Monday, June 4, 2012

Going Macro.


"Macrobiotics is not just a diet," writes Loulie Gillen of Vanderbilt University, "but a holistic approach to living that takes into account all aspects of human life, including the inter-relationship between body, mind and spirit. Macrobiotics stresses the importance of a balanced diet because one's diet creates the foundation for a happy, healthy and harmonious life. Macrobiotic philosophy teaches practitioners to lead a balanced lifestyle based on the Chinese yin-yang principles. The actual macrobiotic diet closely resembles a vegan-like food pattern with virtually no animal food consumed. Practitioners also avoid "nonorganic" or "processed" foods."



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I had been seeking a better way of life my whole life. Coming from the family that I did, one with poor lifestyle habits, including eating disorders, I have for decades been on the search for the right way to live. I have studied with psychologists, theologians, vegetarians, poets and God, through writings and teachings and into the depths of my soul in my quest for harmony, balance and authenticity in living.

I first learned about a healthier way of eating when I was in my early 30s, living with a macrobiotic roommate.  Holly ate brown rice with gomasio (toasted sesame seeds and salt), a Jello-like substance called kanten, beans, sea vegetables, leafy green vegetables and beans. I'd eat along with her when we were home together. But I didn't think much about the diet, or of it. A few years later, I learned about vegetarianism from a friend, and read "Diet for a New America" about the problems with meat consumption. A few years after that, as a newspaper reporter working on the status of the American family farm, I spent some nights at a hog farm. I was horrified by the sights -- and the breakfast platter put before me the next morning, which smelled like the hog slop I'd stepped through earlier that day. Soon after that experience, I quit meat altogether. For one year, even, I was vegan.

But I was always confused. Why do we have incisors? Maybe humans are supposed to eat meat? What about dairy? Isn't dairy the best source of calcium? I was confused about the way we approach our bodies in general in this country, particularly regarding medicine. When I would go to a doctor with an ache, all I would want to know was if there was something life-threateningly wrong with me. All the doctor wanted to do was medicate me. I began to find other ways to heal myself -- hot baths for sore muscles instead of Ibupropen. Miso soup when I had a cold or a stomach ache. Dietary changes for irritable bowel syndrome. I began to rethink food, not as a fun thing to focus on all the time, but as nourishment, as the very lifeblood of our bodies and souls. My intake continued to evolve and devolve meanwhile. Although a pure vegan for a year with no processed foods, no sugar, no dairy, no meat (which bought my cholesterol down 60 points), at some point, after 15 years of vegetarianism, I became concerned I wasn't getting enough protein or calcium. Confused again, not sure what I was doing, I added salmon, tuna and the occasional chicken. I also consumed yogurt, chocolate, wine, ice cream and way too much cheese, and I chewed copious amounts of gum, sometimes sugar free, sometimes sugar -- all the while feeling concerned and absolutely confused.

When, 2.5 years ago, I was diagnosed with a blood condition, I had no choice but to step up my quest for the right way to live, and eat. At first I was more overwhelmed than ever. People told me to  take chlorophyll. Drink wheat grass juice. Eat shark cartilage. Drink raw milk. Don't drink milk at all. Go homeopathic. Eat mushrooms. I steered clear; none of these spoke to me. They seemed extreme, faddish.

I kept coming back to the idea of food as medicine. But what food? What was going to help me? What was going to bring me harmony, balance and truth? All I knew was that water figured prominently in my understanding of life, that I hated the idea of chemicals in food, and that I felt better, psychologically, when I was not weighed down by meat or cheese or the after-effects of too much wine or caffeine.

