What a mistake.

The something we ate was toast, an innocuous enough food, you’d think, but the consequences were grisly.

Now, one is always cautioned to come slowly off a fast, it’s true, so we were just asking for trouble. But we’re human, and I guess we just sort of snapped. Toast probably wasn’t the wisest choice of foods to introduce to our now virgin systems, but in our own defense I can only say that we were half crazed by deprivation and chose the first thing that came to mind. Rest assured that we paid mightily for our transgression.

The first phase of atonement–or should that be retribution?–came in the form of a raging headache. It was immediate and debilitating. The rush of toxins from the unnatural food (read the ingredients on bread and margarine sometime–recognize any of the words?) went straight to the head. The second phase was the stomach ache. It, too was immediate and relentless. The third, and possibly the most dreadful, was the overall feeling of lethargy, accompanied by a thick, settling brain fog. This last almost made me weep. I had been feeling so good, only to be laid low by a couple of slices of toast. No. I was laid low by my own stupidity and lack of self control.

And was it worth it? Did I at least enjoy the sensation of eating? The taste of the much dreamed about foodstuff? No I did not.

You see, now that our systems have been purged of toxins, our taste buds have also been purified. This means that we now taste things as they really are and not through the built up tolerance to taste that years of eating processed foods do to you. In other words, things that are not natural now taste not natural. They taste like crap. The bread was overwhelming in its chemical flavoring, and the margarine had both the texture and flavor of the plastic that it so resembles molecularly (it’s true, look it up).

So no, it was not worth it at all. My self-loathing knows no bounds. I caved when I should have meditated and conquered, and I am the poorer for it, both physically and mentally.

Instead of beating ourselves up too badly over our lapse, however (the Buddha teaches the middle way, after all), we have determined to resume our fast forthwith, as if naught had happened to interrupt it.

In fact, if we’re honest, we have to admit that our momentary weakness has taught us a valuable lesson. We now know that we will never eat processed foods again. Being able to taste the chemicals really makes this decision easy. There will be no more cravings for poisonous foods. The resulting illness teaches us–like children who put our hands on hot things to find out the hard way–what is not good for our bodies. We will certainly be less inclined in the future to do these foolish things. Surely we are growing up.

* * *

From How and When to Be Your Own Doctor: The Stages of Fasting

Breaking the fast is equally or more important a stage than the fast itself. It is the most dangerous time in the entire fast. If you stop fasting prematurely, that is, before the body has completed detoxification and healing, expect the body to reject food when you try to make it eat, even if you introduce foods very gradually. The faster, the spiritual being running the body, may have become bored and want some action, but the faster”s body hasn’t finished. The body wants to continue healing.

* * *

Update, March 18 AM:

Me: “Remember, I want to be cremated.”
William: “You’re not going to die.”
Me: “And my ashes put into an hourglass.”

I woke this morning and my first words were “I’m alive!”

If you’d have gone through what I did last night, you’d be just as awe struck. Whether it was the body rejecting the food because of the fast, because of the toxins or because of a food allergy (I have long suspected an adverse reaction to yeast), reject it the body did…with fervor. I spent the entire blessed night hanging over a bucket, clutching my stomach and praying for death, while the toast tried to decide whether to come up or take the alternative route to freedom. Either would have been quite acceptable to me. As it was, absolutely nothing happened, and I hung suspended between hell and purgatory for hours on end.

Do I need to tell you what I feel like today?

One thing’s for sure. I have been cured of my food addiction. It is an ever so effective cure, though I recommend it to no one save my worst enemies.

Pass the juice.

I must say, though, that the psychological impact of abstaining is beginning to take its toll. It may be rough on the body, but after a time it becomes seriously devastating to the psyche. We have to remind ourselves often now that we will, indeed, eat again. Yet it’s getting tougher by the day to combat the negative, panicked mindset that is pushing us toward caving.

William has pretty much decided that the fast ends at thirty days for him. I can’t blame him, as he seems to be dropping weight more quickly than I, and will probably look quite skeletal after forty days. Perhaps it will end at thirty days for me as well, but I’m still trying to buoy myself up for the full stretch. My health demands it. My birthday is this weekend, too, which may weaken my resolve a little. Not that I can break the fast then anyway—it takes over a week to come off—but not celebrating a birthday will certainly be a mental challenge. It’s an ingrained thing.

