21 Pounds in 21 Days (8 page)

This shift to organic is proof that increasing numbers of people want to eat higher up on the food chain, moving up what I call the three levels of food: from overcivilized processed and refined foods back to the civilized, wholesome, and healthy foods our parents and grandparents ate. By making this shift, we get back to nature, not only to provide the body with more of the nutrition it needs to function healthily but also to keep ourselves disease free by supporting it in regenerating itself and purging poisons. As we make this shift, we release ourselves from the physical, mental, and spiritual dis-ease we feel when we're uncomfortable in our own bodies and free ourselves from being imprisoned by a lifetime of unsuccessful dieting.

What's the Difference?

W
hen I was growing up, my siblings and I would spend summers with my grandmother down in Greenville, North Carolina. Grandma has always been a very healthy woman, in every sense of the word—spiritually, mentally, and physically. She prays often, reads her Bible daily, and goes to church religiously. A model of Christian temperance, in my entire life I've never seen her smoke a cigarette, drink an alcoholic beverage, ride in the car without her seat belt, or anything else unhealthy or unsafe. In fact, I've never even seen her eat junk food!

During my childhood, Grandma would go outside each morning and pick tomatoes, string beans, greens, cabbage, and other vegetables from her garden. Then she'd spend the day doing what so many Southern women of her generation did—cook, cook, cook! She'd prepare big pots of collard greens, turnips, and black-eyed peas, as well as corn bread and chicken. Then she'd make us big plates of food, saying, “Kids have to grow, so you eat up.” She also dished out huge servings for her husband, Granddaddy Bruce, who ate so much food we children thought it was funny. After he ate, Granddaddy would kick back in his easy chair, put up his feet, fall asleep, and start snoring.

But Grandma never ate as much food as she made. She'd
say, “Grandma can't eat that much food—I'll get tired and fall asleep!”

In my entire life I've never seen Grandma eat a big meal. She was what you would call a “grazer.” She'd dish herself out a little plate of collard greens and eat them. In a few hours she would nibble on some okra and string beans. After a short time she might have some cornbread and a little piece of meat. Later, she'd enjoy a potato. Grandma nibbled all day long, but she was never overweight. She ate just enough food to satisfy her hunger—nothing more, nothing less.

This type of mindfulness and self-awareness extended to her basic lifestyle habits. When it was time for us to go somewhere, we kids would always be in a rush.

“Come on, Grandma. Let's go!” we would tell her.

But Grandma had a very calm nature. She never let anybody rush her. “You all go on,” she'd say. “Grandma's going to sit right here and tend to her business.”

“Business” meant that she would not leave the house unless she had eaten, had a bowel movement, and was presentably dressed. I remember sitting and waiting on many occasions until she had finished “doing her business” in the bathroom. When she was done, she'd say, “Let's go! Now I'm ready to do whatever you want.” And she would.

Like many women of her era, Grandma relied on the old ways of healing. Because our family didn't have a lot of money, there was no such thing as going to the doctor. We relied on traditional methods to keep us from getting sick. If I started getting the sniffles or an upset stomach, Grandma would say, “Come here, gal, and take this cod liver oil.” It was either that or castor oil—one would give me diarrhea, the other would make me throw up. Either way, she'd flush the “bug” out. On the rare occasions when I did come down with something, she would slather me with Vicks, top me off with onions and garlic, and wrap me in wet hot towels, then a plastic bag to help me sweat the virus out. At the time, of course, I thought it was the most horrible thing, but now that I think back on it, I realize that it worked: I'd get the chills, start sweating, and immediately get better.

Only once in my life have I known Grandma to feel under the weather. I was in my mid-twenties when it happened. For some reason, family members had reached the conclusion that Grandma had high blood pressure. Being the family's only nurse, everyone wanted me to take care of her. I figured I'd take her to the doctor. She didn't want to go.

“You've gotta go get some medicine, Grandma,” I told her. Of course, this was back in the days when I still believed that the best way to treat a health problem was with prescription medication.

