Commusings: Stopping to Smell the Roses

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Dear Commune Community,

One must endure significant indignity in the quest to be well. I am specifically referring to the medically-sanctioned invasion of orifices in the name of disease detection.

Women are more acclimated to such violations as initial visits to the gynecologist coincide with orthodontist appointments in early adolescence.

Men, as they are apt to do, put off analogous measures until later in life. But, starting at age 50, the party’s over and foreign objects increasingly find their way toward and up the male anus.

I recently got my colonoscopy. An endoscope traveled a yard and a half up my large intestine. That’s not a short distance. Just ask a fullback on fourth down. Of course, thankfully, I was dead to the world during this trespassing, and whoever invented Propofol deserves a Nobel prize for their role in anesthetizing me.

Unfortunately, I was very much awake for my recent annual prostate exam. The entire visit to my primary care physician is an inexorable march toward the practice dubiously known as “the reach around.” There’s always a glimmer of hope that maybe she’ll forget. She never does.

I know the drill. I grab the cold hard edges of the exam table, drop my sweatpants and my boxer briefs. She compliments my lululemon underwear. I tell her there are probably microplastics in them as she puts too many fingers into my rectum.

This year, she lingered there for too long and without the customary small talk.

“Hmmm…“ she mused, “I think you should see a urologist. There’s no reason to be alarmed. But, still, I think you should make an appointment.”

Oy vey. I immediately thought I was dying of prostate cancer. I was remarkably sanguine about my impending death. I’ve had a good life. Perhaps I am just more at ease with my hypochondriasis.

While, on a rational level, I suspected I was totally fine, I contacted my estate attorney just to ensure all was in order. I spent the week enjoying the little things in life. All my girls are home for the summer and I relish our long languorous dinners together.

Last week, I was taking my daily walk – two miles uphill in the midday heat to my gym. I was a good 80% of the way there when my cell phone interrupted my latest audiobook on nuclear war. I recognized the number as my doctor’s and answered it.

“Hi Jeff, it’s Doctor Ohadi. I am calling to review your labs. Is this a good time?”

“Sure. They can’t be worse than thermonuclear war.”

A little confused, she started in, “Well, your lipid profiles are excellent. HbA1c is 5.2. No insulin resistance. Good Vitamin D levels. Testosterone. ALT. Thyroid. All optimal.

“What about my PSA?” I queried. PSA is a prostate-specific antigen test that measures the amount of PSA in a man's blood to help detect prostate cancer.

“Very, very low. You look fine.”

“Great!” I replied, my shoulders dropping a full three inches. “Should I still go to the urologist?”

She provided me with the response I expected, “Every man above 50 should develop a relationship with a urologist.”

I hung up. There was a little extra pep in my step.

I rounded the corner on Skyline Drive. Just as the road straightens out, there’s an absolutely fantastic rose garden that hugs the sidewalk. It’s maintained assiduously by an old concert pianist who has lived in the canyon for 50 years.

I always stop there on my walk and indulge in each varietal, burying my face among the petals. There’s a mix of old garden and wild roses, hybrid tea roses, floribunda and polyantha roses. Their respective aromas are as distinct as their colors.

The manner in which my nose violates their anthers and stigma I suppose could be compared to Dr. Ohadi’s breach of my rectum, though I guarantee the fragrance bears little resemblance.

I finished my olfactory feast and walked on when suddenly a car violently u-turned ahead of me, turned around and screeched to a halt at my side. The man in the car lowered the window. He was in his 40’s, slightly disheveled, but appeared friendly.

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” he exclaimed, “but this situation is too crazy! I’ve just recovered from being sick for a year. I just haven’t been myself. Really, I am trying to figure out who I am again. And I was driving up the hill and I uttered to myself aloud, ‘Andrew, you just need to stop and smell the roses.’ And as those very words were coming out of my mouth, I looked over and there you were literally smelling the roses. I simply had to stop and say thank you.”

“That’s amazing,” I rejoined, quite stunned. “These roses are delicious. Every time I stop here, I feel more relaxed, present and grateful.”

He nodded as I was talking. We exchanged a few more pleasantries.

Before I moved on, I thought to ask, “What was your condition?”

“I had prostate cancer,” he answered, “and just now have gone into remission.”

An astonished look must have crossed my face as he asked me if I was OK.

“You’ll never believe this,” I replied, “but just minutes ago I got a call from my doctor…”

• • •

I knew immediately that this serendipitous affair was destined for a Commusing. The act of stopping to smell the roses can be absurdly literal – as it was in my case. But one need not bury one’s nose in a flower to slow down and bask in the wonder and awe of being alive. Andrew stopped, turned his car around and smelled me as a rose.

My action gave momentum to his. And now Andrew has motivated me to write you this missive. Every miniscule action produces a prior cause, shaping the next present moment.

Life is simply always now. We string moments together to form linear time – but it’s still and will forever be now. A sand grain of free will hides in this everlasting present. Herein lies our agency to stop and smell life’s roses and, in so doing, create a better next moment for ourselves and the world.

Cultivating Commune’s garden has been the love labor of my life. Within our digital walls grows every varietal of program designed to perfume your life with health and vitality — from courses on the science of physical health to the metaphysics of connecting with a higher purpose. From programs that, yes, cover your optimal PSA levels to classes on the subtle rise and fall of your breath.

We are currently offering Lifetime Membership at 50% off. That’s a deal – as the information in our programs is aimed at extending your lifespan (and your healthspan).

If the time is right for you, I hope you stop and smell the roses we have to offer.

Here at [email protected] and tending the garden of IG @jeffkrasno.

In love, include me,
Jeff