Bike Life in Long Beach - Revised

I learned some stuff this summer.

I learned that bike life in Long Beach is not about the bike at all.

It's about living life without a car.

It's about what life is like if you don't get in and zip on over any time you like.

Life without a car is calculated and slow paced.

At first I thought I might be missing out on something.

I wasn't sure what but I could see from the pace of cars zooming past me, I was

indeed missing something.

I missed out on fabulous events that happened far away.

I missed on out many of my friends' lives and that has been a sacrifice.

I missed out on opportunities that called out to me from even farther away places that you can only get to in a car.

But after a very short while, I gained a new perspective about what I really need.

Which is really nothing much. And that has turned out to be a true luxury.

I learned how to plant a garden and water it and wait for things to grow.

I learned that my neighbors, who are older and ailing, have gifts to give me.

I learned that I am needed right around me, in ways I would have never thought of.

And I have simple gifts to give too. Mainly my time and attention.

The beauty of choosing not to drive is this:

I feel awake. Alive and available.

Without a car and so many places to go really fast, I am wide-eyed, alert and ripe for the interactions that cross my path.

I don't have the burden of choice. It's miraculous.

I am available in a full and thoughtful manner for the spontaneous moments.

I give more to the planned events of my life. Slow and steady - on my feet. Ready.

It's good to be without the car.

We've renewed our no-car commitment for a second year

and continue our journey into radical wellness.

Until next time,

Be well little cell.

Ruth

Bike Life in Long Beach - Part 1

When the tall Italian and I began this blog, he wrote our profile description. He described that what we are expressing here is about our journey into "radical wellness" through the simple but profound implications of diet, exercise and emotional balance.

The thing about the big Italian is he is a master manifester. If he states it, it becomes real. He doesn't often say much, as many can attest, but when he does, watch out. Things happen. So here we are, back from France, in Long Beach, and definitely on a journey. I feel content to be having this experience in this particular body and so I suppose we are indeed on a journey into radical wellness. Extreme well-being.

It started with our introduction to an unsung hero, Dr. Joel Fuhrman, M.D., and an extreme diet change 3 years ago. Now, I am proud to say, with the exception of being enthusiastically altered from time to time after drinking champagne or a few ice cold brewskies, I have not been medicated for any illness at all in 3 years. Not even for a tiny little cold.

The only doctor visit I make is to my friend, the genius, Dr. Khelly Webb (http://www.centerforhealinglife.com) for an occasional chiropractic tune-up which clears the road blocks and traffic jams through the nervous system allowing the brain and spinal cord to communicate more freely with the rest of the body's cells. I love my brain and spinal cord so much.

All this is to tell you that when we came home from France, we made the decision to navigate our lives without a car, and without even realizing it, propelled ourselves further along into the aforementioned journey.

I remember clearly, the conversation we had, when I felt myself commit to this. We were living without a car in France but we didn't have bikes. We discussed how much more at ease we both felt not being in the car all the time and mapped out how we could do this once we got home. We'd rent an apartment close to the bus lines that could get us both to work. We'd make sure we were close to parks to see nature's green stuff instead of concrete all the time in order to maintain our sanity. Mati would get his bike all tuned and cleaned up and I'd get myself a brand spankin' new one complete with baskets. And that was it. We committed.

We knew it was going to be a big change to come home and be without a car since Long Beach is a different kind of city. We've been home from France since mid-July. For six months we've been living in a city designed for cars, without a car. And let me tell you, it's been quite a ride-on the bus or on the bike.

Most of the time, I feel a lonely sense of freedom when I'm on the road riding my bike. There are people all around me but we're all separated from one another by large steel moving containers. They can see me and I them, but all I hear is the roar of the tires on the pavement. We make eye contact to confirm nobody will be injured, then go our separate ways. I've been hearing and reading about Long Beach taking actions to create "the most bike friendly city in the nation" but for now, its a lonely ride.

