Yin Crowd Gets High on Brown Rice

Fifteen years ago Harvard students drowned their troubles in liquor; last year they took to LSD. Today the get high on Macrobiotics, a brown rice diet said to produce euphoria within two or three days.

A few days ago we went down to the East-West Institute to try a Macrobiotic meal and watch Mr. Michio Kushi, the director, transmute elements, Our disappointment at finding this exotic Oriental institution in an old gray frame house on Walden Street, a few blocks north of Porter Square, disappeared when we opened the door; a healthy smell of brown rice broke over us.

A tall, rather emaciated young man greeted us at the door. He was holding a bowl of brown rice and chewing, "Dinner is ready," he said, and, still chewing, led us into the living room.

About 20 people were kneeling Japanese-style on chintz-covered pillows arranged around three low tables. We smiled at everyone as we lowered ourself to the floor.

"Your first time here, isn't it," the man on our right said matter-of-factly. "Can read it in your face. You look sick."

Maintaining our manners we asked if Mr. Kushi could really help us to better health, greater knowledge, and spiritual unity through a daily bowl of brown rice. Our neighbor, who said his name was Whittaker, told us he'd thought he felt well before he went on the Diet, but that Mr. Kushi had taken one look at his face and told him how sick he was.

"Since I've been on Macrobiotics, my asthma's cleared up, my headaches are gone, my back's stopped aching, and I sleep two hours less a night. The foods most people eat are dangerous for man--they corrupt the body. You might call Macrobiotics a study in human ecology. Man must eat like his environment or else he upsets the harmony between himself and nature and experiences the harmful effects of dislocation. In plain terms, he gets sick. Look at the stuff most people eat. Bananas, oranges--do you notice oranges growing in Boston? Man is naturally a grain eater. He ate grain for thousands of years. Why shouldn't he eat grain now?"

"Can you eat meat? We have cows in New England," we said.

"Nope," Whittaker snapped. "Too much yang, Can't drink milk either. All dairy products are bad--too much yin."

The tall young man returned, still chewing, and handed us a plate of gray grain bread and a bowl of chocolate-colored paste made from soy sauce and sesame butter. We began to spread the paste on the bread.

"Chew it well," Whittaker advised. "Don't want to get lumps in your stomach."

"How can you tell yin foods from yang foods?" we asked, chewing carefully.

"Yin is expanded and dilated," Whittaker explained obligingly. "Yang is constricted and solid, Yin is purple; yang is red. Yin is cold; yang is hot. Yin grows up; yang grows down. Which do you think is more yin, a tomato or a carrot?"

"A tomato," we said, "because it's higher off the ground."

"Right. And parts of the same object are more or less yin or yang. Fruits are yin; so are vegetables, but they can be made yang enough to eat by cooking under high pressure; yangization. Eggplant is too yin to eat at all; you can tell it's yin because it's violet. Red meat is too yang. Brown rice contains yin and yang in almost perfect proportions for the human system. All you need to live is a little brown rice.

We searched in vain for a reply and finally asked what "Macrobiotic" meant.

"Macro is 'great' biotic is life--the great life. You eat this food and you become conscious of things you never knew before. First your body feels better, then you get smarter."

The soup arrived, a thick brown broth with carrots floating in it, Miso soup, " Whittaker explained, "grains and lily roots."

A young man whom we recognized as a recent Harvard graduate joined us. He had changed since we saw him last. Now he was extremely thin with a sallow face and bright eyes. His clothes were baggy, showing ho much weight he had lost. He asked whether we had any questions.

"Just what is yin and yang?" we asked desperately.

"Yin and yang are the thesis and antithesis of the monistic cosmology of the Orient; you might call it a polarizable dialectic monism. Everything in the world is yin and yang. The principle of yin-yang applied to biology becomes the art of longevity and rejuvenation in Far-Eastern medicine. Disease is proof of the violation of universal order expressed through the neglect of the body."

He continued, telling us how he had started on Macrobiotics. "Some of my friends around the Square were eating it; I thought they were crazy. Then I bought some brows rice and cooked it in my room. I nothing but brown rice for ten days. After a few meals I began to feel really free and happy, sort or high. It's a little like drugs, only better because you know you're not hooked on anything. Your body blends with your environment and your mind floats free of your body. You forget about food. You stop worrying alxiue all the terrible, sensual habits that take so much time. You're free to work."

He went back to telling us how brown rice was so much safer than drugs. Drugs destroy the nervous system, he said. One Harvard Macrobiotic had taken so much LSD that his nerves became insensitive to starvation pains. Mr. Kushi had tried to save the young man from starving, our friend said; he had diagnosed the student's condition as extreme yang and fed him yin foods. When he died at the Institute a week before Christmas, he weighed 90 pounds, although he was nearly six feet tall. Our friend seemed to accept his death with calm resolve.

This lack of emotion did not surprise us. Before our visit, we had called Dr. Frederick Stare of the Harvard School of Public Health and asked him if there was medical explanation for Macrobiotic happiness. "There's not a grain of truth in those brown rice grains," was his reply. In fact, he added, Macrobiotics usually lost all sexual desire, were prone to periods of moroseness and acted without emotion.

Oh, Transmutation!