A year and a half ago, I began asking my friend, Sheila, who is a macrobiotic counselor in Kent, Ohio, about sea vegetables. Sheila suggested I contact Larch Hanson"the seaweed guy" in Maine. I emailed him. He sent me a long, impassioned email back, saying if he were me, he would, among other things, contact Warren Kramer a macrobiotic counselor in Boston. That was January 2011. I immediately emailed Warren. Yes, he said, he does consultations in different cities throughout the U.S., but nowhere near me. He told me he would do a Skype appointment with me. But I wanted to experience him in person. We tried a couple more times to hook up, once in Boston, but it didn't pan out. 

I struggled anew, and next went to a naturopath, looking for what I thought would be a nutritional approach. She instead wanted me to take supplements, and to charge me twice the online price if I bought them from her. A shrewd businesswoman hiding behind a "naturopath" sign, she told me from her snarky little office in downtown Chagrin Falls: "No wonder you have a blood condition. Look at the way you've lived." It took me weeks to get over what she said and to come back to what was emerging even stronger: Food, nutrition. Simple. Basic.


A couple of months ago, I checked on Warren's schedule again. He was going to be in Washington, D.C., where my son lives, in May. And so I did it. It took some finagling of my schedule and my son's. But I made arrangements to drive six hours to meet him. Warren was no-frills, down to basics. He spent 90 minutes listening to me, studying me and then talking to me about my specific condition, and teaching. He reminded me that we get calcium from greens. Everything has protein it. One cup of brown rice, the staple of the macro diet, has five grams of protein, a cup of Azuki beans, 20 grams. Everything he said made perfect sense. It fit for me, and that is the perhaps single-most important part of any approach to life. It has to fit.

I've been 10 days now on macro. While I already was in the habit of eating a lot of the foods on the macro diet, I have added a tremendous amount of veggies, sea vegetables, miso and brown rice to my diet: The basic macro diet is  50 percent whole grains: brown ricewheatbarley, oats, corn, etc.;
25 percent seasonal vegetables like brocolli, cabbage, cauliflower, collards, mustard greens, onion, kale, radishes, turnip greens; 10 percent protein foods - soy products, fish, legumes, etc.; and percent fruits, nuts, seeds, and drinks, Also, miso, sea vegetables and mild green teas such as bancha.

I have also cut out all meat, all dairy, all sugar, alcohol, raw oil and caffeine I do a twice-daily full body rub to stimulate the lymph and get rid of toxins. I spend lots more time outside with plants (chlorophyll and oxygen produce strong blood) and have brought more plants inside the house, as well. I walk more (the recommendation is 30 minutes per day, but not for exercise, just because our bodies want to move.) I find ways to exercise my body as part of daily living. As important as anything, I chew my food to liquified form (I try to do 50 per mouthful) and sit while I eat. This is half the philosophy: Sitting without distraction while eating. I feel this so profoundly in my soul when I practice this. I am also working on developing regular eating times, which is another important part of the philosophy. If indeed it is food that nourishes our bodies more than anything else, and if we sit still and quiet while we are doing this thing to ourselves, well, that is sacred and pure and honoring and whole. Not only that, but the very preparation of so many vegetables and fresh food every day slows me down, brings me into life with the food I put in my body.

Ten days later, I feel the best I've ever  consciously felt for any sustained period in my life. Part of it is psychological, I know. I feel I have found the answer for my life. I feel lighter, healthier and at peace with my choice.  Part of it is unmistakably physical. I've lost a couple of pounds. My skin looks clearer, my eyes brighter. An acquaintance who doesn't know I went macro came up to me after yoga class yesterday and said "I looked over at you today and I said, 'Wow, Debra-Lynn looks kick-ass.' Your skin. Your body.You look radiant."

There are some who would say this diet is no different than any other vegan way of life. No sugar, no dairy, no meat, no processed foods. Duh. That may be true, except that the macro way of life is not just about what you cut out. It is also about the riches that you add, like sea vegetables, which are full of an inordinate amount of vitamins and minerals, and miso, which is a natural probiotic that keeps the gut making good disease-fighting bacteria. It is very much about balance, balancing different kinds of cooking energies, balancing root vegetables with leafy green and round vegetables, just for starters. Just as important as the food itself, there is, too, a philosophy that makes absolute sense to me: harmony, balance, calm. I make no promises that I will completely heal myself from everything that ails now and forever. Although this could very well happen, the best that I can promise myself is a better life today.

