Macrobiotics Today, March/April 1995, Vol. 35, No. 2
"Macrobiotics Is Mindfulness" Sunny Matthews
When I'm asked to explain what macrobiotics is, I typically respond that it's a philosophy, a diet, and a lifestyle. I then proceed to fill in with details, giving as much information as I sense the inquirer can handle. My response is at best an academic exercise. It took a personal crisis for me to really get in touch with the meaning of macrobiotics.
Busy Professional; I'm 47 years old, in good health and very active. I'm a mathematics professor at the community college. In addition to my classroom teaching, I serve as coordinator of the college preparatory mathematics courses offered through Independent Studies, coordinator of the Basic Skills Mathematics workshops for entering students, and recipient of a Service Learning grant for promoting awareness of applications of algebra in the workplace. I've been practicing macrobiotics since 1986. For the past five years, I've coordinated the activities of the Macrobiotic Center in Miami . . . during my off campus hours.
Changing Priorities; Summer of '94, I had my annual August PAP smear and breast exam. My gynecologist, who I've entrusted with these routine exams for over 19 years, felt a suspicious hardening in my left breast. "Get a mammogram now, don't wait until next year," he advised me. My mammogram and sonogram films were marked with two clear cysts and a dark, solid area. It was this solid area that prompted an appointment with a surgeon. The surgeon recommended by my gynecologist had no openings to see new patients for three weeks . . . that gave me time to "clean up my act" and get serious.
I consulted with my macrobiotic counselor, Lino Stanchich, and we decided I would adhere to a strict, healing regime until I saw the surgeon. I eliminated fish, tofu, tempeh, fruits, juices, baked goods, and fried foods from my diet. A little beans, lots of grain, and lightly cooked vegetables would be my mainstay. I consumed shiitake mushroom-daikon-carrot soup daily, greens at every meal, and pressed salad twice a day. Three times a week, I stopped by the neighborhood fresh juice shop and enjoyed a small carrot juice. I indulged in weekly shiatsu massages. To maximize oxygenation of my blood, I added rebounding (light jogging on a mini-trampoline) to my daily exercise routine. I was determined to boost my immune system and dissolve accumulated fats in my body before my appointment with the surgeon.
Reflections; During the three weeks, I quietly and thoroughly chewed each meal reflecting upon how I got myself into this mess. The word that came to mind was "mindfulness," and I had lost it over the summer. It had been an incredibly hot, humid, steamy summer in Miami. I overdosed on fruits and juices. Turning on the stove to cook grains took a concerted effort. I ate thoughtlessly without paying attention to macrobiotic principles. So, I "peanut buttered," "popcorned," "amasaked," munched and crunched my way through the months of June, July, and August. While I was eating out of balance, I was dealing with the emotional stresses of a possible major relocation. My husband had taken a temporary position in California. For six months we had a long-distance marriage. I was eating poorly because I felt stressed and I was stressed because I was eating poorly. It took this wake-up call to break the cycle and get me back to a state of mindfulness.
Wait and See; Three weeks passed by quickly. The surgeon very carefully examined my breasts . . . first the right, then the left. Arms up, arms down, arms at the waist. The nodule had become so small and was too mobile for even a needle biopsy. The doctor couldn't grasp the lump to get a satisfactory cellular extraction. The best he could offer was "let's wait and see." We agreed I would return in eight weeks and if the lump became harder or larger, I would without hesitation undergo a biopsy. I was thrilled, for I knew I could shrink this deposit even more in two months.
I continued my low-low protein, low-low oil, high grain/vegetable regime. I kept up the massages and daily rebounding.
During this "wait and see" period, I attended a four-day national mathematics conference in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Traveling and staying faithful to my program was a challenge. I purchased a Betty Crocker hot pot which enabled me to cook breakfast and lunch in my room. I converted my bathroom into a galley kitchen. I brought my vegetable knife, grater, premeasured amounts of kale, corn, carrots, daikon, scallions, shiitakes, wakame, nori, umeboshi plums, miso, roasted sesame seeds, sea salt, and grains with me. In the evenings, I ate vegetables and rice at restaurants with colleagues. I laughed at myself . . . You know you're 100 percent macrobiotic when you put more energy into packing your foods, then into packing your outfits.
Living Mindfully; At the follow-up visit to the surgeon, I was graced with the doctor's blessing that the lump had indeed shrunk and I would not need another check-up for a year.
Macrobiotics is living, eating, and taking care of yourself mindfully. We make our food choices consciously and thoughtfully. It is this deliberateness in planning and preparing our meals that keeps our awareness of balance in the forefront. Through massage and exercise we pay attention to breathing and body condition thus contributing to mindfulness.
I'm sure my experience is not uncommon. Everything changes; nothing is stationary. This is an accepted given. Even people who have practiced macrobiotics for a long time get sloppy. Our conditions and situations change. But, the beauty of the macrobiotic lifestyle is that health can be recovered. I feel I have a greater appreciation for the power of macrobiotics from this personal trial. I most certainly have a profound respect for my macrobiotic friends who are on long-term healing programs. It takes tremendous desire, discipline and dedication.
End of Article
Dr. Sunny Mathews is a professor at Miami-Dade Community College and president of the Macrobiotic Lifestyle Center. She lives with her husband, Ben, in Coconut Grove, Florida.
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