As far as symptoms go, there’s been a few interesting developments. Over the past week we’ve been experiencing some pretty intense cigarette cravings. It’s been ten weeks since we gave up the smokes, so obviously the cravings are a result of the residual toxins being mobilized. This fasting ought to ensure that we’ve quit for good, since all the tar, nicotine and hundred other poisons will have been purged out of the system.

In addition, my color has improved immensely. I am looking less like a pasty, yellowed walking corpse, and more like a healthy living organism. The whites of my eyes are whiter, and, for an added bonus, my laugh lines and many small others are disappearing. The black stain under my eyes—that you will see under many people’s eyes and that is a result of toxins and dehydration—is also now non-existent. To date I have shed in the vicinity of twenty pounds, and all in all, I’m looking much, much better. And feeling it too.

With the exception of my head, of course.

There’s only two weeks and three days to go. Here’s hoping I can master the mindset long enough to make it through.

Neck pain gone. Weakness in arms. Had to pause three times while washing my hair. Weight loss occurring at approximately one pound per day.

Day 16

Arm weakness continues. Tongue is heavily coated. Breath not so great. Avoiding people. Very tired. Had to sleep.

Day 17

Arm weakness better. Several episodes of rather intense pain in lungs accompanied by severe head rushes while being still. Did too much and had to sleep. Spirits very high, though…unusually so.

Day 18

Feeling the cold intensely. Had to wear clothes to bed and still couldn’t get warm. Made it out for a (slow) hike today though. The woods smell sweeter than ever with the new nose.

Day 19
Have noticed that the body feels cleaner, hair and skin less oily. Also less perspiration happening. Skin is a much healthier color. Having a toxin dump today however…very fatigued.

For some reason we find our stomachs still growling—a symptom that should have ceased with digestion after the first week. It does make things more difficult, and we catch ourselves looking longingly at the calendar perhaps more than is psychologically healthy. It seems such a long haul to the end of the month right now.

Energy doesn’t seem to be much of a problem, however. We haven’t experienced any intense weakness since that first bout of detoxification. And I can’t say that I’m any more foggy headed than before I began, though I do notice my attention span has shortened somewhat. But all, in all, I’m feeling better than I’ve felt in a while, with only one exception.

At this stage of the fast, it is common for old injuries to flare up as the body re-heals them. A poor diet of processed, de-natured foods at the time of injury means that the healing process was not optimal, and the body is now redoing the work properly. Sounds good until you realize that this re-healing means re-experiencing the pain of the injury.

So for the past three days I’ve been in an agony of neck pain, walking around in a cervical collar and reliving the entire experience of breaking my neck in an auto accident some fifteen years past. It hasn’t been pretty, physically or psychologically, and it’s really been easy to push my buttons because of it, but I’m hoping that this might make an end to the osteoarthritis and to the necessity of even owning a neck brace. We shall see.

I can say, however, that the rotator cuff tendonitis, with which I have suffered for nearly a year, has almost completely disappeared. Believe me when I say that my quality of life is greatly improved by this. Anyone who has ever spent a sleepless night because of this ailment knows what I’m saying here. For many months I have been unable to so much as lift my left arm; now the pain has been reduced to the occasional twinge. Deo Gratias

Given half a chance the body will heal itself of anything. Relieved of having to focus one full third of its energy on digesting food, it’s free to work the miracles of which it is capable.

On to the next stage…

Hooray! We’ve made it through the first week.

Miraculously enough, the energy is back now, and we no longer feel as if we have the flu. It’s still difficult to keep our minds off food—are those airplanes I’m hearing or your belly growling?—and I’m still dreaming pizza in full sensory mode, but it’s a lot easier when you don’t feel like you’re dying.

No headaches, no stomach aches, no major weakness now. But weight loss is definitely starting to happen. Of course, you will never, ever hear me complain about that.

We managed—I don’t know how—to get the garbage out yesterday and to get our work completed. Okay, it might not have been my very best work, but it got done. Kudos to me. It was really tough keeping the faith, though, knowing that food would make it all go away, but we didn’t crack, and we lived.

We are invincible!

