Plain brown rice, anyone?
Thanks for reading my blog each week, for you never know what you’ll find. Thoughts go right from my mind to the keyboard and my mind’s door is always open and travels inwardly as far as I dare, and outwardly? As near as my next door neighbor and as far of the other side of the world. Yeah , mentally, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually as far as I can, and write of it all as far as I dare to share.
And today I tell how a friend and I decided to join those wise Far Eastern people and get our Ying and Yang back in balance. And how did we know we were out of balance? Well, you know I’m no expert on all this, BUT, the good Dr. Arya told us to look at our face straight into a mirror, with the eyes the important area.
Ok, you’ll see the Iris and white. Lots of white, but, looking straight ahead, there should be no White below the Iris. So simple,. Above, left and right, good, good, good. But at the bottom? That is a signal that our Ying and Yang are lopsided. And that means mentally, emotionally and physically, spiritually. The entire schmoo is out of balance.
The Teacher of our classes told us that with eating good brown rice for a couple of weeks we would be balanced and totally new people. Well, my friend and I both like rice and we were all for making us new people in only two weeks. And inasmuch as we often lunched together a couple of times a week, we phoned around, but we could find no place to get PLAIN BROWN, UN-FLAVORD RICE, AND SO we chose to eat at home and keep in touch with each other via the phone.
But just within a few days, as far as I was concerned, I wished I’d never heard of Brown Rice, and to helly with my Ying and Yang, as well. We were both happy before even hearing of those two Y’s and now are just as happy without them. But back to my story . . .
The only diet to get you off the teeter-totter of imbalance (teacher said) is the right food and that’s mighty hard to get in our western world, and so we were advised to go back to the ancient perfect diet of rice. Unpolished, and brown.
Cook it in water, like any rice, with a small amount of salt and chew each bite 40 or 45 times. Add no sugar, milk, fruit or honey. Nothing but unpolished brown rice. No coffee, tea, soda pop, vitamins. Nothing but that dang rice.
My friend and I thought we’d be strength to each other’s weaknesses. And the first day was a piece of cake and we gloated and laughed at how wise we were. Yeah. Eat, eat, eat whenever hungry. Nice fluffy wholesome perfectly balanced rice.
The second day wasn’t bad, either. I thought of how healthy I was becoming and smugly watched others ignorantly eating all the horrible un-ying and un-yang food that’s always around, wherever one goes.
The third day, however, began to really tell on me. I longed for a cuppa coffee. For a smidgen of spice or sugar or ANYTHING on that bland rice. I could almost taste fruit or a sweetener on it and began hurrying past all food for fear I’d just reach out and begin eating. Anything but rice.
The evening of that third day I again stubbornly sat down to another bowl of that rotten stuff and began chewing away but it stuck in my throat and I thought I’d werp it up right then and there. I took a sip of water to wash it down and cursed as I took still another mouthful of RICE.
I cussed it. I fought it. I argued. I told myself how healthy I was becoming. I shamed myself over how weak willed I was, and how I’d hate to tell of my weakness, but then, suddenly I said to heck (no, that wasn’t what I said) with Ying and Yang. I calmly went to the freezer, almost matter of factly took out a container of ‘decadent’ homemade soup, whapped it in the micro, and in ten minutes I was eating right out of the freezer container, and was in bliss. The sheer glory of eating FOOD. Food that had a taste. A color. Food, food, food. with nary a morsel of rice, white, brown or any other color. NO RICE.
I dreaded telling my friend, but I needn’t have worried for the next morning his call came inviting me to lunch so that together we could throw out the sickening rice and EAT. I accepted gladly, but had to admit that I had already tossed out my Ying and Yang stuff the night before. but was too ashamed to tell him. Weak willy for sure.
So we sat facing each other, eating, tasting and sipping our coffee with no care whether the food was Ying, Yang or neither. And enjoying every big bite.
I suppose I still might be a bit out of balance, and so is he, but who cares? It took me a few months to even tolerate rice in a casserole or pudding, but while that grain still isn’t my favorite . . . I can enjoy it.. . . it up a certain point. And to helly with my Ying and Yang. I no longer even care.
And we didn’t breath a word of our debacle at the next class, much less to the good far eastern Doctor. Rather, we decided he had better get accustomed to all the UN-ying and UN-yang people of this western world. And, to heck with the whites of our eyes. .