Loving friction

Two weeks ago I was stepping outside into the cold morning air. It was beautiful. I hadn't seen snow in a very long time.

A child-like enthusiasm overcame me while I was plodding through untamed layers of snow on the sidewalk. Pristine. It was tricky for my body to find balance. It challenged me. I slipped. I caught myself. I felt the cold. I felt so alive.

The next day it was snowing again. But I didn’t want to believe what I saw. The city of Berlin had deployed these small orange vehicles. They were clearing the sidewalks, leaving a magnificent path to walk, free of any obstacles. My heart cried.

The essayist Nassim Taleb distinguishes the fragile from the antifragile. The fragile doesn’t like disorder and wants peace and predictability. The antifragile loves disorder and wants challenge and randomness. Organic systems, like humans, are inherently antifragile. Our muscles and bones require volatility and stress to be maintained and to be strengthened. So do our minds.

On this day in the snow, I could feel my body craving the antifragile.

A life without friction makes us vulnerable because our capabilities atrophy. One bad thing happens and we crash to the ground, unable to stand up again. You might call it crazy that I love to struggle through snow. But is this reduction to the simplicity of life is what makes me value the rest of my life even more.

I believe we need more friction. We especially need more physical stress. Whether that’s cold showers, fasting (intermittent or for longer time periods) or intense exercise.

We need to leave the cleared sidewalks and practice finding balance in the high snow again.