I see others on their bikes enjoying the outdoors and exercise but I relate to the car driver more, because we're doing the same things; running errands, buying groceries, going places. I don't actually love bike riding, in fact. I might ride for recreational purposes from time to time, perhaps to see a pretty sunset or go to the beach, but I don't love riding for the sake of riding like some people do. The bike has two wheels and it gets me places faster than if I walk. That's why I ride.

And on the up side, I didn't absolutely love going to the gym either, but I did so for my health and now I don't even need a gym membership because I'm always pushing the damn bike around town with my legs or lifting it up and down stairs.

My legs are as strong as they've been - even when I was lifting weights. I have a sense that my body is doing something it was designed to do. I've lived half of my adult life in the gym, pushing around weights or riding stationary bikes or treadmills or stepping up and down on boxes.

When I was training as an athlete for a basketball game or some athletic event, it felt okay. When I was in the gym just to stay in shape, my perspective began to shift. It seemed silly a little, that I would drive my car to to the gym, to "work" my body.

But if I want food, I have to ride for it, and that incentive inspires me to get out there when I would have otherwise chosen to camp out at home watching movies. If I had a gym membership and a vehicle, I'd have easily rebelled and opted for another episode of House, M.D.

Humans are smart and creative. "Work smarter, not harder" is a phrase I often hear tossed around. We're very good at that. So much so, in fact, that we've set up a society of moving house vehicles, comfy couches, remote controls, computers and cell phones. We have set up our lives so we don't have to move really at all and we don't have to think much for that matter.

We don't have to actually roll down our windows in the cars anymore, we press a button. We don't have to walk up stairs, we take the elevator or escalator. We don't have to remember phone numbers, they're programmed into our phones. We've completely outsourced all the jobs our bodies used to do. As a result, our bodies are in the same crisis as the American jobs market.

Driving a car has its virtues, of course. But today, had I been driving for meals instead of riding, I would have missed Wilson High School's marching band funkin' out to Give Up The Funk or the rather wise man who cleans up the tree scraps in the park and then kneels prayerfully to sleep in the grass for the entire day or the man in the Bronco who said, "You go girl" as I rode by or the gas man who happily volunteered that he, too, rode his bike to work today.

For these experiences, I'll gladly get up and ride again tomorrow.


You've got a real type of thing going down, getting down
There's a whole lot of rhythm going round
You've got a real type of thing going down, getting down
There's a whole lot of rhythm going round

We want the funk, give up the funk
We need the funk, we gotta have that funk

We're gonna turn this mother out
We're gonna turn this mother out

Until next time,
Be Well Little Cell,
Ruth and Matthew

We've just covered the cells in my human anatomy class – our bodies are made of 75 trillion or more of them. As I teach about their structures, how they have organelles (little organs) whose jobs are to take the products from metabolism and turn those products into useful or not useful tools in our bodies, I am reminded how significant the last two and a half years have been for both Matthew and I. It was two and a half years ago that we evaluated our lifestyle and food choices and gave our kitchen and diet a complete overhaul.

Our friend says we have “Super Cells” and that stuck with me. We do have super cells. Most everything Mati and I eat on a daily basis is useful to our 75 trillion cells. Our cells are happy to utilize so much of what they need from the high nutrient foods we eat and then manufacture those materials' building blocks for a long and healthy life. We have super cells. Isn’t that cool?


I’ve been remiss to write lately about our lives around food because frankly there’s so much confusion around nutrition and “diet styles” that I found myself wanting to move away from any analysis about what we eat.

I’ve found that to try and express the science around our “diet style” is confusing. It’s not that the material itself is difficult but who cares? If you’ve already tried and read a thousand different authors and heard a thousand different news stories and experts telling you what to eat, you don’t want to hear it from a couple of little dumb asses with a blog telling you to do it “this way”. I understand that. I realize I’d rather not tell you what to do anyway. Unless, of course, you ask. In that case, I’ll be happy to boss you around the kitchen!

