By Cynthia Santos
“Bernard of Chartres used to compare us to puny dwarfs perched on the shoulders of giants. He pointed out that we see more and farther than our predecessors not because we have keener vision or greater height, but because we are lifted up and borne aloft on their gigantic stature.” – John of Salisbury’s Metalogicon
Dear Bernard, wise as he was, was wrong:
We stand on no titans.
No, the titans of the prior generations are drowned, bloated fishermen’s bodies with
boot marks on their upturned faces.
We, their children, troded them under, kicking and clawing, striving up for that
shimmering film barrier.
Until we, too tired, stretched our own children up as high as we could toward life.
While taking the frantic blows that propelled them up and us down,
The cycle of giving and receiving these blows become natural,
As though they were the tenderest lover’s kisses
Even the idiot knows how this goes.
The quiet, cold embrace of the sea will claim even the strongest amongst us.
Let us cease the struggle. Let us instead raise our waterlogged voices:
Hail the quiet death,
the easy chaos,
the relaxation of every order.
She comes.
The above poem, titled ‘The Educated Idiot’, is a criticism of certain aspects of modern western culture. I oftentimes feel our work habits and obsession with “being productive” will ultimately catch up with us. We are told by our colleagues ‘the best is yet to come’ – that after many sleep-deprived years filled with anxiety and stress, we will improve our social standing so our children can have the advantages we did not have. However, at what price? What will be left of our bodies, and our spirit?
As child of former Dominican and Puerto Rican campesinos (agrarian laborers), and as a medical student that has participated in medical missions in rural Latin America, I have often met people who I can describe as living in a state of “healthy poverty.” While these campesinos do not have the means to attend school, travel, or afford the luxuries available to most in developed nations, on a whole, their bodies are healthier and their spirits richer. They have time to converse and bond with their family, to interact with nature, and to cherish life. For instance, we would arrive in our medical brigade vans ready to treat the ‘sick’, yet few, if any, were to be found. Sometimes, we just distributed vitamins, which is ironic since the campesinos, who consume a diet rich in fresh fruit and produce, live healthier and are better nourished, at least compared to my usual diet of coffee and microwave meals.
The tranquility obtained after spending some time in their communities was far more than anything I could possibly offer them. They have the basics: good food, clean water, sturdy homes, and each other. True, the electricity goes off at random times and the closest paved road was a three hour hike down the hill, but upon reflection, I feel jealous of them and yearn to have the life they have… the life my parents left behind. I thank my parents for all the sacrifices made on my behalf, but now, as an adult who is starting to work long hours in an difficult professional career, I can appreciate what they gave away. Dare I ask – is it all worth it?
Cynthia Santos is a 2nd year medical student at Weill Cornell Medical School. She can be contacted for questions or comments at cds2006@med.cornell.edu.