Our Harvard friend showed us a few samples of Macrobiotic prose, a book called Transmutations Naturelles by Louis Kervran, a professor at the University of Paris, and The Philosophy of Oriental Medicine, by George Ohsawa, the founder of the Dict. We noticed a passage in Ohsawa's book:

"Our physiological life is a transmutation of yin colors to yang ones. Our health, happiness and freedom depend on that transmutation. How simple it is! This is life! Here is one of life's great secrets! Oh, transmutation!"

At this point the main course arrived, a plate heaped high with whole-wheat noodles, a vegetable tempora, fried lily-root, seaweed, and brown rice.

Across the table from us a young man with a straggly, pointed heard was explaining the crucifixion. "Christ was in an extremely yang condition after carrying the cross up the hill. While he was nailed to it--which made him more yang--his disciples gave him vinegar on a reed. Vinegar is very yin, and it paralyzed his nervous system, which is also, yin. He got even more yin when they placed him in a damp cave. The paralysis didn't wear off for three days."

Just then a short, thin man dressed in loose blue pants and a baggy gray sweater entered and glanced around the room. "Ah, yes," Mr. Kushi said, nodding at his Macrobiotic friends, "beautiful, very beautiful."

The beautiful people--several old ladies from Dorchester, a few gray-haired Negroes from Roxbury, some middle-aged business men from Medford, and the students from Cambridge--greeted him.

"I'm feeling much better, Mr. Kushi," an old lady called.

"My eye-sight is getting stronger again," an old man declared.

"How can I get rid of the split ends on my hair?" a girl asked.

"I will answer all questions, all questions," Mr. Kushi replied. He paused to gaze at a young student. "Ah, you're changing. You're growing beautiful, beautiful."

"Mr. Kushi, how did you come to Cambridge?" we asked.

"Ah," he replied, "when I was a young student of political science at the University of Tokyo I met Georges Ohsawa. He rediscovered the ancient yin-yang cosomology of Chinese emperor Fou-hi, who ruled about 2910 B.C. He taught me that man is unhappy because he feels divorced from the world. The dialectic of world peace can be achieved only through diet." He continued, describing how Ohsawa had founded several "sanarants," sanatorium restaurants, in France and six Macrobiotic restaurants in New York.

He went back to telling us how brown rice was so much safer than drugs. Drugs destroy the nervous system, he said. One Harvard Macrobiotic had taken so much LSD that his nerves became insensitive to starvation pains. Mr. Kushi had tried to save the young man from starving, our friend said; he had diagnosed the student's condition as extreme yang and fed him yin foods. When he died at the Institute a week before Christmas, he weighed 90 pounds, although he was nearly six feet tall. Our friend seemed to accept his death with calm resolve.

This lack of emotion did not surprise us. Before our visit, we had called Dr. Frederick Stare of the Harvard School of Public Health and asked him if there was medical explanation for Macrobiotic happiness. "There's not a grain of truth in those brown rice grains," was his reply. In fact, he added, Macrobiotics usually lost all sexual desire, were prone to periods of moroseness and acted without emotion.

Oh, Transmutation!

Our Harvard friend showed us a few samples of Macrobiotic prose, a book called Transmutations Naturelles by Louis Kervran, a professor at the University of Paris, and The Philosophy of Oriental Medicine, by George Ohsawa, the founder of the Dict. We noticed a passage in Ohsawa's book:

"Our physiological life is a transmutation of yin colors to yang ones. Our health, happiness and freedom depend on that transmutation. How simple it is! This is life! Here is one of life's great secrets! Oh, transmutation!"

At this point the main course arrived, a plate heaped high with whole-wheat noodles, a vegetable tempora, fried lily-root, seaweed, and brown rice.

Across the table from us a young man with a straggly, pointed heard was explaining the crucifixion. "Christ was in an extremely yang condition after carrying the cross up the hill. While he was nailed to it--which made him more yang--his disciples gave him vinegar on a reed. Vinegar is very yin, and it paralyzed his nervous system, which is also, yin. He got even more yin when they placed him in a damp cave. The paralysis didn't wear off for three days."

Just then a short, thin man dressed in loose blue pants and a baggy gray sweater entered and glanced around the room. "Ah, yes," Mr. Kushi said, nodding at his Macrobiotic friends, "beautiful, very beautiful."

The beautiful people--several old ladies from Dorchester, a few gray-haired Negroes from Roxbury, some middle-aged business men from Medford, and the students from Cambridge--greeted him.

"I'm feeling much better, Mr. Kushi," an old lady called.

"My eye-sight is getting stronger again," an old man declared.

"How can I get rid of the split ends on my hair?" a girl asked.

"I will answer all questions, all questions," Mr. Kushi replied. He paused to gaze at a young student. "Ah, you're changing. You're growing beautiful, beautiful."

"Mr. Kushi, how did you come to Cambridge?" we asked.

"Ah," he replied, "when I was a young student of political science at the University of Tokyo I met Georges Ohsawa. He rediscovered the ancient yin-yang cosomology of Chinese emperor Fou-hi, who ruled about 2910 B.C. He taught me that man is unhappy because he feels divorced from the world. The dialectic of world peace can be achieved only through diet." He continued, describing how Ohsawa had founded several "sanarants," sanatorium restaurants, in France and six Macrobiotic restaurants in New York.