Cultural Program Memo from the School at Jacob's Pillow

I received my packet of info yesterday from the School at Jacob's Pillow. There are a variety of documents -- checklists, dress codes, schedule of performances, a medical-history form, policies and guidelines, etc etc. One of the documents, entitled, "Cultural Program Memo", opens with a section called "Arrival", which reads as follows (italics and boldfacing are mine):

"The Cultural Traditions Program demands a great deal of stamina, so be sure to arrive physically fit and rested. This will ease the first week of soreness, reduce risk of injury, and enable you to get the most from the program faculty. (Reread the previous sentences and take them to heart.) You are dancing full out from 9am to 5:30 daily. Faculty will assess the group's capability very quickly given that there are only four days to create and rehearse prior to each week's presentation. Be prepared that evenings are spent attending performances, talks, researching in the Archives, or catching up on rest."

Holy shit, what have I gotten myself into? I only take 4-5 dance classes a week now, and those are only 2 hours long or less and I can barely get through them without feeling tired. Granted, I'll be on vacation when I'm at the Pillow, and so won't have the distraction of my 9-5 job that saps my energy normally, but I'm worried that I may be in a little over my head. I was talking to this musician I recently met the other day about how I was accepted to this program, and he was familiar with Jacob's Pillow, and the conversation went something like this:

"Thank the lord, I'm escaping Manhattan for two weeks this summer to go to the Berkshires. I'm dancing in one of the programs at Jacob's Pillow."

"Oh yeah, I know Jacob's Pillow. That's really prestigious. [He squints at me]. Uh, how old are you? Like, 35, right?"

"Yes, I'm 35. I guess I'm a little bit older than the typical Pillow student."

"Isn't it, like, mostly high-school age students??"

[Diane resists urge to reach across table and punch guy in face.]

"Um, I dunno. I've never been there. Maybe. Whatever. Let's talk about something else."

I expressed my fears to my personal trainer, Anton. I asked him for advice on how to shore up my stamina. He suggested swimming, which is not feasible, since I have no access to a pool. Then he suggested running, which, again, is not feasible, because dancers simply do not run. Too hard on the knees. Then he just told me to eat more protein.

And he also said, "You're in for a RUDE awakening."

Uh, thanks, Anton.

Peter's Mood on 4/21

Peter was happy today, because, I think, he's really been enjoying the weather, but he was also very calculating. It was apparent to me while he was outlining exercises at the barre, and while he was marking stuff during the floor work, that he knew EXACTLY which steps we would fuck up. I could actually feel it when he was demonstrating the movements -- it was almost as if this bubble appeared next to his face that said, "I bet you're not going to do this right," and he was sort of mentally rubbing his hands together, and planning on which face he was going to make and what disparaging remark he would put forth when, inevitably, we failed at the precise moment that he planned.

I might be imagining it, because I very much want to believe that he's paying more attention to me now that I've progressed to a not-totally-hopeless level in his advanced beginner class, but I detected a slight craning of the neck, an almost imperceptible furrowing of the eyebrows, as he passed by me at the barre, judging my desperate struggling. It's a lot of pressure I put on myself, I tell you, when he walks by. I always make little (and sometimes big) mistakes when I know he's watching.

Hopefully I can get over this self-consciousness and ignore him. I don't care what he thinks. I don't care......

An Email Summit in Chicago

I hate to travel so soon after returning from vacation, but I flew to Chicago this morning to attend some meetings on email deliverability and authentication (important stuff for my job).

I haven't been to Chicago in over a year, and I forgot how beautiful it is, when the weather is nice. I also forgot what it's like to look out over the Lake -- I'm at the Chicago Hilton, in the towers with a view -- it seems weird to me, since it looks like the ocean. You can't see land on the horizon, so it looks like the water goes on forever, as it seems when you are looking out at the Atlantic off NY or Miami. You eyes move over the water and you feel free, but then you remember -- you're in the middle of the country. I'm not free, I'm in the midwest, at a conference about email. Ick.

And everyone has a midwestern or Canadian accent. That never seemed so pronounced to me before, but it does today, for some reason. Maybe it has something to do with my senses, which have been weirdly sharpened by my recent juice fast and subsequent purification retreat. My hearing is very sensitive, and I taste and smell everything very strongly, and somewhat disturbingly.