Only five weeks to go. From here on, with the exception of any major occurrences that might be worth recording, I’ll just hit the milestones. One day seems so much like another at the moment. Of course, there’s no guarantee that it will stay that way—how well we know!—but we sure wouldn’t complain if it did.

The hunger is not so bad today. The digestive system is beginning to shut itself down. And, wonder of wonders, I’m starting to like the juice. Whoa!

It’s actually entertaining to see what’s coming out of the kitchen these days. You never know what color it’s going to be, for starters—some of them are gorgeous deep greens or oranges—or if it’s going to taste like camel dung, which I guess makes it more adventure than entertainment. My fave is the coleslaw juice, but we often have the V-8 variety, as well as some more obscure combos that I don’t question, or examine, too closely.

To tell you the truth, for all the bellyaching I’ve been doing about being hungry (bad pun intended), it’s not really been so horrid. It’s actually not anywhere near as intense as I thought it would be. I’ve done week-long water fasts before, and I can tell you, they are a bitch. The juice fast is downright friendly in comparison.

So I’m feeling pretty good now. I have energy, the brain doesn’t seem so cloudy, the back pain has gone, and my spirits are at an all time high. I’m not ready for a marathon, mind, and the nose is still running, but all in all, I feel fine.

* * *

From How and When to be Your Own Doctor:

The healing crisis can seem a big surprise to a faster who has been progressing wonderfully. Suddenly, usually after a few days of noticeably increased well-being, they suddenly experience a set of severe symptoms and feel just awful. This is not a setback, not something to be upset or disappointed about, but a healing crisis, actually a positive sign

Healing crises always occur after a period of marked improvement. As the vital force builds up during the healing process, the body decides it now has obtained enough energy to throw off some accumulated toxins, and forcefully pushes them out through a typical and usually previously used route of secondary elimination, such as the nose, lungs, stomach, intestines, skin, or perhaps produces a flu-like experience with fever chills, sweat, aches and pains, etc. Though unpleasant, this experience is to be encouraged

Unpleasant? They do have an amazing talent for understatement.

You will feel like death.

* * *

Day Six

We’ve been hit by a bus.

Last night was a rough one. Neither of us got much sleep, and we were both plagued by intense stomach pains. This morning dawned in a haze of nausea and a lack of energy that could only mean imminent death. The marine layer that had covered the brain a few days ago has today rolled in as a thick, pea soup fog. Rather appropriate considering where we live, but not conducive to work.

William has a fever, and there’s something trapped in our skulls that’s trying to pound its way out. I’ve long ago forgotten what it’s like to have the flu—I haven’t had it in a decade—but it’s coming back to me now in all its god-awful splendor.

Blackouts overtake us as we get out of bed, and we’re stuck between worlds for a few moments, hoping nature’s going to wait for our vision to clear. Later, we stumble to the kitchen and collapse in the chairs, fatigued by the trip. Who’s going to light the fire, fill the kettle and make the juice?

To make a bad situation worse, today is garbage day. This means hauling our green bags down the hill from hell. This means hauling our dying bodies back up the hill—no mean feat on a good day. Our hill is the perfect workout for Olympic athletes. It is, for those who are just tuning in, 1000 feet of vertical torture—a challenge even for the well-fed.

How could yesterday be so wonderful and today be so bloody awful?

Fasters go through a lot of different emotional states. These can get intense and do change quite rapidly.

* * *

I was over the moon. This morning I bummed hip to the knowledge that I can drink all the herbal tea I want. I was so excited (you have to understand that I LOVE my teas) that I couldn’t get to the kitchen fast enough. I was just bouncing. Oh, what do we have for tea? What do we have for…

Oh look, we’ve got green tea, my all time favorite! Right on!!!

“Nope,” says William, taking the can from me and replacing it on the shelf, “No can have. It’s not decaffeinated.”

GRRR

Wait. Maybe we have raspberry, my second fave. I could drink the s**t out of a cup of raspberry tea right now.

Nope, no raspberry tea.

BLOODY HELL!

Chamomile? That makes a nice, soothing brew. I like chamomile. I’ll settle for a chamomile.

Nope, no chamomile either.

