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Disease is not nice. Especially when everybody knows about it. That it's knocking on the door. That you keep having to be immunized. It would be nice if one shot would do everything, but Star Trek having promised that I’m sure, hasn’t delivered in the real world. And Patrick Stewart's getting a bit old. A cure for stress though – some magic pill that transcends all science and religion – might be useful. But whenever does that happen?

Stress is real. Thoughts are also real. There is a definite connection here. Worries to me seem to be at the heart of the matter. Man should shape his own destiny. But his mind gets in the way. Which cave to sleep in and which day to light a fire?

What we value most can hit us the hardest. Stress can cause more illness and ill-feeling to arise, a place where even the most stubborn of sleeping bags cannot give us a sound sleep. Beer and Netflix didn’t help out the oldest of cavemen. I wonder how they survived. By adrenaline and pure force of mental strength most likely. We owe a great deal to them I suppose. But with the passing years, have we inherited genetic traits that make us more likely to be stressed? How is this possible when we now have telly, mod cons and a world where wolves and sharks are not really such a problem?

There are many things that can give us high blood pressure and heart attacks. Family, wealth, an overly large potato. Is this really the point of caring? Must we go back to the old days, where instinct and contentment relate to the day-to-day life of an ancient way of living? Old remedies, be they herbs or a paleo-diet have been suggested to help. How best can we defeat a self-defeating disease? Possibly move to Finland – the happiest country in the world. Or rent a dog and walk it like in Japan. Are these things closer to God? Must we pray? Whatever we do there will be stress. I guess just live with it.



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