I'm also finding that I do not like the Chicago Hilton at all. The staff here piss me off totally, for a variety of reasons I won't get in to. Hilton is just all wrong -- the service has been exactly the opposite of what it should be ever since I checked in nine hours ago. And the Executive Lounge is laid out improperly. But then, I guess I'm biased, since I work for Starwood.

Well, no worries, I fly back tomorrow. I'm always happy to return to my little NYC apartment.

Final Days at Hippocrates

Our last full day at the Hippocrates Health Institute, Friday, was Pizza Day. Or, rather, "Pizza" Day, as the raw, vegan version of pizza bears little resemblance to what normal people consider pizza. An average pizza will typically contain dough, cheese, and tomato sauce -- Hippocrates' "pizza" has none of these things. Raw foodists avoid flour (and aren't overly fond of any kind of gluten-bearing grains), and cheese is not vegan. But why nix the tomato sauce, you ask? Because the tomato is a fruit, and mixing fruit with any other food is heresy to the followers of the Laws of Food Combining. You can read a lot all over the internet about this, but the basic idea behind making sure fruit takes it's journey solo through your system is that it is very easy to digest, and can therefore get "stuck" behind other slower-digesting foods in your intestines, where it will ferment and become nasty. So I only eat fruit in the morning, on an empty stomach.

OK, back to the "pizza". Chef Ken Blue creates a crust from a mixture of almond meal, seeds, and herbs, and mixes this with water and Nama Shoyu (organic, unpasteurized soy sauce) to form the dough. This is pressed and dehydrated to make, essentially, a gigantic cracker, upon which he spreads red pepper "marinara". Then he sprinkles shredded squash on top, to simulate the look of mozzarella. This is sliced up and served with optional toppings like marinated mushrooms, cured olives, onions, and peppers.

Sitting down to a plate of this stuff is really nothing like enjoying a slice of pizza, but it is delicious. I never thought a plate of sprouts, vegetables, and Chef Ken's version of pizza would be anything to write about, but it was totally satisfying and extremely tasty. I decided after that meal that I could live very happily at Hippocrates for months. And, despite all the derisive comments I've been writing during my stay, I would highly, highly, highly recommend a visit for anyone -- stay for the full 3-week program if you can (http://www.hippocratesinst.org/). I know I'll be back next year.

Alas, the vacation came to an end, and Denise and I had to check out the next morning and head back to our regular lives in the world of People Who Eat Cooked Food. I totally fell off the wagon this weekend when I got home, indulging in ice cream cones and seafood, but am back on track this week, armed with my carrots, sprouts, and algae-packed supplements. I'm not going to be sticking to the program religiously (I think that would be totally impossible for me at this point), but I'm committed to changing my diet significantly.

I have a special motivator: I got the call on Friday morning that I've been accepted to the Cultural Traditions program at the School at Jacob's Pillow this summer. Now I've got to get myself in shape to hold up in a dance studio 9 hours a day. I've got two months to prepare...

Day 4 at Hippocrates: [Someone Else's] Electromagnetic Therapy

All one-week guests at Hippocrates receive three electromagnetic therapy sessions.

I should be able to explain what electromagnetic therapy is and what it is for, but the reality is, I really have no idea. I just went to the Oasis Center at the prescribed times because I was told to. I lied down on a bed, and they slapped some electrodes on my feet and legs, and turned up the current. I think it's supposed to wake up your muscles somehow, and release congestion and toxins, or something like that. Anyway, it doesn't hurt, but it wasn't pleasant, either. It felt like someone was lightly shocking my feet, and like tiny elves were jumping up and down on my quadriceps.

After lying there for half an hour, the practitioner, Patty, comes back and turns off the current, and detaches me from the machine.

"OK, Denise, all done!"

"Um, Diane."

"What?"

"Diane. My name's Diane. My sister's name is Denise."

"Oh, my goodness. I thought you were Denise. I was giving you Denise's treatment."

You see, this is what I get for submitting to a therapy and not really understanding what I'm there for. They had interviewed me a day or two prior to find out what injuries I had in the past or if I suffered from pain. I told them about the chronic neck pain I have due to a minor sprain from my Capoeira years, and they noted that. So Patty was supposed to strap the electrodes to my neck, back and shoulders. Instead, she put them on my legs, because my sister has suffered multiple injuries to both her ankles.

Patty seemed to think this oversight was partially my fault. "Well, why didn't you SAY anything? Why didn't you tell me to put the electrodes on your neck?"