OMFG, WE DON’T HAVE ANY TEA!! I WANT TEA, I CAN HAVE TEA, AND WE’VE GOT NO FREAKING TEA!!

I dived headlong into the cupboard, pushing and shoving and tossing until I made it to the space way far in the back between the wall studs. And there, in that dark, isolated spot that nothing but the odd spider usually inhabits, I pounced upon a dusty box of something called ‘Mint Refresher’ that had long ago been forgotten. Eureka!

Now those who know me know that I absolutely loathe the taste of peppermint. It makes me heave. When one is fasting, however, one’s tastes change—whether by nature or by necessity. Ten minutes later I was calmly enjoying—yes enjoying—a steaming mug of caffeine-free mint herbal. I was over the moon.

And William was feeling safe enough to come out from his hiding spot.

I arose from bed this morning with a tremendous head rush, which has stayed with me most of the morning. William says I should just enjoy it…it’s free.

Last night I dreamed of pizza. Triple cheese, thick crusted, mouth watering pizza. It smelled of a thousand splendid sensual delights, a Shangri La for the taste buds. And, just as I was about to sink my teeth into that first orgasmic bite, William woke me. I could have cried. Instead I got up and partook of a large mug of foul-flavored green sludge. Mmmm. And do I feel any better for my troubles?

Not. One. Whit.

My brain is draining into my sinus cavities, my neck feels as if someone’s been trying to wring it, and I’m certain my kidneys are wrinkling up to prunes.

Right now the compost bucket is starting to look good.

We carry on…

* * *

According to How and When to be Your Own Doctor:

The most frequently heard complaints of fasters are headaches, dry, cracked lips, dizziness, blurred vision with black spots that float, skin rashes, and weakness in the first few days plus what they think is intense hunger. The dizziness and weakness are really real, and are due to increased levels of toxins circulating in the blood and from unavoidably low blood sugar which is a natural consequence of the cessation of eating.

From the same source, different page:

True hunger is not what most people think of when they think they are hungry. Few Americans have ever experienced true hunger. It is not a rumbling in the stomach or a set of uncomfortable sensations (caused by the beginning of detoxification) you know will go away after eating. True hunger is an animal, instinctual feeling in the back of one”s throat (not in the stomach) that demands you eat something, anything, even grass or shoe leather.

“Oh, well, that’s alright then. I’m so happy to know that I’m not really hungry!! ” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

* * *

Day Four

Last night it was sweet and sour sausage, which is quite strange considering I detested sausage long before I became vegan. My dislike turned out to be the overriding factor even in my sleeping, weakened state; I took three small nibbles and handed the rest over to William. Starvation before sausage.

Maybe it was the thoughts of eating meat, but I awoke to wave after wave of nausea. I’m not talking ripples here; I’m talking tsunamis, one after the other. A mug of warm lemon water seemed to settle the turbulence.

I’m starting to lose my voice a little now as the toxins and damage from the years of smoking make themselves known. My voice is scratchy and sounds as if it’s dropped an octave–just this side of sexy, alas. I have to clear my throat a lot. Annoying as this is, it is a good thing–a sign that the body is already beginning the healing process.

Today was a real test. We had to bring wood inside and gather water, both necessities which require quite a bit of effort. We found we could move only slowly and had to be careful of dizziness. The legs are feeling a bit on the weak side, and I’m easily out of breath, with burning lungs. Again, a result of healing of the damaged tar-coated essential organs.

We got the jobs done, however, and are feeling ever so pleased with ourselves. Rest now.

Already we’re wondering how in heaven’s name we’re going to make it through forty days of this. It’s not so much the hunger—which is rather intense at this early stage—as the taste of the juice.

Note to potential juicers: Do not under any circumstances use more than one leaf of romaine lettuce in your juice recipe. It may cause unexpected, and projectile, results. I can honestly say that I’ve never tasted anything so vile.

Nonetheless, we are determined. Surely it’s just a matter of finding the right recipes, yes?

Back to the juicing board…

* * *

According to Juicefasting.org:

On the first day of fasting, the blood sugar level drops below 70 mg/dl. To restore the blood to the normal glucose level, liver glycogen is converted to glucose and released into the blood. This reserve is enough for half a day. The body then reduces the basal metabolic rate (BMR). The rate of internal chemical activity in resting tissue is lowered to conserve energy. The heart slows and blood pressure is reduced. Glycogen is pulled from the muscle causing some weakness.

