Why is it that every new revelation about boosting brainpower requires pursuing some pastime I’ve taken great pains to avoid?

The two examples that prompted this worry:

A brief piece in The New York Times claims “moderate drinking” after age 60 reduces the odds of developing dementia.

A fascinating essay that ran some months back in the Boston Globe, and was given to me by a friend yesterday. It says urban settings jumble the mind and reduce ability to concentrate, while greener, leafier surroundings have the opposite effect. (“How a city hurts your brain…and what you can do about it” by Jonah Lehrer.)

Now, with my gene pool, the likelihood of my practicing “moderate drinking” is roughly the same as indulging in “occasional invisibility.” So that leaves the rural-settings-are-better issue. That sound you hear is my heart sinking. My natural habitat is pavement, and I like my big blue skies best on a large multiplex screen.

Lehrer is utterly convincing when he explains just how a walk along a crowded city sidewalk causes our memories to short-circuit, nerves to fray and our self-control to erode. This is straightforward stuff, not windy theory.

The worst part is the connection between urban chaos and splurging. The same part of the brain monitors both things, and once you’ve busied the prefrontal cortex by dodging skateboarders and purse-snatchers, it’s hard to say no to a $3.65 cup of coffee. (At last, an answer to the question of why Starbucks locates stores so close together on city blocks.)

Embracing nature at this point in my life is unlikely. The sight of more than two trees together makes me nervous, as do chirping crickets, swooping birds, rustling grasses and large amounts of (unbottled) still water. (A fountain is fine. As long as I can hear sirens over the rushing water.)

I’m clinging to Lehrer’s point that “studies have found that even a relatively paltry patch of nature can confer benefits.” I hope this is true, because I’m thinking of borrowing some technology from the Seasonal Affective Disorder folks — you know, the ones who stare into those bright indoor lights to get over the winter blues?

Instead of lightbulbs, I’ll set up a small basket of potted plants and a strip of sod on the coffee table. I’ll ease into the habit of sitting quietly in front of it for a few minutes a day.

I’m wondering; would it be cheating to put part of a gum wrapper and some tiny pieces of broken glass in there? You know, just until I get used to spending time in the country.