"Um, because you're supposed to know what you're doing? I have no idea what's going on. This is all new to me."

So now my calves are feeling a bit zippier than before, even if my neck feels the same.

Aside from that, I spent most of my day by the pools. They have four ozonated pools (treated with mineral salts, not chlorine), each one of different temperatures. One is a jetted hot tub, and the pool next to it has cold water. One is supposed to heat up in the hot tub, and then plunge into the cold pool, and then go back again, seven times. Something about being good for the circulation or something. Again, I'm a little foggy on the physiological details. But I tried it, and it felt good. I also tried the infrared-sauna-to-cold-shower switch, which has the same effect. My skin is absolutely glowing today.

Day 3 at Hippocrates: I Have Parasites

Part of the program here at Hippocrates is blood analysis -- when you arrive, they take a blood sample and run it through the battery of typical tests, measuring things like sugar, mineral, and uric-acid levels. At that time you set up an appointment with the institute's health administrators, Dr. Spaziani and Dr. Clement, who discuss the test results with you, and they recommend a diet and supplement regimen.

I arrived at Dr. Spaziani's office yesterday ready to hear how healthy I am, because, although I'm here to improve my health, I'm already in pretty good shape to begin with. The doc totally surprised me by unwrapping a lancet and asking for my finger -- he needed to draw a drop of blood, to show me under the microscope what my blood cells look like. He prepared the slide, put it on the microscope, and turned on a large TV above his desk, to which his microscope apparatus was rigged.

My blood looked very nice. Many people have very clumpy red cells as a result of a variety of unhealthful practices, which is a bad thing. Red cells need to move independently and without obstruction in order to perform their functions correctly. Dr. Spaziani pointed out how freely my cells were moving about -- there was very little clumping, unlike most people he sees. I was happily watching the screen, beaming at the excellent condition of my blood and feeling somewhat superior to the other program participants, when suddenly, a little, um, THING skittered across the picture. It startled me, and then I sat back, thinking it was just a bug that had run across the TV set. But then it appeared again, this time from the other side of the screen, swimming back in the opposite direction.

I jumped out of my seat, jabbing my finger at the screen. "What the HELL is THAT???" I barked.

"What?" said Dr. Spaziani.

The critter appeared again, from the bottom left corner of the screen, swam around a few cells, and shot off the right-hand side.

"Mmmph!" I jumped and pointed.

"Oh, those are parasites."

"WHAT???"

"Parasites. They're pretty common. Have you traveled outside of the US recently?"

"NO, just to Paris!"

"Do you eat sushi?"

"Yeah, all the time."

"Well, that's it, then. Most people who eat sushi get parasites. Dr. Clement will prescribe some wormwood for you, clear it right up."

I sat there, stunned, and got angry at the little buggy creature as I watched it swim around in my blood on the screen above me. It hovered right around a white blood cell, and I thought to myself, "Why doesn't the white blood cell attack it?? Attack! Attack!"

Dr. Clement prescribed Artemisinin, an anti-parasitic herb used by Chinese herbalists. I went to the campus store and bought two bottles: I take the first bottle (two weeks' supply), then wait two weeks, then take the second bottle (to kill any new "hatchlings").

Ugh, god, I can't stand this. I feel like bugs are crawling all around inside my skin now. I feel totally ill, in spite of my picture-perfect, free-flowing red blood cells.

I never thought I'd ever consider giving up sushi, but if anything could scare me into keeping away from it, this certainly fits the bill.

Day 2 at Hippocrates: Wheatgrass Rectal Implants

Anybody who espouses the health benefits of a raw, vegan diet and periodic juice fasting will also stress the importance of supporting colon health and efficient elimination of toxins and waste through colonic hydrotherapy and enemas. I'm not going to write much about why it's important for you to wash out your colon, but let me just say that, no matter what your diet, you should consider practicing these procedures toute de suite if you are not already.

A lot of people also know about the superior health benefits of wheatgrass. I certainly do, and have been drinking wheatgrass for over a decade. But it really would never have occurred to me that anyone would ever suggest I stick it in my ass. But that's what they tell you to do here at Hippocrates -- take your wheatgrass at both ends.

