To learn more
about fasting or to locate a practitioner, contact the following:
National
College of Naturopathic Medicine Clinic, 255-7355
American
Association of Naturopathic Physicians, (206) 298-0125
Northwest Naturopathic Clinic, 224-8083
The promise of spring: The sun shone, the flowers bloomed
and children frolicked. I, however, still felt as sluggish
as the New Carissa run aground. Abundant beer, pizza and other
heavy foods had infiltrated my usual fruit-and-veggie regimen
over the winter months, and hauling my butt off the sofa to
go jogging in the chilly rain proved futile. So I decided
to get radical. I signed up for a group fast, hoping that
a spring cleaning for my body would bring me back to life.
I had always wanted to try fasting, but I had my doubts:
Did I have the willpower to give up my beloved coffee, beer
and, most importantly, food itself? I get cranky when dinner
is late. I get the shakes waiting in line five minutes for
my daily java fix. I crack open a can of Hamm's after a
long day. Could I really deny myself these simple--but vital--pleasures?
The 14-day program I chose is run by naturopathic doctor
Steven Bailey and costs $100, which covers three group classes
and a one-on-one follow-up with Bailey. A two-week supply
of fresh juices from Genesis, in Eugene, costs an additional
$55.
At the orientation at the Friendly House in Northwest Portland,
I joined about 30 other fasters--a group ranging in age
from twenty-something to sixty-plus, from heavy laborers
to writers to naturopathic students. One man was seeking
relief from chronic back pain. Others hoped to regain lost
energy, improve their digestion or re-establish long-lost
healthy habits. About half had done fasts of some kind in
the past; some had experienced such profound health improvements
that they were back for a tune-up.
Dr. Bailey, sporting natural-fiber garb, sandals and a
curly mane, spread the gospel. Fasting, he said, is one
of the safest ways to activate the body's energy. Because
digestion requires so much of our body's energy, giving
the digestive organs a break from the process frees up energy
for other crucial functions, including detoxification and
immune-system activity. Constantly inundating our bodies
with complex, refined foods, heavy metals, pesticides and
other toxins in the environment is like having parties every
night: If you keep inviting guests in, you never have a
chance to clean up, and the place ends up trashed à
la Animal House.
Bailey's discussion was peppered with passionate criticism
of conventional medicine's approaches to healing. He is
a well-schooled crusader of natural healing, and we were
eager followers. Armed with sandwich bags of psyllium powder
and natural laxative tablets, we wished each other luck
and marched off to fight our own battles on the fields of
super-sized, fast-food American culture.
The first three days of the fast are devoted to bulking,
meaning you eat a lot of roughage. The fibrous foods act
like a scrub brush in your colon, cleaning out waste and
unwanted bacteria. My usual mug of aromatic coffee was replaced
by a liver-cleansing potion of olive oil, crushed garlic
and lemon juice. I choked the slimy stuff down, fighting
a gag reflex. Next came a sludgy, gray mix of soluble-fiber
psyllium powder and water that I was instructed to drink
three times a day.
The balance of the bulking phase includes generous quantities
of fruit and salads. While I never felt hungry, my longings
for gigantic mugs of coffee continued. The high-fiber diet
was Roto-Rooting my insides, but the process was sapping
my limited energy. The second night of the fast, I had a
dream in which I gave up on the whole program and happily
sipped merlot and iced soy lattes at a raging party. I woke
up convinced that a break from my vices was in order.
Our group met again before the next phase, the juicing
portion of our fast. We were tired of endlessly chewing
fruits and vegetables. A few of us had headaches and complained
of low energy. A long-time vegetarian had started craving
hamburgers, hot dogs and Twix bars.
Dr. Bailey assured us that we would soon have more energy
than we did during the bulking phase because juice requires
so little energy to digest. He also told us that that once
a day, we must take an enema, that age-old technique of
channeling liquid into the colon through the anus to flush
out toxins. Typically, enemas consist of warm water and
either baking soda or epsom salts. Dr. Bailey had something
else in mind. While traditional enema recipes were included
in our program book, so too was the requirement that we
take a coffee enema--which sounded a hell of a lot less
fun than a trip to Starbucks. Then again, any caffeine was
sounding good by this time.
The following day, road construction hampered my efforts
to pick up juices, but my road rage diminished when I finally
got my hands on the carrot-combo and fruit elixirs. I sipped
all day, feeling energetic again.
By this time, food was no longer a temptation. I frequented
juice bars, sampling tangy combos as if they were fine wines.
I stayed home, read books, drank tea and slept like a baby
(my roommate, having already witnessed my cranky bouts,
avoided the house altogether). Daily jogging and yoga were
a breeze.
The caffeine withdrawal and detox headaches subsided mid-week
(aspirin was not allowed), yet I still derived a pathetic,
vicarious pleasure from watching my boyfriend drink the
coffee I insisted on brewing for him.
By the fifth day my stomach was grumbling. I missed the
texture of food, and it was everywhere I turned: TV commercials,
billboards, pizza joints I passed on the street. Office
types on coffee breaks smiled sadistically while sipping
iced mochas. I didn't want a fatty Big Mac and fries. I
just wanted to taste hummus, tortilla chips, a tofu taco.
Was that so wrong?
After eight days came the reintroduction-of-foods phase.
It was a relief, but it still required major willpower.
Foods were added to our fruit-and-veggie diet one at a time,
to test for allergies based on the body's reaction to each.
Proteins and fats, the most complex to digest, were added
last. Wheat bread, tofu and yogurt tasted absolutely decadent
by the time I got to rediscover them.
Life was good again.
And what good came of this? My skin became smooth and glowing,
I felt more energetic and I lost three or four pounds. I'm
even planning on doing an abbreviated weekend fast in a
couple of months to stay on the healthy track.
Sure, I was a bit disappointed that fasting didn't result
in any major physical or spiritual metamorphosis. But that
attitude is typical of the American approach to health:
We want immediate results to measure success. Who knows?
Maybe I'll live longer, or healthier, as a result of fasting.
Perhaps I decreased my risk of cancer or other diseases,
in some small way, by detoxing. At the very least, I gave
my liver and other organs a much-needed rest. These are
things I contemplate as I sit here, post-fast, happily sipping
a latte and nibbling a crumbly scone.
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Willamette Week | originally
published July 7, 1999
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