“I don't have high blood pressure,” she told me. Grandma was stubborn; she insisted her blood pressure was normal. But after I begged and begged and begged her, she finally gave in and agreed to go to the doctor.

When we got to the doctor, we learned that Grandma's blood pressure was sky high. The doctor handed Grandma a prescription for antihypertensive medication. She refused to take it.

“There's nothing wrong with my blood pressure,” she insisted. The fact that she wouldn't take the medicine worried me. With a reading that high, I was afraid she'd have a stroke. So when we got home, I took her blood pressure again. To my surprise the reading was very low: 96 over 70. I called the doctor and told him.

“That's impossible!” he told me. “You have to bring her back in. There's something wrong with your machine.”

Grandma was adamant: “I'm not going back to the doctor.” But we children and grandchildren kept insisting. Eventually, she relented and let me take her back in. Once again, her blood pressure reading was sky high! I took her back home and took her reading again. Her blood pressure had dropped to a healthy level. “I don't have high blood pressure.”

Finally, it occurred to me that maybe there was a reason her blood pressure was high every time she went to the doctor: fear was driving her blood pressure up. It's called “white-coat” hypertension—literally, fear of the doctor or medical settings! I would never recommend that anyone with high blood pressure refuse to take their medication; yet I'm very glad my grandmother listened to her instincts. She didn't need an antihypertensive.
Had she taken the medication, it undoubtedly would have made her sick or possibly killed her.

The experience taught me that it's possible to be so in tune with yourself that you know whether something is wrong with you better than any doctor does, better than any instrument or machine. Unfortunately, few of us live that way anymore. Few of us are that self-aware.

Today, I understand that Grandma is a paradigm of good health—eating fresh foods, using the bathroom regularly, listening to her body, tending to her spirit, moving to her own rhythm, detoxifying herself regularly, and healing herself with natural methods. She has not only outlived her spouse, who died at a young age, she's survived the loss of most of her friends and some of her children. Yet she has never needed medication. In addition to giving me unconditional love and a lifetime of amazing memories, I realize that she has given me a very precious gift: she role-modeled the kinds of choices you make when you take good care of yourself. As of the writing of this book, she's closing in on a hundred years old.

The Gift of Our Inner Wisdom

Many things that Grandma knew by listening to her own mind, body, and spirit, researchers now know scientifically. For instance, we've learned that the body has inner wisdom, that our spirit is real, and that prayer can heal. Research has demonstrated the healthful benefits of eating fresh foods and a balanced diet. We now understand that it is important to have regular bowel movements and that grazing is healthier than consuming big meals. We've also learned that systematic undereating is an antiaging technique. A growing body of research shows that in a variety of animal species, those who are optimally nourished, yet eat about 30 percent fewer calories than average, live longer and healthier lives. Calorie restriction has not been studied extensively on humans because we live such long lives; however, studies published in such reputable journals as the
Journal of the American
Medical Association
and
New England Journal of Medicine
suggest that people who eat less live longer.

Most of us have drifted away from this and other natural wisdom common among our elders and ancestors. In its place we have embraced a culture that encourages us not to care for our bodies and a lifestyle that depletes our energy. In my practice I'm seeing an increasing number of people who want to get back to a simpler, cleaner way of life. They want to go back to nature, back to their roots. I think that approach is smart. Losing weight and keeping it off and preventing and healing from chronic diseases requires that we adopt a more natural way of life.

