As a holistic wellness and natural living blog, this thing you're reading comes with a built-in demographic.  You can probably picture it now: a young, urban, coastal professional or parent with a yoga mat on his or her shoulder and an iPhone in his or her hand.

But stereotypes usually don't reflect the whole picture.  Self-consciously hip young adults aren't the only people interested are in their physical well-being, and many people in their forties and fifties are starting to notice all the buzz around words like "natural," "holistic," and "alternative" health care. 

It's no wonder.  People in middle age have a whole slew of health concerns that typically don't even affect those below the age of forty.  What can complementary health care offer to these individuals?

Sometime in your mid-fifties, you will probably notice that activities you were once able to do easily require more effort. Our muscles naturally start to weaken around this time.  The disks in our spines also start to lose their water content and shrink like sponges, which is why people get shorter when they get older. 

Richard of MTW has noticed this deterioration first-hand.  "I remember one fall I started to install a driveway.  I had to move a whole wheelbarrow full of gravel, and I just overloaded that thing.  There were rocks rolling off the top I filled it so full.  The next year I tried to do the same thing, and I found I couldn't lift near to the same amount.  I had to haul a wheelbarrow that was only three-quarters full."

These changes may onset quite suddenly, as Richard experienced, or they may be gradual.  You also may notice a "darkening" of your vision.  As the cornea begins to yellow with age, things don't look as bright and vibrant as they once did.  This dimming is not as ominous as it may seem.  It is a natural part of the aging process, just as puberty was when you were a teenager.  The fact is, more of us are living longer than ever before.  People who make it to their nineties in good health are people who can still move their bodies actively.  Bones degrade faster when there's less stress put on them (think of astronauts coming back from a long time in space).  Moving your body is invaluable to retaining strength in your twilight years, and massage can help increase mobility and make it possible for you to remain active, healthy, and happy well into old age.

When you're in your twenties and thirties, your body is still very pliable, elastic, and capable of bouncing back.  But you'll be seventy someday (if you're lucky), and every year that passes, these tissues become less pliable.  Think of an old rubber band that you might find in the back of a drawer.  If it's been in the same position for years, it will snap when you try to stretch it.  But a rubber band that's consistently used retains its elasticity.  Like this metaphoric rubber band, how you choose to use your body now will determine how you will age throughout the next stage in your life. 

One obstacle to overcome is the (formidable) force of habit.  By the time you reach your fifties, most likely you've been in some sort of occupation for decades.  Say you've been working in an office for forty years.  When you sit at keyboard (typewriter or computer), your head comes forward and your shoulders hunch.  There is a hierarchy of structures at work, and when you lean forward like this, all of these neck muscles need to counter to accommodated.  Do this for one day and it's no big deal.  Do it for five years, and problems start to arise.  Whether it's sitting at a keyboard, manual labor, wearing high heels, or even a religious workout routine, do it for thirty or forty years and you'll see some serious structural patterns that are difficult to correct. 

Being aware of your body and how to use it actively to correct these negative patterns becomes invaluable.  Your fifties is one of the last opportunities to make these vital changes in your structural makeup.  Regular massage and mindful exercise can make all the difference at this crucial stage in your life.  

Another challenge is the common attitude that at this age, pain is normal.  When you're in your fifties, certain pains become so familiar you start to take them for granted.  Even doctors often even say stuff like "Well, what do you expect at your age?  At your age, it's normal."  The thing is, it's not normal, it's only common.

If you believe that it's okay to be in pain a this stage in your life, you'll be more willing to "live with it."  You may stop giving up hope that someone can help you, as our society tends to "give up" on the health of older people. 

We are amazing info systems, and our bodies are extremely adaptable even as we age.  It's up to you to keep yours in optimal working condition.

Michelle Pfennighaus is a Real Food/Yoga/Health powerhouse.  Though her business (well, mission, really), Find Your Balance is based in the Cambridge/Somerville area, she helps clients around the country adjust their habits and attitudes about food, exercise, and how they live from day to day.

In addition to being a certified health counselor, she is also a licensed yoga teacher (I've taken her Astanga class at Karma Yoga in Harvard Square myself), allowing her to incorporate physical activity as well as the mind/body connection into her counseling style. 

Balance is a key component in yoga and necessary to achieve nearly all poses, from basic to advanced.  This "balance point" is always different for each individual.  Michelle's goal in health counseling is to bring the same level of awareness of personal balance points to her clients' daily lives, especially their eating and shopping habits.

