I do all I can to maintain good health. I eat mostly plants, as

In an age of endless noise and restless movement, when men and women rush through their days as though fleeing their own shadows, James Howard Kunstler spoke words of quiet rebellion: “I do all I can to maintain good health. I eat mostly plants, as Michael Pollan would say. I get a lot of exercise. I lead a purposeful daily life. I stay current with the dentist. I made the formative decision of where to live over thirty years ago when I settled in a 'main street' small town in upstate New York.” Though spoken plainly, these words are a hymn to balance, a testimony to the art of intentional living. For in them lies a truth that the ancients themselves would have cherished — that the health of the body, the peace of the spirit, and the harmony of one’s surroundings are not gifts of fortune, but the fruits of discipline and choice.

Kunstler, known for his writings on urban design and the decline of modern civilization, has long warned that our cities — sprawling, congested, and soul-weary — are reflections of our inner disarray. His personal philosophy, expressed in this quote, stands as an antidote to that chaos. In his small town of upstate New York, he found what the philosopher Diogenes once sought under the open sky: a life of simplicity, proximity, and purpose. It is no coincidence that he chose a place where the main street still thrives, where people walk rather than drive, where the faces of neighbors are familiar. For he understood that where we live shapes who we become, and that the setting of life’s story determines the tone of its meaning.

When he says, “I eat mostly plants, as Michael Pollan would say,” Kunstler invokes not just a diet, but a philosophy of nourishment. Pollan’s simple wisdom — “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants” — echoes the ancient balance of body and nature, restraint and gratitude. In the age of excess, where the table groans with abundance but the heart starves for vitality, this call to moderation is revolutionary. To eat plants is to eat light, to draw energy close to the source, to live in harmony with the earth rather than in conquest over it. It is a quiet act of resistance against the machinery of consumption — and an act of reverence toward the life that sustains us.

Yet Kunstler’s words go beyond diet. He speaks of exercise, of purpose, of attending even to the mundane — the visit to the dentist, the maintenance of the flesh that carries the soul. These are not the boasts of vanity, but the disciplines of gratitude. The ancients would have called this care of the self, the cultivation of arete — excellence in the art of living. To keep one’s body in order, to live with purpose, to act with foresight, is to honor life as a sacred gift rather than a fleeting indulgence. In this, Kunstler reminds us that health is not a condition but a conversation between body and mind, between the individual and the world that holds them.

Think, for a moment, of the ancient Roman farmer Cincinnatus, who, when called to save the Republic, left his plow, served with honor, and returned humbly to his fields. His life, simple yet profound, was grounded in purpose and proportion. He did not chase luxury or fame, yet his name endures for the balance he embodied. So too does Kunstler’s vision recall this wisdom: the conviction that a life rooted in place, disciplined in body, and guided by meaning can outlast the hollow triumphs of speed and wealth.

And when he says, “I lead a purposeful daily life,” he speaks to the heart of our age’s affliction — the void of meaning that afflicts those who mistake motion for progress. Purpose is not found in grand ambition, but in the steady rhythm of small, conscious acts. The walk down a main street, the tending of a garden, the deliberate choice to stay, to build, to know one’s community — these are the quiet revolutions that restore the soul. To live this way is to reject the alienation of modern life, to become again a citizen of one’s own time and place.

So, O listener, hear the teaching in Kunstler’s words. Health is not merely the absence of disease, but the presence of harmony. It is the balance between nourishment and exertion, solitude and community, ambition and contentment. Purpose is not found in distant goals, but in the integrity of daily living. And the place you choose to dwell is not just an address, but a mirror of your values — a garden where your spirit either withers or flourishes.

Therefore, seek not the dizzy glitter of constant change, but the calm joy of the intentional life. Eat with awareness. Move with vigor. Choose your home not for status, but for peace. Live not as a stranger to your own days, but as their master and friend. For the wisdom of James Howard Kunstler is this: that the good life is not built on novelty, but on rootedness — not on haste, but on harmony. To live well is to live whole, and to live whole is to live wisely within the world that sustains you.