your brain. You haven’t formulated the magical math equation that yields happiness yet? No? Why not?
Meanwhile, we are all still living in those “unprecedented times” that we couldn’t talk about enough not so long ago (but now we’re supposed to be used to it). Those in my generation have had a version of the same war playing out through our entire lifetimes. Each and every day we are exposed to horror. Sometimes I wonder how anyone has space left in their mind and heart to consider individual wellness when, societally, there is so much imbalance and suffering. I once wrote that “being present and awake in the world means having your heart perpetually broken and mended by humans”. The sadness of that must be felt. We cannot transcend being human, having feelings and complex experiences, pain, death. I don’t want to bypass those things. They’re part of it all, the crushing beauty of being alive.
Can wellness be viewed as a symptom of living in what Stephen Jenkinson calls a competence-addicted, death-phobic culture? Is it a kind of false refuge we have built in order to distance ourselves from natural order? If wellness is really about living our best lives, why is it that our conversations rarely include discussion about death? In a culture so inundated with resources for living well, why are so many folks still dying without a living will in place? How come so many of us are still dying while resisting death, as though it’s a surprise?
How do we focus on living full lives with rich experiences that lead to equally full and rich deaths, meanwhile divorcing the relationship between being in good health and being good? While there are certain indisputable factors that must be in place for each and every human being to ensure they have the best chance to live into old age and then to have a “good” death (housing, financial stability, community, medical and mental health care, fresh air and a world protected from pollution, etc.), it ought to be allowed to look a little different for each person.
When I consider what has made my life well-lived so far, I am not thinking about how much I exercise. I am not thinking about meditation streaks. I am not thinking about my income, what supplements I take, my weight, or my acne breakouts. I am not thinking about my morning routine.
I am, however, thinking about the tiny rituals I carry out that anchor me into the sensations of my life. I know that I feel a sense of reverence and connection when I witness art in its many forms. I know my relationships are nurtured when we’re eating a delicious meal together. I know that my days are more fulfilling when I’m making, writing, or crafting. Sometimes, wellness is making my grief a cup of tea. Sometimes, wellness is nourishing my body with a walk during my breaks. So very often, wellness is ensuring I hug somebody by the end of each day.
None of that makes a good commercial, but can’t it be enough?