Michelle believes that apart from physical activity, diet plays the largest role in a person's health.  After a lifetime struggling with low energy, moodiness, and perpetual IBS symptoms, she made the decision to clean up her diet.  "When my grandmother died of cancer of the digestive system, I found out she had been lactose intolerant.  She and I shared so many of the same traits, physically, I wondered if dairy could be affecting me negatively, so I cut it out."

Eliminating dairy was the first step, and Michelle felt such an incredible difference that she began to make other changes, starting with forgoing processed flour for whole grains and finally making the choice to stop eating most forms of sugar.

"When I cut sugar out, it was like night and day," she says.  "In six months, I had no symptoms of IBS.  I didn't realize that sugar weakens your body over time, and you literally become addicted to it.  Sugar gives you a fake energy boost.  It actually affects the brain in the same way as cocaine, so your body feels momentarily energized.  But that energy is deceptive, because it doesn't come from the strength that a properly nutritious diet provides.  Your poor, weakened body then learns that it 'needs' a sugar bump to feel awake and alert.  But like any drug, it's never long before you crash again and need another fix." 

According to Michelle, the term "sugar high," is less metaphorical than people think.

"I remember one client came to me and introduced herself as a 'sugar addict.'  She lived in the South End surrounded by all these amazing restaurants, but didn't know how to cook a thing.  This has become the standard for so many Americans, but when you don't control what goes into your body, in essence, you won't be as able to control your body.

"Like many modern diet gurus, I believe that eating real, whole food is the cornerstone of a healthy diet.  But this doesn't have to mean limiting your diet to raw carrots and nuts.  I like to put it like this.  If you can make it in your kitchen from real whole foods, that's fine.  If you need a scientist or a lab, then that's too processed.

"One of my favorite things to do with local clients is a pantry makeover.  I help them clear out the bad stuff -- the Slim Fast shakes, the Easy Mac, and I help them restock with healthy, whole staples that will make preparing nutritious meals a snap.  This South End client became very empowered just by learning to cook for herself."

"I had another client in Michigan who came to me worried about diabetes.  She smoked and was overweight and generally unhealthy, pretty much a prime candidate for health problems.  She was tired of all the 'quick fix' diet promises out there, and why wouldn't she be?  You don't generally gain 30lbs in a month, so why would you expect to lose weight that quickly?  For most people, weight gain is a gradual process resulting from lifestyle choices made over a long period of time.  Once we worked together to view her process of getting healthy as a gradual lifestyle choice, it became easier for her to take the small steps that lead toward her ultimate goal.

"We started by adding one vegetable into her diet every day.  This is a woman who didn't know what a beet was.  She started losing weight immediately, which encouraged her to continue to take more steps.  Eventually she realized she didn't need to stop at McDonald's on her way home when she was feeling a bit hungry, because she could spend her car ride thinking of all the delicious homemade snacks she had waiting for her when she got there.  Finally, she was even able to quit smoking."

The word "balance" brings to mind another word: moderation.  "I want to let my clients know that this is not about being 'perfect.'  I do not have a 'perfect' diet.  The mistake many people make is viewing the process of getting healthy as an all-or-nothing thing, and that puts up this huge, looming mental barrier for people.  There is immense value in that first, small step." 

It's extremely difficult to keep your balance when you jump into something with both feet.  Even Olympic gymnasts have trouble sticking those kind of landings.  That's why Michelle recommends taking your health one leg at a time.

Home from her month-long trip to India, Kris greets me at her door wearing a gorgeous turquoise, silk saree. "I haven't worn this since I got back," she says, "so I thought I'd take the excuse." We sit in her sunny living room sipping green tea she brought back from Munnar, Kerala. The tea has a slightly bitter taste and smells smokey.  Its fragrance reminds her of the scents that that wafted through the air in the southern Indian countryside: earth, rain, and plenty of spices.

Kerala is widely regarded as the home of Ayurveda, and it is here that she immersed herself in the countryside for rejuvination after completing a rigorous Ayurvedic training program in Northern India.  With the encouragement of Hilary Garivaltis, Dean of Kripalu's School of Ayurveda, Kris enrolled at the Jiva Academy for Vedic Sciences in Faridabad, Haryana.  She dove into the theory and foundations of Ayurveda as she never had before, studying different types of body tissues (called "dhatus"), disease diagnostics and treatment, and Ayurvedic Psychology.   "Western medicine has only recently begun to recognize the important role the mind plays in health and disease," Kris tells me, "but it is a concept that has existed within Ayurveda for centuries."

Throughout most of her stay at Jiva, Kris studied one-on-one with her primary teacher, Dr. Kuldeep Solanki.  "I was extremely fortunate to work with Dr. Solanki so closely," she says. "He is a brilliant man and an incredibly patient teacher.  I owe most of what I learned to him."