What I ate today:

Breakfast: broccoli soup (vegetables with every meal), which is pureed, cooked broccoli, mixed with a teaspoon of miso and a lot of millet. (Grain is 50 percent of every meal.)

Lunch: Azuki beans cooked with miso and carrots. Rye berries (YUMMMM for real) cooked with a piece of kelp seaweed. Kale sautéed with a tiny bit of sesame oil and onion.

Dinner: Miso soup made with seaweed, onion, cauliflower, quinoa pasta. More rye berries. More azuki beans. Fresh green salad with a salad dressing of miso and lemon.

Here is a link to a lot of resources from my friend Sheila, who is a macro counselor.








Prayer versus meditation





Prayer and Meditation
Reprint from Daily Om



Meditation and prayer can offer us different experiences and both can be powerful tools.


Prayer and meditation are similar practices in that they both offer us a connection to the divine, but they also differ from one another in significant ways. Put simply, prayer is when we ask the universe for something, and meditation is when we listen. When we pray, we use language to express our innermost thoughts and feelings to a higher power. Sometimes, we plumb the depths within ourselves and allow whatever comes to the surface to flow out in our prayer. At other times, we pray words that were written by someone else but that express what we want to say. Prayer is reaching out to the universe with questions, pleas for help, gratitude, and praise.

Meditation, on the other hand, has a silent quality that honors the art of receptivity. When we meditate, we cease movement and allow the activity of our minds and hearts to go on without us in a sense. Eventually, we fall into a deep silence, a place that underlies all the noise and fray of daily human existence. In this place, it becomes possible for us to hear the universe as it speaks for itself, responds to our questions, or sits with us in its silent way.

Both prayer and meditation are indispensable tools for navigating our relationship with the universe and with ourselves. They are also natural complements to one another, and one makes way for the other just as the crest of a wave gives way to its hollow. If we tend to do only one or the other, prayer or meditation, we may find that we are out of balance, and we might benefit from exploring the missing form of communication. There are times when we need to reach out and express ourselves, fully exorcising our insides, and times when we are empty, ready to rest in quiet receiving. When we allow ourselves to do both, we begin to have a true conversation with the universe.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Lessons and highlights from the first weekend JF 2012


Lesson No. 1: Shoes. Don't wear shoes with a rough strap on the heel the first day. If you get a blister, which I did, you will not want to wear anything but flip-flops for several days. This makes the $80 Keens, which you bought specifically for trundling from stage to stage, of no use.




Lesson No. 2.  Water. Don't think you can stand at the front of a packed stage with no way out, aka no way to get water, for hours at a time. I abandoned my favorite musician's performance (Trombone Shorty) before it was over because I stood during the hottest part of the day in the hottest city in the United States of American for an hour waiting for him. Then I stood for another watching him. I don't sweat. I am short. There was no air where I was. I made it to the hospitality tent where I spent a full hour rubbing my skin down with ice. That is how long it took for my body temperature to come down. That is not good. I very likely had heat exhaustion, which could have been worse. For real.



Apparition in left corner is me, trying to get
cool in front of one of those fans that blow water.

Lesson No. 3. Tickets. Seven days of individual tickets to JF are about $370. Meanwhile, for another $80, you can buy a brass pass that not only gets you into every day at JF, but part of the money goes to support the local non-profit music station, WWOZ. AND  you and a guest (Thank you, Susan!!!) get into the very necessary, survival-of-the-fittest hospitality tent where you get to eat from endless bowls of fresh Louisiana fruit, drink as much ice water and iced cafe au lait as you can hold, go to clean portalettes and sit in front of fans that blow water. (See above.)