In addition, I’ve always had a strong aversion to labels. So I’ve found myself becoming increasingly reluctant to talk about “our food”. Or to explain that we do indeed eat animal products - just not regularly (by not regularly, we mean once a week) and only certain unadulterated animal products if possible and in very small portions. That, no we’re not vegan and not vegetarian and no we don’t eat for our blood types or low carbs or high protein or for weight loss or gain or like our ancestors and no we’re not master cleaning ourselves.

The sheer number of distinct and different conversations I’ve had recently around what people eat and why has been an eye opening experience that reveals the true confusion around what is best for us to put in our mouths. Dr. Joel Fuhrman, who we get a significant amount of information from, would say we’re nutritarians. He coined that phrase. It’s a good one, but I don’t intend to call myself that either. I’ve always had a strong aversion to labels.

So like I said, I’ve been remiss in writing recently about our “diet” because I hadn’t found a manner to express what I want to say. I have a deep respect and reverence for the food we eat and the meals we create in our lives and eat together at mealtimes, so it seems disrespectful to always be analyzing the science and the why of it all when sometimes the textures, the colors, the beauty of what’s on my plate and the understanding of how it got there just takes my breath away.

It seems disrespectful to talk so much about the science of food and why we’re eating it. It’s like talking during the symphony. I’d rather, for now, for this blog post, just pause to appreciate that for the last two and a half years, I’ve been feeding this organism I live in, called a human body the most excellent stuff I can gather. And that is enough.

So lately, I’ve been more quiet and prone to celebrating nature’s bounty. People who grow things for us to eat are heroic. I’d like to honor them. The produce that magically shows up on my doorstep on Tuesday mornings is unimaginable to me. When you don’t drive a car anywhere and you live in a place that is so spread out that its difficult to not have one, I realize how overwhelming certain things are. Growing something to eat and growing enough of it seems hard. Most of us don’t grow everything we eat so we can’t really wrap our brains around the idea of that.

We get a box of organic produce delivered to us once a week. It’s called the Monster Mix from an organization called Farm Fresh To You. And it’s gorgeous. It’s all organic local farmers’ produce. This week we received a huge bounty. The farmers send a note with farm news and recipes and things happening in the community. The farmer said that he hopes we enjoy our boxes this week since the beginning of fall is in them.


Thaddeus writes in his newsletter: Fall Shower …“Rains do not all smell the same, and the first rain of the season always smells the best. There is a musty, earthy, life-building smell in the first rain – a smell that compares to the smell of freshly baked bread, a good cup of coffee on a cold winter day or the fragrance of the spring’s first citrus blossom. I stood under the cover of the house porch breathing deeply, feeling calmed and refreshed with my existence.”

This week the farmers delivered a huge bouquet of green chard, 4 baby bok choys, a large bunch of carrots, lettuce, plums, apples, pears, figs, lemon cucumbers, beets with the greens attached, radishes, zucchini, potatoes. And us, we have the privilege of eating what their love and mastery of the earth has created.

So today, what I want to say is this. It’s the simplest and most artistic thing in the world to reclaim the health and beauty that your human organism wants desperately to express. It’s simple though, only after you’ve fallen in love with the idea of changing your life and it's only simple after you’ve made and given yourself over to the commitment – like a good marriage. And your local farmers will be glad support your commitment.

And that’s as scientific as I want to get today. I’ll save the rest for the students in class tonight.

Until next time,
Be well little cell

The French Paradox

Today I'd like to dive into one of the dietary clichés so often bandied about by Americans: the French Paradox. The idea that a couple glasses of wine, a nice piece of foie gras and a healthy dose of joie de vivre are all you need to live a long, healthy and happy life. For it's an idea that many Americans seem to buy into.