Kris' schedule was rigorous.  Her day began with meditation and mantra in her room as early as 4:30 a.m. After sunrise, breakfast, and a brisk walk, her lessons began with Dr. Solanki.  Afternoons found her in Jiva's Pancha Karma clinic (which serves the local, public community) carrying out assigned case studies or learning new bodywork techniques like "Udvartana" (a vigorous dry-rub of medicinal herbs into the skin), "Pizhichil" (a literal shower of warm oil which is simultaneously rubbed into the skin by the therapist), and "Elakizhi" (a massage using a homemade herbal bolus for arthritic pain or rheumatism).

Spending time in the Pancha Karma clinic with the physicians and therapists, provided one of the most valuable aspects of the program:  gaining real-life diagnostic experience using specific herbs and new techniques. Students and doctors would work together, using one another as patients, to get to the Ayurvedic root of a problem and develop a course of action. Evenings consisted of daily yoga class, and if the jet lag didn't have her head still spinning, LOTS of reading to prepare for the next day's lessons.  But the crux of her studies revolved around learning the preparation of traditional herbal oils.

Dr. Ruchi Chaudhary joined Dr. Kuldeep in teaching these preparations to Kris.  "Because of my training at Jiva, I now possess the foundation and basic skill set to make traditional Ayurvedic oils here in the United States. But of course, Ayurveda is an extremely vast system. This will be a lifelong journey for me, and I know that as my knowledge grows, so will my oils...it's going to be a challenge to start to make my own oils in the States," Kris tells me. I can tell by the way she lays out her plan that Kris is not one to shy away from any challenge. "Some of these herbs are not indigenous to North America, so I'll have to get them directly from India."  Brahmi, for example, is one of the herbs often used in the Shirodhara treatment.  Ashvagandha (an herb used for strengthening and nourishing, and often used in wasting diseases like tuberculosis) is another.






"One danger I see arising in a lot of Western attitudes about what they call 'alternative' medicine is the expectation for it to be some sort of magic cure," Kris says. "I'm finding people want it to be a very passive experience, with little participation on their part. You cannot use herbs like a given prescription for a set of symptoms - which is a growing trend in the U.S. There's a whole lot of self-diagnosing going on."  Kris wants people to get out of the mind set of: have symptom X, take herb Z.  It's not that clear cut.  One must consider the person's individual constitution, the post-digestive effect of the herb, and the context the herb is being utilized for.  Herbs should be used as an adjunct therapy, not THE therapy. 

"The truth is, Ayurveda is about changing the habits and makeup of the whole body.  It's about changing your lifestyle and attitudes. Which, takes a lot of personal commitment, discipline, and practice.  "One of the things that makes Ayurveda so sought after," Kris explains, "is not only its effectiveness, but its GENTLENESS on the body and its systems.  There are no side-effects to Ayurveda.  It's slow.  Gradual. And often requires weeks or months of practice before reaching its full benefit. This is hard for a lot of Westerners to swallow, but it has been my experience that the results are more profound and sustainable than the offerings of allopathic medicine alone."

Kris reiterates she is not a trained herbalist, but her training in India has certainly given her the confidence to begin creating these traditional oils right here in the United States.   She now describes the trip as invaluable, life-altering, and most of all, humbling. "India is not an easy place to travel.  Particularly alone.  There were many, many frustrating and exhausting moments in my journey.  But I'm honored to have been trusted with some of Ayurveda's secrets and humbled by all of my teachers and the sheer amount of information I have yet to learn and process.  This is my life's work and it's only the beginning."

What I'm about to discuss is a matter of life and death. 

I am allergic to peanuts.  Yes, the bad kind of allergic where I can have anaphylactic reactions and die from ingesting just a small amount.  Yes, this means I grew up without peanut butter.  This is no tragedy to me.

For me, it's a part of life.  I carry an epipen with me everywhere I go.  I don't eat food when I can't read the package or speak with confidence to the person who made it.  I don't eat jam or jelly at other people's houses (most of it will be cross-contaminated from knife-sharing during sandwich-making -- I learned this as a kid the hard way).  I have had friends act annoyed or hurt when I refuse to eat the food they offer me.  I don't let it bother me.  My life is more important to me than sparing the feelings of the oversensitive. 

I very rarely eat out.  When I do eat out, I am an annoying customer.  I ask questions about everything.  I ask the same questions over and over again.  I'm not trying to be annoying, neither am I doubting the faculties of the person I'm speaking to, I just know that when it's not your life on the line, you're not going to be as diligent as I am.  After all, my life, quite literally, is.