Lesson No. 4 Erase your preconceived notions about New Orleans festivals. It occurs to me that somebody who has never been to Jazz Festival might think it's a drunken crowd fest and if you're not into a drunken crowd fest, you might not even attempt JF. First of all, not everybody who goes to New Orleans is drunk. In fact, I don't think of JF as a place to get drunk. I have been known to put a little vodka in the rose mint tea they sell out there. And back in the day, I could put away the wine. But it's just not a thing. Eating, listening to music, wearing cute clothes-- that's all JF. Not alcohol necessarily.

Lesson No. 5  How, what and when do you manage so many performers? The festival is at a racetrack that is acres and acres, I think 300.   Here is a map.There are four main stages at the festival, four large huge mega tents and several smaller stages, including some inside the racetrack facility. IF you wanna see the most mega mega performers, like Jimmy Buffett, Bruce, U2, you will see them  at a stage called Acura, which has the biggest surrounding area. I think they can pack 4.5 million people in there, and yes, you can get in the middle of a huge, huge crowd. You can also stand on the outskirts of these 4.5 million, and the music is just as good, as are the visuals on the Jumbotron. They put great speakers midway through the crowd so that the sound is awesome.


But IF you want to lie in the grass and listen to a clarinet wafting across the fairgrounds, you can do that too at the Economy Hall tent where the traditional jazz, a la Pete Fountain is lilting on the wind. There is everything in between, as far as music goes, and large, small and non-existent crowds. There are large open grassy spaces.  And shade sometimes.







HIGHLIGHTS
OK, so there were, as I see it, three highlights of JF first weekend. I saw Trombone Shorty, Janelle Monae, Iron and Wine, Bon Iver, Al Green, Pete Fountain, Carolina Chocolate Drops, a little bit of gospel, a little bit of Egyptian music, Rebirth Brass Band, jazz salsa.


But the winners are:
Second runner up: Beach Boys. Who'd a thought? Singing "California Girls" with a multi-age crowd at the end of my first JF day in NOLA, with blue skies above and breezes all over, around 6:30 at night is my idea of magic.
























First runner-up:  Dixie Cups. One of my LEAST fav JF moments is going to see an hour's performance by a performer who was made famous by ONE song. All I want to see is THAT ONE SONG, thank you. The Dixie Cups performed just their two hits, thank you, at the end of a tribute to their producer, who died in the past several months. They handed out big pieces of tissue to the crowd of 5,000 so we could second-line NOLA style and wave them, then proceeded to sing Goin to the Chapel and Iko Iko, the two songs that made the Dixie Cups famous and the two songs there are among my favorite dance songs ever. The entire crowd was up on its feet with their tissues. I got still photos and video, such as it is, and Susan and I kept making eye contact in tears. It was a moment, I tell you.

And the winner is: Bruce. So I never know what to think about Bruce Springsteen when I am not seeing him in concert. I am not from New Jersey. His voice always sounds a little cigarette-y to me, like he's been sitting in a bar all night drinking Jack Daniels and yelling about the Confederate flag and Harleys. He seems like a man's man. Meanwhile, I have seen him five or six times and EVERY TIME I SEE HIM, he gets into my heart. He is a poet for the common man. And he is humble. Somebody once told me  he gets pre-performance jitters every time he performs.

Here's the deal-maker, though: He loves New Orleans. He was here in 2006 for the first JF post=Katrina. New Orleans was raw. The fairgrounds were beat to hell by the storm. He sang some songs and said some things about New Orleans, about the downtrodden, about the government's lack of response, that brought the crowd to tears and hope in one fell swoop. NOLA felt vindicated, affirmed, seen. This year was the same as he galvanized a mammoth crowd in a three-hour -- unheard of -- concert. One of the best moments was as he was singing a slow, mournful rendition of "When the Saints Go Marching In" when he took a poster from somebody in the crowd that said "New Orleans loves Clarence." He held it to his chest and stood, silent, for a long minute. The crowd did, too. Unheard of:  a three-hour performance by anybody at the JF. And silence at the JF.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

The Beach Boys and why we go to Jazz Fest. Day One 2012

First day of Jazz Festival!!!!!!!!!! I didn't have clear ideas of what I wanted to see today, except Bon Iver. I wanted to see Emily's favorite band, because she loves Bon Iver and I wanted to see Bon Iver, because when he accepted his Grammy for best new artist 2012, he said stuff I would say if I ever got an award for anything.