Now, the term "rectal implant" makes this sound more uncomfortable and bizarre than it really is, as it conjures up the image of someone trying to tuck a handful of grass into his or her anus. Actually, taking wheatgrass as a rectal implant simply means adding the juice to your enema bag at the end of your enema. After you've washed out your lower intestine with the regular water, the four ounces of wheatgrass juice can be easily absorbed through your rectum, with it's nutritional benefits carried along by your hemorrhoidal artery (or was that a vein? I can't remember what the colon doc said) to other parts of your circulatory system that bring it straight to your liver. In other words, putting wheatgrass in that way allows the benefits to shoot straight to your liver without having to go through your whole digestive tract first. This is supposed to be extremely healthful.

Well, I hope so, because enemas are inconvenient enough to begin with, without having to start and stop and start again, and concoct ingredients to put in the bag. It's also kind of disturbing to witness green liquid shooting out your butt. Well, I've got to have faith that this is making my liver, and my body in general, very happy.

On a more-pleasant note, today was avocado day at the lunch buffet. So in addition to my mountain of sprouts and assorted vegetables, I had an avocado, stuffed with some sort of shredded carrot mixture. Sprouts are not satisfying, but avocados certainly are. Hooray for avocado day! I stuffed myself to the gills, because tomorrow is juices only. Well, we're supposed to fast tomorrow, but I'm going to have a few pieces of fruit I bought at the store for breakfast, because I already did my fast (so there!). I won't really miss the sprouts, though.

Day 1 at Hippocrates: A Sprout Extravaganza

We arrived yesterday at around noon, just in time for our first raw, vegan lunch. Mealtimes at the Hippocrates Health Institute are buffet-style, and the line-up is exactly the same no matter what day or which meal it is: first is a gigantic bowl of mesclun, then there's sprouts (clover), and sprouts (red lentil), and sprouts (adzuki), and sprouts (mung bean), and sprouts (fenugreek), and sprouts (radish), and sprouts (alfalfa), and sprouts (sunflower), and sprouts (buckwheat), and sprouts (sweet pea), and sprouts (lentil again). All the way at the end there's a much smaller spread of cucumbers, peppers, radishes, onions, scallions, carrots, olives, dulse (a type of seaweed), and dressing. Sandwiched between the grande sprout buffet and the other veggies is the "entree" -- some kind of dressed salad, or a pate, or some crackers. Tonight we had a special treat: "tacos". The taco "meat" was seasoned walnuts, accompanied by red-pepper salsa, with romaine-leaf "tortillas".

The idea is to pile your plate high with sprouts, and make everything else a tiny side item. One sprout-packed meal is novel; four, for a person like me who almost never eats sprouts, is, well, frustrating to the palate. It's particularly annoying when one of the dowdy old ladies who are veterans of the program here sticks her face in your plate or your conversation and presumptuously offers advice on how you should eat and live your life. My sister and I sat down to our first meal, and when my sister declared she was thirsty and got up to get a cup of water, one nosy old crone at the next table barked, "You CAN'T drink water with your MEAL!!" My sister glanced at me, with a puzzled look on her face. I leaned forward and said, very deliberately, "Denise, if you're thirsty, feel free to get a drink of water."

Today I was the victim of an even worse offense: after nagging me endlessly in the lunch line about how I didn't have enough sprouts on my plate, Ruth, an extremely rude woman who simply won't shut up despite the fact that everyone here probably wishes she would be struck mute, decides I simply must eat one of the flowers in the entree salad, and proceeds to pick it out of the buffet with her fingers and attempt to deposit it on my plate. "Here!" she piped, "You should eat one of these!"

"No," I parried, swiftly pulling my plate out of reach of her oily claw, "YOU should EAT IT."

After the first lunch, we were shown our accommodations, in a nice house with 5 bedrooms, each occupied by 1-2 people. We had a tour of the entire campus, introductions all around, and an explanation of our juicing regimen -- green juice (a cocktail of cucumber, celery, and, yes, sprouts) at 9am, 11am, and 4pm, and wheatgrass juice four times a day. The wheatgrass, we are told, is the most important part of the regimen. Twice a day we are to drink two ounces, and twice a day we are to take four ounces as a rectal implant.

That's right, you read correctly. I will report to you about this business of administering wheatgrass in this manner tomorrow, after I've had the joy of experiencing it firsthand.