Last weekend, I received a terrifying reminder of this reality.  My best friend had recently started working as a waitress at a new upscale tapas restaurant which had been getting great local reviews.  As I said, I rarely eat out, and the Asian theme of this restaurant did cause me to pause, since peanuts are a prevalent ingredient in Chinese cuisine.  But since this was a nice restaurant to which I had a personal connection (my friend assured me I could speak to the owner and head chef directly before ordering), I decided it would be safe to stop by and try a dish or two.

The restaurant was clean and decorated in a modern style.  It was one of those new, trendy, too-hip-to-use-the-word-fusion places where the head chef is also the owner.  The chef/owner and the manager both greeted me personally when they found out their waitress was my friend.  I explained my allergy to them an they assured me it was no problem to keep my meal nut free.  "I created all the recipes, and I know what I put nuts in," the owner assured me. 

When I made my selections, my friend brought the list to the owner and he okayed everything, positive there was nothing to be worried about.

My first dish had a suspicious-looking dressing drizzled across it.  Even though I had already been assured repeatedly that everything I ordered was peanut-free, experience has taught me it never hurts to be redundant in these matters.  "There're no peanuts in this dressing, right?" I asked again.

"No, no," stated the owner.  "It's just sesame.  I make it myself."

I started to eat the salad with as much confidence as I start to eat anything I didn't make with my own two hands.  The food was creative and very well prepared, but after about five minutes.  I noticed a familiar tickling sensation in the back of my throat.

Trying not to panic, I called my friend over.  "Are you sure there's no nuts in this?" I asked.

"The owner promised me there's not," she said, but when she saw the worry on my face, she rushed to call him over.

The owner and the manager came over and assured me again the dish was peanut-free.  "It's only sesame paste," the owner told me.  "You're not allergic to sesame seeds, right?"

Half the restaurant staff was standing around me at this point telling me, in essence, that I wasn't feeling what I was feeling.  When you're trying to decide whether to run to the bathroom and inject yourself with epinephrine, this is the second-worst experience in the world.

The worst experience in the world is struggling to breathe in the passenger seat after you've injected yourself with epinephrine and realized it didn't do anything to mollify the anaphylaxis while your friend is driving down the left side of the road to get you to the hospital before your throat closes completely and your heart stops. 

In the emergency room I was IV'd, EKG'd, and injected.  My blood pressure dropped so low that for a while they were worried I would have a heart attack.  I was admitted overnight with an IV and a heart monitor.  Several doctors and nurses stopped in to let me know I was lucky to be alive.

My friend later told me that while I had been in the bathroom administering my epipen, the owner had checked the packaging of the sesame paste he had used to make the dressing, and sure enough, peanuts were the second ingredient.  This was not a vague warning of "processed in a facility which also may contain peanuts," this was the second freaking ingredient after sesame seeds in the sesame paste. 

Fortunately, my parents taught me exactly what to do in that situation, so I was able to save myself by taking my medicine and rushing to the ER.  If that hadn't been the case, you probably wouldn't be reading this entry right now.

And all because the restaurant owner wouldn't check a package of sesame paste.

Peanut allergies have been in the news a lot in the past ten years.  The generation below mine has apparently been walloped with a peanut allergy epidemic.  Peanuts have been banned from school campuses, and in-class birthday parties with cupcakes and cookies are a thing of the past.

Still, many who don't deal with these allergies on a personal level tend to roll their eyes at these regulations.  For most people, it's hard to believe that something that can be so nourishing and tasty (and often nostalgic and comforting - think PB&J) can be literal poison for someone else.  There are also people who may have a technical peanut allergy with only minor reactions such as hives, who go around saying things like "I can eat a small amount and it's okay."  For me, this is not an option.  One nibble of a peanut butter cookie could cause me to go into anaphylactic shock and die. 

But because of all the conflicting information (as well as real variations in type and severity), many non-allergic people still view these allergies as something minor, exaggerated, psychosomatic, or even fabricated to garner attention.  I know, because the fact of my allergy has been met with each one of these attitudes more times than I can count, as recently as this week.

I'm not going to name the restaurant.  The goal of this entry is not to attack an individual chef or establishment.  I merely want to relate my first-hand experience as an example to whoever reads this of why it really is that important to know what you're feeding people, whether you own a restaurant or not, especially if they let you know they have a food allergy. It's a weird and scary world out there when an innocent legume that can nourish one person can react like arsenic in the belly of another.  We all need to look out for one another.  Sometimes it can be as easy as reading the label on a package.