Our last night in Maryland we stayed with our friends Kim and Audie Lea. Kim just turned 60 and so one of their kids (I think) bought him a Nintendo DS. An odd gift you might think for a 60 year old, but wait, there's more. Along with the DS, they bought him this game called 'Brain Age'. (Ever heard of it? If not, stay away. It's a tool of the Devil.)
Evidently some doctor/researcher in Japan has developed a system of games that will assist in exercising one's brain. There are different kinds of exercises: Sudoko, word scramble, acrostic challenge, speed tests for number differentiation, making change, etc. According to this Doctor, these will help get the blood flowing in your brain and help get your brain 'in shape.' One of the ways you can tell how the training is coming on a day-to-day or week-to-week basis is by the program assessing the age of your brain.
Well, my bride played with it while we were at their house and determined that maybe this would be just the thing to assist me with my 'diminishing capacities'. (I personally think my dalliances with controlled substances as a younger man has more to do with it than anything else, but. . .) So, we bought a DS for just me and Barbara. And we bought, not just 'Brain Age', but 'Brain Age 2' as well. We want the full effect. When we're done training, we'll be the Lance Armstrongs of the brain world.
You ever get the feeling that suggests to you that humiliation is imminent? Like in school when they were trying to teach ballroom dancing and yours was the first name they called as a demonstrator? Or when your out watching your friends doing Karaoke and someone convinces you that doing your favorite Eagles' song solo would be a really good idea? Yeah, it was like that.
I pick up the thing. I take the test. And the little screen tells me that my brain age is (drumroll please) 73. 73? SEVENTY-STINKIN-THREE! How? How could my brain be geriatric? How could this happen? Don't get me wrong, I'd understand if it said my lungs were 73 or my heart was 73 or my joints were 73, but my brain? I'm reading and writing and thinking about stuff all the time. Contrary to popular belief, I happen to know that I use my brain on a daily basis, more or less. I spend hours thinking about stuff that no one else I know thinks about (Which in and of itself is disconcerting, by I digress). I never claimed to be a rocket scientist or the sharpest tool in the shed, but 73?!?
Needless to say, I was not happy. So, I did what any normal, red-blooded, middle-aged person would do in my situation. I took the test again. And again. And again. Four days later, I broke 70. Yesterday, I managed 43. But, I'm still not happy. I should be happy. I shaved 30 years off my brain. But of all the words to use to describe me at this moment in time, happy is not one of them. Yes, I know I'm 42 (43 in about 3 weeks). Yes, that does mean that my brain is about my age. But now that I've shaved 30 years off, why can't I shave another 15 or 20 off? Maybe if I work hard enough, this little DS deal will be like the fountain of youth for my brain. How cool would that be to have the brain of a 22 year old in perpetuity?
I don't know about you, but I seem to do that a lot. Wherever I am, I want to be somewhere else. Whatever age I am, I want to be a different age. No matter what I achieve it never seems to be enough. No matter how much weight I've lost there are more pounds to be shed. Even when it comes to silly electronic games I'm not content.
Some discontent is good, like when we are discontent with the number of people who have access to clean water and nutritional food, or discontent with how available I've been to my bride or children during the academic year.
But this isn't that kind of discontent. Believe it or not, I think this variety of discontent is directly connected to how much I trust God. I think that's worth chewing on for a while.
Peace.
To be continued. . .
