Day 2 of living more consciously


I’m on the train to Mattersburg.
My dad wants me to fetch him some things and bring them to the hospital. He’s been transfered from Wiener Neustadt to Vienna. The hospital is old and in the process of being renovated. Not a pretty sight to begin with, the naked grey walls—that would otherwise be painted with some sort of soothing color and plastered with a garish variety of informational posters—seem even more depressing and hopeless than usual. I am growing ever more tired of the surroundings that sick people are placed in. In my head I conjure up vague ideas about what a more holistic approach to medicine would look like. It consists mainly of becoming sick and dying in the woods, or stoically walking into the sea and being washed away.
I managed to meditate for about twenty minutes last evening. I was able to focus better than usual, too. If this is the effect that intermittant fasting has on one’s mind, it’s not a subtle effect at all.
I also managed to approximately hit my target calorie count of 2500 kcal. I’ve always dismissed the counting of calories as a flawed method to reach any goal except being starved and unhappy all the time. What I have encountered so far is something different. It gives me a sense of control; the ability to know whether I’ve eaten enough or not. This used to fall into the domain of guessing and doubting. The arithmetic approach gamifies the whole ordeal of providing your body with nutrients. It’s a daily allowance you can spend, and you don’t want to spend it on crap (and I’ve figured out what my body considers to be crap some time ago), because then you’ll either be hungry or miss your goal by giving in to your cravings and running into caloric debt. Either way you’ll feel lousy, and since the calorie-count I’ve settled on is generous enough to provide me with a feeling of constant satiation (provided I don’t mess up) there’s a great motivation to stick to the plan.
Physically, I’ve hardly ever felt better. But there’s also a harrowing darkness, a complimentary dash of freezing cool to everything I think or feel. Sometimes I feel the urge to fast-forward time, only to find myself more aware of the present than ever. Which is a good thing that I don’t want to complain about. But I find it a bit ironic and twisted that this so much sought-after awareness hits me the hardest when I feel like escaping it the most.