"It's really hard to accept this award ....because when I started to make songs I did it for the inherent reward of making songs....."

Love him, if for no other reason than that.

Meanwhile, he and his band are outstanding. Love the horns and the haunting voice and the lyrics. Love the demographics of his followers.



And I ran over and caught a little of BeauSoleil and saw some Cajun dancing that is oh, so happy.


I also caught a little world music from Egypt at Congo Stage. Those little dancer girls up there were hot and could shake their little boots. And he took off his shirt and played sax. Carumba!


 I caught a tiny bit of Steel Pulse and many whiffs of ganja. Not intentionally. But it's hard not to sniff ganja when you're around Steel Pulse.


But then I was surprised to find out where I spent the bulk of my day. This is besides the medic tent






and getting ice at various venues for my hand which got slammed in a car door and I had to raise it above my heart encased in a dripping Ziploc, bandana-wrapped bag, but managed to survive, thank you. Jam damn. It's OK, Susie, you didn't mean to. Like Kim said, never shoulda opened that parasol inside.

Where I spent the bulk of my day was with the Beach Boys. Huh? With Irma Thomas doing Mahalia Jackson around the corner?

I had seen them before, at LSU of all places. I did a review of them for the college newspaper 30 years ago!!! And they were tired and worn-out then. Imagine now.

Well, there's something about the Jazz Festival.



Even aging musicians come alive when they're performing in New Orleans before a crowd of discerning -- and not always so discerning, but really happy -- audience members.

I was stunned to find such happiness, such smiles, and all ages.

 EVERYBODY was singing along!

And EVERYBODY WAS HAPPY!!!! THIS, THIS!!!!! is why we go to Jazz Festival!!!!!!!!!

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Day 2 Jazz Festival and My Own Little Room

I'm pooped and Jazz Festival hasn't even started. It's work, man, being here, I tell ya'. So many decisions. Do I wear a skirt or a sundress today?  Eat gumbo or crawfish? Listen to the Rebirth Brass Band or Trombone Shorty? Yeah, so cry me a Mississippi River. But you know the saying how you have to take a vacation from your vacation.
 Today I spent an hour unpacking all my bling and outfits, lining up stacks of shirts and skirts and dresses that I will fling all over the room every day as I get dressed for JF. I went to the Super Dome and bought tix, then to lunch near Susan's office, then visited Susan's office on Canal Street, then walked for two miles in and out of galleries while I waited for Susan and took 353 photos all over the Quarter, including the (2012 Grammy for best regional roots album) Rebirth Brass Band and entourage; the Daisy Divas; Tanya and Dorise, amazing classical with wild flair duo (watch for them) http://tanyandorise.com/. I worked out with Susan,
helped make dinner and tried to 
take night pictures of Charles' fish in his tank in the shed, 
which did not work because they are nocturnal and every time we tried to put a light on them, they hid in their hollow log home. So you know, tomorrow is Jazz Festival. It's time I finish this blog and love this little room that is also part of the New Orleans scene for me. So thankful that it's mine for  14 days a year.


Tanya, of Tanya and Dorise



"In my own little corner, in my own little room, I can be whatever I want to be" -- Cinderella.

Arrival New Orleans Jazz Festival 2012. Let's do this thing.

Arrived 4 p.m. Wednesday April 25.
Weather: Perfect. Blue skies. Crazy breezes. No humidity.
Sat outside the airport on my suitcase and tried to have a forever moment while waiting for Susan.

