I was 10 days into a 50-day writing workshop called “50/50 Fall 2008” when Hurricane Ike arrived last September. Several days of pandemonium and 11 days without power pushed the workshop to the back burner, where it remained until recently. Except for one anomalous book review, I didn’t make time to put [...]]]> I’m glad you asked.

I was 10 days into a 50-day writing workshop called “50/50 Fall 2008” when Hurricane Ike arrived last September. Several days of pandemonium and 11 days without power pushed the workshop to the back burner, where it remained until recently. Except for one anomalous book review, I didn’t make time to put anything else on the blog for most of a year.

A couple of weeks ago, I revived the 50/50 workshop as part of the process of coaching a friend through an exploration of her own writing. I’d been working the exercises for 10 days or so before it occurred to me that I should post them at Incompleat Iconoclast. I’m putting up the newer pieces as I write them, but in the interest of not burying my few subscribers in a whole bunch of messages at once, I’m spreading out posting the older ones until I get caught up. (But I’m dating them at the time I wrote them so that they’ll appear in chronological order on the blog.)

Write to me if you want to know more!

I want all of my life to be like these moments:

In Trick or Treatment: The Undeniable Facts About Alternative Medicine, Simon Singh and Edzard Ernst, M.D., set out to analyze the scientific literature on acupuncture, homeopathy, chiropractic, herbal medicine, and a host of other modalities of so-called alternative and complementary medicine. The book begins with a long, fascinating chapter about the history of medicine and [...]]]>

In Trick or Treatment: The Undeniable Facts About Alternative Medicine, Simon Singh and Edzard Ernst, M.D., set out to analyze the scientific literature on acupuncture, homeopathy, chiropractic, herbal medicine, and a host of other modalities of so-called alternative and complementary medicine. The book begins with a long, fascinating chapter about the history of medicine and the emergence of the modern, evidence-based approach to medicine—i.e., conventional, Western, or allopathic medicine. Their stated purpose is to keep an open mind while applying the principles of evidence-based medicine to popular alternative modalities. Their backgrounds as medical outsiders and the careful, measured language of the introduction gave this skeptical reader confidence that the authors would be able to satisfy this goal.

But in my case, Singh and Ernst were preaching to the choir. I listen regularly to several podcasts that focus on science and skepticism (e.g., QuackCast and The Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe) and I follow medical news and blogs (e.g., Science‑Based Medicine). So I probably have a better idea of the current medical consensus on some of these modalities than most members of the general public. I was not surprised by their conclusions, which found most alternative modalities to fall somewhere in the range between barely useful and downright dangerous.

I know a lot of alt-med True Believers, though, and I fear that Singh and Ernst are overly optimistic about the willingness of the proponents of alternative medicine to rely on science as the best way of understanding the world. Any sensible person who’s willing to spend 10 minutes googling “homeopathy” can figure out pretty quickly that this particular form of “medicine” has absolutely no plausible mechanism, and yet Americans spent $1.5 billion on homeopathic remedies in 2000. I suspect that believers in complementary and alternative medicine don’t want to know what science has to say about these modalities, because they don’t know enough about science to evaluate its conclusions. I would enthusiastically prescribe Trick or Treatment for anyone who’s interested in the facts about alternative treatment modalities. But I make no promises that it will cure the lack of intellectual curiosity that infects the alt-med True Believer.

“We never ask for the things we need the most.” I don’t know if I agree with that statement, so what am I going to do with it? If we’re in touch with who we are, we do ask for the things we need the most. But I guess a lot of people [...]]]> Five False Starts

“We never ask for the things we need the most.” I don’t know if I agree with that statement, so what am I going to do with it? If we’re in touch with who we are, we do ask for the things we need the most. But I guess a lot of people go through life without asking. Who is this “we”?

“We never ask for the things we need the most,” she said to me.

“What do you mean by that?” I said.

“I mean, we say we want independence, but what we want is financial security. We say we want justice, but we’d rather have revenge.”

We never ask for the things we need the most. No, strike that. We ask for the things we need, but we don’t actually want them. We ask for Truth, but Truth isn’t what we want. We want a good story. We want a great story. We want a story of wonder and magic and nobility and heroism, but Truth doesn’t tell that kind of story. Truth tells stories about suffering and survival and the slow passage of time….

We never ask for the things we need the most. And most of us make do, we find our way, we get by with what comes our way from the goodness or grace or benevolence or lucky indifference of the universe. But once in a while, one of us gets lost, one of us becomes isolated, or perhaps I should say, one of us becomes more isolated even than all the rest. He finds himself in a place where no one can reach him, and he does something terrible, something desperate, and puts himself in a position where no one can give him anything at all.

“We never ask for the things we need the most.” I don’t know what that means. I’ve tried imagining those words in the voice of a frustrated seeker, an unsatisfied lover, an angry materialist, or the witness to a suicide, but I don’t like where any of these stories lead.

What else to say?

We never ask for the things we need the most, because as long as we don’t ask, then we can blame the other person for not giving those things to us, and so our unhappiness is someone else’s fault. As soon as we ask, we accept responsibility for the consequences of having expressed our desires.

Is that true? Does it matter?

To ask for what we need the most is to accept responsibility for our own destinies.

© 2008 Edward F. Gumnick

The class [...]]]> I’ve signed up again for “50/50,” Max Regan’s 50-day online workshop. “Students will receive a writing exercise via e-mail each day and will write at least one page of text a day,” says Max’s introduction to the course. Fifty days, fifty pages—hence the title. For more information about the course, visit Max’s 50/50 blog.

The class provides no mechanism for feedback; its purpose is merely to inspire and stimulate participants to cultivate or expand their every-day writing habit. I’m planning to post my 50/50 output here again, however, so that friends and fellow writers who’ve expressed interest or curiosity about my writing can take a look and give me some comments. [View the archive of my 50/50 pieces from the spring 2008 course.]

If you’ve found your way here, either because I invited you or just by accident, I’d love to know what you think. Please post your feedback as a comment on the posting to which it applies, or if you’d prefer not to make them public, send me e-mail. (Or call me on the phone if your critique is likely to make me cry.)