Human life is a miracle, yet I don't believe it's an accident. Accidents are, by nature, disorganized; human existence requires and contains far more order than any doctor or scientist can comprehend. Many researchers, who by nature and discipline are very objective, are reaching the conclusion that the level of organization is so profound that God has to exist. I believe that we are made for a purpose and are the end result of a process that is far more complex than we will ever understand. We are an essential part of nature. Our ancestors and many indigenous ethnic groups today “got” this and treated the natural world with respect. Western culture discourages us from understanding our vital yet delicate relationship with nature and we are suffering for it. If we understood how closely linked we are, we would not pollute, destroy, or disrespect the Earth. For when we endanger the health of the planet, we endanger ourselves. Consider this example illustrating our basic interconnectedness: When plants and trees lose their leaves, they release oxygen into the atmosphere. To state it simply, we humans breathe that oxygen into our lungs. From there it flows into our bloodstream and out to our cells. The cells use oxygen to power our muscles; without it, they stop working. As the body uses oxygen, it converts it to carbon dioxide, which the bloodstream carries back to the lungs, which emit it into the air when we exhale. Plants and trees breathe this carbon dioxide in and use it to conduct photosynthesis, the most important biochemical reaction on the planet: the process by which plants
convert sunlight into energy, which we, in turn, obtain from our food. But if we keep cutting down trees, which create oxygen, and burning fossil fuels, like coal, oil, and natural gas, which release unnatural amounts of carbon dioxide into our environment, how will our species survive?

Just as our society dissuades us from understanding nature, it discourages us from understanding our bodies. Do you ever wonder what makes your heart beat? Why you blink your eyes? How your fingernails grow? Why you have body hair? Each of these functions is important. Consider this: every physical, mental, and emotional feature you display exists for a specific reason. The body, which we tend to think of either in its entirety or in terms of body parts—nice hands, a pretty face, too much cellulite, aching knees—is actually a collection of trillions of individual cells designed to act in perfect harmony and organization. Each of those trillions of cells has its own internal engine that powers it and brain that tells it what to do. Each cell breathes the oxygen and consumes the nutrients our blood carries around our bodies. Instead of opening their mouths, they open their membranes to permit vital elements and nutrients to enter them. When they're through eating, they eliminate waste.

Each of these trillion cells has its unique purpose and cooperates with other cells to carry out some essential function. For example, one set of cells forms our skeleton, a framework of connections holding approximately two hundred bones together and protecting our vital organs and soft tissues, like the heart, stomach, and reproductive system. Other cells make up the body's defense team, whose job it is to protect us from injury. For example, our lymph nodes filter out invading viruses, bacteria, and foreign substances. Among the spleen's many functions is purifying our blood of toxins. The liver transports blood from the spleen, stomach, pancreas, and intestine and cleans any invaders—for instance, bacteria, viruses, fungi, foreign chemicals, and other toxins—out of it before sending it into the sensitive circulatory system.

While performing their specific functions, our cells are constantly communicating with each other. The
central nervous sys
tem
(CNS) governs, regulates, and directs this communication; oversees the cells that manage our mental activity, including those that help us think, learn, and remember; and supervises cells engaged in specific activities that take place in a short period of time, like blinking our eyes or running away from a dog. The
endocrine system
, which controls hormones—for example, testosterone for male reproduction; estrogen for female reproduction; and insulin, which is responsible for sugar metabolism—manages those cells engaged in longer-term processes, like metabolizing food and growing. The latest advances in human technology can't hold a candle to the intricate ways our cells communicate. If the spleen becomes injured and is unable to purify our blood, the CNS sends a message to the liver to take over its job. The liver also steps up if our kidneys become weak. However, I'm not sure if the cells take on this extra work willingly or if they have a bad attitude because the other organ is not pulling its weight.

Each cell has a natural life cycle whose duration depends on the role it plays. The lifespan of a skin cell is shorter than that of a bone cell. Red blood cells, for example, live for 120 days, while a certain type of nerve cell hangs around for up to 100 years. At its appointed time, each cell will birth a baby cell that is an exact duplicate of itself. The health of the baby cell depends on the well-being of its parent. A variety of factors can affect cell wellness, which can range from healthy to sick to someplace in between. Cells become ill when they don't get enough oxygen; for example, the person may have anemia, which may be caused by a shortage of red blood cells that transport oxygen around the body; they don't eat enough nutrients; they are exposed to extreme cold or heat; they experience trauma, such as electric shock or radiation treatment, which destroy cells; or they are exposed to toxins. Once damaged, our cells begin to feel “off,” and may malfunction, shrink, wither, and even die before their time. While our cells never stop working, they may slow down because they are out of balance or their organization is threatened. The way our cells feel affects how our body feels. If our cells are not working right or are out of balance, we sense it.