Had I been a boiling frog??
Sometimes when you try something radical to change your life, despite what all the self-help books might have to think, it just doesn’t workout and you find yourself still trawling through central African backwaters. To be precise you find yourself back riding through various hairy traffic situations on the back of a motorbike. Only now the driving seems worse and the near death is flirted with alarming regularity. Every journey seems fraught with danger and every arrival brings a rush of relief. IT never used to be like this, before I spent 2 years back in Europe I was zen as a buddist monk on my motos and boda-bodas. Had my perception of risk so radically altered?
There is a certain theory that if you live with risk of any kind for long enough it becomes routine. This is a necessary adaptation but if I could loose my risk tolarance from time spent in a risk lower risk environment I wondered if we ever truly get conditioned to risk. Just because we have become accustomed to an elevated level of adrenaline, does not mean it isn’t affecting the body in some way. Had my adaption to daily risk contributed to stress and depression?
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