The first wave of cleansing is usually the worst. Headaches, dizziness, nausea, bad breath, glazed eyes and a heavily coated tongue are signs of the first stage of cleansing. Hunger can be the most intense in this period unless the enema is used which quickly assists the body into the fasting state by ending digestion in the colon.

We’re opting for the colon cleansing powder instead, thank-you-very-much. It may take a little longer to end digestion, but..

The energy level? Let’s just say that I’m thankful to have a sit-down job. My head began hurting somewhere around mid-afternoon, and the nausea was right on schedule too.

Day Two

We’re hanging in, but my stomach thinks we’ve moved to Ethiopia, and it hasn’t shut up about it all day. This morning I swept the popcorn out from under my desk so I wouldn’t be tempted. Thankfully, the juice has gotten marginally better with the addition of a stick of celery and a tomato to the lettuce/carrot mix.

But oh my god, can we just hold the garlic?!! While it is the ultimate blood detoxifier, it’s also the ultimate defriender, guaranteed to keep people at a distance. On second thought, bring it on!

My mouth feels rather nasty today, signifying the first wave of toxin removal. And a marine layer has settled in on the brain, making work a joy. Both of us are experiencing pain in the lower back already, which, I’m told, is a sign of toxins in the lower intestine. I’m more inclined to think it’s a sign of kidney overwork, as the only thing keeping me from ravishing the stores of vegetables is lemon water, and naturally, being half starved, I’m drinking a LOT of lemon water. I feel like a cleaning sponge…soak it up, wring it out, soak it up, wring it out.

I’m so happy. We just got our juicer in the mail. It’s not just any old juicer, no sir. It’s the ultimate juicer. It’s the juicer that jucies slowly so as not to kill the enzymes in your food. It’s the juicer that magnetizes so as to keep your juice fresher longer. It’s the juicer that extracts the toxins and heavy metals so as to keep you alive longer. It’s also the juicer the costs two limbs, a digit and three molars so as to push back your age of retirement to your mid-seventies. I suppose if you’re going to live longer from juicing, then they consider it a fair trade off.

Nonetheless, the arrival of the juicer means that the time has come to embark upon the forty days under the bodhi tree that’s been in the planning for awhile now. It’s time to throw out the bread, rice, butter and corn flakes and start living on liquefied vegetables. That’s right. We’re going to attempt to survive on nothing but juice and meditation for the next forty days. Why? Because we’ve decided that life is really a pretty cool thing and we want to live long enough to fully appreciate the wonder of it.

The juice fast, or more specifically, the juice cleanse, is a quick and dirty way to good health. By juicing for forty days, we will be allowing the body to repair the damage done by forty plus years of consuming poisonous processed foods. (If you don’ think it’s done any damage take a look at your waistline and/or the lines on your face, the shadows under your eyes, the antacids in your medicine cabinet). It will also allow the body to expel the toxins and free radicals accumulated from the environment and bad habits—pesticides, pollution, cigarettes, etc.—that store in the body and basically gum up the works, causing every disease known to man.

That’s it in a very tiny nutshell. If you want more information you’ll have to do your own research on the subject; I’m not inclined to educate people. It would simply take too much energy and would require what I’ve found to be a rare combination of logic, comprehension and enlightenment from the learner. If you’re interested in your own longevity, I can recommend several sites: TheDoctorWithin and JuiceFast.org. If godspeak doesn’t daunt you, FreedomYou is an excellent source of information.

That all being said, as of today we are, metaphorically speaking, parking our poison carcasses under Gautama’s bodhi tree. Forty days from now—if we get that far—we hope to emerge renewed both physically and mentally. Hey, if it was good enough for Jesus during his desert gig and good enough to turn a man into a Buddha, then that’s good enough for us.

I’m going to attempt to blog my way through this so that I will have a record of the experience as well as to provide others with an actual, real time example of how, and how well, this works and what exactly can be expected along the way. Fasting/cleansing is not always pretty, however, and I expect there will be days when blogging or anything else is out of the question. I also expect there will be days of great euphoria and insight. I’ll be posting accordingly.