Felt the breezes.
Heard the traffic.
Smelled the traffic.
Saw dappled sun, girl in hot pink shorts, girl in long dress.
Felt relief, peace and happiness that I was here.
~
Susan picked me up and we picked up where we left off. Laughed til we almost peed. Went to a Turkish restaurant and wondered what was wrong with people. Drank tea. Ate salmon. Shopped for food we swear we're gonna cook, but probably won't. Sneaked dark chocolate malted milk balls out of bulk bins. And then home to my room inside the house where Mama lived and burned.  I love the little room upstairs that Susan renovated in her oh so signature style, that I get to live in for 14 days, while I'm not partying, eating, driving around taking pictures and listening to music. It is my haven for these 14 days, a respite from the weary world, which has been especially weary of late. Take that, Dr. Ninnyhammer Nutbag at the Cleveland Clinic, which is another story for another blog. Meanwhile, we finished the night by watching really stupid YouTubes and looking through pictures of Mama and the family when we were young-er. Hundreds of pictures. Hundreds, I tell you. I didn't steal a one, Susan. I promise. I drank wine and stumbled up the steep stairs to my room. Today is a brand new day, and I cannot wait to see what I see. Love this city. Love my sister. Love Jazz Festival. Yes.
My home away from home.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

The search for water stops here


You know you're supposed to drink water.

So one day you put a six-ounce glass in the bathroom and another by the kitchen sink. And for a couple of days, every time you see either glass, you fill it with water, and you drink.

But then somebody in comes along and puts the glasses in the dishwasher. And you go back to forgetting water. Until one day, you come upon a plastic water-bottle sale at Target.




You buy a pretty opaque blue boy and fill it first thing in the morning.

But something's wrong.

The mouth is too big.  



And it's plastic.


You remember reading plastic is the new cholesterol.

The water bottle got lost at the soccer field anyway.

You quit again.

Next, while you're out shopping for Christmas presents, you see this really cool glass bottle at Whole Foods.

You know it's glass and it could break. But hey, it's better than plastic, at least during this news cycle, and it has this rubber protective thing around it. Ah, but it's $20, which feels a little luxurious, if not downright narcissistic. Aren't you shopping for presents for other people?

So hey, you can put it on your own Christmas list! And sure enough, one day around Dec. 20, somebody calls you and says "I'm at World Market. What was that water bottle you were talking about?"

"It was from Whole Foods, not World Market," you say.

"Oh, I'm not going there today," the person says.

Your throat is beginning to parch and your kidneys are shriveling to the size of a burnt popcorn kernel.

And then some other day you're in the little natural foods store in town.

You saunter by the clearance table, where all the weird vitamins nobody wants are sitting.

Lo and behold, shining like Darth Vader in the desert, is this: 

Sleek. Black. Stainless steel. Double-walled (whatever that means). It's curved in the middle to accommodate the curve of your hand. It has two tops, one you fill with the water and the other, that stays attached to the bottle that you pull off for drinking.The opening to the bottle is the perfect size for your little lips. You easily envision yourself holding this curved sexy thing in your hand, chugging on this 16-ounce baby, two 8-oz glasses at a time, which, you calculate, means you only have to fill it four times a day, five if you're being really good, as well you should be.


And well, it's double-walled.

You are afraid to look at the price tag.

But it's on the clearance table...You see it's $12.49, marked down from $13.69!

And now.. guess what?

It's been a whole month and I'm still taking my new sexy friend everywhere I go. I fill him on some days four times, sometimes three, more often two and a half. But I'm doing it. I am creating a water habit

Here's a link to the bottle online. Unfortunately, it's $20 plus shipping, instead of $12.69. But don't ignore the fact that your liver is growing cactus and your gall bladder needs a lint cleaner. And drinking water can reinvigorate your ability to leap over tall buildings.