‘I thought sex was over at 65’: Michael Pollan on love, ego death and 50 years of marriage

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Michael Pollan. The US journalist, 71, is the author of 10 books, including The Omnivore’s Dilemma, In Defence of Food and How to Change Your Mind. His latest book is A World Appears: A Journey into Consciousness.

SEX

Where did you get your sex education from? Definitely a lot of trial and error. In the late ’60s – when I was 13 – there were conversations among boys about sex, but it wasn’t frank conversation: just guys boasting, and there was a lot of misinformation. Girls taught me a lot later. I got into long-term relationships pretty early. In high school, I had a serious relationship that lasted a couple of years, another one in college, and then I met my wife. So I’ve been serially monogamous for a very long time.

How long have you been with your wife now? Fifty years.

No way. What attracted you to her? So many things. There was a strong physical attraction, but she also seemed a somewhat mysterious person who wasn’t putting all her cards on the table. And she was a little elusive, too. She was very attractive. She is very attractive.

What keeps you attracted to her? There’s still physical attraction, without question. We also have so much to talk about – and she edits all my work. Nothing leaves the house that she hasn’t read and commented on. She’s a painter and I regularly go to her studio to look at her work and offer suggestions, too. When you’re with someone that long, you’re either going to grow together or grow apart because you’re going to change. I feel very fortunate in that we’ve grown together and changed in all sorts of ways we find compelling.

When it comes to sex in your 70s, what should I expect? Well, when I was your age, I didn’t imagine people in their 70s had sex. I thought it was over at 65 or something.

And you’re telling me it’s not … which is making me optimistic. I’m telling you it’s not.

That’s good to know. But I’m not going into any more detail!

DEATH

You’re in your 70s now. Is death on your mind more? Definitely. When I turned 70, it came into view in a way it hadn’t when I turned 50 or 60. It wasn’t so much the prospect of dying as the limits on the time remaining. At your age, it looked like it was going to go on forever: there was this horizon you could barely make out. Now I can see the horizon. So when I’m deciding on my next book project – which could be my last – I want to be very careful that it’s important and worth doing. I also have a 97-year-old mum, and have been through the death of my father. When you lose your parents, you have this sense that you’re up against the cosmos: you no longer have these people standing between you and eternity. You’re up next.

Does the concept of death scare you? Suffering scares me, dying not so much. I’m not a believer in an afterlife. I’m interested in the moment of death: what there might be to learn from it, what actually happens. I have an intellectual curiosity about it.

You’ve written extensively about psychedelics and the way that people use them – sometimes to meet their death … And rehearse their death. Death rehearsal is something that often happens on psychedelics, and it turns out to be a rather liberating event.

Have you had that experience? I’ve had an experience of complete ego death, which I describe in my book [How To Change Your Mind]. At the peak of a fairly high-dose psilocybin experience, I had this sense that I had exploded into a cloud of blue Post-it Notes, which fluttered to the ground and formed this pool of blue paint. That was me, and I was gone, but I was still conscious. Then something really interesting happened, which is that I merged with something larger than myself. In this case, it was a piece of music: a Bach unaccompanied cello suite – No. 2 in D minor. But I had the experience that I was the music, and there was no longer the subject-object distinction. That’s what happens when you have ego death. I’ve written about terminal cancer patients who’ve been treated with psilocybin, and many of them describe an experience like that, which eliminates their fear of death because they feel as if they’ve already been through it. That’s quite a gift.

You’ve also written extensively about food. What would be your last meal? Oh, god; I’ve been asked that so many times …

Do you know the answer? For a long time, it was roast chicken. I love roast chicken. I don’t eat meat any more, though.

Surely you get an amnesty on your deathbed? [Nods] Maybe I’d have the roast chicken; suspend the rules.

RELIGION

Were you raised with religion? I’m Jewish, but we didn’t have a very religious upbringing. My parents weren’t observant, yet they wanted me to be bar mitzvahed – completely against my will. I fought it tooth and nail. My parents were incredibly permissive but, on this point, they would not yield. Then it became clear to me that this was a marketing opportunity for my father’s business: he was inviting all these clients.

Ah, a mercantile bar mitzvah … Completely mercantile! [Laughs] I ended up having a good time at the party, though.

The questions you ask have always been – and are becoming increasingly – profound. Your latest book about consciousness is about our very existence and meaning … That’s what I meant when I was talking about death earlier. Why waste time on trivial things when there’s so little time left?

Michael Pollan will appear at the Sydney Opera House on November 4 and at Melbourne’s Wheeler Centre on November 5.

diceytopics@goodweekend.com.au

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