Inconsequentia (Lynn Kerstan)

The world is divided into two kinds of people: Those who choose a path, and those who wander.

Nah. We’re all too complex for bumper-sticker distinctions. But if you go looking for me, don’t try the path. I’m over there in the woodlands, probably lost, not much caring.

There are so many fascinating things in this world. No matter what I set out to do, something invariably comes along to distract me. Yesterday I intended to skim the newspaper before setting to work on my book, only to come across a half-page, full-color picture of a mostly bare male. That caught my attention. Even before my second cup of Chai tea.

But what really interested me was the accompanying list of statistics about the human body. Now, I have had a human body all my life. You’d think I would know it better by now. But only yesterday, I learned that a human sheds about 600,000 particles of skin per hour. Yikes. And secretes 2 ½ quarts of sweat. Gracious. Must take more care choosing a deodorant. If I can manage to read the labels, considering I’ll have blinked about 25 times a minute during the attempt.

It takes 60 seconds for a drop of blood to circulate throughout the body. Our bone marrow produces . . . wait for it . . . three million blood cells every single second. And destroys the same number. Nerve impulses travel at speeds up to 200 mph. No wonder I’m exhausted.

By contrast, a sperm wriggles along at a mere 8 inches per hour. Heck, by that time I’ve shed 600,000 particles of skin. And every second of every minute of that hour, 100,000 chemical reactions have taken place in my brain. You’d think I would be smarter. Then again, I’m losing about 50,000 neurons from that brain every day. Pretty soon, it’s going to be the size of a raisin and about as functional.

Those "body clocked" statistics--the article listed about 40 all--ensorcelled me. So naturally I had to follow up on Google, hungry for more details. And once again, the better part of my work morning slid slowly down the drain of my curiosity.

Even with the best of intentions, I can never resist the temptation of information. And research is the greatest seduction of all, because for me, there’s no such thing as looking up a fact, making a note of it, and getting on with the writing. Oh, no. One little nugget leads to another, so I veer away from a needed detail (the map of the Inca Trail) to flora, fauna, the messages of coded knots carried from town to town by runners, the reign of Inca Pachacutec . . . and absolutely none of this will appear in the story.

Assuming I ever get around to writing the actual story. Keep in mind, I also have to breathe 23,000 times a day, produce 1.8 pints of saliva, and feel my spine compressing .59 inches. I’m a busy gal.

But there is comfort for ramblers like me who don’t always keep our eyes on the goal. As one of my favorite writers, Barbara Samuel, reminds us, "Not all who wander are lost."

We’re just taking the scenic route.