Certainly one can be relatively happy eating almost any type of diet. And happiness is too broad an art form to reduce to the sum of what you put on your plate each day. Rather it's the first two adjectives I'll humbly take exception with in this post. That's to say, are the French really any healthier or longer living than Americans?

To begin with, the health claims of the so-called French Paradox have long been overblown if not downright false. Any supposed difference in heart disease is more than offset by the similar disease rates from which the French suffer in almost all other areas of health. Disease rates that mirror other countries that eat a similar Western diet.
Indeed, healthy adult life expectancy varies little between Western countries. A few years of generally declining health does not constitute a reasonable dietary goal in my opinion. Nor does the prospect of diseases like cancer or Alzheimer's that can seriously diminish not only the quantity but the quality of our lives. So all health claims aside, lets take a look at the other inherent claim to the French paradox, the pleasure principle. Fiction or fact?

Before we begin, let me say that the French do a lot of things right in my view. Selection and preparation of ingredients is taken seriously. The variety of fresh produce and other items is impressive and affordable. Once the meal prepared, much more time is dedicated to the ritual of dining than in the US. Meals are eaten with friends and family in a setting that befits them.

The culture of fast food, while making further inroads each year, remains far less evident in France than in America. There still exists a strong social taboo in regards to snacking between meals, whose hours you can literally set your watch by. For an American in France, these social rules can surprise by their unbending rigidity. But how does it all translate in regards to pleasure?

First, let's say that the French in general are far thinner than most Americans, a fact that's true though of almost every other nation on Earth. Thinness is of course a relative standard and the French are far from immune to obesity or excess weight. Lets just say that not all French women are skinny bitches by any means. But more importantly, those that are in my experience are almost just as paranoid about their weight as many American women.

For no sooner does one of their infamously rich entrées or desserts arrive at table than a barrage of fat-phobic dialogue fills the air. "Oh, ça fait grossir" (Oh, how fattening). Or "je vais faire exploser ma balance" (literally: I'm gonna make my scale explode). I have nothing against a woman wanting to stay thin but its this type of behavior that can put a guy positively off his appetite.

For surely there is no less pleasurable way to eat a meal than with this type of guilt or anxiety surrounding it. This type of "bad faith" as Sartre would call it has become as entrenched in the flow of many dinners I've attended as the detailed descriptions of the origin and character of the wine or cheese selected for the meal. I find it incredibly bad taste to subject your neighbor to your own dietary hang-ups at the moment of crowning pleasure of the meal.

Because if you do occasionally partake of rich cuisine you can either honor how your body will handle it or continue to play the role of the tortured gourmand. I would argue for the former. For there is a beauty in the fact that your human body has been honed through millennia of rich evolution with its environment to look upon this piece of foie gras or camembert as an excellent chance to stock away extra calories for a rainy day.

It is a luxury most people throughout human history would not have taken nearly so lightly. For in their simple wisdom lay a truer understanding of what feasting should mean. Only in a society of such decadent abundance could we so pervert our natural instincts, swapping gratitude for guilt and joy for vanity.

But a truer understanding would let you happily enjoy your dessert because you'd have ample faith in the excellence of the rest of your diet to keep you thin, healthy and happy. Gone will be the tortured choice between thin and happy, between pleasure and pride. Such a recognition represents one of the rare chances remaining for us to break free from our body-hating culture and make friends once more with the most elemental part of ourselves, the body.

And one shouldn't deny the beauty of a thin, capable body in this world for it's one of the most divine forms of our human condition, a true work of art. But if it comes at the price of anxiety and worry, we will have made an enemy of our body. And such a trade-off should never be justified. Nor should we sacrifice a thin, healthy body in the mistaken belief eating will thus be pleasure-less and dull.

This world exists for you to be free in and anyone who tells you otherwise is surely no wise man nor artist. For you can have your cake and eat it too. The art is entirely in knowing how.

So please be happy and well little cell.
Until next time,
Matthew