Off to Hippocrates

For vacation this spring, my sister Denise and I are spending a week at the Hippocrates Health Institute, a resort in West Palm Beach dedicated to teaching people healthful dietary principles. They serve exclusively raw, vegan foods, as well as fresh green juices and plenty of wheatgrass. They have a spa that provides massage, reiki, colonics, facials, and a variety of detoxification rituals. They have several ozonated pools, and offer nutritional lectures and yoga classes.

I've never been to Hippocrates before, but it's come highly recommended from one of my healthcare professionals. I'm not a living-food, vegan person, but I have done raw-juice fasts before and am interested in maintaining good digestive health. My sister doesn't have a particularly healthful lifestyle, but is seeking to make some changes. So I figured it would be a week well spent.

I am on day 8 of a juice fast I began in preparation for my purifying stay at Hippocrates, and let me just say, I'm really looking forward to my first meal tomorrow at lunchtime. I'm not a big fan of raw cuisine (which, in my experience, consists mostly of a variety of plant matter pureed or chopped and formed into the shape of patties, loaves, or balls, or served up as a spread), but when you haven't had solid food for days, even the prospect of a plain ol' carrot sounds heavenly.

Denise and I don't know what to expect, but we are sure to have some interesting experiences. I shall take this as an opportunity to resume my daily blogging regimen. I've been pretty uninspired the past few weeks.

The Mighty Tiktaalik roseae

Creationists really need to find an alternative to bashing evolution -- biologists from the University of Chicago have discovered fossils in the Canadian Arctic of fish with transitional anatomical traits. The New York Times reported this morning that these scientists say this is the long-sought missing link in the evolution from water-dwelling to land-dwelling creatures. These fishes' forward fins have nascent digits, wrists, elbows and shoulders, and other features in their heads and trunks that resemble crocodiles and other tetrapods.

Besides this discovery, proponents of evolution have other transitional animals to point to, such as Archaeopteryx (the link between birds and reptiles), and a type of whale that lived on land. One of the central arguments of creationists in pooh-poohing Darwinian theory is that there is no evidence in the fossil record of transitional creatures. Um, wrong -- evolutionists have three (count 'em, THREE) examples now.

What is to become of the creationists' harangue? The NYT quoted Duane T. Gish, retired official of the Institute for Creation Research, as stating, in response to this discovery, that he still found evolution "questionable because palaeontologists have yet to discover any transitional fossils between complex invertebrates and fish, and this destroys the whole evolutionary theory."

I'm not really sure what he means by this (as in, why he considers this a valid response to the challenge presented), but it sounds like he's incredibly flummoxed, although, like any good religious fanatic, he's sticking to his guns that the scientists must be wrong, all wrong, not possibly right. Only good Christians are right, right? I wonder what his first reaction was when someone tried to break the news about Tiktaalik roseae (as scientists named the tetrapod-ish fish, at the suggestion of Nunavut elders) to him? He likely clapped his hands over his ears, and sang, "La la la la la la la laaaaah" as loudly as possible.

Given that creationists' beliefs are based on nothing but stories in a book written and rewritten and interpreted and misinterpreted over and over throughout hundreds of years, they have enormous latitude in fabricating arguments. Think about it -- they are not required to apply any of the intellectual rigor or provide the proof that we require of scientists (and indeed, creationists lean on evolutionists to have to find fossil proof to even begin considering evolution as a plausible alternative to their oh-so-compelling "an otherworldly being decided one day to invent the Earth and all it's creatures in their modern form out of thin air" yarn, which, conveniently, cannot be proven, and, more conveniently, doesn't have to be).

So, despite the fact that the Tiktaalik discovery should deliver a smashing blow to their agenda, I predict they will bounce back with some totally insane response that, somehow, Christians will accept, and book burners everywhere will continue their onslaught on real education in our nation's schools. It will probably be something totally random, like, "We cannot possibly consider evolution as anything but a sham until 49 fossil examples of creatures have been found which can be equally divided into 7 stages of transitional mobility, representing the 7 days our Lord took to create the Earth." Or, "We'll only begin to think about giving merit to evolutionary theory when these scientists find a golden unicorn." Or maybe they'll just join the soft-headed proponents of intelligent design, raising their hands and stating, "Oh, this is all just too complicated for us to understand, so let's just say God or some other almighty being must have made it all up."

Religious fanatics seem to me to be incredibly energetic and driven, so it always amazes me how they allow themselves to be so lazy with their thought processes. Ah, but then again, insane people are can be pretty energetic, and their reasoning capabilities are suboptimal. Faith is very convenient.